"You've been staring at that letter for over an hour now."

He lifted his head, unaware that so much time had passed. It'd felt like no time at all. His sister stood beside him, her eyes wandering over the letter. Her hand came to rest on his shoulder.

"Alexander, do you usually ponder your correspondence so intently?"

"No," he said, tucking the letter back inside the envelope it had arrived in.

"So who is that from?"

"Mother," Alexander said, folding the front of his writing desk up. He rose, and Isabelle's hand fell away. "When did you become so nosy?"

"When people decided to start keeping secrets from me."

"How much longer til Jace arrives?"

"Not soon enough, I'm afraid. It's funny," Isabelle started, lazily pacing around the library. "I didn't realize how much I would miss him until he was no longer around to annoy me."

She fell back against the couch, propping her feet up.

Alexander watched with mild annoyance. The red velvet cushions were nearly impossible clean as it was, and he wasn't in the habit of making more work for the serving staff.

"What suitor will be with us tonight?"

"None," Isabella said, with apparent joy at the notion. "However, I do believe I've settled on one. I'll invite him for Christmas."

"You've settled?" Alexander said. "Goodness, I never thought I'd hear you say that, Isabelle. I thought you were having too much fun teasing bachelors."

"One must settle down eventually."

Isabella was hardly the settling type. Alexander was afraid she'd never leave the Lightwood estate, destined to spend the rest of her life teasing young men with her fabulous inheritance and wit.

"Do you love him?" he asked after a moment.

"What does love have to do with anything?" she said, twisting at a diamond earring.

"Everything for you, I thought."

"Love is for stories. You of all people should know that."

"I'm different--"

"You're cold and bitter, you mean," Isabelle interjected. "You cannot drag your past around and toss it in everyone's face every time you don't feel like doing something, Alexander."

"You sound like Mother."

Isabelle made a noise of disgust.

"What did she want anyways? More money for her Scottish retreat?"

"No-- well, yes-- but she had other concerns," Alexander said, pacing in front of the fireplace. He considered tossing the letter into the burning fire.

"Such as?"

"Marriage."

"Well, tell her I've found a perfectly decent man--"

"Not for you," Alexander said. "For me."

"But you can't," Isabelle said, sitting up suddenly.

"She's forcing my hand. And like you so eloquently said, I can't keep using the same excuses."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Delay for as long as I can. But she's given me a year to set a wedding date."

"So you have to be married."

"Isabelle--"

She glanced back at Alexander, and saw a broken man who knew her words to be true.

"We have to find someone who is sympathetic," Isabelle said. "Someone who understands."

Alexander didn't bother to hide his confusion on his face.

"We need a woman who doesn't want to be married. Someone who doesn't want anything from you," Isabelle explained.

"And you have someone in mind?

"I do. And as a matter of fact, I've already invited her for Christmas."

...........

Alexander rarely made it downstairs. It felt like an invasion of the staff's privacy, but he had to discuss something with Mr. Davies, and he didn't want to drag the old man upstairs.

The butler still presided over dinner and major events like the upcoming Christmas Eve dinner, but he had scaled back his responsibilities to mostly managerial ones. Alexander knocked on his office door, and entered when he heard a muffled grump.

"Master Alexander--" Mr. Davies said, struggling to his seat.

"Sit, please," Alexander requested.

"May I get you some tea?"

"No, I just finished breakfast, thank you," Alexander said.

"So to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I'm afraid it's not a fun subject," he started. "I've been looking over the books since I've yet to replace Father's late accountant."

"Yes, yes."

"And, well, if the accountant was still alive today I would have fired him immediately. It's all a mess. This family has spent too much money that it doesn't have. Excessive parties are the main cause, but we also have too large a staff."

"You want to cut the staff? But where, sir?"

"Wherever it's not necessary. I understood having two boys in the stables when we had a horse for everyone in the house, but it's just me now. Same for everything else. My father's butler was a good man, but he should hardly be kept here--"

"Sir, he expects to be your butler."

"Well, I don't want or need one."

"It's improper--"

"Mr. Davies, it's not up for discussion. We need to cut the staff by about half. We'll wait until after the holidays, but we can't avoid it anymore. Then there's the matter of you."

"Me?"

"Yes," Alexander said. "You've been around since I've been born. You're getting older. Aren't you considering retirement?"

"I-- I don't know what I'd do without this job, sir."

"You'd find something. Painting. Hiking. Traveling. We'd supply you with a pension, of course. You've served this family too long for us not to ensure a safe retirement."

"That's too generous, really--"

"Just consider the offer some," Alexander said, rising. Mr. Davies struggled to his feet, and Alexander didn't try to stop him. "I'd like a list of the staff we're letting go before Christmas, if possible."

...........

A servant boy in the hall helped him shrug a heavy winter coat on, as he stalked out the front door. A car was waiting in front, with Isabelle at the wheel.

"I don't see why we need to pick him up," Alexander said, climbing in next to her. "Jace knows how to get to the house."

"Yes, but if I have to spend anymore time cooped up in that house I may go mad," Isabelle declared. She put all the weight in her foot on the gas petal and the car lurched forward into the foggy morning.

"I also don't understand why you're driving," Alexander said, through gritted teeth. London traffic made him nauseous enough without Isabelle driving.

"My instructor said I've actually improved quite a bit--"

"Is your instructor still suffering head injuries from previous rides with you?"

"How dare you suggest Simon is concussed!"

"Oh, so it's Simon, is it? The mysterious suitor?"

Isabelle shot a grin at him. "He's very sweet. And a patient teacher."

They swerved around a corner and Isabelle let out a wild laugh.

But for a moment, Alexander though he saw a familiar looking man, in the fog.

Time seemed to freeze in that moment, as the car rocked to one side. The man's eyes flicked in the direction of the car, but he made no indication of recognition.

"Alexander!" Isabelle shouted.

Something knotted in his stomach.

"You look awfully pale--"

"Watch the road, not me." He knew what he saw, but Isabelle watched him with enough concern as it was.

She didn't need to know he was seeing ghosts.