Christmas Tea with Bourbon and a Side of Expectations
Summary: Matthew is slowly but surely stepping out into the life of what it means to be more than just a colony. There were still so many things he didn't understand and he wasn't sure if he was quite ready to make these next steps. Freedom wasn't like how Alfred described it. It wasn't like an eagle with its seven-foot wingspan, making you feel like you were soaring. It was more like he had swallowed a chickadee that was desperately trying to fly out of his chest. He was afraid of how he was changing and how that would affect the life he's known for most of the 19th century.
Word Count: 10,057
Characters: Canada, England, Scotland, Australia, New Zealand
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Suffolk, England, A Week Before Christmas Eve, 1864
The halls glimmered with gold and silver tinsel with servants bustling about to make sure every detail was perfect. Every gingerbread man had each of his three buttons and stood upright, the evergreen garland hanging along the banister must be even, and of course, the tree had to have decorations that were evenly spaced all the way around it.
Matthew picked up another box from the stack of things that he had helped one of the maids bring down from the attic that morning. This was his job for the day, not that he minded. With a fire crackling not far away and the smells of ginger, pine, and cinnamon filling the house, everything helped put him in a festive spirit. It was almost distracting him enough from how the evening was to go. Distracting even from everything that had been going on this year.
He was surprised by how grand the parties were each winter. His father never seemed the holiday-loving type (or even people-loving), but he never failed to host a fantastic party. For the last few years, Arthur made sure his home was absolutely perfect for the holidays. Matthew, Jack, and Charlie had been under his direct care for most of the century, and though he loved them and raised them with care, it was not without his sternness and obsessive need for detail. Matthew loved his father regardless and would always be grateful for how much he’d done for him.
He sighed as he opened the box, carefully folding back the tissue paper to reveal a handful of various, doll-like ornaments. With great care, he picked up one of the porcelain figures, pinching the string of the ornament between two fingers. He loved these ones the most. They were so carefully and beautifully crafted, almost human-like in their faces. The ballerina woman that now hung from a branch, forever frozen in a dance of her own, was one that Matthew treasured. Arthur had spoiled them one Christmas and took the three to a ballet at the Theatre Royal. Matthew could remember the slight disappointment in that they weren’t seeing Pantomime but he wouldn’t dare voice being dismayed. He could hardly recall what the dance was about, it was French like most of the romantic ballets coming out but the setting was German. A woman had died of heartache and the man responsible had to deal with ghosts and hauntings of the like and that was as much as he could recollect. What he could remember better was his father promising the lot that they could each choose an ornament they were selling there for being well behaved (Jack and Charlie had been particularly fussy from sitting still for that long but had managed well enough). Unfortunately, by the time the four had arrived back in the main lobby, the majority of wares had already been sold. His siblings, of course, he allowed to pick the best of what remained while he selected the misfit dancer with a faded expression. To his surprise Christmas morning, his father had presented the ornament to him in pristine condition. Her cheeks were blushed a soft pink, eyes closed with lashes resting below like a delicate kiss, and even the costume she wore had a new skirt.