1917
For the second year in a row, she excused herself from the servants' hall before the first note of a Christmas carol could fly into the air, though after having lost one of their own in the fall, no one seemed overly eager to be the one to start. Apparently it had always been William who started the caroling, on the piano, she'd been told, but with the young man dead, no one seemed to want to touch the instrument.
As she was about to climb the stairs, she heard the first hesitant notes of "Silent Night" being played, and she was tempted to lend her voice, and she would've, had she not been on her way in for the night. Oh, how she wanted to, but the promise of a silent night of her own was much more alluring than a rowdy night with the others.
Next year, she promised herself.