Happy New Year!! I am very excited to celebrate another year with the amazing friends and writers here at the Always Austen Blog. This community is such a boon to me, I love it here! Thank you to everyone who has supported my writing in 2023 and there’s more to come in 2024.
For this, my first post of the new year, I’d like to share a story with you all. On December 16th, I was part of a wonderful anthology filled with fun Christmastime short stories. The anthology is organized and edited by Cristina Huelsz. It is available in full, in both English and Spanish, from Cristina’s website (English version PDF download: https://cristranslatesblog.files.wordpress.com/2023/12/2023-xmas_english-web.pdf). Cristina does this every year in order to introduce a whole new generation of Spanish speakers to the world of Austenesque fiction and Jane’s amazing novels.
Since we are still inside the 12 Days of Christmas, I feel like it’s not to late to enjoy some holiday fun! If you love Christmas stories and go ahead and download the whole 2023 Austen Christmas Celebration Anthology. There’s still time to read them before the Magi make it to Bethlehem on January 6th.
Without further ado, please enjoy my short story entry for the 2023 Austen Christmas Celebration Anthology!
St. Nick Visits Northanger
By EM Storm-Smith
“. . . He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, and away they all flew like the down of a thistle. But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight – Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!” Catherine Tilney, neé Morland, closed the small bound leather book filled with a peculiar collection of recently published short stories and poems about the Christ season. This particular poem was from the former American Colonies and had been published in New York a few years ago. It had been an early Christmas gift from her brother, James Morland, who was always finding such funny little things. He had visited the Tilneys with his family a few weeks before the holidays. Knowing Catherine’s love of all things literary, he had compiled the collection specially for his favourite sister.
Catherine always loved seeing her eldest brother and his new wife, but James was expected to give the Christmas services at his own parish and could not stay for the holiday. Giving the leather cover one last caress and sending up a Christmas prayer for her favourite brother, Catherine laid the book on the ornate bedside table.
The nursery room in general was reasonably large with brightly papered walls and a lush carpet covering the hardwood floors. Well placed windows let in ample light by day, and beautiful moonshine by night which reflected off the cold winter lawn. Overall, it was a handsome and comfortable room, maybe even cheerful. A strange contrast to what an outside observer might think about Northanger Abbey with its gothic façade and imposing grey stones.
“Won’t you read it again?” asked Little Henry Tilney. Henry, called Harry by his family, just newly turned seven years old and sat swinging his legs off the side of his bed. He showed no signs of being at all tired.
“Oh yes please, read it again mamma.” Pleaded Lizzy Tilney, who in contrast to her big brother, had cuddled deep under the blankets. Her head half sunk into the soft pillow and her eyes barely open.
“I have read you this exact story three times already. Are you not tired of the tale?” Catherine chided softly.
“NO!” Harry exclaimed. “I want to hear it a hundred more times!”
“That seems like too many times to me.” Said their father, Henry Tilney, who had been listening, leaned against the door, came into the room and surveyed his family. “Now children, do not badger your mother. Father Christmas would not like such, and he might come down the chimney tonight and snatch you right away!” Henry came around, scooped his son up off the bed and made like he was going to jump out of the window.
Both children screeched in delight and Catherine chuckled under her breath. “Come now, set Harry down into his bed. It is much too late for getting him riled up.” Catherine pulled back the covers on her son’s bed and tucked him in tight as soon as his father set him down.
“Too right my dear, it is indeed much too late for these rapscallions to be out of their beds.” Henry ruffled his son’s hair and kissed his daughter.
But Harry was not yet ready to give up on the evening. “I am not a rapscallion, you are a rapscallion. And mother said he was called St. Nicholas, like the big church on the way to Bath. See here,” Harry grabbed the small book off the bedside table and opened it looking for the poem, “it says ‘the stockings were hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.’” The boy read with a very slow and specific pronunciation. His learning to read was coming along very well indeed.
“Well, by jove, you are correct, it does say that, does it not.” Henry chuckled and leaned against the mantle near the windows.
Lizzy piped up from underneath her covers. “But why would he come tonight? And are St. Nicholas and Father Christmas friends?”
Catherine took the book from Harry and patted Lizzy’s head. “I am sure that Father Christmas is friends with all the cheer-filled imps and elves who visit good children on Christmas or the night before, including St. Nicholas. He comes to make merry for all the people.”
“Do you think he will bring me a new fencing foil? I have grown too tall for the learning one Master Egbert gave me to use last year.” Harry asked as he pretended to parry and riposte at an opponent on the ceiling.
“Hmmm, maybe.” Henry stroked his chin in a teasing manner, seeming to think deeply about his son’s question. “But I am sure that only the nice little children will get something from St. Nicholas’s toy sack.”
“I am a nice child!” Harry dropped his arm down to the bed and looked at his father with pleading eyes.
“What would Cook say about you, do you think?” Catherine added to the teasing. “How many biscuits did you steal from the kitchens last week?”
“It was only three, I swear! And I shared one with Lizzy.”
“How magnanimous of you.” Henry gently pushed his son back into the mattress and tucked him into the covers, again.
Catherine picked up the candle stick and blew out the lamp. “Now, it is time for bed, no more stories. We must be awake early in the morning so that we are not late to services. You know how your grandfather despises being late.”
“Why can I not sleep with you tonight mamma? There are so many sounds in this big house, and I do not like it when the rain hits the windows.” Lizzy reached out one small hand from her covers, still clutching a small rag dog toy.
“I know, poppet, but it is not raining tonight and even if there was to be a storm, it would be snow, for it is too cold for rain. The snow falls silently.” Catherine kissed her daughter one more time and smoothed down her hair. “Your brother will be here with you always.”
“This old Abbey is nothing to be afraid of, my dear.” Henry also bestowed one more kiss on Lizzy’s forehead. “I lived in this very room until I moved to Woodston and I can assure you, nothing can harm you inside these walls. Your mother and I shall be just down the hall and tomorrow there shall be carols, and figgy pudding, and blind man’s bluff, then all your cousins will be coming after church to stay until Epiphany. I promise that we shall have a wonderful Christmas indeed.”
“Do not fret, Lizzy, I will protect you from St. Nicholas! If he does try to come down the chimney, I will chase him right back up!” Harry jumped out from his covers, again, and stood on his bed, one arm extended in a fencers pose.
Henry laughed, then swept Harry off his feet and back onto the mattress. “I am glad you are ready to defend your sister, but please, do try and rest. I will not allow you to miss church if you stay up all night looking for chimney climbing elves and flying reindeer.”
“Yes, papa.”
“Goodnight, children.”
“Good night, mamma.”
Catherine and Henry stepped into the hall, closed the door, and left Harry and Lizzy to sleep in the moonlight filled room.
It only took five minutes before Harry was back out of his covers and hopping around the nursery. He opened the screen covering the fireplace, a small fire burning at the back of the hearth to keep the room cosy for its young inhabitants, then tried to look up the flue.
“I do not think that St. Nicholas could fit down this chimney. It is too narrow at the top.” Harry declared to his half-asleep sister.
“That is good then. He cannot take us away if he cannot fit.” Lizzy sat up and snuggled her rag dog tighter.
Harry went to the seat under the window and climbed up onto the ledge, peering out onto the south lawn. “Well, he certainly cannot come from the chimney in this room, but there are so many fireplaces and chimneys all over the Abbey. He might come down another one then sneak into our room when we least expect it.” Harry turned around with his hands on his hips and tapped his foot for a moment. “We had better go check all the fireplaces to make sure he does not come in at all.”
“How are we going to make sure he does not come in the Abbey at all?”
Harry shrugged. “I will have to find the biggest chimney and guard it all night. Do not worry. You can stay here and sleep. I will protect you.”
Just then a low howling sound floated down the chimney in the children’s nursery and the window rattled slightly as the wind picked up outside.
“NO! I do not want to stay here by myself. You have to stay with me.” Lizzy pulled the covers over her head.
“You can come with me if you like, but I am going to make sure this St. Nicholas stays out of Northanger Abbey.” Harry pulled on his slippers and dressing gown then relit the candle in the fireplace. He looked back at Lizzy before opening the door. “Are you coming or are you staying?”
Lizzy sat up and looked as if she was going to argue. Another gust of wind rose up like a tempest and shook the windows violently. Even the fireplace flickered as a rush of the wind came down the chimney and into the children’s hearth. Though she still seemed unsure, Lizzy pulled on her own slippers and dressing gown. She padded to the door sucking her thumb and clutching her rag dog. Harry nodded in an officious manner then opened the door.
“Stay close to me.” Harry instructed. “We will check the rooms in this wing first, then we can go down the stairs to the main parlour floor.”
Out in the hall, the sounds of the night wind were amplified as it whipped around the ancient building. In the distance, someone closed a door with a loud bang and the click-clack of heeled shoes on marble floors could be heard echoing across the cavernous hallway. Lizzy grabbed onto Harry’s sleeve and buried her face in his back.
“There, there, Lizzy. All is well.” Harry tried to put on a brave face for his little sister, though in truth he was discomforted by the noises floating around the Abbey halls. “These are just normal sounds for a house so big and old. Papa says all the time there is nothing here to fear.”
Shuffling quickly down the residential hall, Harry opened the door to a set of apartments near the end of the wing opposite from the nursery rooms. Inside was a well apportioned, old-fashionable room with a four-poster bed, Bath stove, sitting area, and a large fireplace devoid of any fire. The bed did not have any linens and there were drapes across the other pieces of furniture. It was rather spooky and dark in the winter moonlight.
Over the mantle of the fireplace hung a very ornate painting partially covered in black crepe. From what the children could see, it depicted a beautiful woman with kind eyes holding what was mostly likely a small child. Definitely a portrait of devotion and love. Despite the warmth in the painting and the quality of the furnishings, there was a mustiness to the room that lingered, as if it had not been properly aired in a long time.
Harry walked straight into the hearth and looked up the flue.
“What can you see?” Lizzy asked, her thumb firmly lodged into her mouth, with the rag dog covering half her face.
“Not much.” Harry raised the candle up a little higher and spun in a slow circle. “I do not think this chimney goes all the way to the roof. It looks like it connects to another fireplace. Maybe in the room next door?”
Lizzy looked around and found a small door on the side of the fireplace. She opened it and something small, furry, with a long tail scurried between her feet.
“EEEKKK! What is that?!” Lizzy screeched.
“Oh fie, it is only a mouse. Do not be such a fraidy-cat.” Harry walked through the door his sister had opened and stopped in his tracks. On the other side of the door was some kind of dressing closet with possibly a hundred dresses of varying designs, colours, and levels of decomposition. In the corner of the room, a set of orange eyes peeked out from behind a blue muslin dress and from the swaying of the clothing, Harry guessed that there was probably a cat with a swishing tail attached to the eyes. A large, well-fed cat in this deserted room.
“I do not think we shall find any more chimneys this way. Come Lizzy, let us try a different door.” Harry backed out of the dressing room and shut the door just in time to see another mouse scurry from its hiding place only to be promptly pounced on by a very fast-moving blur of fur and eyes.
The next door they tried opened into a large sitting room with a fireplace exactly opposite the hearth in the attached bedroom. This room was just as abandoned as the bedroom, all the furniture again draped in sheets, a thick layer of dust covering everything. After another hearth inspection, Harry was once again disappointed.
“It is just like our little nursery room. The flue is much too narrow for any man, especially one who is described as ‘chubby and plump.’” Harry scratched his chin for a moment. “We had best try our luck downstairs in the main parlour room or maybe the ballroom. Both of those have very large fireplaces, probably with their own chimney all the way to the roof. If I were St. Nicholas, I would choose the chimney that comes into the largest room.”
“But how would he know which room each chimney goes to?”
“He’s an elf.” Harry said and nodded once with authority. “Elves know these things.”
“Well, then, he would probably stay away from this set of rooms. It is too dusty. My nose feels itchy.” Lizzy shook her little head, braided pigtails flapping about her ears.
“I wonder why all the furniture is covered over. Mamma and papa’s room is very close to here and Aunt Elinore’s rooms are in this hallway too.” Harry lifted the side of the sheet covering a painted chair. “It looks like no one has been in this room for many years now. Maybe even since the before papa married mamma.”
“I am cold, Harry.” Lizzy complained. “The grate is empty and there is no wood for a fire in here.”
“Let us move on then, come on.”
As soon as they opened the door back to the hallway, a door on the floor below was opened and closed loudly, swift steps ascending the stairs at the end of the hall, growing in volume and falling heavily on the stone floor. Harry grabbed Lizzy’s hand and pulled her down a passageway, through a set of folding doors, and into the Abbey’s main gallery. Massive portraits of all the masters of Northanger looked down at the children and several large stone sculptures stood on pedestals scattered around the room.
As the footsteps continued to get closer, Harry and Lizzy weaved between sculptures to make their way to the central staircase in the Abbey leading down to the parlour floor. The faint footfalls of their pursuer continued in the background, though now a bit farther away.
The children had not gotten far when laughter floated up the staircase. Also, footsteps belonging to one of the many footmen attending the family during their Christmas festivities and the clack of cutlery from the maids clearing the dining room sounded around the cold walls. Not able to go back to the gallery for fear of running into their pursuer, and not able to go forward without alerting the house staff of their night time excursion, Harry looked around the hall for a place to hide. Finding no doors within close reach, he blew out the candle then pulled his sister with him behind one of the many hung tapestries covering the walls.
“Harry, I want to go back to our room.”
“Shhhhhh!” Harry placed his free hand over Lizzy’s mouth. “We must be quiet. What if St. Nicholas is already in the Abbey? We have to keep going.”
Lizzy furrowed her brow, but was unable to respond on account of her brother keeping his hand over her mouth. After a moment, they heard the footsteps of the footman pass their hiding spot and continue down the hall through another door near the end.
Lizzy pushed Harry’s hand off her mouth then folded her arms and then leaned heavily against the wall.
“Oof! That hurt.” Lizzy exclaimed. She felt the wall behind her body for what had hit her in the head, and found a small key sticking out of a keyhole with no doorknob. “Harry, look here.” She pulled on his sleeve to get Harry’s attention, then turned the key.
And what to their wondering eyes should appear but a long corridor with lit torches spaced out just far enough that the light from one did not quite reach the next. At the end of the light, the children could barely make out the top of a staircase leading down into the heart of the Abbey.
“Now this looks promising.” Unable, of course, to repress his curiosity in so favourable a moment for indulging it, Harry took several steps into the corridor before he was stopped by his sister.
“No, Harry, this looks scary. We should go back, mamma will be mad if we get hurt or lost.”
“Come on, Lizzy, what can happen to us in the Abbey? Besides, we have to find St. Nick.” Like many young protagonists following their own adventure, Harry had leapt ahead in the story. His nighttime journey had started as a quest to find the most probable entry point for this mysterious St. Nicholas, and now he fully believed that the intruder was probably already loose in the Abbey, poised to cause untold havoc.
“But the story only says he lands on the roof and then comes down a chimney. It does not say anything about creepy hallways and stairs.” Lizzy stamped her foot and refused to move down the corridor.
“Do what you like, I am going forward.”
With one more huff and stomp of her foot, Lizzy turned around and got out from behind the tapestry.
Harry barely noticed the departure of his little sister. He was too focused on the dark passageway ahead of him. A few paces beyond the last torch, Harry was presented with a crossroads. The corridor curved to the left and continued around the bowels of the Abbey, or Harry could descend the narrow set of steps leading to the unknown.
Though it was late and dark outside, the Abbey was still alive within. Noises were coming from all around. The wind howled around the drafty hall while more footsteps echoed down the dim corridor. Faint voices floated up from the stairs and the pitter patter of mice scurried across the floors trying to escape the Abbey’s cats. It was difficult to determine where each of the sounds originated as they all bounced around the stone walls. Harry even thought he heard the faint call of his name mixing into the night.
Harry had never heard so much noise coming from the old building where only his grandfather lived most of the time. Even during family dinners in the large dining parlour with many footmen stationed about the room, there was never this much commotion.
Time was running out for Harry to intercept the nefarious elf before he could slip down some chimney and all around the Abbey. This was no time for thought. Harry hurried on, slipped with the least possible noise towards the stairs, and without stopping to look or breathe, rushed forward into the darkness.
The stairs seemed, to Harry, to stretch out for miles and miles. Much longer than the two stories he had expected to descend. Perhaps this was a stairwell to some before unknown dungeon deep below the Abbey. Or a tunnel leading out to a secret subterraneous communication between the building and some far-off chamber where bandits might hide. The longer he spent climbing down the stairs, the more fanciful imaginings he conjured up as to what would be found at the end.
Finally, a small landing opened up at the bottom of the stairs. Several additional dark corridors spread out from that landing like fingers from the centre of a lake. One wooden door near the steps was slightly ajar with warm light spilling out. Harry peered into the room finding what appeared to be a large kitchen housing several footmen, the housekeeper, maids, Cook, and some of the stable hands.
The men were playing cards around a large table in the centre of the room whist several maids were hanging holly boughs around the cheery room.
“Come off it, love, you know Mr. Hughs will make you take those down in the morning. He’s a right old grump.” One of the footmen called out.
“He cannot take away my holiday spirit. What would Father Christmas say if we do not have any holly to make merry?”
Harry perked up at the mention of Father Christmas. If the merry making sprite was going to visit the kitchens, maybe St. Nicholas would also try to come into the Abbey from the chimney in this room. It did look like the hearth was large with a massive fire burning. There were several bulky copper and cast iron pots hanging from a rod across the middle of the flue.
“You are full of folly, Sarah. We shall be merry enough ourselves with Cook’s punch and the leftover Christmas cakes.”
Mr. Hughs walked in from a corner of the room that Harry could not see. He placed a large platter of biscuits, iced cakes, and sweet meats on the table, right on top of the pile of playing cards. “Go on now. Here are the remains of the General’s tea. The young Tilneys went to bed a while ago and Mrs. Tilney is not one for too many sweets. Cook has fresh ones already cooling in the larder for tomorrow so these are all for you lot.”
“Happy Christmas indeed!” A general cheer from the assembled servants went around. Another bowl of punch was produced from somewhere in the room and one of the stable hands picked up a small violin while the maids took turns playing carols on the old pianoforte in the corner. Soon everyone was enjoying the merriment as much as the leftover treats. Even grumpy Mr. Hughs took a turn around the room with Cook after his third glass of punch.
An adventurous footman produced a sprig of mistletoe from his inside jacket pocket and a great game of hoodman blind became an excuse to try and capture one of the maids for a cheeky kiss under the mistletoe. It seemed that the whole household was caught up in the merriment.
Harry sat outside the door to the kitchen on the bottom step for a long while, waiting for everyone to finish their celebrations and head to their beds. If he could just hold out a little while longer, he was sure that the massive chimney above the kitchen was the perfect place for St. Nicholas to come down.
Soon one carol morphed into the next and the warm swirls of the fire began to dance around Harry’s eyelids. A large hand brushed the fringe out of Harry’s eyes and patted his back comfortingly. Then the stairway floated below him as the world melted into the moonlight and snow outside.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A soft knock on the door to the nursery stirred both Harry and Lizzy Tilney from their long winters’ nap on a bright Christmas morning. Harry blinked his eyes looking about the room. He was confused as to how he ended up back in his bed under the covers. A bright fire was burning behind the grate and two stockings were hung over the mantle, one with an H and one with an L embroidered at the top.
“Good morning, little adventurer.” Harry looked to the door and saw his mother and father standing together just inside their room.
“Happy Christmas, Harry. Did you enjoy your jaunt down to the kitchen through the servant’s hall last night?” Henry came across the room and sat down on his son’s bed, ruffling his hair a bit.
“I did not know where I ended up last night. Lizzy unlocked a mystery door behind the large tapestry at the top of the stairs and I found a secret passage! How did you find me?”
Catherine chuckled. “One of the footmen saw you both unlock the servant’s passage door and came to tell us right away.”
“Yes, son. You were not very sneaky bumbling all around the central passage. Mr. Hughs alerted us to your night-time adventure. I followed you down to the stairs leading to the kitchens and found you asleep on the bottom stair. I then carried you back to bed.”
“What about St. Nicholas? Did he get into the Abbey?” Harry looked devastated that he had failed in his mission to protect the inhabitants of Northanger Abbey.
Henry looked towards the mantle above the nursery fireplace. “Why do you not see for yourself?” He nodded his head to encourage both children to examine the stockings.
Lizzy hopped out of her bed and grabbed at the new decoration. “What is this mamma? Oh! A little dolly! She is so beautiful.”
Harry went much more cautiously and looked into the stocking emblazed with an ‘H.’ At the bottom was a small painted wooden soldier with a musket and officer’s sabre.
“I know it is not the fencing foil you wanted, but this little man is ready to protect the whole family, if needed, from imps, scamps, and the occasional wandering rapscallion.” Henry winked at his son and smiled broadly. “Now! It is time to dress for church. Do not tarry long. Grandfather is already drinking his coffee and will want to be in the carriage before the top of the hour if we are to make it to church on time.”
Harry looked back down to his new toy soldier and back to the hearth with its warm burning fire. Perhaps a visit from St. Nicholas was not such a bad thing after all.
The End
Come find me in all the usual places!
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