A CANDLEFORD CHRISTMAS

T' was the night before Christmas. Since Laura's first Christmas in Candleford, a tradition had been established – the Lark Risers joined the inhabitants of Candleford for an evening of carol singing in front of the post-office. Mulled wine and roasted chestnuts filled the air with spicy aromas, and the hungry mouths with sweet savours.

Thomas Brown and Margaret had left on the 23rd, with their little baby daughter, to spend a day at his sisters, but they had returned in time for the sumptuous feast laid by Miss Lane. The Misses Pratt were invited, of course, and so were the Timmins family.

Miss Lane was yawning – she had been up at dawn to help Minnie prepare the food, and the day at the post-office had been a long one. Since new techniques had been found to print Christmas cards, everyone in Candleford sent at least a dozen to their loved ones. Many in Lark Rise had daughters or sons in service in the great houses all around the county, and they too sent small parcels with candy, nuts and home-made gifts to them. Anyway, although she liked music, she always said she could not hold a tune, and thus preferred listening to the carols to joining in.

In the hope of keeping awake – she was feeling deliciously drowsy from a mix of sheer exhaustion, mulled wine and Christmas spirit – she took a sweeping glance at the people surrounding her. Sydney was giggling with Minnie not far from the huge tree which had been set in the middle of the square. Laura, missing Daniel, was leaning on her father, holding his arm. Margaret, Thomas Brown and Emma were singing at the top of their lungs "O come, all ye faithful". The post-office looked cheery and inviting, decked in holly and ivy – and the forge …There was something odd about the forge, but she could not quite see what. Maybe it was that bright star seemingly burning above it that gave it a strange glow. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she detached herself from the crowd and made a beeline toward it.

Obviously, if she had been soberer, she would have been more cautious – it was dark, she was a petite woman, and she would have been no match for a prowler or an inebriated tramp having chosen to take shelter in the forge. The smart thing to do would have been to ask Thomas or Robert Timmins to escort her. But she did not. And it was alone that she opened the forge's door, candle in hand.

The first thing she saw was a bundle of bloodied rags on the floor, and she gasped – this was not what she had been expecting. Her very fertile imagination began to run riot, and in a few seconds the goriest possible scenes had passed through her brain. Still, she was not afraid, and felt suddenly as if her rather woozy state had cleared, and a peaceful feeling had descended upon her – which was rather at odds with her discovery. She took a step further, and held her candle higher in order to see the back of the room. She was met with a sight she would never forget – lying on the floor, on a pile of old blankets, was a woman nursing a new-born.

A man was watching them with a sad smile. His face was lined with worry, whereas the mother and baby had all the glow of youth, an extraordinary glow indeed since they appeared to radiate calm and peace. Dorcas almost took a step back, feeling she was intruding on such a domestic scene. However, she came to her senses and realised that either she had really had too much to drink, or there was a family in distress in her forge.

"- We are sorry, Ma'am – we want you no harm – only my wife was so tired - she has just given birth – we have been walking for several days now – and the door was opened, and …We'll go !

Don't go, please – you cannot possibly go back on the roads, with a baby, and in the cold. Who would I be if I bade you to leave on Christmas Eve !

Would you be so kind as to let us stay here for the night ? We don't need much – I saw some old blankets in the corner, if you would allow us to use them …

Stay here ! Certainly not!"

The woman had still not spoken – her glance crossed Dorcas', and Miss Lane was struck by the beauty of her face – she was thin and had the look of someone who must have been going hungry for days, but she had extraordinary eyes, pools of blackness that reflected, it seemed, a most elevated soul. The baby girl was as dark as her mother, but quite plump and rosy as some new-borns are – obviously she had not suffered from her parents' predicament. She too had arresting eyes.

" I beg you, Ma'am ! We have nowhere else to go – we tried at the inn in Inglestone – we have no money, but I could work for our keep – but they refused. Said they didn't want no gypsy baby being born in their inn ! But we're not gypsies – we're respectable, I promise. My name is Seosamh and I'm a journeyman carpenter. This here is Moira. I was working on the estate of Higreve Manor when I met Moira, the daughter of the house. She was only fifteen, and …When her father learnt we had become acquainted, he made plans to send her away to school at once. You know …"The rich man in his castle, the poor man at his gate"…

Another proof that love does not care for the great divide of social class – how many hearts will be broken by this!

T'is as you say. Well, we thought – I realise now that was pure folly on my part, as I was older, and should have known better, that we would elope. And so we did – the night before she was due to leave for school, we left together. We had taken a few clothes, and two horses from her father's stable – I didn't want to steal, see – but I knew she couldn't cope with travelling on foot. At first, everything was fine – farmers gave us shelter and food in exchange for repairs. We said we were brother and sister at first, and then, after some months on the roads, well …Moira began to show, so I found a curtain ring, and we called ourselves Mister and Missus. We wanted to get to Gretna Green before the winter – Moira not being of age, see, it was the only way …but one of the horses went lame, and I had to shoot him

H e winced at that particular memory. Miss Lane was listening intently to his pitiful tale. Her sentimental nature was particularly moved by the plight of those two young lovers, and she could not help thinking that years before, another love story might have had a very different ending, had she dared …

Seosamh resumed talking : "And the horse …Well, that was when we understood that our plan was impossible – we couldn't go all the way to Scotland with only one horse …And so I thought maybe we could go south, as an uncle of mine has a business there, but the baby …Moira got pains, see, and she's just a wee maid, and she got scared – and so I said we'd stop somewhere for a night or two, and we found your forge.

I see

He had probably said more than he wanted to – admitting they were not married and the girl was not of age was a big risk – but then, people usually did that with Dorcas Lane. One look into her understanding eyes, and they found themselves pouring out their life story to her.

Please let us stay – just for tonight.

Seosamh, you misunderstood me – I have no intention of throwing you out, especially on Christmas Eve. How can you possibly believe I would be so cruel ! What I meant is, I cannot possibly leave a mother and her new-born in a place with no heat, no food, no light …

When Miss Lane went back to the post-office, she was carrying a baby in her arms. Everyone was still singing outside, so she was able to bring down a big laundry basket and to settle the baby in it before calling her guests in to supper. She also installed the young mother upstairs in a comfortable bed.

At first no one noticed the baby as it was sleeping quietly in a dark corner of the kitchen. As Miss Lane's hospitality was well-known, no one expressed any surprise at finding a strange man at her table. Many journeymens went through Candleford, and at this time of year, they were welcomed for meals in most households.

As usual, it was Minnie who let the cat out of the bag. She had been helping Dorcas to put the last touches to the Christmas meal when she heard a faint cry. She beckoned Sydney, who was nearby, and they both scanned the room curiously. They soon found the laundry basket and its unconventional bundle inside.

S ydney stared at the basket, seemingly transfixed. And then, he turned tails, and ran out of the kitchen. He was back a few minutes later, with a moth-eaten teddy bear. He had brought it with him from his school, one of his only possessions at the time except from worn clothes and two dog-eared school books. Dorcas had bought him a new one, and other toys, and although he liked to play with his toy soldiers or his puppet theatre, his old teddy remained his favourite. He never went to bed without it. But on that Christmas night, he held it to the baby, cradling it beside it in the basket, and murmured softly "You need him now – I'll be all right."

The crying got louder, and it alerted Dorcas, who darted to the basket and took the baby in her arms /

"Get on with your work, Minnie – there are several people here waiting for their supper, in case you had forgotten!

Yes, Ma'am", answered Minnie, her eyes bulging.

Miss Lane had acted quickly, but not quickly enough. Some of her guests had seen the baby in her arms. Ruby Pratt started, and all but jumped to her feet, murmuring an apology. She went out, unheeding her sister's cry of "Ruby ! What on earth are you doing ? You'll catch your death !" When she came back in, she was carrying a little white blanket she had embroidered for Lady Windemere, in honour of Her Ladyship's goddaughter's christening. She sat back down at the table, keeping the blanket on her lap.

A few minutes later, Miss Lane returned with a well-fed, and thus silent baby in her arms, which she placed back into the basket. Everyone was busy enjoying the turkey and its trimmings, and once again she was noticed only by Ruby, who rose again from the table, and joined her. The two women exchanged an understanding glance, and Ruby placed the little blanket on the sleeping baby. She knew she would have a lot of explaining to do to Pearl when the latter would notice the disappearance of a piece of the christening trousseau that had taken countless hours of work and been made in the softest, costliest wool. "There you are, baby – you will no longer fear the cold winter nights."

Minnie was enjoying her Christmas diner too, but she was also thinking furiously – as usual, when she put her mind to something, she dedicated her whole attention to it, and Dorcas had to remind her three times to bring the dessert to the table before she really heard her…

W hen the guests were all served with Christmas pudding and fruit, and exclaiming if they found a silver penny or a button in their portion, Minnie slipped upstairs and came back with a piece of ribbon Alfie had given her for her birthday. It was green, her favourite colour, and she had very much enjoyed wearing it with her best dress on Sundays and holy days. She tied it on the teddy bear's neck, murmuring softly: "Here, little one – when u're big enough, u'll wear it to look pretty and find yourself a sweetheart like my Alfie."

When all the guests had gone home, full of good food and good wine, Dorcas brought the sleeping baby back to its mother, noting with emotion and amusement the three additions to the basket. She directed the father to the accommodation over the forge, and retired to bed, hoping for a restorative night, since the festivities would resume on the next morning. However, sleep eluded her for a while, as her mind was filled with ideas for finding her unexpected guests a new home, and maybe employment for the man, and a way for them to get married and legitimate the infant , and …And her poor overworked mind finally let her have some rest !

Used as she was to waking up with the lark for the morning post, her inner clock did not let her have any respite on Christmas morning, and Miss Lane was the first one to be astir in the household. Deciding to give Minnie and Laura a little more time to enjoy their slumber, she crept down the stairs, avoiding the creaky step right in the middle, and put the kettle on. While the water boiled, she decided to have a peep at her overnight guest and see if the new mother was awake and in want of a cup of tea.

She opened the door softly, not wanting to disturb them if they were still sleeping, and did a double take. The room was empty. Moreover, it was clear that the bed, where she had herself tucked in the new mother the night before, had not been slept in for many days. Miss Lane just stood there in shock for several minutes, unable to believe her eyes. Then, leaving the door open, she went back downstairs, and nearly tripped in her haste on the laundry basket where the baby had slept. It was jutting out from under the staircase, as it usually did when Minnie was too much in a hurry to put it back properly. She swore under her breath, and resumed her way to the forge – where, of course, no man was to be found.

She made her way back to the kitchen, and sat down, remaining staring into space until Minnie came down.

"- Oh, Ma'am, you're awake ? I've had such a good sleep, and I feel like …dunno, all Christmassy and merry, like !

Am I awake? I'm beginning to doubt it !

Are you all right, Ma'am? Do you want something for your stomach maybe? All those mince pies …

My stomach is perfectly fine, thank you, Minnie ! And it is not your place to comment on what I ate! It's just …I don't know, I feel so unsettled...

Well, 'tis Christmas, Ma'am – does strange things to people.

Maybe you're right Minnie. After a cup of tea, I'll feel better."

Miss Lane did not dare ask Minnie, or Sidney, if they had seen a baby the night before – she knew they sometimes found her peculiar, but she did not want them to think she was altogether bereft of reason… Moreover, as the day went on, she felt herself more and more doubting her own mental sanity. She had seen them, the family, with her own eyes! As the carol said, she had "come and behold them" …She had thrown away the bloody rags, and held the new-born in her arms …And yet – had she? Neither Minnie, nor Sidney or Laura enquired after the family. And Minnie was not one to hold her tongue when there was gossip afoot …

Dorcas remained in her private parlour quite late that evening, reading for the umpteenth time Andersen's tales. Her father used to read them to her on Christmas Day, and she had kept the habit ever since. Sidney had been with her, but he had gone to bed, exhausted after a day of fun and games in Lark Rise with the Timmins' . When she came to the story of The Little Matchgirl, she sighted. It just did not make sense. She had seen that baby…Poor little girl, being born in a forge – would she one day be reduced to selling matches? Would she die of cold watching a family revelling? Dorcas chided herself – it was only her overactive imagination, helped by a healthy amount of mulled wine, that had given birth to that baby – the whole thing was ludicrous!

She slowly got up, and went to snuff out the candles on the Christmas tree. When she stooped to reach the bottom ones, she noticed a small parcel on the floor. Something had been wrapped in a white piece of cloth. Inside, she discovered were two little wood-carved figures: a baby in a basket, covered by a blanket, and a smaller one in the shape of a teddy bear, with a ribbon round its neck. And then, she knew …

A slow smile grew on her face, replacing the puzzled frown it had worn for most of the day. She was not going mad after all. When she drew the curtains, she looked up at the sky – the burning star was still above the forge, even more radiant than it was the night before…And although she was not a particularly devout Christian, she murmured:

"And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men."

Merry Christmas!

Anne-Bénédicte