The train ride up to Scotland was rather long, and when I stepped out onto the platform with Rigel it was cold, wet and threatening snow. Fortunately, I was ensconced in the coat Will had given me, and was wearing a wool sweater underneath. Rigel and I huddled in the back of a cab as the driver loaded my trunks and took us across Edinburgh. The house looked warm and inviting, even if the roses had been pruned back for the winter. But the staff that had been found had been told to expect me, and the cook and housekeeper were more than willing to help wrestle my trunk into the bedroom.

I told them to head home after, and followed the scent of dinner into the kitchen. The cook had left a pot of stew and a loaf of bread for my dinner, and the oven was still lit. I huddled close to it as I ate, and lit a candle from the embers to take upstairs. The electric lights were bright, but I had no idea what had been left to light the fireplace in the bedroom. Fortunately, it had been stacked with kindling and some actual firewood, all it took was me lighting the crumpled newspaper for the fire to be crackling merrily.

I paused before getting into bed, running my hand over the bed hangings. Will was going to be so surprised to see the Murdoch tartan curtains I had paid to have made and installed. With the bright red and green of the plaid it was perfect for Christmas, not to mention that when they were pulled around the bed, they made it wonderfully warm.

That wound up being much needed, for it was cold enough when I woke up to make me shiver. Rigel hardly cared that my teeth were almost chattering as I let him outside and returned to the kitchen. The stove was easy to light, and I swiftly had the main fireplace in the parlor lit. A quick ransacking of the cupboards revealed a tin of cocoa, and with a little milk, I had a hot drink to warm me from the inside out.

Rigel hardly seemed to feel the cold when I let him in, happily wagging his somewhat wet tail as he set about examining the house. I did a sweep of it myself, seeing what needed attending to. The rooms were clean, a Christmas tree had been set up in the parlor with a number of decorations piled up nearby, and the pantry and icebox were well stocked. The housekeeper and cook would be coming out later in the morning, and I had arranged for a cab to take me to meet Samuel at the train station.

He looked tired when I saw him, a porter pushing a cart with his trunk behind him. I gave him a smile as I hugged him, "We're so glad you could join us for Christmas."

Samuel briefly squeezed me, "I'm only sorry it's only fer a few days."

"Will will be glad for any time you can spend with us." I replied, following him outside and into the cab. He was quiet for the drive, but complimented the house when we pulled up. I paused to remove my coat once we got inside. "Samuel, is everything alright?"

He shook his head, but smiled. "Nothing for ye tae concern yerself with. I think I'm tired more than anything."

I gestured to the stairs, "The guest room has been prepared, it's just upstairs. Why don't you go have a rest? Will should be here when you get up."

He nodded, climbing the stairs slowly. I bit my lip as I watched him, feeling a worry in my chest. Samuel was at an age where the cold could get to him easily, and I hurriedly sent the housekeeper up to make sure his fireplace was lit. I also asked for something warm and hearty to be made for dinner, and wound up distracting myself by decorating the tree. It gave me time to think about other things, such as the pile of presents I had sent after Sylvie and her children. They were all very excited to see their father for Christmas, and for the impending puppies. I hoped they would be as excited over the toys and clothes I had sent, but a new jacket paled in comparison to a puppy.

Will was quite glad when the cab dropped him off at the house, rushing inside and stripping his greatcoat off before it dripped on the floor. And then there was a pair of arms around him, the weight of his wife dangling off his shoulders. He chuckled, feeling her against his back. "Ana, I take it you're glad to see me?"

"Of course," She giggled, dropping down. Will turned and caught her up in his arms, kissing her deeply. She was breathless by the time she pulled away. "You're feeling well?"

He nodded, "Yes, and you?"

"Yes," She leaned in closer, her voice low. "Your father got in this morning, he looks exhausted."

"I'll speak to him later," Will sighed, "He's too old to be exhausting himself." That certainly threw a problem into the mix. In the few letters that his father had sent he hadn't mentioned his health, far too concerned with his children. Samuel had proposed to Martha and they were intending on getting married in the spring, Peg had taken on a job teaching at the school in Dalbeattie and Agnes was recovering after an illness.

Will put it from his mind for the moment though, far too happy to have Ana in his arms as they moved to sit by the fire. She was full of questions about how his ship was faring, and he spent a pleasurable time telling her about their gunnery practice. He did not mention the storm, the last thing he needed was for her to worry herself sick. "We were much improved the second day, and even managed to run torpedo drills on our way back."

She shivered slightly, "I will never go back out until it's safe, I just know a U-boat would find me again. I saw the torpedo that day."

"I remember," Will drew her a little closer, "But soon enough the seas will be safe again and torpedoes will be a thing of the past."

"I think I'll keep this house though," Ana leaned into his shoulder. "I have no doubt we'll want to spend a few days in the city once I find an estate for us."

Will snorted, tickling her. "Spendthrift."

"As if you won't enjoy it." She wriggled in his arms, slipping away from him. "I suppose I can tell the cook to find out whatever your crew is getting served tonight and plate it up for you, and you'll have to sleep with a blanket on the floor. I can't have you enjoy comfort if I'm a spendthrift."

He rolled his eyes, enjoying her teasing. "Well, I suppose some comforts can be allowed. In fact, laying out sounds rather nice right now."

Ana waved at the stairs, "Head on up, I slept plenty. I'll come get the both of you when dinner is ready." Will left her with a kiss, glad to be able to shed the rest of his uniform. He had a trunk being delivered later, containing not only his clothes but presents for his father and Ana. Samuel should be pleased with the fine pipe he had bought for him, and he knew Ana would coo over the soft silk scarf he had gotten to match her new coat.

All thoughts of presents fled from his mind though when he opened the bedroom door to find a scene that would have befitted a Christmas themed painting.

A fire was burning in the fireplace, the Mudroch tartan had not only been used for the bed hangings but the blankets, a plate of shortbread was sitting on a table with a pitcher by it, and Will could smell fresh pine hung somewhere in the room. All it was missing was a snow-covered window, but that would be taken care of soon enough, the sky outside dark and a nasty chill in the air.

He turned when he heard soft footsteps behind him, Ana shyly peeking around the doorframe. "Do you like it?"

"I do," Will held out a hand, "But I'd like it more if you joined me." She was all smiles as she did, Rigel loping in behind her. Will had expected to lay down for a few hours, but instead of sleeping he spent the time enjoying the shortbread and reading Ana's latest book aloud. Rigel splayed out in front of the fire, clearly moping when Ana got up to see that dinner had been prepared. But he followed his mistress, which gave Will a chance to get up and slowly open the door to the occupied gust room, "Da, are you up?"

There was a grumble, "Ye can come in, William."

He opened the door wider, seeing that Ana had been no less thorough in preparing this room. What concerned Will was his father, his beard hanging limply from pale skin, his eyes rather glazed and a slight cough that had him covering his mouth with a slightly shaky hand. Will quickly glanced to make sure the fire was built up, then knelt down to add a few logs. "Da, ye haven't been taking care of yerself."

Samuel waved him off, "I'm fine, just caught a cold last month. The damn cough won't leave."

"And is the cold why yer so pale?" Will cocked his head, raising a brow. "Ye haven't been resting, have ye?"

"I have," Samuel snapped, but glanced away. "There's more tae do around the house now, what with Peg teachin' and Sam gettin' ready for his wedding. I don't want tae be a burden on them."

"Ye are not a burden, Da." Will sighed, "But if ye don't take care of yerself then ye will be. Let Jeannie help, she can bring her girls over. I'm quite sure they'd love to see their Grandda."

"They'd like tae see their uncle too." Samuel shook his head, "Ye don't have tae mother me, yer wife is doin' enough of that."

"Well she needs to, what with ye lookin' like that." Will knew he was laying the accent on, but he knew his father liked to hear him sounding Scottish. "Now, head on down for dinner. It sounds as if Ana is intent to stuff ye full."

Samuel grumbled as he made his way downstairs, and Will leaned in close to Ana as he sat down at the table. "I think I may slip out tomorrow morning."

"On Christmas Eve?" She turned, whispering as he was. "Why?"

Will cut his eyes over to his father, who was already staring in on the soup that had been brought out for the first course. "I want to get him a heavy coat before he heads back, otherwise he'll catch a chill and be laid up for months."

Ana snorted, "Laid up, you make him sound like a ship."

"You take better care of your ships than he does of himself." Will sighed, shaking his head and turning to his own plate. He could already feel Samuel's gaze on him. "Yes, Da?"

"What were ye two whispering about?"

Ana, God bless her, stepped right in. "Oh, Will was asking if I had brought a copy of A Christmas Carol. It's a family tradition on my side to read it every year on Christmas Eve. You'll join in, won't you Samuel?"

Well, his father couldn't say boo to that and readily agreed to participate in the reading. He watched as Ana preened as she relayed all of her plans for the next few days, including the meals. Honestly, Will was concerned for a moment that she intended to get him too fat to return to the Unicorn with everything she had planned.

But when he looked at his father, Will knew he would eat everything because then Samuel would be obliged to.

Ethel Beatty was utterly, downright furious to be spending the holidays in Scotland and not down in London. She had fully planned for a wonderful Christmas consisting of a room at the Ritz, enough wine to drown a dozen guests, and a rather handsome Earl that had been in town. But then Davey had written that she needed to come up for Christmas and that she would be expected to attend a New Year's Party thrown by Mrs. Murdoch.

Which meant she would have to endure an entire night of everyone fawning over that woman and she would have to watch her husband ogle her all night.

When she had arrived at their house in Fife and the servants had put her things away, she had closed the door and let Davey have it. How could he think he could ever order her around? He had no standing without her, she funded everything, including his career. She was the one who turned a blind eye to his infidelities, all she expected was that he afforded her the same courtesy. Part of her did truly care for Davey, but he could drive her to such anger, especially when he treated her like one of the men under his command.

But no matter how much she screamed and threw things, he stood firm.

She was his wife, it was expected that when he was invited to parties she would go with him. He put his foot down with regards to her behavior. Ethel was not to bait Mrs. Murdoch, she was not to proposition Captain Murdoch and she was not to spread any rumors to the other officers who would be attending. Davey had almost glared at her, "So long as you behave, you can return to London and maintain yourself there in whatever manner you choose. But if you say one rude word to Mrs. Murdoch then I will insist on you staying in Scotland until Easter."

Ethel pouted, turning away. "Very well. I assume it will be a formal event?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll need to go shopping." She glanced over her shoulder, "Have the car waiting for me in the morning." Ethel always felt better after shopping, so when she returned with a rich ruby dress, and a new necklace of the same hue, she was much kinder to Davey. His position really did need her to grace social events, a few days in Scotland was endurable.

But when they drove to the party, Davey requested a stop be made first. Ethel held her tongue as the car pulled up outside a hotel, her dress would get horribly wrinkled if she sat in it for too long and her white fox coat was growing rather warm. But then a familiar round face, with a rather yellowish cast to it, joined them. She pasted a happy smile on her face, "Lord Fisher, how wonderful to see you again! Davey didn't let me know you were joining us."

Fisher, twice First Sea Lord and only recently resigned, inclined his head slightly. "I found myself in need of some kind of diversion and David mentioned a party you had been invited to. I only hope the hosts won't mind an extra mouth to feed."

Davey chuckled, "I'm sure they'll be thrilled. You'll like them, the husband's a born sailor and the wife, well, she's certainly something."

Fisher cocked his head, "Influential?"

Davey rocked his own head back and forth, "In her own way, she and Ethel have certain similarities."

When Fisher turned to her, Ethel bit down her first remark, that for all her protestations of fidelity Mrs. Murdoch was likely as loyal as she was, and replied as was expected. "She's an American like me," She turned to Davey, simpering. "What can I say? We just love a British man in uniform."

He put an arm around her for that, even giving her a little kiss. "Not to mention that Mrs. Murdoch inherited a successful shipping company." Davey grinned, "I'm hoping it's successful enough that we'll have champagne tonight!"

It took everything Ethel had to not roll her eyes, because she could easily have bought him any amount of champagne. But Davey did love a party, and when they pulled up outside the rustic hovel the Murdochs had bought, he was practically bouncing in his seat. He at least had the decency to help her out and lead their little party in. Ethel kept an eye on her husband and Fisher as they entered, the hosts right at the front to greet everyone.

Both of them had the same reaction to Anastasia, their eyes widening slightly and a slight smile on their lips. Ethel cut her eyes over, looking at their hostess. The first thing she noticed was the glittering diamond and pearl tiara that by all rights should have been hers, matching the sparkling silver dress she was wearing. But it was marred by an ugly plaid sash that crossed from her shoulder to her hip where the rest of it hung down her skirt.

Ethel's smile may have been a bit tighter as she leaned in and very lightly embraced her. "Mrs. Murdoch, we were so glad to receive your invitation."

Anastasia nodded, making the pearls in her tiara sway. "Mrs. Beatty, Admiral Beatty, it's lovely to see you both again. However, I'm afraid I haven't met your friend."

Davey drew himself up, gesturing to Fisher. "My apologies, may I present Lord John Fisher, Admiral. Lord Fisher, Captain William Murdoch and his wife, Anastasia."

Plain faced Captain Murdoch blinked in shock, then hastily saluted. "Admiral Fisher, it's an honor, sir."

"There's no need for formality," Fisher chuckled, "I'm retired at the moment."

Ethel had to snort as the salute was quickly dropped, but then Anastasia stepped forward. "We're very glad that you came, my Lord."

Fisher caught her hand, bowing over it. "As an American, I don't believe you're obligated to call me that." He looked up with a grin. "John will suffice."

Anastasia laughed, withdrawing her hand. "Very well, John. Please, head on in and help yourself to something to drink. Our cook will send out some food in a little while."

Ethel wrapped her arm around her husband, who was still admiring Mrs. Murdoch. With Fisher on his other side though she couldn't chide him for it, so instead she gently tugged on his arm. "What in the world is that sash she's wearing?"

Fisher spoke up, "I suppose it's her husband's plaid. I'll have to ask for the story behind it once all the guests are here." Davey quickly agreed with Fisher about their need to ascertain exactly what Mrs. Murdoch was wearing, and Ethel swallowed down a sigh. This was shaping up to be a long night.

Bertie anxiously straightened his tie while his aide reached for the doorknob. God it was good to be away from Scapa Flow. The anchorage had enough protection that the winter storms couldn't bother them, but the spray still blew and by God it was cold. Edinburgh and Rosyth were still cold, but at least he didn't have to drag out a set of oilskins when he stepped outside.

His aide, Randall, held the door for him. He hadn't really needed an aide to travel with him, but Randall had asked if he could come down and take a few days to see his family. Considering that he was one of the few who treated Bertie like a fellow officer, he had agreed. He couldn't help the smile that broke out when he saw the Murdochs though, offering William a salute. "Captain Murdoch, sir, thank you for the invitation."

Anastasia spoke first though, her smile bright enough to light up the room. "Bertie! I was ever so glad when Will said you'd be coming down."

As usual when confronted with her, Bertie took a minute to find his voice. "W-well, yes, I was so pleased you thought of me."

"Of course we did," Captain Murdoch favored him with a smile, "You're welcome to come visit at any time, in fact, if you have a few days after tonight you're welcome to come by and we can go over those navigation problems I sent you with my last letter."

Bertie nodded quickly, "I would be glad to, your written explanations are very helpful but hearing you talk about it makes everything so much clearer."

"Well, there's time for that later." Anastasia patted her husband's arm, "Why don't you head on in? I think there's only one more guest we're waiting for, we'll be along shortly."

Bertie sketched a shortened bow, heading off into the parlor. It was already filled with officers and their wives, as were the other rooms that had been opened up for the party. There were quite a few, given the smaller nature of the house. In fact, it appeared the only place off limits was the kitchen and the second floor. After assuring Randall that he could go speak to a friend, Bertie availed himself of a glass of champagne and found an out of the way corner to drink it.

Unfortunately, on the other side of the lamp he was hiding behind, he heard a very familiar voice. Ethel Beatty was laughing at something, "Honestly, it looks like a rag!"

"Well, you know those Scots, they're barely civilized." Her friend giggled, "Did you see the way Fisher was looking at her?"

"Did you hear what they were talking about?" Ethel's voice was soft, she clearly didn't want to be overheard by many people. "Naval strategy. Honestly, that's not a very feminine pursuit."

"At least Fisher seemed interested."

"He'd be interested if she couldn't even read." Ethel snorted. "And her saying that she wants him to meet Lieutenant Johnson, that the young man could use his patronage. I don't think she knows what she's talking about."

Her friend hummed. "Fisher did mentor many of the higher ups in the Navy, including your husband."

"But Lieutenant Johnson?" Ethel's sneer made Bertie shrink back farther behind the lamp. "Honestly, he trails after her looking for any smile. Do you think she knows she could be the Duchess of York in an instant if she just got a divorce?"

Another laugh that made Bertie want to run for the hills, "As if the royal family would want a divorced American. No matter how rich she is, she's still older than him and there hasn't been a single sign of a pregnancy, or so I've heard."

"They are awfully obsessed with children." Ethel sighed, and peeking around the lampshade Bertie could see her head beginning to turn, so he moved off into the crowd. Her words rattled around in his mind, and he had to set his champagne down before the mere smell of it made him sick. He knew Mrs. Beatty was not faithful, hell, the entire fleet knew their youngest child was not Admiral Beatty's. But for her to imply that Mrs. Murdoch would drop her husband just to become a social climber?

He turned, taking in the sight of the Murdochs happily talking to Fisher. Anastasia must have noticed him, for she was waving for him to join them. Could Mrs. Beatty not see the love in her eyes when she looked at her husband? Bertie knew when he married, he would be faithful. He wanted to marry a woman who looked at him like Anastasia looked at William, who would touch his arm with such a gentle hand, who would step up and kiss his cheek with a smile. What man wouldn't want a woman who cared for him like that?

And he would be a husband like William, who kept his arm around his wife and would glance down every few moments to be certain that she was alright. William gave him a smile as he joined them, gesturing to Fisher. "Ah, this is the young man I was speaking of, my Lord. Bertie, I should like you to meet Lord Fisher, Lord Fisher this is Lieutenant Bertie Johnson."

Bertie turned to Fisher with a sudden fear in his heart. Fisher knew him, knew his family, and the last thing he wanted was for William and Anastasia to learn, because then it would change. It always changed when people knew him. But Fisher held out his hand, giving Bertie a wink. "Lovely to meet you Lieutenant, it's always nice when a senior officer takes an interest in mentoring a subordinate. Now, Mrs. Murdoch here was making some very salient points on the usage of high explosive shells, I should like to hear your opinion."

Bertie let out a sigh of relief as he reiterated some points he remembered from meetings on the Collingwood, doing his best to listen rather than to talk. By the time a servant came around with more champagne, his stomach had settled enough he was able to join them all in a toast for the new year, even if Fisher kept glancing at him with a knowing smirk.