Annabeth's parents waited for her in the dining room. Her father kissed her on the forehead.
"Good morning, Sweetheart," Mr. Chase said. He gave Annabeth a cross pendant made from paste garnets.

Mrs. Chase stroked Annabeth's cheek.
"Merry Christmas, My Dear."
Her presents were a needle and pin case called a housewife that she had sewn herself, and a bar of honey-scented soap.

"And I have a little something for you as well," Annabeth said.
She gave her mother an embroidered handkerchief, the work of her own hand. Her father's gift was a brass snuffbox engraved with his name and the family crest.

Annabeth embraced her parents and sat down at the table.
Mrs. Demeter, the family's cook, brought out the Christmas breakfast: toad-in-a-hole, sugar plums, and candied orange peel- all was perfectly delicious.

"Why can't every day be like Christmas?" Annabeth thought.

Gentle flurries floated down from the clouds all afternoon. Annabeth sat by the window and hoped that the weather would not prevent her friends from visiting. But the snow provided a picturesque backdrop for her, Piper, and Silena to go caroling against.
They wrapped themselves in their thick cloaks and heavy boots and ventured out into this pristine, glittering world of white.
"Wassail, wassail, all over the town, " they sang. Silena's alto and Piper's soprano harmonized well together. Annabeth's voice blended in somewhere in the middle. "Our toast it is white and our ale it is brown; Our bowl is made of the white maple tree; With the wassailing bowl, we'll drink to thee."

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Friends and neighbors greeted the girls at their homes with a cup of the customary wassail. The warm mulled wine tasted like Christmas itself.

Annabeth and her friends returned to Chase Mansion flushed and giggling. Their parents were already in the drawing-room.
"Where's Lord Skye?" Annabeth asked Piper.
"He'll be along later, " Piper replied.
Lieutenant Jackson was not there either.

A pewter plate with a mound of flour in the shape of a pudding appeared on a table in the drawing-room. A bullet rested at the peak of this mountain of flour. Each member of the party cut into the pudding with a spoon. It was Annabeth's turn when the pudding finally collapsed. She had to bury her face in the flour and pick up the bullet with her mouth.

Everyone laughed at her chalky, white face when she came up for air. Annabeth coughed into her elbow as Lieutenant Jackson walked through the door. Her face changed from ghostly pale to burning scarlet. She dipped a quick curtsy before departing to wash off the flour.
Silena was playing the harpsichord while Piper and Lord Skye danced Sir Roderick de Coverly when Annabeth returned. Lieutenant Jackson offered her his hand to join in the steps. Annabeth had made sure to add some powder and rouge after she washed her face.
Flurries of snow swirled and spiraled behind the windowpane and the Yule log blazed in the hearth.

Christmas dinner was a triumph. It featured ground beef mince pies and a salad made from garden-rocket, kale, dried figs, currants, olives, and almonds with a dressing made from lemon juice and olive oil. A perfectly roasted goose formed the centerpiece.

Dessert was a fruit cake and figgy puddings.

"Mrs. Chase, " Lieutenant Jackson said. "Would you mind if I spoke to your daughter alone in the drawing-room?"
All of the air was knocked out of Annabeth's lungs and left her dizzy and disoriented. Was this happening, or had she drunk too much lambswool?

Mrs. Chase's mouth curled into a knowing smile.
"Of course, " she raised an eyebrow in Annabeth's direction.  "...Annabeth."
Annabeth rose from the table.
"Yes, Mamma."

Lieutenant Jackson stood in front of the fireplace. The flickering light from the flames cast gentle shadows over his handsome features. He turned his head when Annabeth entered the drawing-room and his face turned the color of a cooked salmon. Annabeth looked up at him and flashed a coy smile.
"You wished to speak with me?" She said.
He lowered his eyes and reached into his waistcoat pocket.
"Miss Chase... Annabeth. I've never met a woman like you and God help me if every meet another one."
Annabeth raised an eyebrow.
"Is that supposed to be a compliment?"
Lieutenant Jackson took a deep breath and pulled out a ring. He got down on one knee.
The drawing-room spun and rippled. Why did Annabeth drink so much? Why did her father insist on keeping the fire so hot?
"I came all this way, my dear Annabeth," Lieutenant Jackson said. "To ask if you'll accept my hand. I should have done this sooner but... are you alright."
Annabeth cheeks were flushed and the room continued to spin.  Lord in heaven, was she coming down with a fever?
"I'll be alright," she said. "I just need some air and a glass of water."
He poured her some water from a carafe and opened up a window near an armchair.
"Thank you." Annabeth sat down.
Lieutenant Jackson knelt again by her side and placed the ring in her hand. It was a gold band set with pearls, forming the shape of a flower.

It was so delicate and exquisite, like the first blossoms of spring.
"I know I've been an ass..." he said.
Annabeth laughed.
"You weren't the only one."
She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. The solid bulk of his form was the only tangible sign that this moment was real. Everything else was a febrile haze.

Lieutenant Jackson panted and put two fingers on his lips.
"Is that a yes?"
"You really are an ass."
She put the ring on her finger. It gleamed in the light of the fire.
"I'm still on active duty in the navy and we're currently at war with France. I could be ordered abroad any moment. Would you mind following me?"
Annabeth stroked his cheek.
"That's not a problem at all. I'd wouldn't mind going to the ends of the earth if it's with you."
Silena and Piper giggled from where they listened at the door.