A ball's just the thing for Christmas, is it not?

Mr. Hemming stood with Mr. Conway at the balustrade of the crowded entryway, looking down upon the large ballroom of the Risewell House. Mr. Hemming had to raise his voice by several degrees, although for want of space, he was already closer in proximity to Mr. Conway than he would have preferred. 

“I told you not to have taken that last brandy. We’re late.”

“Hemming you know perfectly well it’s shockingly rude to refuse anything on Christmas.” 

“I’ve never known you to refuse a drink, Christmas or not. Shall we?” 

Mr. Conway squinted at Mr. Hemming, “You’ve been quite on the edge of your seat all evening my dear fellow, what is the matter with you?”

 “Well, you know, I was thinking -”

“Ah - I’ve got it! You’re going to propose aren’t you? Which one is it again?” Conway looked out over the scene. 

 In a corner of the room there was a pretty little alcove furnished with several sofas. Presiding over this tableau were two young ladies, who were in fact, twins. Their caramel colored hair and delicate features were as close as could be called identical of two people of such different comportments. The first lounged sedately on a fainting couch, her only movement an occasional flick of the pale green fan that matched her gown. The other, dressed in pink, perched on the edge of her seat, flitted her hands about in such a frenzy that an elderly aunt on the receiving end of that dialogue looked thoroughly affronted by the attack. 

“The one to your left, my dear fellow, in the green.” 

“Ah, yes, naturally.” Turning, Conway grabbed two glasses of champagne from a passing tray. “How about I dance with her first? You wouldn’t want to keep that lovely girl all to yourself?” 

“Well really I -” 

“Ha! How about I propose first? What a joke! It’ll make you glow by comparison.” Conway swirled his champagne and downed the glass. He elbowed Hemming in the side, “What splendid ideas you have!” 

“I think you’ve had quite enough to drink.” Hemming said, taking the empty glass firmly out of Conway’s hand. 

Conway merely winked, and lifted Hemming’s full glass out of his other hand. “Nonsense. I’ll be damned if ladies don’t love a good joke. Back in a jiffy.” 

Hemming opened his mouth to protest, but Conway disappeared. Realizing the gravity of the situation, Hemming watched with horror as Conway bobbed down the stairs. Hemming had come with all honorable intentions to propose to the lovely Miss Isabella Risewell, however like all ladies, her good opinion was easily changeable, and might very well be done away with altogether with such an unfortunate joke.

He hastened after Conway, jostling his way down the stairs, and was nearly arrived at the alcove, when he saw that only one Miss Risewell sat on her sofa. He whirled around, looking for his object of the evening, and nearly tripping over his own foot, stumbled into the alcove. 

The other Miss Risewell and her elderly aunt started at his sudden appearance. 

“Oh - good evening.” He bowed deeply, catching a glimpse of pale green out of the corner of his eye. Straightening, he saw his lady being led to the dance floor on the arm of Conway. 

“Mr. Hemming, Merry Christmas!” The Miss Risewell in the pink gown turned towards him. “I daresay - what a very agreeable Christmas this is, a ball’s just the thing for Christmas is it not? Do sit down and keep us company a bit.” 

“Oh yes, yes.” Keeping his eye on the couple taking their places on the dance floor, Hemming sank into a seat. “Yes, yes, nothing like a ball on Christmas.” 

“Why of all days for a ball, Christmas seems just the occasion - I just love the merriment ... “

Hemming craned his neck to see around a couple that blocked his view. Conway appeared to be talking, leaning confidentially towards the lady as they moved down the dance. 

“Don’t you agree?” Miss Catalina Risewell was looking at Hemming. 

Hemming coughed. “I beg your pardon?” 

She fluttered her hands about. “I only said that Christmas is the perfect time for an engagement, is it not?” 

Hemming immediately felt himself at the mercy of the female gaze. He felt uncomfortably hot. “I - ahem, yes. Indeed. No better time.” 

Miss Risewell gasped, “So it’s true! You are going to propose to Isabella tonight then?” 

Hemming looked out to the dance floor, where he could ascertain nothing of the situation. “Yes, I confess, you have guessed my scheme.” 

At this, the excitable female fanned herself with such energy as Hemming had never seen before. “Oh Mr. Hemming - I am so glad - she will be ever so happy - and I will be ever so happy to have you as my brother - I will let you in on a little secret as I suppose you are to be part of the family now - oh how exciting that is! But, come here and I will tell you.” She leaned forward, “I have reason to expect that I may be receiving a proposal of my own this evening, from the very good Mr. Toddle!” 

“Oh, congratulations.” Hemming replied, his eyes fixed on the couple on the dance floor. 

“I’m not supposed to know a thing about it, but you know Mr. Toddle was here on Wednesday, called on Papa and I never heard a thing about it! Can you imagine? It could scarcely be about anything else. Particularly seeing how close it is to Christmas.” 

The music from the dance finally finished off, with a loud round of applause, and Hemming stood up hurriedly. 

“Miss Risewell, if you will excuse me, you know the task which calls me away. I believe it best to take advantage of the first opportunity I see - that is, I see now is as good a time as any -” 

“Ooh yes Mr. Hemming, I wouldn’t dream of keeping you! Go on!” At this, such as energetic shooing gestures began that Mr. Hemming leapt up out of the way at once. 

“Thank you, thank you.” He turned away, and glanced round the room. He caught sight of Miss Isbella Risewell’s green gown trailing up the stairs and made haste to follow her. Following her up the stairs, and through the couples strolling along the terrace, he watched her leave through a door that Hemming knew from prior balls led onto a covered walk filled with trellised vines and flower boxes and that sort of thing. He ducked through the doorway, and found Miss Risewell standing alone.

She turned. “Oh Mr. Hemming.” 

“Miss Risewell - I trust you are well” He waited anxiously for a clue as to what sort of damages Conway might have incurred. 

“I’m quite well Mr. Hemming - but you might have a word or two about discretion with that friend of yours, Mr. Conway.” 

“Oh I’m terribly sorry, I tried to stop him - I can hardly imagine what he might have said to you.” 

“Well Mr. Hemming,” Miss Risewell said, “First, he made me an offer of matrimony, and although he is your friend, I cannot all condone his behavior.” 

Mr. Hemming coughed. “Well - I’m sure -” 

“Oh but wait, Mr. Hemming - there’s more. After this very indecent proposal, he revealed it to be a joke, and impressed upon me the very peculiar idea that someone else might be wanting to propose to me tonight, and surely I know the fellow to whom he refers.” She turned and walked a few steps away, then looked back. “If the case is what I suspect, I may even be able to overlook such a distasteful joke. So I ask - have you any idea to whom he was referring, Mr. Hemming?” She arched her eyebrow. 

“Well, Miss Risewell - indeed I do, in fact, if I may be so bold,” Mr. Hemming stepped towards the lovely lady, “Miss Risewell, I -” 

“Isabella? Isabella are you out here?” An echoing male voice called through the doorway. 

Miss Risewell glanced back, “Oh, it’s Papa, quick, we mustn’t be seen alone together, it isn’t proper.” She whispered, shoving him towards the shrubbery. Mr. Hemming looked about frantically for a place that might conceal him. 

Behind Miss Risewell, there was a wooden trellis covered in some thick, trailing plant, and stumbling towards this, Mr. Hemming realized there was a small space between the trellis and the wall of the house behind it. He crashed through the bushes, and turning himself sideways, shuffled quickly along behind the trellis. 

No sooner was he hidden than Mr. Risewell strode out onto the patio, accompanied by a rather tall gentleman that Mr. Hemming did not know. Miss Risewell whirled around. 

“Ah - there you are my dear.” Mr. Risewell looked around. “Out here alone?” 

Feeling the ridiculousness of the situation, Mr. Hemming slowly lifted his hand, and twitched aside a few leaves so that he might view the scene. 

Miss Risewell ducked her head. “Yes, just getting some air.” 

“Very good, well - I have a surprise for you my dear.” He stepped aside and gestured to the man behind him to come forward. “Mr. Walker has come.” 

Mr. Hemming peered through the leaves to get a look at the man as he stepped forward. 

“Oh Mr. Walker, it has been ages, I’m so glad you’ve come.” Miss Risewell sank into an elegant curtsy, and then turned her stately head to her father, “Papa, you knew, and yet kept it a surprise!” 

Hemming had rarely heard such warmth in Miss Risewell’s voice. 

Mr. Risewell gave a hearty chuckle, “Well Christmas is the season for surprises. Now,” He turned to his daughter. “I believe Mr. Walker may have something to say to you my dear.” 

“Oh, but papa -”

“Now now, hear the man out.” He smiled at her, clasped hands with Walker, and left. 

Miss Risewell looked most desperately after him as he went, and then turned an equally despondent gaze towards the hedge, which cut deeply into Hemming’s very soul, but though he saw the lady’s distress, he felt equally the helplessness of the situation. 

Mr. Walker turned most gracefully towards Miss Risewell. “How well you look this evening Miss Risewell, you are, if possible, more beautiful than ever.”

Miss Risewell inclined her head. “Mr. Walker, you flatter me.” 

As Mr. Walker turned towards the hedge, Mr. Hemming was luckily able to see that Mr. Walker possessed a nose most unfortunately large for his face. 

“A very Merry Christmas to you. It appears I have become your Christmas surprise - believe me that was not my intention.”

“Papa does get these ideas into his head sometimes.” 

Mr. Walker exhaled, and Mr. Hemming could see his breath in a cloud, puffing out between their silhouettes. “Forgive me Isabella - but I must be frank with you. I come with an offer of marriage.” 

Isabella indeed! Mr. Hemming fumed from behind the hedge. 

“We have known each other our whole lives. Ours is a most amiable relationship - although we have met but rarely these past years, I have no doubt that I love you.

“However I won’t beat around the bush: I do not inherit my father’s estate, and have so little money I believe your father would never have allowed me this offer if our families were not so intimately connected. However, if you wish, I am yours.” 

Mr. Hemming, behind the bushes, was in agony. 

Miss Risewell tilted her head. “Mr. Walker, we have known each other our whole lives, a fact, in this instance rather regrettable because on the whole your proposal was very pretty - but I know you too well to believe it is sincere. I know you’ve never looked twice at me as anything more than a sister.” She calmly flicked open her fan. “You said it yourself Jack - this proposal is about the money, and I’m ashamed of you.” 

Mr. Walker shifted his feet loudly upon the gravel. He looked down, and then up. “Dear God Isabella you’ve not changed one bit and I’m glad of it.” 

At this point, Mr. Hemming made the mistake of shifting his feet, and a twig snapped loudly. Mr. Walker looked directly at the hedge. 

“Oh, now Mr. Walker” Miss Risewell hurriedly commanded his attention. “Come now, ask me to dance and I’ll show you how completely you are forgiven.” 

He looked away from the hedge, and back at her. “Nothing would give me more pleasure - would you do me the honor of a dance?” He extended his arm. 

“The honor would be mine.” Miss Risewell snapped her fan shut, looked purposefully at the hedge, and glided back into the ball with Mr. Walker. 

Hemming heaved a great sigh of relief as soon as he was alone. He stumbled out of his hiding place, brushed the leaves off his coat, and marched back inside.

Returning to the Risewell’s corner and seeing Mr. Walker sitting with the sisters and aunt, he decided to linger for the moment at a table positioned behind Miss Isabella Risewell’s back. 

Suddenly, at his own table a stout man Hemming knew, but could not place came up and started talking as if he knew him. 

“Well, now’s the moment, isn’t it. Nothing to do but get it done, that’s what I say.” The man pulled a monocle as thick as a magnifying glass out of his pocket and began polishing it quite frantically against his handkerchief. “From one man to another you know, we’re very lucky men, we’re very lucky to win over such beautiful creatures, I do say.” 

Mr. Hemming suddenly remembered - he had been in company with this man on several occasions with the Risewells, and then Catalina’s hint earlier this evening. 

“No better time for Christmas than a proposal - Whoops!” said the flustered man, nearly dropping his monocle. He placed it in his eye, squinted, then flipped it round the other way, shook his head and returned it to its original position. Monocle thus in place, he fixed his gaze on the Risewell sisters, both of whom were situated with their backs to their suitor’s table. He looked back and forth, trying to gauge which identical sister he was in fact looking for. 

Caught up in his own fortifying ritual involving a glass of champagne, Hemming did not much notice the man beside him was talking until the end of his speech. 

“ - and which one is it again?” He turned towards Hemming expectantly, one eye magnified by the monocle. 

“Ahem -” He gestured proudly towards Isabella, “The one in the green.” 

“Many thanks, old chap.” He removed the monocle, and replacing it in his pocket, approached the party. 

A niggling feeling of doubt suddenly crept over Hemming. What had the man asked? He frowned. 

The man strode forward. “Greetings, greetings, on such a lovely Christmas Eve.” He nodded to each person in turn, and addressed the stern looking aunt. “Madam, as I am sure you know, I am in such a position that it would be not at all improper for me to request a private audience with Miss Risewell.” 

The aunt nodded primly for him to continue, and Catalina wriggled excitedly in her seat.  

“If I may take this very opportunity to solicit a word with Miss Risewell, I assure you it will not be long before she returns with a very exciting announcement.” 

The aunt looked down her nose at him. “Yes Mr. Toddle, I suppose.” 

Toddle! But of course! Hemming had certainly been about to remember that very name. 

With an expression of utmost triumph on his face, Mr. Toddle turned, and without the slightest hesitation, bypassed Catalina, and offered his arm to the one in the green. 

“Why Mr. Toddle!” The one in the green gasped, “Forgive me, but have you mistaken me for my sister?!” 

The unfortunate Mr. Toddle whipped out his monocle, and at this, Catalina grasped her sister’s hand for support, however it was not enough, and she fainted dead away, slumping into her sister’s arms. 

“Oh dear! Oh dear me! I say - I say what a dreadful mistake how could I have been so thoroughly mistaken! Oh dear, Oh Catalina do wake up!!” He hovered, as the aunt ordered a maid to fetch some smelling salts. “It’s these eyes, I tell you, Oh - I’m always mixing things up.” 

He knelt by Catalina’s side, “Oh my dear, please, won’t you forgive me?” 

The sleeping Miss Risewell’s eyes fluttered open, and she said in a weak voice, “I believe I ought to be very mad at you Mr. Toddle, but - but I must say I’m inclined to forgive you presently.” 

In the midst of this chaos, glancing about, and seeing Mr. Hemming at the table behind, Miss Risewell gently extracted herself from her sister’s side. 

“I do believe I could have prevented that.” Mr. Hemming mumbled, as she approached. 

“Oh Mr. Hemming, I do not believe anyone could have prevented that. His eyes are truly awful.” 

“Anyhow.” Mr. Hemming stood up straight. 

“Oh Mr. Hemming - I believe I know what you are going to say!” 

“Well, shall I then?” Mr. Hemming drew a deep breath. 

“Oh yes - Mr. Hemming, certainly -” 

“Will you marry me, Miss Risewell?” 

“Oh yes Mr. Hemming!” 

At this happy moment, they were so caught up in their very great happiness that they might have been the only ones in the ballroom, so little did they take note of anyone else. So caught up they were in this curious sensation, that they had indeed, begun to drift towards each other in a very dangerous manner, when someone clapped Hemming very hard on the shoulder, saving the lovestruck couple from any collision of the lips that may have been about to take place. 

“Ha! A toast I say! You did it Mr. Hemming!” Mr. Conway pumped his friend’s hand most sincerely. “Although,” he said, turning towards Isabella, “Are you sure you won’t change your mind and have me instead? Ha! Good joke, isn’t it?”