At that, the goblin huffed. He stepped toward me. The wind blew back his hood, revealing his monstrous face with green skin, bulging veins, yellow eyes, wispy hair, and cat-like ears. He wore a crown of tiny skulls on his head.
“Leave. Now,” I told him.
He sneered at me then with a snap of his fingers, disappeared. To my surprise, the tents and fire vanished along with him.
The wind calmed, and the snow began to fall slowly in fat snowflakes. The moonlight shimmered on the forest floor. From the direction of the village of Twickenham, I caught the sound of Silent Night on the wind.
Shaking my head, I turned to Archie. Had that just happened? Had that really happened?
“I think it’s safe now,” Archie said.
I nodded.
“Scarlette, you were so brave. You faced the goblin king.” He shook his head. “I don’t think I will be able to live with myself if I don’t propose to you this instant.”
“Well then,” I whispered, feeling my heart beat wildly in my chest. “I guess we better return to Strawberry Hill.”
“Why?” Archie asked.
“Because if you want to be my husband, you need to ask for my hand.”
Archie chuckled. “What are we waiting for?” he asked, taking my hand.
We turned only to find ourselves faced to face with the stone goblins.
“What are we going to do about them?” Archie asked.
I grinned. “I have an idea.”
Chapter 11: Happy Christmas to All
“Scarlette!” My father crossed the foyer, his arms outstretched. Wrapping me into a hug, he squeezed me tight then pressed his lips against my cheek. “Where have you been?”
“Oh. I…Master Boatswain III was helping me with a project.”
My father stepped back. “Master Boatswain—oh, Archie. How are you?” my father said, casting a glance at Archie who was standing nervously behind me, his hat in his hands.
“Very well, sir. Very well. Pleased to meet you again,” he told my father as he reached out to shake his hand.
“What mischief has my daughter gotten you into?”
“The usual kind. Tinkering automatons and dueling goblins.”
My father laughed. “A jokester like your grandfather,” he said then turned to me. “Tell your father what project you were working on.”
“It’s a surprise for Uncle Horace.”
“A surprise for me?” Horace said as he joined us. He was festively attired in a green silk doublet with red flowers, mistletoe sprigs, and golden bells embroidered on the lapel.
I grinned. “Yes. A Christmas gift, of sorts. Come,” I said, then motioned for father and Uncle Horace to follow Archie and me outside.
Father and Uncle Horace gave one another skeptical looks then followed along. In the drive, a wagon was waiting. The contents were covered by a tarp. Two of the workers stood nearby.
“Uncle Horace, may I present your new garden statues,” I said, motioning to the men.
The men pulled off the tarp with a flourish to reveal four fearsome-looking goblin statues.
Uncle Horace clapped his hands with glee.
“Scarlette!” he exclaimed. “How wonderful. How fierce they are. They will adorn my drive and keep away all bad spirits.”
“Like a strawman,” Archie said.
“Apt, apt,” I agreed with a chuckle.
“They are so monstrously perfect. Wherever did you get them?”
“Father Christmas, of course,” I replied pertly which made both Uncle Horace and Father laugh.
My father put his arm around me and pulled me close. “Dear girl. What a perfect gift for your uncle. How true to legend they are,” he said, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the stone goblin men.
“Verisimilitude,” I said.
Father nodded. “Very true to life.” Father’s brow crinkled as he studied the statues. And for the first time, I understood why. Unlike me, Father had known all along that goblins were real. He may have even seen one before. He shook his head. “It’s bloody cold out here. Horace, send the statues around, and let’s go inside for a mulled wine.”
“Marvelous. Marvelous,” Uncle Horace said, patting one of the goblins on the head. He crossed the space to give me a kiss on the cheek. “Always full of surprises, aren’t you?”
“Well, you know me, never idle.”
He laughed. “Certainly not. I say, it is cold. Let’s head inside,” Uncle Horace said. I linked my arm in his, and we walked back in.
As soon as we entered the house, the sound of merry laughter, holiday music, and cheery conversation rolled from the parlor. Uncle Horace had a packed house, and a Christmas Eve celebration was in full swing. For once, I was excited to stay at Strawberry Hill and celebrate.
“I will miss you when you go,” Uncle Horace told me.
“I’ll miss you too,” I replied.
“Oh, but I think you have some new adventures waiting for you in London,” Uncle Horace said, looking over his shoulder at Archie and Father. At that very moment, Archie stepped alongside my father.
“Mister Rossetti, might I have a word for just a moment before we go in?” Archie asked, casting a glance at me. He smiled, cleared his throat, and then began speaking to my father in low tones.
“I certainly hope so,” I replied to Uncle Horace.
The footmen opened the door to the parlor. Inside, everyone was festively dressed for the holiday, wearing red and green waistcoats, red satin gowns, and other fine frocks trimmed with gold thread. Someone was playing the pianoforte, filling the room with the bright sound of Christmas carols. I caught the scents of mulled wine and wassail. The hearth burned off the cold—and the lingering anxiety that hung around the edges of my senses. It was over. The goblin king would never come again. And I had a new future ahead of me. What a merry, merry way to ring in the holiday.
“Happy Christmas, Uncle,” I said, setting my head on Uncle Horace’s shoulder.
He placed a quick kiss on my forehead. “Happy Christmas, Scarlette.”
Two days after Christmas, I made one final stop in town before Father and I returned to London. The little bell above the door at The Two Sisters Doll Shop and Toy Emporium rang when I entered. The place was decidedly quiet.
“Scarlette,” Lizzie called cheerfully. “Laura, come here. It’s Scarlette.”
Laura appeared from the back, pushing her spectacles up her nose and leaving a streak of white paint on her cheek in the process. She wiped her hands off on her apron.
“You’ve got paint on your face,” Lizzie told her.
“Bah,” Laura said absently.
“I can’t stay,” I said. “In fact, I’m sorry to say that I’ve come to say farewell.”
“Alas,” Laura lamented. “So, your father has returned?”
I nodded. “We’re leaving for London tomorrow morning.”
“We’ll miss you,” Lizzie said.
Laura nodded in agreement. “But we’ve taken your advice and drafted an advertisement for an apprentice. We’re sorry it can’t be you.”
“As am I. But I fully intend to take everything I’ve learned with me,” I said, tapping my head. “Speaking of which,” I added, dipping into my pocket. I pulled out the windup key and handed it to Laura. “For the clockwork gnome.”
“Oh! We thought we’d lost it. We didn’t know how to break it to you.”
“No. It was my mistake. Just make sure you wind him up every day.”
“Oh, yes. Because he’s magical,” Laura said jokingly. “We will. If not just to remember you.”