“Queenie. You have to go back to your own bed.” I prodded and tried to move her. She merely sighed and turned over. She was too heavy to lift. Since I was full of happiness and Christmas cheer I merely rolled her to one side of the bed, undressed and got in myself.

I woke to the sound of bells pealing jubilantly. Christmas Day. I sat up to see that Queenie was still sound asleep, mouth open and snoring unattractively. I nudged her.

“Queenie. Wake up. It’s morning and I’d like my tea.”

She yawned and stretched like a cat, then opened her eyes and looked around in surprise.

“Ruddy ’ell, miss. What the dickens am I doing here?”

“You fell asleep waiting for me and I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

“You’re a proper toff, you are,” she said.

“Yes, well, proper toffs usually get their morning tea brought to them by this hour, so I suggest you leap up and fetch it.”

“Blimey, yes. Bob’s yer uncle then.”

And she waddled out, leaving me to sit up in bed, enjoying the sound of the bells and the white stillness of the landscape outside my window. Then I put my hand to my neck to feel for my pixie. My fingers closed around him, and I shut my eyes, remembering that kiss. It was indeed a good Christmas.

Queenie was back in no time at all.

“Happy Christmas, my lady,” she said. “Cook sent up a mince pie instead of biscuits this morning.”

It was warm from the oven and I savored it.

“What will your ladyship be wearing?” Queenie asked, clearly trying to be on her best behavior.

“I believe I’ll wear my Christmas present from my mother—the rose cardigan and the long silky skirt and the scarf, with my white silk blouse,” I said. “Oh, and Queenie—that cardigan is made of cashmere. On no account are you to attempt to wash it, scrub it, iron it or do anything else to it. Is that clear?”

She nodded. “Sorry about the jersey dress, miss,” she muttered. “I feel like a fool. You know what my old dad used to say, don’t you?”

“Various things, if I remember correctly—that you were dropped on your head at birth or that you must be twins because one couldn’t be so daft.”

She grinned. “You got it. That’s exactly what he said.”

I got up and went to the dresser, retrieving a package. “Happy Christmas, Queenie,” I said. “Servants should officially receive their Christmas boxes tomorrow, on Boxing Day, but I think I’d like you to have it now.”

“For me, miss?” Her eyes opened wide.

“It’s nothing very special,” I said. “You know I don’t have much money.”