adifferentlife | Christmas Lunch

The best way to celebrate any holiday is to share it with people that one care's about, Sybil is sure of that. It's why she's organised this, a luncheon for any and all that she's friends with. It's not something she's done before, and it feels very adult to be hosting a party within her own home. It's not something she ever imagined doing in such a small space, or without a staff to support her, or even before she was married with her own home, but those aren't things that are considerations here.

Instead she's let everyone know when to come and to bring something to share with the others. She's ordered in the main part of the meal, a roasted turkey instead of a goose and a roast of lamb as well. There's champagne and wine, and she has the record player Kaine gave her in the corner playing christmas carols by Bing Crosby. There's a small tree of real pine with strings of beads strung through its boughs and little elecric lights twinkling. Henri has helped her to decorate and do the cooking that she's tried, even if most of the cookies she made needed to be thrown our they were so burnt.

Once people start to arrive she relaxes, allowing herself a glass of wine once she's sure everything is in order and things are going well. At some point there is nothing else she can do, other than talk to her guests; her friends. It's nothing like a Christmas at Downton, but her second one here in Darrow and it feels like the Christmas it's supposed to be.

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It's a look that Lucy knows well, though she knows better than to say as much, or to let herself think for more than a fleeting second that it's been a long time since anyone looked at her that way, seeking her out in a crowd. Today, she can't be anything other than happy on Sybil's behalf, and not about to call Henri out on it. "Hello," she says, smiling. "It's nice to see you again."

"Lucy, what a surprise." That first week in Darrow had been a blur of faces, and information, and strange sights, but he remembered the young woman who had so kindly helped with his books, and understood something of his bafflement at the world in which he had found himself.

He offered a small bow, as was still his habit. "And nice to see you, as well. I was not aware that you knew Sybil."

"Yeah, we met when she first got here, actually," Lucy says with a nod, smiling slightly at the thought. That was a long time ago now, and thinking about it is more than a little strange, but she isn't one to mind that. If anything, it's nice, knowing she has friends who've stayed in Darrow all this time. "I guess people who come from times earlier than this just tend to stick together."

"We are a motley collection, aren't we?" Combeferre said with a chuckle. "Well, on our hostess' behalf, thank you for coming. I hope Christmastide is treating you well?"

"We really are," Lucy agrees with a laugh, nodding. "And it is, yeah. Sybil let me bring my brother, so I really don't think there's much more I could need." These days, she knows how fortunate it makes her just to have people here at all. Especially around Christmas, it seems important to appreciate that.

“Oh, yes? That must be very comforting, having your brother here this time of year.” Across the room, Henri spotted a young man with blond hair and passingly similar features that he guessed to be the brother in question. “And I cannot imagine Sybil refusing such a request. She is delighted to have so many people here."

"It really is," Lucy says, nodding. Especially around the holidays, she's more grateful for that than ever, something she wouldn't have it in her to try to downplay. "I hadn't seen him in a long time before we both got here, so yeah." She still sometimes feels as if this is bound to be short-lived because of that, but now is hardly the time to dwell on that. "It really is nice, isn't it? Everyone getting together like this."

"It is. Sybil knows just the right way of doing that, doesn't she?" A terribly fond smile flickered on his lips, and he chuckled and shook his head. Someday, perhaps, Henri would find a way to pass five minutes without showering Sybil with compliments, but not today. "Ah, can I get you anything to drink, by the way?"

"A glass of wine would be great," Lucy says, smile widening a little. Maybe she shouldn't comment on it, but she can't help it, either. It's kind of sweet, seeing the way he goes on about Sybil, and now's certainly not the time for any envy. "You really like her, don't you?"

Combeferre felt a blush bloom on his cheeks. “I cannot remember ever meeting a woman quite like her,” he said, and laughed a little. His gaze settled on Sybil for a long moment, and then he shook his head, smiling sheepishly. “Let me you get you that wine.” For a moment, at least, he escaped his embarrassment, disappearing into the kitchen.

"Great," Lucy said, barely stifling a laugh, "thanks." It wasn't as if she wanted to be the cause of any awkwardness, but she couldn't really help mentioning it, either. If anything, it was too apparent not to. Besides, she was happy for Sybil. Finding something like this was a big deal.

In the kitchen, Combeferre laughed a little at himself, gaze tipped up to the ceiling as he contemplated his own absurdity. Though he certainly had no complaints about the last twenty-four hours, they had not progressed as he had expected, and some part of him was still trying to catch his breath, still recovering from the giddiness of waking up at Sybil’s side. As serious as he sometimes appeared, Combeferre had no trouble allowing himself a bit of time to be ridiculous, given the circumstances.

Besides, it was Christmas, holy day of virgin births, and magic stars, and helpful barn animals. Of beautiful ridiculousness.

Equipped with a new glass of wine for Lucy, and another for himself, he ventured back to the party and the young woman’s side. “Here you are,” he offered the wine glass with a smile. “And what have you been up to these days, if I might ask?"

"Thank you," Lucy says again, offering him a smile as she reaches out for the glass he's offered, sipping it carefully before she speaks again. "And not much, really. I spend most of my time working." One of these days, she knows, she's got to change that. Losing herself in her job isn't any kind of way to cope with the unhappiness that feels like it took up residence in her a long time ago. But she doesn't know how, and even if she did, this wouldn't be the time to think about it. She's surrounded by friends, and it's a holiday. "What about you? Settling in alright and all that?"

“Oh, and what do you do for work?” Once, Combeferre might have found it easy to surmise how a woman made a living - factory work or laundry, keeping a shop or, if a bit more respectable, working as a governess. Once, even men’s options had been relatively limited and predictable, products of wealth, and education, and circumstances of birth. He still found himself amazed at the variety of lives people could construct for themselves here, and that so many found that freedom unremarkable. “Oh, I am finding my way. I have gotten myself a position teaching French, and am examining options for returning to school. I have a friend who arrived, as well, since we last spoke.” He nodded across the room towards Prouvaire.

"I just work as a waitress," Lucy says, shrugging. It's hardly impressive, but it's work, which can be hard to come by, and it pays decently enough, and she likes the people she works for, so she can't let herself mind it. Even if it isn't where she imagined she would wind up, where she would have wanted to, it serves her well enough. She hasn't got a clue what she would do instead, anyway, the goals she'd once set for herself having shifted considerably. "That's nice, that you have someone from home here. That helps a lot, at least for me."

Christmas Lunch

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