The twenty fifth chapter is Christmas. That was not planned but a happy coincidence. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Twenty-Five

Gentle sunlight nudged at his closed eyelids, a nice change from its typical assault waking. Perhaps this was the sun's Christmas present. Jackson couldn't bring himself to complain; it was a nice start to what would more than likely prove to be a long day.

His jaw unhinged to permit a large import of air to slowly make its way in before quickly exporting it in a yawn. He reached his arms up and wriggled his fingers at the ceiling before burying them into the sleek coolness underneath the pillow. A hard box scuffed the back of his hand. He froze.

"What..." he muttered to himself, his brows pinching together.

The muscles in his face relaxed as the night before flooded back into his mind. Warmth bloomed from the spot the gentleman's hand had rested in. His body flushed as he recalled the close proximity. Jackson let out a soft breath and groaned. He snatched the box and held it up in front of his face. Twisting it around, he gave it a shake. A soft thud from shifting weight but nothing too giving. His thumbs tapped against it as he hummed gently to himself.

"I have something for you...A gift."

What would Mr. Haddock possible get for him as a gift? Why would he give him a gift? What was this all about? Were his feelings still the same as back when he confessed? No. Why would they be? Jackson had given him nothing to lead him on. If anything, he had shown the man a horrid side of himself that was the farthest thing from attractive. His stomach churned; the acid inside gnawing away at his stomach lining. But, he couldn't decide whether it was because there was nothing in his stomach or because he was nervous.

"Why the hell would I be nervous?" he hissed to himself, stuffing the offending item back under his pillow and tucking his hands under his head.

He had nothing to worry about. It was just gift. Just gift. He shouldn't be reading into something that wasn't there. But, he didn't know for sure whether or not something wasn't there.

Growling, Jackson tossed his quilt and sheets from is body and swung his legs around. His bare feet shivered as they searched the floor for his slippers. His toe brushed against soft fur. With a sigh, he stuck his foot in and then looked down to find the other one. He ended up having to get on the floor and pull it out from underneath the bed. The inside was chilled when he slipped it on.

Jackson rattled his lips and shuffled to his pitcher and bowl. After he poured the cool water into the basin, he grabbed the bar of soap and dunked it in. He rubbed it quickly, gathering up the suds he massaged them into his face. Closing his eyes, he splashed the water onto the skin. He took in a deep breath as goosebumps puckered his skin. He snatched up a towel and patted his face dry. With a huff, he set about getting ready for the day ahead.

"Say, Emma," Mrs. Overland asked from her seat by the fire, "do you believe we can expect to see Mr. Liely over sometime today?"

Her daughter gave a small shake of her head. "I do not believe so. He wished me to apologize for having to abandon his family during the holidays, but he has his hands full at Dreki Vollr today."

The woman tutted but let out an understanding hum. "Imagine, dear girl, next year it will be you arranging the balls and hosting the Christmas dinners. What a lovely thought! Mr. Fitzherbert and Mary can visit. Your father and I can bring Sarah. Hopefully, Jackson will have found himself a wife by then."

The fingers of the young man in question tightened around his glass, swirling the caramel colored liquid around the crystal before tossing it to the back of his throat; it blazed a fiery trail down his throat and pooled into his stomach. The flames leapt and burned and quenched the rising nerves and fear. A wife. A servant walked by and asked if he wanted more. After a moment of consideration, he gave in and watched the elixir of comfort pour into his glass.

"Well, that will be an issue, Ma. I think it would be rather difficult for my husband and I to spend so much money each year to travel back from India," Mary said.

The room fell silent.

Dark eyes studied the faces of his family. Mother looked aghast. Father had a disapproving eyebrow arched, and his sisters had matched faces of shock. Was he the only she had told? Really? She chose today of all today's to tell their family? She had no gift for timing.

"I-India? Whatever do you mean, dear?" Mrs. Overland stumbled out. "Why on God's green earth would you be having to travel back from India?"

Mr. Fitzherbert cleared his throat. "Well, you see, we had planned to go to India earlier, but events prevented us from doing so. We were hoping to head there after the holidays were over."

"And when did you plan to tell me of this? Or to simply tell your family?"

"I told, Jackson," Mary huffed as she crossed her arms and sunk into her seat.

He sent her a glare. Why was she bringing him into this? This was her own mess to deal with. If she wanted to have her independence, she needed to take the initiative for herself and finish her battles, not shove them off onto the nearest available person.

His mother's eyes bored into him. "Jackson! Why did you not inform me of this? Did you not think that I, as her mother, had a right to know what my daughter is planning to do?"

Jackson stared at his drink and took another sip of fiery courage. "She told me at dinner while you were speaking about Mr. Liely's Christmas Eve Gala. You were in such a flurry of planning after that, I saw no reason to stress you out more with this news. I also had hoped she was planning on telling you herself," he answered diplomatically.

Mrs. Overland studied him for a moment before turning back to his sister, prodding her for an admission.

Jackson sighed and shifted in his seat, crossing his legs and resting his ankle on his opposite knee. He rested his glass on his protruding knee, staring intently at the light refracting through the crystal. Studied the small rainbows that danced around his drink, he raised it to his lips and took a sip. He rolled the liquid around his mouth and under his tongue, and he tried to focus on the recent turn in the family's dialogue, but found that he couldn't. His teeth nibbled at his lower lip and loosened a piece of skin. He took firm hold of it and pulled, tearing it off a small bit at a time until it dangled helplessly. He huffed and clamped down on it then ripped. He hissed in pain, flinging his fingers to the cut on his lip. Warm liquid bubbled up to meet the fleshy tips.

"Are you alright, dear?" his mother questioned.

"Yes, just bit my lip," Jackson said as he took a sip his drink, wincing at the burning clean. "Excuse me for a moment." He stood and set his glass down.

Mary pouted. "We were just about to open gifts."

"You can start without me."

"No, of course not," Emma said.

Their mother chimed in agreement. "Now, now. We will wait. Jackson, go clean yourself up."

"Yes, Mother," he said and ducked from the room. He trotted down the hall and up the stairs to his room.

As he dipped a rag into the water from the morning, he heard a knock at the door. His ears perked up, but when he couldn't make out anything of value, he went back to work. He dabbed the soapy water at the already clumping blood and wiped it away. After rinsing the blood away, he pressed it back to his lip to prevent further bleeding.

Jackson set the rag down and hesitantly touched the scab. No new blood leaked out. He tried to smile and grimaced instead, his lip unable to pull fully up. He sighed. It was as good as he was going to get; besides, he had to return or else his family's patience would quickly diminish.

As he walked down the stairs, his family was oddly quiet. He quirked an eyebrow and entered the sitting room. He paused in the doorway; his eyes focused on the woman who commanded the attention of the room. Steel eyes glared at him above high cheekbones.

"Mrs. Gooding," he said, bowing his head in recognition.

"Mr. Overland."

"May I ask what brings you to our household this holiday?"

"I was out visiting my nephew," she answered flatly, "and I remembered you lived not far from Mr. Liely's. I thought to myself, 'Why, I should see that young Mr. Overland and see how he is doing.'"

"Is that not kind of her, Jackson?" Mrs. Overland said, smiling wildly. "She went out of her way to visit you."

"Yes, it was kind of me," Mrs. Gooding drawled with a smirk. "Now, if you would please leave. I wish to speak to Mr. Overland alone."

"Yes. Yes, of course," his mother chirped, hopping to her feet and ushering everyone out.

Mr. Fitzherbert was the first to dash out, his head low and eyes averted. He was followed by Jackson's sisters and father. Mrs. Overland was the last to leave. Resting a hand on her son's shoulder, she whispered, "Be nice, dear. Treat her well. This is a great honor."

She shut the door behind her as she left, sealing him in with the woman.

"Have a seat," she said.

He obeyed.

"I am not one to ask unimportant questions, so I will get right to the reason I am here. I want to know, exactly, what is your relationship with my nephew, Mr. Haddock?"

"Relationship?" He swallowed. "There is nothing between us."

She arched an eyebrow, her eyes looking down at him even though her position was lower. "I wish for the truth, Mr. Overland. I will not settle for lies. You may save those to your family. I heard that he gave you a gift last night at Mr. Liely's Gala. What was it?"

"I can truthfully say that I do not know what he gave me," Jackson said.

"Lies."

"I am honest, Madame."

She huffed. Her fingers curled around the arms of the chair she sat in; her nails tapped against the wood, clacking in a steady rhythm. "You cannot hide for me, Mr. Overland. I know my nephew's disposition, and I have done everything in my power to sway him to a proper life. He is to marry my daughter; that has always been the plan between his mother and me since he was born. I have struggled to keep him to that, and until you arrived I had succeeded in doing so. And now, I cannot sit idly by and watch my nephew throw his life away to immorality and sin."

"Well, if that is what he chooses you can do nothing but. If it pains you so much, I cannot control that."

"Oh? Do you deny any sort of involvement with my nephew?"

"I do not deny nor confirm anything. I am simply stating that it is out of my control to influence his passions and decisions. Those are solely his own. And, if he desires to direct them at me, neither I nor yourself can prevent him," he stated. He felt a flush rising to his cheeks. His heart beated erratically against his chest, spurring him on into action.

"You owe me an answer, Mr. Overland. Now, tell me, what is your relationship with my nephew?"

He had always been one to say what was on his mind, but he could usually tell when to hold his tongue or settle for an indirect barb. However, he could feel the liquor pumping through his veins, fiery courage burning down his barriers and loosening his tongue. Standing, his hands clenched at his sides and swung back and forth in small, measured anger swipes. His eyes narrowed at the woman. "I owe you nothing," he said. "I do not need to inform you of my relationship with your nephew. If we pursued one, as yes he has offered, it would be between the two of us. You would never figure into the equation. That is all I have to say, Mrs. Gooding, and that is all I owe you."

She scowled; her face twisting into a masked of horror, disgust and outrage.

"Now, if you would please, it is Christmas and I would like to enjoy spending time with my family. I ask you kindly to leave us, and wish you a happy Christmas."

Mrs. Gooding growled as she stood up. Stalking over to him, she hissed, "I doubt this will be the last time I see you, but I assure you, you are dead to me. And, if my nephew pursues anything with you, he will be dead to me as well." With that, she swept from the room.

Jackson fell back onto the chaise. He reached for his long abandoned glass and tossed the rest of his drink to the back of his throat as his family filed in. Waving off their questions, he prompted them to hand out gifts before they made their way to dinner. But, his mind was out and floating around thoughts of Mr. Haddock for the umpteenth time these past few months.