Pocketing the hourglass, Jefferson turned on his heel and strolled back past the grimy glass cabinets before the shop keeper could return from out back, his exit marked only by the chime of the bell as the door closed behind him. A horse and carriage were passing by as Jefferson stepped out onto the pavement, and he tipped his hat as people of this land tended to do. The last thing he needed to was to arouse any suspicion. Glancing subtly down the street, Jefferson began to walk. Arriving at the corner, he crossed over and went down the steps beside the black railings.
A few people were milling around the centre of the village: mostly governess' pushing prams and well-dressed gentlemen with a haughty air to them. Jefferson merged in perfectly, unnoticed as he went to one of the benches that overlooked the cliffs. A woman was already sat down, her dark hair piled into a bun. Jefferson sat down beside her, and she lowered her newspaper.
"Took you long enough," Elizabeth remarked, folding the newspaper up, "I've had to read this twice."
"I'm sorry, the shop keeper wouldn't move from the counter. Kept babbling on about some festivities, clearly doesn't get many customers."
"You mean the Christmas market?" Elizabeth pointed to a large advertisement on the final page of the newspaper, "It started about an hour ago, just around the corner."
Sensing what she was about to ask, Jefferson took off his hat and flipped it between his fingers. "Let me guess, you want to stay in here a little longer?"
"It isn't as though Rumplestiltskin's waiting on us."
Jefferson gave a nod of agreement, and slung his hat back onto his head before slumping slightly in his seat. "You go; I'll stay and enjoy the view."
"You are not getting out of this," Elizabeth said with a flicker of a smile as she grabbed his hand and tried to pull him upright, "You can help pick the decorations."
Groaning, Jefferson begrudgingly stood up, but only because Elizabeth had proceeded to jab his arm with a surprisingly sharp finger. "Look, nobody in the enchanted forest has ever heard of this Christmas thing. From what you've told me, it sounds like you want to turn our house into some kind of beacon of shiny things."
"That's one of the aspects of Christmas: you'd understand if I showed you," Taking his arm, Elizabeth's voice took on a more persuasive tone, "We won't stay long, I promise. Then we can go back home."
Jefferson knew that there was no use in disagreeing: Elizabeth was already leading him back through the town centre and towards the pier, where the Christmas market appeared to be held. Despite the flurry of snow that cascaded to the ground, there was an evident sense of merriment that only increased Jefferson's frustration.
Crowds of people bustled by as they entered the market, each swathed in several layers of clothing to combat the cool sea breeze that rippled from the crashing tide. A babble of noise pulsated through across the pier, heightened by the rather tinny music that was blaring strange songs from some unknown place. Several dozen market stalls were set up, each crammed with all sorts of bizarre items and bright lanterns. Many sold an array of sickly looking foods, creating a pungently sweet smell, which combined with the endless cheer, seemed to drive away the icy chill from the sea. Jefferson stared around, trying to make sense of it all, pulled along the pier by Elizabeth.
"Still don't understand what all the fuss is," Jefferson said as Elizabeth crammed yet another purchase into one of the paper bags she was carrying.
Elizabeth hadn't heard him, and continued walking, leading him back down the pier.
'Perhaps we're finally done,' Jefferson thought, catching up with Elizabeth at the prospect of finally being able to leave what he had decided was hell. His heart sank as they came to an abrupt, Elizabeth stopping by one of the food stalls. This one was selling the strangest food of them all: unlike the jars of sweets that Jefferson recognised and had even tasted, these jars were filled with something completely alien.
"Oh we have to buy some mincemeat, Jefferson!" Elizabeth excitedly announced, beaming up at him before thrusting a jar towards him, "It's one of the most delicious things ever!"
Jefferson frowned, looking down at the jar. The contents, a thick, slimy, brown substance that contained what Jefferson guessed were fruit shavings, didn't look especially appealing.
"If you want," He muttered, fishing into his pocket in search of some more of the coins that this land operated in and handing them to Elizabeth.
"I do apologise for my fiancé," Elizabeth said, addressing the elderly stall owner, "He's not really the Christmas sort."
"A bit like Ebenezer Scrooge then," the stall owner laughed, taking the shillings from Elizabeth. Seeing Elizabeth's confused look, she clarified, "You know, out of A Christmas Carol, Charles Dickens' new book?"
"I haven't read it I'm afraid," Elizabeth said as the woman passed her the paper bag. Elizabeth glanced into the bag and set it down on the stall.
"There are two jars in here: I've only paid for one."
"You'll get through it quickly dear and I'm sure your child will share your love for it," The woman said, nodding towards the bump that Elizabeth's coat didn't quite hide.
"That's very kind of you, but I'm not expecting for another four months! I couldn't possibly-" Elizabeth began, taking one of the jars out of the bag.
"It's a good thing that mincemeat has a long date then."
Noting the old woman's stern gaze, Elizabeth nodded and put the jar back into the bag with a gracious smile.
"Thank you, and merry Christmas," She said, taking the bag with one hand, and linking the other arm through Jefferson's.
"Can we go now?" Jefferson huffed as they were swallowed up once more in the throng of people.
"Oh cheer up! That was the last stall I wanted to visit," Elizabeth said, "Surely you can see the magic in Christmas and the wonderful spirit it creates?"
"No. It's cold and I want to get these trinkets back to Rumplestiltskin. If that shop keeper has realised I've nicked the hourglass and we get caught, I'm sure the peelers, or whatever they're called, won't have any of this 'Christmas spirit'. And I know that you want to go home too. I can tell that you're dying to put up some of those silvery snake things."
"I told you, it's called tinsel!" Elizabeth laughed, stopping once again as they approached another stall that was surrounded by a large crowd.
"I thought we were leaving?" Jefferson demanded as Elizabeth tugged him towards the stall.
"Just one more, I think they're selling copies of that book the lady was talking about," Elizabeth said, suddenly stumbling into Jefferson as a figure pushed past her.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, I'm fine…" Elizabeth murmured, but Jefferson had already grabbed the shoulder of the person who tried to dart ahead, dragging them back by the scruff of their neck. He swivelled them around and glared at the scrawny youth.
"Even street-rats have enough courtesy not to barge into a pregnant woman," Jefferson spat, "show some respect."
"Jefferson, really, I'm not hurt-"Elizabeth began.
"He can still apologise."
"Sorry mister…sir…and miss," the youth stammered, his eyes staring down at his feet. With a satisfied nod, Jefferson released the boy and he scarpered off.
Looking around, Jefferson saw that the crowd had suddenly parted.
"Is it a bit too immoral to use your pregnancy as a way of stealing stuff and getting through crowds back home?" Jefferson whispered as he led Elizabeth through the crowd to the front of the stall, one arm around her.
"Yes," Elizabeth hissed before smiling across at owner of the stall, who was indeed selling books, many of which entitled 'A Christmas Carol'. Some had other titles, but all had the name Charles Dickens printed upon them.
"I've never heard of any these before," Elizabeth mused, picking up one of the books and reading the synopsis. She then flicked through the front pages and gave a slight nod to herself before putting it back in place.
"A copy of A Christmas Carol please," She announced, handing the coins to the young man that was perched upon a stool behind the stall, his top hat resting precariously upon his head as he stared at Elizabeth, his eyes rather blatantly trailing down to her chest.
Jefferson coughed impatiently, fixing the man, who could only be a year or so older than him, with a glare that rivalled that of the one he'd given the youth. The stall owner hurriedly took the money and handed Elizabeth a copy of the book.
"Merry Christmas," the man said, daring to wink at Elizabeth as he added, "God bless you."
"Merry Christmas to you too," Elizabeth replied politely, though Jefferson could hear the insincerity in her tone.
"That is why I don't like this land," Jefferson lowly said, once they were in the crowd again and out of earshot, "too many lecherous and rude youths. Plus, they all wear top hats, and that's my attire."
"I wouldn't say he was that lecherous: after all, you did kiss my hand when we first met, even though I was wearing an engagement ring."
"I hadn't seen it!" Jefferson defended, "and he could quite clearly tell that we were together. Barging into a pregnant woman is one thing, but staring at them…even I never went that low."
"Just forget about it, alright?" Elizabeth said, rubbing a hand soothingly on his arm, "You're starting to sound rather like Victor whenever we went into town."
Jefferson frowned at that and placed an apologetic kiss upon the back of Elizabeth's head. "I'm sorry; I don't mean to be over-protective. I just want you and our children to be safe."
Elizabeth didn't reply, although she leant into Jefferson a little, and he put his arm back around her shoulders, her snow tipped coat soft and cold beneath his fingertips. Realising that the raucous crowds had faded away, Jefferson looked up to see that walked back into seaside village. The gloomy weather had darkened the sea front, making it seem quite late in the day, although the cathedral bells only rang three times as they walked by.
Although Elizabeth wandered at a rather leisurely pace through the quaint streets, Jefferson listened out for any sound of the local police force. But the streets remained quiet, though Jefferson was relieved to catch sight of the alleyway that they'd arrived in. Keeping hold of Elizabeth's hand, they ventured down the alley, both studying the crumbling bricks to find the outline of the door.
"There!" Elizabeth pointed to the worn away gap in one the bricks that formed the door handle.
Jefferson muttered the incantation under his breath, and the faded red bricks around the handle slid out of place and re-arranged to create a door.
"It's like the entrance to Diagon Alley," Elizabeth said to him, "Now that place did have some strange things."
"Nothing is stranger than that slimy concoction you've brought."
"Mincemeat isn't slimy!" Elizabeth said, pushing open the brick door and stepping into the hat's hall of doors, Jefferson following behind her.
With a sigh, Jefferson pushed the front door shut. The warmth and quiet of their house was rather welcomed by the throbbing sensation behind his forehead. Jefferson had had enough of crowds for one day.
"So, what is Christmas anyway?" Jefferson asked, shrugging off his damp coat and hanging it on one of the wooden pegs by the door.
"I explained it to you the other day," Elizabeth called from the kitchen, accompanied by the sound of water being poured into the kettle, "Traditionally; it's a religious holiday, which is why this land doesn't celebrate it: you have magic to answer your prayers."
As Jefferson crossed the hall to the kitchen, he stopped by the bags that Elizabeth had discarded beneath the staircase. He took one of the rounded glass globes that were threatening to fall out of a bag. Jefferson moved to the doorway of the kitchen and held up the object.
"But what's this for?"
Elizabeth looked up from pouring the water into the two cups that were on the table. "It's a bauble. They're for decorating the Christmas tree with."
"Why do you need to decorate a tree?"
"I don't know! You just do," Elizabeth snapped. Shaking her head with a sigh, she took one of the cups and brought it over to Jefferson. "Victor will tell you, our family was never really that religious. We both just enjoyed celebrating Christmas because it was one of the only times of the year that our family was all together. I'd be able see Victor and Gerhardt after being stuck in an all-girl boarding school. Plus, once our father had retired to his study, we could exchange presents. Gerhardt once gave Victor a microscope that had belonged to a friend's father, and Victor always gave me at least one book. And I really want to celebrate it here with you, as a family."
"We can celebrate it," Jefferson said, the bauble spinning as he twisted the string between his fingers, "I'm just curious, that's all."
"Well you can help decorate if you want, although you probably put that bauble down before it breaks," Elizabeth laughed, handing Jefferson the cup of tea once he had slipped the decoration back into its bag, "Although we need a tree first. There's a rather large fir tree at the edge of the garden you can cut. I was thinking of putting it in the living room, okay? Once you're done, maybe I'll let you try one of the best mince pies that you've ever tasted?"
"You mean the most burnt mince pies I've ever tasted?"
"I just left those tarts in for a little bit too long, they were still edible," Elizabeth said, taking one of the bags from the floor. "They were!" She cried as Jefferson raised a disbelieving eyebrow.
"Then why didn't you eat any of them?" Jefferson called after her, though Elizabeth ignored him.
Finishing his cup of tea, Jefferson placed the empty cup on the cabinet before rooting around in the stove's basket of logs for the axe. Tugging it out, Jefferson grabbed his coat and ventured back outside.
Panting hard, Jefferson loosened his cravat and cursed at the axe that was now wedged into the tree trunk. He'd swung the axe until his arms ached, creating only a tiny dent in the thick trunk. At the rate he was going, Jefferson suspected it would be gone Christmas by the time he'd managed to chop down the tree. Cutting up logs for the stove was one thing, but chopping down a whole tree was a feat that Jefferson knew he couldn't manage. But his ego was still a little sore after the failure attempt to build the cots that had resulted in him having to shame facedly contact Marco and ask him to come out and build them. Jefferson had only one option. He was far enough away from the house to be certain Elizabeth wouldn't see. Rubbing his cold hands together, Jefferson glared at the axe and imagined it chopping into the tree with ease.
The axe was prised out of the wood and began to chop. Soon enough, the fir tree had collapsed on the ground before him. It seemed to be even bigger lay down, and Jefferson doubted it would fit even in their high ceilinged living room, although it swiftly shrunk to a more reasonable size with a flick of his hands.
Figuring that it wouldn't do to put his back out, Jefferson levitated the tree, watching it float up the garden towards the house. Seeing Elizabeth's figure through the kitchen window, Jefferson let the tree fall back onto the ground before lugging past the house. Once he was out of sight from the window, Jefferson reverted back to using magic to carry the tree into the house.
He carefully guided it over the threshold, along the hallway and into the living room before standing the tree in the ceramic plant pot that he had found along the side of the house. Stepping back to admire his handiwork, Jefferson looked up at the tree, its tip a few centimetres away from brushing the ceiling. Satisfied, he went out into the hallway to inform Elizabeth that the tree was ready for decoration.
When Jefferson stepped back into the kitchen, a scene of utter chaos greeted him. A dusting of flour had somehow managed to coat almost every surface Shrouds of steam hung in the humid air, emitted from the boiled kettle that sat upon the stove. Elizabeth turned to greet him, brandishing the rolling pin, her face speckled with flour and a mound of pastry upon the table behind her.
"How are the mince pies coming along?" Jefferson asked as he approached Elizabeth.
"I'm just about to roll out the pastry," Elizabeth replied, "it was a bit wet and there was slight incident when I opened the bag of flour…"
"Don't worry about it," Jefferson said, prising the rolling pin out of her hands, "You want me to help?"
"I can do it!" Elizabeth said, outstretching a hand to take back the utensil.
Jefferson gave her back the rolling pin and leant back on the worktop, watching Elizabeth with amusement as the rolling pin smacked into the ball of pastry. Pressing down into the pastry, Elizabeth worked the rolling pin back and forth, the pastry slowly disintegrating. Jefferson sidled up to her so that he was standing behind Elizabeth, his arms sliding around her waist so that his hands could take hold of the rolling pin. Putting the utensil to one side, he leant into Elizabeth, her skin warmed from being beside the stove.
"You want to do it like this."
Jefferson shaped the pastry back into a ball before gently pressing down with the palms of his hands. He then began to press the pastry down with the rolling pin, rotating it slightly as he rolled upwards.
"You have to roll out different areas of the pastry, rather than just the same section," Jefferson explained, guiding the edge of the rolling pin as Elizabeth resumed rolling, her index fingers brushing against the edge of his hands.
Once the pastry had been rolled out into one thin layer, Jefferson retracted his hands, his arms still cradled around Elizabeth. His hands rested upon the pronounced bump beneath her dress, the crown of her hair skimming along his jaw. Elizabeth gave a soft sigh, placing her own floury hands on top of his. Suddenly, Jefferson felt something hit against the palm of his hand.
"Did you feel that?" He asked, glancing down at Elizabeth, before sliding his hands out from beneath hers and guiding Elizabeth's hands down slightly as she shook her head.
"Well I've felt a few little jolts recently, but nothing-" Elizabeth's words were cut short by a gasp, "Oh! One of them is kicking!"
"I know," Jefferson said, somewhat surprised by the excitement in his voice and the grin that formed upon his lips as he put his hands back onto the bump.
For a moment, they were both quiet, revelling in the bizarre sensation of their two children beginning to move about. The movements soon stopped, Elizabeth's shoulders slumping slightly as she gave a disappointed sigh.
"Well, these mince pies won't make themselves," she said, "can you start cutting up the bases? I'll just get the mincemeat."
Jefferson obligingly stepped back and Elizabeth went around him to retrieve the jar from the cupboard beside him. As Jefferson began to cut up the pastry with a mug, he caught sight of Elizabeth out of the corner of his eye. She had unscrewed the lid of the jar and proceeded to sniff the contents.
"What on earth are you doing?" Jefferson asked, laughing bemusedly as he placed the first few bases onto the tray.
Elizabeth looked up, her eyes wide as she stared sheepishly up at him, oblivious to the mincemeat that had transferred onto the tip of her nose.
"I just love the smell of mincemeat: it's pretty much Christmas in a jar…what's so funny?"
"Nothing," Jefferson smirked, pressing a kiss to Elizabeth's nose, the sweet mincemeat sticking to his lips.
"Get off!" Elizabeth pushed him away, laughing despite her disgust, "Stop kissing me in order to lick food off my face!"
"I'm sorry," Jefferson wrapped his arms back around Elizabeth, the open jar of mincemeat held between them as he kissed her again, this time on the lips.
Tentatively pulling away, Elizabeth set the jar down on the worktop before taking out a large spoon and pointing it at the baking tray. "Can't we finish making these mince pies first?"
With a sullen pout, Jefferson unwound his arms. He began cutting the bases again, Elizabeth taking another mug and cutting out the other before placing them in the baking tray.
"This is the best bit," Elizabeth said, scooping a huge lump of mincemeat out of the jar and dolloping it into the nearest pastry base. She passed Jefferson a spoon and he filled the other side of the baking tray, using slightly smaller spoonfuls than Elizabeth.
Once the mince pies were cooking in the stove, Elizabeth took the remaining bags of Christmas items and led Jefferson into the living room. Within the hour, and after several disputes over how best to decorate, they had wound the tinsel around the tree's stem, dangled baubles off almost every available branch, and Elizabeth had even permitted Jefferson to magic the golden star to rest on top of the tree. Ordering Jefferson to remain in the living room, Elizabeth slipped back into the kitchen, reappearing with a plate of small pies that were sprinkled with icing sugar.
"Go on, try one," Elizabeth lifted off the topmost mince pie and presented it to him. The golden brown pastry was still warm between his fingers as Jefferson brought the pie to his mouth and took a bite.
The piping hot mincemeat was stickily sweet, and Jefferson had to admit, it certainly tasted a lot better than it had looked in the jar.
"It's not burnt; I'll give you that," Jefferson teased, unable to hide his smile. Elizabeth beamed, "I knew you'd like it."
The days to Christmas vanished as rapidly as Elizabeth's mince pies, though Jefferson hadn't realised the exact date until he was rudely awoken one morning in late December by the warm duvet being torn off the bed. As the cold hit him, Jefferson's eyes snapped open and darted accusingly around the bedroom. Stood at the foot of the bed was Elizabeth, wearing nothing but one of his shirts and a grin even wider than the Cheshire cat's.
"Get up, it's Christmas day!" She announced through a mouthful of the mince pie.
"Can't I sleep?" Jefferson grabbed the edge of the sheets and attempted to pull them back up.
"But it's Christmas!" Taking his hand, Elizabeth pulled at Jefferson's arm, pouting as he tried to roll back over.
"Alright, alright, I'm getting up!" Stifling a yawn, he swung his legs around the edge of the bed and took the dressing gown that Elizabeth had handed him.
"Come on, come on," Elizabeth led him out into the hallway, her expression only growing more animated as she glanced up at him.
The gradual decoration of the house hadn't seemed especially grand at the time, but in the cool morning air and clear sunlight, the decorations seemed even grander. Gingham bunting was hung along the hallway walls, the red tinsel that was snaked down the banister brushing against their fingers. The downstairs hallway was similarly decorated, the aroma of mincemeat and cinnamon growing slightly stronger.
"This way," Elizabeth said, going onto her tiptoes, her hands covering over his eyes. "Three steps forward then turn ninety degrees," She whispered, guiding Jefferson towards the living room. Her hands flew away and Jefferson stared around the room. The tree looked just as it did the day before, but the plate of mince pies that Elizabeth had insisted they put out was now empty: and there was a small wrapped box beneath the tree.
"Merry Christmas," Elizabeth bent down and lifted the box before handing it to Jefferson, "Go on, open it!"
Holding the box with one hand, Jefferson peeled away the red paper to reveal a black box. He lifted up the top. Cushioned in deep purple velvet was a rose gold compass, the black needle quivering at North.
"Just in case you ever get lost once I stop portal jumping," Elizabeth explained, "No matter which realm you're in- as long as there's a gravitational thing, it should point North."
"It's wonderful, thank you. But you didn't have to get me anything," Jefferson said, staring down at the compass as he added lowly, "I'm sorry, I didn't get you anything."
Elizabeth chuckled softly and her hands reached up to cup Jefferson's jaw, forcing him to meet her gaze. "You don't need to buy me anything. All I need is you."
"Elizabeth..." She leant into him, fingers trailing down his skin, "Can you smell burning?"
Elizabeth snapped away, her face falling as she inhaled, "The pigs in blankets!"
Shaking his head, Jefferson followed Elizabeth, who had darted off to the kitchen. Smoke billowed out of the stove that she had flung open, and Elizabeth removed the baking tray to reveal several black and charred sausages wrapped in bacon.
"I wanted to do you a Christmas breakfast," Elizabeth said mournfully, "Although there are still the scrambled eggs and toast to do..."
"How about I finish making breakfast?" Catching sight of the defrosted turkey, Jefferson continued, "And perhaps dinner too?"
"That probably would be for best," Elizabeth kissed his cheek before taking the kettle from the stove and filling it up with water.
Jefferson put the slices of bread onto the grill of the stove and cracked the eggs into the saucepan Elizabeth had already placed on top of the stove. Elizabeth set the kettle back beside the saucepan, humming softly as she gracefully moved across the kitchen to fetch two cups. Scraping the edges of the scrambling eggs, Jefferson watched as Elizabeth took out the toast and shoved a slice into her mouth.
"Are you going to wait for breakfast or just eat it all now?"
"I'll wait," Elizabeth said, taking the cups of tea back to the kitchen table. She took a seat and wiped away the crumbs from her cheek before placing a hand to her abdomen, "These two are always hungry."
"I guess that's why I've only had three mince pies out of the two batches you've done over the last two weeks?" Jefferson asked, sliding half of the scrambled eggs onto each plate of toast.
"Maybe..." Elizabeth leant back in her seat, sipping at her cup of tea.
Jefferson sat down on the opposite side of the table and handed Elizabeth her plate before tucking into his own plate of scrambled eggs.
"Might be able to try out that compass," Jefferson said, having swallowed a mouthful of toast, "Depends upon where Rumplestiltskin sends us."
"It's Christmas day! Rumplestiltskin can't send us anywhere: I refuse to work," Elizabeth folded her arms, a hint of an obstinate smirk upon her lips, "But if you're eager to use the compass, you could see if it works in the Land without colour? When we visited Victor last week I invited him to spend Christmas with us.
"And he said yes?" Jefferson asked, unable to his incredulous tone.
"Yes! I thought it'd be nice; we'd be able to show him the nursery, and celebrate Christmas in colour. Plus your Christmas dinner will probably taste much better. "
"Of course it will," Putting down his empty tea cup, Jefferson rose from his seat and glanced out of the window. The ground appeared to be firm with frost, the grass still visible, although the sky was dark with heavy, snow filled clouds. "I'll go get dressed."
The warmth from his cup of tea seemed to fade away as Jefferson released the field mouse that'd he pocketed from outside of their house and stepped out into the gnarled woodland that surrounded the Frankenstein estate. In the middle of winter, the colourless land seemed to be bleaker than ever, a sense of starkness within the bitter air from the skeletal trees against a grey sky. Whenever he took Elizabeth to see her brother, he always led her through the woods as swiftly as he could.
Having grown up playing hide and seek in the maze of trees, Elizabeth had never sensed it, but to Jefferson the woods were too foreboding to ever be pleasant to walk through. The empty branches swayed with a crackle, whispering the Count's words. Jefferson knew that he was long gone, but still, he quickened his pace slightly and was rather relieved to catch sight of a chimney of the Frankenstein castle. Glancing down at the compass that glowed gold in his hand, the needle duly pointing north, Jefferson found the parting of the trees that led out onto the driveway and stepped out of the woods.
The crunch of gravel beneath his feet was the only sound that Jefferson could hear, the lifeless countryside that surrounded the castle silent. His breath misting before him, Jefferson hurried up the steps of the porch and rapped on the knocker. Tapping his foot, Jefferson listened for any sign of life behind the front door.
After what felt like an eternity to the rather cold Jefferson, the door finally opened, though only by a few centimetres.
"If you're another bunch of carollers, I'm not giving you any money," Came Victor's voice from behind the door.
"And Elizabeth said I was Scrooge," Jefferson muttered, "Open up Victor, it's me."
The door opened fully, and Victor, who Jefferson presumed had just come from his laboratory, was wearing his lab coat, faced him.
"What are you doing here on your own? Is Elizabeth alright?"
"She's fine. Really, she's great. You're coming over for Christmas dinner, right?"
Victor stared at him blankly for a moment, before nodding with a slight frown, "It's Christmas day already?"
"Yep- didn't realise myself until Elizabeth had forced me out of bed this morning and almost burnt down the kitchen trying to make breakfast."
"I'm afraid Christmas always brings out the child in Elizabeth, and haven't you realised by now how dangerous it is to leave Elizabeth in a kitchen unattended?" Victor said, suddenly noticing that Jefferson was still stood in the doorway, "Come in, it's freezing out there. I'll just be a moment."
Closing the door behind him, Jefferson gazed around the hallway, Victor having hurried up the staircase. In the weak sunlight, the lining of dust was even more apparent, the dark tiles covered in moist damp. Upon the wall, its frame looking rather corroded was the portrait. The happiness in their faces seemed somewhat tainted as Jefferson wondered how only a few years later, they could all be torn by apart by the loss of the woman stood to the right of her husband, a charitable smile upon her face.
Jefferson looked up at sound of approaching footsteps on the stairs, Victor clutching a bottle in one hand and the handle of a worn leather box in the other.
"I'm afraid I didn't really know what to get you, and ironically people always used give me a bottle of this because I'm pretty difficult to buy for," Victor said as he reached the bottom of the stairs. He handed Jefferson the opaque bottle, its label fresh and white. "You don't mind mulled wine do you?"
"Not at all," Reading the label, which promised a sweet yet mature beverage, having been brewed ten years ago, Jefferson was struck by the generosity of Elizabeth and Victor, the compass feeling rather heavy in his coat pocket. "It's very...nice of you. Thanks."
"I couldn't give Elizabeth something and not give you anything," Victor replied, looking down as he buttoned up his coat.
"We should probably get going- I've left Elizabeth to watch over the dinner," Jefferson said, warranting a low laugh from Victor.
The first few flecks of snow had begun to fall as Jefferson and Victor emerged from the hat into the forest, the ground firm beneath their feet as Jefferson led Victor in the direction of the village in which his house was on the outskirts. Both walked fairly quickly, eager to escape the bitter cold that encompassed the almost deserted forest, though their journey was not an unpleasant one. Jefferson filled Victor in on Elizabeth's shopping spree at the Christmas market, whilst Victor recounted several anecdotes from past Christmases, including when Gerhardt had once presented Elizabeth with lipstick that he'd managed to get hold of, despite attending an all-boys boarding school with Victor.
A plume of smoke rose from the chimney as Jefferson and Victor reached the top of hill, and he exchanged a glance with Victor before knocking on the door. Unlike her brother, Elizabeth flung the door open, beaming at the sight of them.
"The kitchen's not on fire is it?" Jefferson asked as he stepped inside.
"No! I've just put the chicken in the stove and the vegetables are cooking nicely. I just forgot about the breakfast, that's all. It doesn't mean that I'm incapable of cooking altogether, despite what Victor may have told you," Elizabeth shot a reprimanding glare at her brother before laughing and pulling him into an embrace.
"Elizabeth, you only saw me three weeks ago," Victor muttered, placing a hand on Elizabeth's back, her head pressed to his chest.
"I still missed you!" She stepped back, her hands on Victor's shoulders. Elizabeth looked him up and down. His dark coat was now an olive green colour and his snow dusted hair was a dirty blonde. "You look better with a little colour in your cheeks," she quipped, ignoring the roll of Victor's eyes.
"As do you Elizabeth. Oh, and I have something for you," From behind his back, Victor produced the box that had taken with him from the Land without colour and presented it to her, "I've been so busy in the laboratory, I haven't had chance to wrap it up, but Merry Christmas."
"Is that-?" Elizabeth gasped, taking the box and undoing the latches. She lifted the lid, her smile widening as a tea set was revealed, with each piece of crockery set into a small mould to prevent it from breaking. "I haven't seen this in years!"
"You being spiked by the tea in Wonderland reminded me of how much you used to love holding tea parties as a child, so I did some digging around in the attic and found your old tea set. I thought perhaps you'd like to use it with your children?" Victor said.
"It's perfect, Victor, thank you. I'll just go and put this in the nursery: in fact, do you want to come with me? I'd love for you to see what we've done," Taking Victor's arm, Elizabeth ascended the stairs.
"I'll go and check on dinner," Jefferson called up to her and Elizabeth nodded, her eyes still lit up at the tea set that she clutched. Smiling to himself, Jefferson took the bottle of wine from where he had placed it on the cabinet and headed into the kitchen.
Elizabeth had done a good job of watching over the dinner, the chicken beginning to brown behind the glass door of the stove. Having brought the potatoes to the boil, Jefferson set the table as he waited for Elizabeth and Victor to come back downstairs. They were too high up for him to hear their footsteps, though Jefferson suspected that Elizabeth was probably taking the opportunity to show Victor around the rest of the house. Setting down three coasters onto the white tablecloth, Jefferson set the bottle of mulled wine onto the table alongside two glasses and a tea cup for Elizabeth. Although Jefferson hadn't wanted to spoil his appetite, he couldn't help but sneak one of Elizabeth's mince pies, hurriedly swallowing the final bit as the sound of voices grew louder.
"-I'm amazed that we still had that tea set, I thought it'd gone years ago," Elizabeth stepped into the kitchen, catching Jefferson brushing away the crumbs from around his mouth. "Is that supposed to be revenge for me eating so many?" She laughed, placing several cylindrical objects onto the table between each mat.
"What is that?" Jefferson asked, taking the nearest one of them and holding it up. The red paper body glittered in the light, and the edges seemed to be squashed in slightly, bound in place by ribbons.
"Apparently, it's some new Christmas decoration called a cracker," Victor said "although this is the first time that I've seen one."
"That's because they haven't been invented in our land yet, nor has that book I was showing you been published yet," Elizabeth explained, taking the cracker off Jefferson and shaking it. "According to the person I brought them off, one person pulls at each end, and whoever pulls hardest makes it snap and whoever gets the biggest bit gets the prizes inside. Go on, Victor, you pull one with Jefferson."
She handed the cracker back to Jefferson and Victor took hold of the other end, studying the cracker with interest.
"It won't do anything unless you pull it!" To prove her point, Elizabeth put her hands around Jefferson's and yanked their end of the cracker hard, forcing Victor to tightly grab onto his end to stop it flying out of his hands.
There was a loud snapping sound and both Victor and Jefferson jumped, equally as startled, as the cracker split into two and several sweets rained down onto the table. Laughing at their reaction, Elizabeth picked up the yellow paper crown that had also fallen out. "Oh I forgot to warn you, they do make a rather loud noise."
"Funny how you 'forgot' to warn us," Victor said dryly, though he too was smiling despite himself. He shifted slightly as Elizabeth tried to reach up and put the crown onto his head. "I'm not wearing that!"
"Yes you are," Elizabeth placed the crown rather resolutely onto his head, grinning wickedly.
Stifling back a laugh, Jefferson popped the cork of the wine and poured himself and Victor each a glass. Elizabeth and Victor had sat down and had already begun to bicker amiably over whose end of the cracker was bigger, and therefore should be wearing the crown. Shaking his head at the pair, Jefferson inhaled the aromatic scent of the roasting chicken and leant back in his seat.
'This time next year,' He thought to himself as he watched the last few flakes of snow float to the ground outside, 'We'll have two children to celebrate Christmas with- and I might even be married.'
Whether it was from the sweet, bubbly drink that he was sipping, or the cheery atmosphere around the kitchen table, but somehow the future didn't seem quite as daunting to him as it had done only a few months ago.