Thursday, December 21, 1911
Prospero grinned at her, but before he could take his leave, Lady Jane approached with two hot mugs of cider.
"There you are!" she called. "I wondered if I'd see you too again this evening." She winked at Evelyn.
"But you can't have all the fun to yourselves, you know. Come and help Brian pick the best logs. He hasn't a clue, and nor do I."
She laughed merrily and it was clear she'd been sipping at the strong cider while they'd been finding quiet time in the evergreens.
Prospero shrugged and fell in with their hostess willingly so that he walked into the light of the bonfire with both ladies on his arms. Lady Jane, gushy and giggly, snuggled very close to him on the other side from Evelyn and she felt a pang of jealousy. Though he seemed to be enjoying himself immensely.
"What ho, Leatherby!" Prospero called as they approached their host, also drinking cider and staring glumly at a pile of logs scattered about on the snow.
"Prospero! Just the fellow. Help me out here, will you. Got to pick a winner. And I must confess, they're all just bloody great lumps of wood to me." If he noticed or cared that his friend was so close to his wife, he paid no attention, turning away to kick at one of the logs. "This one's a honker, at least. Largest of the lot."
Prospero disentangled himself from the ladies and moved forward to inspect the logs.
"Yes. It's pretty big alright, but there's a streak of rot right through it. Burn through in a few hours, I'm afraid." He played the light of his pocket torch over the log in question. Then moved on to inspect and catalog the others.
"This one's pine. Too soft. Yew here, that's a sacred tree and bears a poisonous berry. Wouldn't want to risk it in the house overnight. Ash. Too soft again. But these two. They're both oak and good dry wood. Much of a size, so it's a bit of a toss-up which one to pick.
"What do you think, Evelyn? Which one shall burn the Hall and and which one shall we send to the Alms house?"
OOC: Post as you will
Cries of joy and groans of disappointment heralded Evelyn's and Prospero's decision, but it was clearly fair, and the disqualified logs were tossed on the bonfire with great shouts of raucous enjoyment. It looked as if the party would be going on for some time.
Just as the bonfire flared up as a log was tossed on, a sudden flash followed by a loud bang came from the hilltop beyond the meadow, where the standing stone was located.
Many of the villagers made surreptitious gestures to ward of the evil eye or crossed themselves, and everyone stopped to look up the hill.
"Lightning!" declared Lord Leatherby, more to calm the nervous than through any real conviction. There had been no sign of a storm, only light snow drifting down all evening.
"I'll go and see," said Prospero. "One of your tenants, Old Meg, she called herself, said that there were some strangers doing something odd up at the stone. Maybe they had fireworks with them."
He took out his torch and Evelyn noticed him pat his pocket where the revolver was stored.
"I'll go with you," said Brian. "Machin. Gilly. You come too and bring a dog or two." He called to his groundskeeper and stable boy.
"Old Meg is a bit of a Weird Sister," he said quietly to his guests. "If she's involved, the village will be full of rumors of black magic by morning. Best to stamp them out now."