An Eventful Christmas at Trevelver Castle

[Chris in Prague]

As the evening deepened, the High Table buzzed with lively discourse. The flickering hearth cast dancing shadows upon ancient tapestries, bringing their frozen tableaux to life. The Trevelvers had assembled an illustrious company—nobility, artists, neighbours, old friends from near and far, and scholars researching the esoteric. Their conversations intertwined like a rich symphony, filling the air with laughter and animated debate.

Lord Charles, resplendent in his tailored evening attire, raised his crystal whisky glass in a silent toast. The light caught the facets of the glass, casting a warm glow upon his features as he surveyed the scene with evident satisfaction. The night was a celebration of the Trevelvers, a testament to the family's enduring influence and the strength of the bonds that united them with their disparate guests.

Beside him, Sir George Widgeon III surveyed the festivities with a keen eye, his expression a blend of satisfaction and vigilant watchfulness. Seated nearby, Lisa Silverwood and Lady Penelope Trevelver were deep in conversation, their shared laughter drawing others into their orbit. Lady Penelope found herself increasingly intrigued by the young woman, sensing depths that belied Lisa's youth and unassuming appearance.

The dancefloor remained a whirl of colour and movement as couples swept across the polished floor in graceful harmony. The musicians stationed on the corner stage played with infectious energy, their melodies weaving a tapestry of sound that enveloped the room. Laughter and conversation rose and fell in waves, punctuated by the occasional clink of glass or murmur of appreciation for the exquisite fare.

Throughout it all, Lady Penelope presided with a regal air, her keen eyes missing nothing as she moved among the guests. With the able assistance of Huw and Gwen, she ensured that every need was met and every conversation was enriched by her presence. She was the embodiment of the Trevelver spirit—gracious, intelligent, and deeply connected to the legacy of her family's ancestral home.

As the night wore on, the guests began to drift away to their bedrooms, their farewells tinged with a hint of regret. But the warmth and celebration lingered, a testament to the enduring power of the Trevelver name and the magic that seemed to permeate every stone of the ancient castle.

When they first met after Lisa arrived by helicopter, Lady Trevelver had felt an inexplicable jolt of recognition, as if a veil had lifted to reveal a profound connection between them. In that fleeting moment, she sensed a kinship that hinted at a shared lineage. Lady Penelope realised that Lisa was a distant relative, possessing a rare gift she had believed was long lost—one passed down through generations of Atlantean Queen Priestesses.

Her mind had raced with the implications of this discovery. Lisa had the ability to communicate with those who had crossed over to the eternal realm, bridging the gap between the living and the departed. This latent power, though largely dormant, pulsed with a thrilling strength that both excited and unnerved Lady Trevelver.

With each passing moment, Lady Penelope's resolve solidified. She would guide Lisa in unlocking the full extent of her extraordinary abilities. Together, they would delve into the arcane knowledge of their ancestors, unravelling the secrets hidden within their shared bloodline.

As the night wore on, the air around them shimmered with possibility, the boundaries of reality blurring at the edges. In this convergence of past and present, of seen and unseen, a new chapter in an age-old legacy was poised to unfold.

The castle hummed with the energy of minds meeting and horizons expanding. Through the high-arched windows, stars winked their approval as Lady Trevelver strengthened her lineage. More than a fortress of stone, Trevelver Castle stood as a beacon of warmth, celebration, and the transformative power of human connection. In this moment, its history gained a vibrant new thread—one that would shimmer in its secret annals, a testament to the night when past and present, tradition and innovation, wove together in perfect harmony.

The atmosphere within Trevelver Castle was electric, a tapestry of conversations and laughter weaving through the grand hall as guests celebrated the evening's revelations. Each exchange, rich with history and potential, seemed to resonate within the castle's very stones, reinforcing its place as a sanctuary of legacy and connection. It was in this vibrant milieu that the spirit of the night thrived, drawing together the past and present in a dance of shared purpose and discovery.

[Chris in Prague]

Amidst the lively atmosphere of the gathering, Sir George Widgeon III turned to Lord Charles, his voice cutting through the din, distinct and resonant. "I couldn't help but overhear the lively debate earlier this morning regarding Mr. H.G. Ivatt's remarkable 5P/5F No. 10000, a true LMS locomotive that made its grand debut from the erecting shop at the close of '47. It's a profound disappointment that those in positions of authority fail to recognise any of the five mainline pioneers as deserving of preservation once their BR service concludes next year."

Lord Trevelver nodded solemnly. "Indeed, it is a shortsighted decision. These locomotives have proven their mettle on both the Southern and London Midland Regions. In 1953, the 'Twins', as Nos. 10000 and 10001 came to be known, were dispatched to the Southern Region, where they were outfitted with an extra pair of marker lights and lamp brackets to align with the Southern Railway's practice of using headcodes to signify train types and routes. During their two-year tenure on the Southern, the Twins operated alongside the Southern's trio of diesel prototypes before returning to the London Midland Region in 1955."

Leaning forward, Sir George's expression turned contemplative. "You'll recall my inquiries about acquiring No. 10000?"

Charles nodded as his friend elaborated, "My interest goes beyond its service history—impressive as its haulage of expresses between Waterloo and Exeter from 1953 to 1955 may be—in comparison with Mr Bulleid's diesel locomotives, Nos. 10201, 10202, and 10203."

A spark ignited in Lord Trevelver's eyes, illuminating his features with an unmistakable fervour. "Ah, George, your foresight has always been commendable", he declared, his voice resonating with authority and enthusiasm. You understand that for our railways to thrive, innovation is essential—even if it necessitates moving away from the magnificent steam locomotives that Penny and I hold so dear."

"Indeed, we do", his wife interjected, her voice light yet assertive, "although Charles and I may hold differing opinions as to which railway system reigns supreme". A warm smile spread across her face, her dark brown eyes sparkling with mischief. The playful contrast between their viewpoints was palpable, yet the affection and respect they shared for one another softened the edges of their friendly rivalry.

Lady Trevelver's smile widened as she continued, her tone imbued with warmth and charm. "You know how it is, George. Charles and I have always been a trifle competitive when it comes to our beloved railways." She placed a gentle hand on her husband's arm, her touch a subtle reminder of their enduring partnership, rich with shared experiences and unwavering support. "But that's part of what makes our marriage so stimulating, isn't it, dear?"

Lord Charles returned her smile, his expression radiating deep fondness. "Indeed, my love", he replied, his voice infused with a tenderness that belied the spirited debates they had engaged in over the years. "Our differences only serve to make our bond stronger, for they remind us that even in the face of disagreement, our love and respect for one another will always prevail."

The warmth of their exchange enveloped the High Table, a testament to the enduring power of love and companionship amidst the spirited discussions of progress and tradition.

"And long may it be so", their dear friend replied, a broad smile illuminating his face, his enthusiasm infectious. He leaned forward, his cobalt eyes sparkling with conviction. "Yes, to diesel power, but only as a temporary measure until our most important lines are fully electrified. It is a necessary step in our journey toward modernity, yet we must not forget the grandeur of steam that has defined our railways for so long."

The flickering candles on the High Table cast a warm, inviting glow within the magnificently decorated Great Hall, where the spirit of Christmas enveloped the assembled friends. The air was rich with the scent of pine and mulled wine, with garlands of holly and ivy adorning the sturdy dark oak beams overhead. The grey stone walls and rich tapestries of the Great Hall provided a fitting backdrop for their spirited discussion on tradition and progress that mirrored the essence of the Trevelvers.

"Indeed", Lord Trevelver chimed in, his voice resonating with authority. "While, of necessity, we must embrace the innovations of diesel and electric power, we must also honour the legacy of those magnificent steam locomotives that have served us so well through the ages. They are not merely machines; they are symbols of our history, our triumphs, and our shared journeys."

Lady Penelope nodded, her expression thoughtful. "Each steam locomotive tells a story, doesn't it? The whistle that echoes along the River Camel of the last train from Wadebridge to Penmayne, the rhythmic chugging of the goods trains climbing the incline to our Castle cellars from Cant Cove station; these stir the heart—these are the sights and sounds that we are doing our best to ensure are preserved even as we, sometimes regretfully, must look to the future."

Their old friend raised his glass, enthusiasm clear in his eyes. "To the steam locomotives that have served us so well, and to the innovations that will carry us forward! May we find a balance between the two, ensuring that our railways remain as vibrant and vital as the landscapes they traverse."

The sound of laughter and clinking glasses filled the dais, a celebration of the friends' shared passion and the bonds that united together. At that moment, surrounded by the warmth of friendship and the flickering shadows of the Great Hall, they felt a profound connection to both the past and the future, united in their love for the railways that had shaped their lives.

"But to return to No. 10000, my friends. What truly sets it apart is its pioneering status—a stellar example of British engineering prowess at a crucial juncture in our railway history, embodying the essence of innovation and progress."

"Ah, yes, George", his host replied, "you deserve much credit for consistently championing technological advancement. You understand that to remain competitive our railways must embrace innovation—transitioning from the beloved steam locomotives that Penny and I cherish to, as you've noted, diesel and, ultimately, electric locomotives."

"Thank you, Charles", Sir George said, his enthusiasm growing. "Indeed. Just two years after the war, the LMS embarked on a bold initiative—to develop Britain's first mainline diesel locomotive. Quite an ambitious endeavour, wouldn't you agree?"

[Chris in Prague]

"Indeed, George. But in those post-war times, with all our country faced, there were bound to be critics who raised their eyebrows. The expenditure alone must have been very considerable."

"Precisely, Charles! Yet, the Derby team remained undeterred. Remarkably, they progressed from the drawing board to actual construction in less than eight months."

"Admirable speed, George. Who was behind this design? And who supplied the diesel engine?" Lady Penelope asked.

"Mr. Ivatt", replied Sir George, "masterminded the locomotive in collaboration with the English Electric Co. At the time, English Electric was the leading contender for the British diesel engine business. It provided the 16SVT Mk 1 engine, generator, and traction motors."

"George", inquired Lady Penelope, "when did the first of these Co-Co twins, No. 10000, make its grand debut?"

"Ah", replied their friend, "just a few weeks before nationalisation, in December 1947. But here's the twist: although No. 10000 resembles 1940s-style USA diesel locos., the Derby team did not enjoy the rather generous loading gauge enjoyed by American railroads—no extra foot in height and width, and a permissible axle load of only 28 tons."

"A challenge indeed!" chimed in Sir Charles. "With just over a 21-ton axle load, this 1,600hp Co-Co pioneer was a remarkable feat for 1947."

"And when did No. 10000 officially enter service?" enquired Lady Penelope.

"The official handing-over ceremony took place at Euston on December 18th, 1947", explained Sir George. "Sir George Nelson, Chairman and Managing Director of the English Electric Co, and Sir Robert Burrows, Chairman of the LMSR, spoke of 'the importance of the experiment'."

"An understatement if there ever was one, George!" Lady Penelope exclaimed.

"Absolutely", agreed Sir George. "The timing of the handover—just before nationalisation—was chosen so that their new diesel locomotive, entirely LMSR in origin, would bear the company's insignia in traffic. However, its striking black and silver livery eventually gave way to BR Brunswick Green in 1956. And let's not forget that the former CME of the LMSR, Sir William Stanier, was also present at the ceremony."

"Truly admirable", concluded Lord Trevelver.

"Indeed", declared Sir George, raising his glass. "Let us toast to innovation and the unwavering spirit of progress!"

"Hear, hear!" echoed Lord and Lady Trevelver. "To the future of British rail traction!"

[Chris in Prague]

"And so", Sir George continued, his voice steady and authoritative after the chinking of glasses, "No. 10000 embarked on its rail journey—a testament to audacious vision and engineering prowess. However, I have been informed that No. 10000 and its twin, No. 10001, will head to BR's Derby Works next year. There, No. 10001 will be restored using parts from Mr. Bulleid's three diesels and Mr. Ivatt's two. But I feel compelled to preserve No. 10000. Such a significant piece of our railway heritage deserves continued celebration and appreciation."

"Laudable indeed, George", Lady Penelope acknowledged, her keen eyes reflecting both admiration and concern.

"Thank you, Penny", he replied, a hint of determination in his tone. "I couldn't ignore the challenge. My plan? To purchase what remains of No. 10000 after Derby Works strips it of twin-related parts. We'll relocate it to one of my Yorkshire engineering facilities. There, my apprentices will undertake its complete restoration. Not only will we safeguard the locomotive, but future generations of engineers will gain invaluable hands-on experience. The legacy of No. 10000 shall endure."

"A commendable initiative, George", Lord Charles agreed, his voice rich with respect, leaning forward in his chair as if to emphasise his support.

"In pursuit of this noble endeavour", Sir George explained, his passion clear, "I've already engaged in discussions with English Electric to secure a reconditioned 1,760 hp 16SVT Mk I engine. Additionally, I've contacted other companies to obtain the other missing parts. These will replace those British Railways will remove from No. 10000 to bring No. 10001 back to life. Interestingly, the English Electric 16SVT engine is also used by the RAF as a generator, so there are available spares. This is important as the 'Twins' feature the Mk I version of this engine, while the English Electric Co. Type 4s boast the Mk II variant."

"Capital idea, George", Lord Trevelver acknowledged, a twinkle of approval in his eyes as he considered the implications of such an undertaking.

"No. 10000 and 10001", Sir George continued, his voice growing more animated, "hold immense historical significance. They are pioneers—the first mainline diesel locomotives built in Great Britain. Their pivotal role in Britain's transition to diesel traction, especially on mainline express passenger services, cannot be overstated. Unfortunately, prolonged stays at Derby for maintenance due to scarce spares for the English Electric Mk 1 engine (now out of production) have cast a shadow over their legacy. The influx of new English Electric Co. Type 4s on the West Coast Main Line has rendered Nos. 10000 and 10001 surplus."

"In the pre-nationalisation era", he recounted, his tone shifting to one of nostalgia, "the Southern Railway (SR) led the charge among the four major railway companies. Its bold investment in third-rail electrification during the 1930s set it apart. Enter Oliver Bulleid, the SR's Chief Mechanical Engineer—a man deeply familiar with small-wheel multiple-unit motor bogies. But Bulleid sought an alternative to costly third-rail electrification, especially for routes in the West of England."

"And so", Sir George's voice carried excitement, "in 1950, the SR collaborated with the English Electric Co. to birth something extraordinary: No. 10201, a diesel-electric prototype. Its heart—the same 16-cylinder 16SVT engine found in the LMSR Co-Cos—now sported the EE Co's Napier 75100 Turbocharger, producing a formidable 1,750 horsepower.

"In the heyday of rail innovation", he continued, "when locomotives transcended mere machinery, the SR unveiled something truly distinctive. Unlike their contemporary American counterparts, SR locomotives featured flat ends with rounded corners, creating a box-like appearance that turned heads."

"Indeed, it did!" remarked Lady Penelope, her enthusiasm matching Sir George's as she recalled the locomotive's striking design.

"But this aesthetic choice wasn't superficial, Penny", responded Sir George, his gaze steady. "The subtle body-side contours followed the graceful lines of Bulleid-designed coaching stock—a design touch that spoke of continuity and elegance."

"Ah, yes", sighed Lady Trevelver, her voice filled with reminiscence.

"Yet beneath this sleek exterior lay a formidable challenge, Penny. The bulky medium-speed engines and electronic components of the time demanded a unique solution. Enter the SR trio—No. 10201, 10202, and 10203—mounted on 1Co-Co1 bogies."

"I remember them well, at Waterloo", Lady Trevelver said, her eyes lighting up at the memory.

"Picture it: three motored wheelsets and an outer non-powered guiding axle, meticulously engineered to distribute weight. Oliver Bulleid's longer wheelbase met the chief civil engineer's requirements. The mandate? Spread the axle load and reduce excessive rail wear."

"Indeed so, George", interjected Sir Charles, nodding in agreement, his brow furrowed in contemplation.

"However, BR's civil engineers faced similar concerns when the new pilot scheme diesel locomotives arrived in 1955. Strict stipulations limited wheel diameter in relation to axle load. The consequence? Cumbersome 1Co-Co1 bogies were imposed on the EE Co Type 4 D200s and the BR/Sulzer 'Peak' class, adding 10 to 20 tons of extra dead weight."

"Regrettably so, old chap", remarked Lord Trevelver, his expression one of dismay.

"Then, as we know, the LMR appropriated the SR/Bulleid trio for evaluation. Unfortunately, the dire conditions of the steam-age railway hindered the performance of these prototype diesels."

"I'm sure they were better treated on the SR!" exclaimed Lady Trevelver, her voice tinged with irritation.

"The BR power classification system, displayed above the numbers of the 1,750 b.h.p. locomotives Nos. 10201 and 10202, originated from the old LMSR (London, Midland and Scottish Railway) system", stated Sir George, his tone now more analytical. "This system used numbers 0-9 to indicate power levels based on tractive effort calculations. Additionally, the letters 'P' (for passenger) and 'F' (for freight) indicated the type of work the locomotive was designed for. The '6P/6F' code applied to the SR's more powerful 2,000 b.h.p. No. 10203, falling just short of the '7P/5F' classification of the SR Bulleid Light Pacifics. Interestingly, this identification system was unique to the LMR (London Midland Region) and Southern Region."

"In contrast", interjected Lord Charles, his voice smooth and confident, "the Western Region adhered to the old GWR (Great Western Railway) classification code. Here, power ratings were denoted by letters A-E, and coloured dots indicated route availability. The preferred system on certain Eastern Region locomotives was the route availability code (RA1 to 9). Simultaneously, the designation 'MT' (mixed traffic) was added to new standard designs—except for the BR Class 9F 2-10-0s and No. 71000 'Duke of Gloucester,' which carried the '8P' code above its cab side number."

"Now, let's review the three locomotives themselves", continued Sir George, his enthusiasm palpable. "The SR/English Electric 1,750hp ICo-Co1 locomotive No. 10201 emerged from Ashford Works in November 1950, followed by No. 10202 in August 1951. The third member of the trio, No. 10203, didn't enter traffic until April 1954. Resembling the earlier pair (with an output raised to 2,000hp), No. 10203 joined sister engines 10201/2 at Camden shed in northwest London. Appropriated by the LMR, it performed a variety of duties, including Anglo-Scottish, Birmingham, and Manchester routes, with frequent runs on locals to Bletchley. The additional horsepower of No. 10203 gave it a distinctly superior performance, often working the 'Royal Scot' single-handed. By 1962, No. 10202 had completed 750,000 miles, while 10201 covered 600,000 miles, and 10203 amassed 480,000 miles. However, regretfully, by the end of 1963, the three SR diesel-electrics were to be withdrawn."

Upon hearing the news, Lady Trevelver's expression darkened. Her strong support for the Southern Railway was evident in the way her slender hands clenched around the wooden armrests of her chair. 'By the end of 1963, the three SR diesel-electrics were to be withdrawn', echoed in her mind like a death knell for a cherished legacy.

"Such a loss", she murmured, her voice laced with disappointment. The thought of the pioneering locomotives—symbols of innovation and progress—being consigned to scrap stirred a deep sense of injustice within her. She had always admired the Southern Railway for its boldness and commitment to modernity, and the withdrawal of these locomotives felt like a betrayal of that spirit.

"Surely, there must be a way to preserve their legacy, too", she said, her tone shifting to one of determination. "These machines are not just engines; they are a testament to the ingenuity of our engineers and the promise of the future. We cannot allow them to fade into obscurity, either."

Her passionate defence of the SR's contributions to railway history resonated with those around her, igniting a spark of hope that perhaps, against all odds, something could be done to honour the legacy of these diesel-electrics, too. Lady Trevelver's unwavering spirit and commitment to preserving the past would not let her stand idly by as history slipped away.

[Chris in Prague]

"But if you run No. 10000 down from Waterloo, who will drive and maintain her, George?" Lord Trevelver wondered, his brow furrowed with concern as he leaned back in his high-backed carved oak chair. The flickering light from the fireplace danced across the intricate woodwork, casting shifting shadows that mirrored the uncertainty in his voice.

"Finding a suitable crew will not be a problem, Charles", Sir George assured his friend, his tone confident and steady. 72A, Exmouth Junction depot, has the staff trained to drive and service these locomotives. Only some refresher sessions will be necessary since the diesels only left in 1955." He leaned forward, his dark hair streaked with grey catching the light, revealing the earnestness in his striking cobalt eyes.

"Splendid! That's one major hurdle overcome, my friend", Lord Trevelver replied, his voice brightening as he swirled his whisky, the amber liquid catching the glow of the fire. "But what about further afield once the restoration is complete?"

"Not to worry, Charles. I'm prepared to fund additional crew training at York, 50A, depot from my own pocket", Sir George explained, his expression resolute. "That's where I intend to base No. 10000 after the restoration work is finished."

"Excellent forethought, as always, George", Lord Trevelver nodded thoughtfully, his gaze fixed on his friend as he outlined his plans for No. 10000's restoration and operation. "Having a proficient crew on hand will be absolutely vital."

"Indeed", Sir George replied, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "All been accounted for. My team has secured clearances all the way down to Penmayne and back, provided the tests against maximum axle weights and loading gauges are satisfactory. The Chief Civil Engineer is aware of our ambitions."

Lord Trevelver raised his snifter, the crystal glinting in the firelight. "Then we wish you the utmost success, my friend. Seeing that engineering marvel reborn and thundering along British rails will be a delight to witness. The heritage she represents must be preserved."

Their crystal glasses clinked in a toast to No. 10000's future—a promise of revival and the visionaries willing to bank their reputations on resurrecting her from history's pages.

[Chris in Prague]

As the winter sun dipped low on Boxing Day, its golden light spilt across the Castle grounds. Lady Penelope eased into her plush armchair, cocooned in the warmth of her study. Through tall, arched windows, she watched delicate snowflakes pirouette against the darkening sky.

The day had started late for her, the exhaustion from the Christmas Eve and Christmas Day Balls still lingering in her bones. Both celebrations had continued well into the early hours, filled with music, laughter, and the joyous spirit of the season. Now, as the quiet of Boxing Day settled over Trevelver Castle, Lady Penelope found herself relishing the peaceful moment.

Her chignon, a work of art in dark tresses, framed her face like a Renaissance portrait. A few rebellious strands softened her features, hinting at a spirit not entirely tamed by propriety and the fatigue she still felt. Her velvet gown, midnight-hued, whispered against the chair as she moved, a comfort after the elaborate ball gowns of the past two nights. The high collar, adorned with intricate lace, brushed her throat – a gentle reminder of the sophistication expected of her station.

As she sipped her perfectly brewed Earl Grey, the bergamot aroma bringing a welcome alertness, Lady Penelope's mind wandered to the events she had planned for the evening. Despite her weariness, a smile tugged at her lips. The magic of Christmas was not over yet, and she had a few more surprises in store for her guests, particularly for Eli and Giles.

The room breathed history, its contents silent witnesses to countless Christmases past. Ancient tomes lined mahogany shelves, their spines a testament to the hands and eyes that had sought their wisdom over generations. Scrolls nestled between leather-bound volumes, guardians of long-forgotten secrets. From faded portraits, Lady Penelope's ancestors' gazes seemed to follow her, their painted eyes holding both judgment and pride.

But tonight, she mused, might just add a particularly special chapter to the Castle's rich tapestry of stories. Lady Penelope felt the weight of history around her, yet also the anticipation of creating new memories that would one day become part of her legacy.

A celestial globe stood in one corner, its brass meridians tracing paths across uncharted skies. The air hung heavy with the scent of beeswax and aged paper, mingling with the smoky aroma of the crackling fire. Each breath was a journey through time.

Lady Penelope's elegant and sure fingers curled around the delicate porcelain of her teacup. The hand-painted roses on its rim brought a whisper of summer to the winter-bound room. As she sipped her perfectly brewed Earl Grey, the bergamot danced on her palate. For a moment, she was transported to sun-drenched terraces of summers past, the echoes of laughter and lightness lingering in her mind.

The fire popped and hissed, its flames painting ever-changing tableaux on the walls. In their dance, Lady Penelope saw flashes of her life – the exuberance of youth, the ache of loss, the tentative hope of new beginnings. On the mantelpiece, treasures stood sentinel: a crystal sphere refracting rainbows, her father's silver pocket watch marking a time long past, and a weathered goose quill, poised as if ready to write the next chapter of her story.

In the corner, the grandfather clock kept its steady vigil. Its gentle ticking wove through the room, a thread binding past to present, a rhythm as familiar and essential as her own heartbeat. With each swing of its pendulum, Lady Penelope felt the weight of her heritage, the expectations of those who came before, and the possibilities stretching out before.

With a sense of purpose, Lady Penelope rose from her plush armchair in the study. Despite her lingering fatigue, she was determined to create an unforgettable experience for Eli and Giles on this Boxing Day evening. She smoothed her midnight-hued velvet gown and made her way through the Castle's crimson-carpeted corridors.

[Chris in Prague]

As she entered the Great Library, Lady Penelope inhaled deeply, savouring the rich scent of aged leather and paper. The familiar aroma brought a smile to her lips, awakening memories of countless hours spent here during her childhood. Her eyes swept over the worn Persian rug, its intricate patterns faded by time but still beautiful. This very rug had cradled her youthful imaginings as she lost herself in the pages of beloved books, and now it lay ready to witness a new chapter unfold.

Lady Penelope found Huw and Gwen already at work, supervising the evening's arrangements. The air was filled with the crisp scent of winter blooms from the Castle hot house, where vibrant poinsettias and delicate white lilies had been carefully selected for their beauty.

"How are the arrangements coming along?" Lady Penelope inquired, her discerning eyes scanning the colourful display.

Gwen looked up, a smile brightening her face. "We've chosen the best from the hothouse, milady. The winter blooms will add a touch of elegance to the evening."

Huw nodded in agreement, as his wife adjusted a cluster of holly and ivy that adorned the table. "The colours will complement the marble fireplace beautifully, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere."

Lady Penelope's gaze fell upon two supple leather armchairs, and with careful direction, she had them positioned before the crackling fireplace. "Perfect. Let's make sure the flowers draw the eye toward this cosy setting", she said, her excitement growing with each passing moment.

As they arranged the flowers, Lady Penelope turned to Gwen with a light-hearted smile. "You know, my dear, getting the flower arrangements just right is of utmost importance. After all, we wouldn't want a repeat of the infamous duel between Princess Pauline Metternich and Countess Anastasia Kielmansegg, would we?"

Gwen raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "A duel? Over flowers?"

"Indeed! As told to me by my mother, in August of 1892, they duelled with rapier swords until first blood was drawn over a dispute concerning the arrangements for the Viennese International Exhibition of Music and Theatre", Lady Penelope explained, chuckling softly.

"And it was quite the spectacle, as they fought topless—not for scandalous reasons, mind you, but as a precaution against infection. The Baroness Lubinska, a Polish woman who had a degree in medicine and oversaw the duel, rightly insisted that embedded fragments of cut clothing could cause minor injuries to become septic."

Huw laughed, shaking his head. "A duel over flower arrangements sounds utterly ridiculous, yet rather fitting for those times."

Lady Penelope continued, "It was the first 'emancipated duel', featuring female participants, female seconds, the Princess Schwarzenberg and Countess Kinsky, and a female medic, the Baroness Lubinska. They met in Vaduz, the capital of Liechtenstein, and Princess Pauline was pronounced the victor in the third round when she was injured slightly on the nose but had also drawn blood from the countess's arm."

Gwen laughed, shaking her head. "I suppose we should be thankful for our more civilised methods of deciding such matters!"

"What happened then?" asked Huw.

Lady Penelope replied, "Once the round ended, the seconds 'advised them to embrace, kiss, and make friends'".

With the conversation lightening the atmosphere, they exchanged satisfied glances, united in their shared vision for the night ahead. Together, they orchestrated a scene that promised warmth, beauty, and the spirit of the season, setting the stage for an unforgettable gathering.

The Great Library, with its high shelves full of ancient tomes and faded ancestral portraits, seemed alive with excitement. Lady Penelope felt a thrill run through her as she realised that tonight, this room steeped in history would bear witness to a new and special moment in the Castle's rich tapestry of stories.

The room's quiet warmth wrapped around her, as the smell of old books mixed with the soft, smoky scent of the burning oak wood fire. This blend of smells made the room feel even more welcoming, creating a feeling that spoke of years of learning and many stories yet to be told.

Shadows danced on the high bookshelves, which were filled with books of old knowledge and past adventures. The fire's warm light filled the room with a gentle, moving glow, making the peaceful feeling of the Great Library even stronger. As Lady Penelope looked around, she was in awe of the years of history that surrounded her, and she was excited for the new story that was about to begin within these old walls.

In one chair, she pictured Giles, his weathered face illuminated by firelight. His voice, she imagined, would bring Keats to life – perhaps "Ode to a Nightingale" or "Bright Star", each word a testament to love's complexity. Opposite him, Eli would sit, her freckled face animated with passion as she breathed life into the verses of Paul Éluard. Lady Penelope could almost hear the French words swirling in the air, mingling with the fire's soft pops and hisses.

As their literary duet unfolded, Lady Penelope envisioned a tapestry of shared understanding forming between them. She would observe from a discreet corner, the architect of this moment, before slipping away under the pretence of fetching more wine. In her absence, she hoped, love's alchemy would work its magic.

But the library was only the beginning. Lady Penelope's mind raced ahead to the next part of her plan: a moonlit sleigh ride through snow-blanketed grounds. She imagined Eli and Giles huddled under thick woollen blankets; their breath visible in the frosty air as a matched pair of horses drew them through silent, silvery woods.

With each careful preparation, Lady Penelope felt the evening taking shape. She did not need to command the snowflakes or whisper to the moon; nature, she knew, would conspire with her. Love was already in the air, waiting only for the right moment to bloom amidst flickering candlelight and the soft glow of a winter night.

As she made her final arrangements, Lady Penelope smiled. Tonight, she thought, would weave Eli and Giles into the Castle's rich tapestry of stories, adding their own thread to the centuries of tales its walls had witnessed.

[Chris in Prague]

[Rewritten to include details about the horses and a subtle warning.]

The slender clocktower of Trevelver Castle pierced the night sky, its silhouette etched against a tapestry of twinkling stars. As midnight approached, an expectant hush fell over the grounds, as if nature itself awaited the turning of time.

With a deep, resonant chime, the clock began its midnight toll. Each of the twelve strikes reverberated through the crisp air, echoing off ancient stone walls that had witnessed centuries of such moments. The sound marked not just the birth of a new day, but a threshold in the lives of Eli and Giles.

As the final note faded into silence, a preternatural calm descended upon the Castle. Moonlight bathed the snow-laden courtyard in an ethereal glow, casting elongated shadows that seemed to dance with a life of their own. Torch flames flickered and swayed, their warm light a stark contrast to the cold brilliance of the stars above.

In this bewitching hour, the Castle seemed to breathe with a life of its own—its weathered stones exhaling wisps of history while inhaling the promise of future tales yet to unfold. It stood as a silent witness to the impending midnight adventure of the two souls within its walls.

The courtyard, blanketed in pristine snow, gleamed under the amber glow of strategically placed lanterns. At its centre stood the sleigh, an invitation to adventure with its polished runners and securely fastened torches. Nearby, Huw, the butler, stood wrapped in his winter attire, his breath forming misty clouds as he conversed with Jago Trelawney, the Head Groom. Their quiet preparations lent an air of anticipation to the magical tableau of the midnight hour at Trevelver Castle.

Jago's weathered hands moved with practised skill over the harnesses, adjusting them on a pair of majestic dapple-grey horses. In the lamp-lit courtyard, their coats shone like polished pewter against the pristine snow. Despite their slight build, the pair exuded an air of quiet strength and endurance, their muscular forms rippling with each subtle movement.

"Lord Trevelver named them for the Gemini twins", Giles remarked, noting with silent approval Jago's careful attention to the equine duo. "He's always had a penchant for classical allusions."

Jago nodded, a hint of pride in his voice. "His Lordship knows his horses, that's for certain."

The perfectly matched pair were not just for show. Their thick, flowing manes and tails danced with each gust of the snow-laden wind, while their broad chests and well-shod hooves spoke of their sure-footed ability to traverse challenging winter terrains. Bright, intelligent eyes surveyed their surroundings as their breaths formed clouds of steam in the cold air.

Castor and Pollux stood ready, seeming to share a single mind with their matched stances and alert expressions. They were prepared to guide their human charges through the silent, snow-covered wilderness, pulling the sleigh with effortless harmony on the journey ahead.

As Giles carefully helped Eli into the sleigh, ensuring she was comfortably settled among the rugs and blankets, Jago and Huw tended to the horses. Jago's weathered hands moved with practised ease over the leather straps, adjusting the harnesses on the pair of sleek, dapple-grey horses.

Glancing up at Huw, Jago's brow furrowed slightly. "Mr. Roskrow's got the skill for this, aye?" he asked, his voice tinged with a mix of concern and respect. "These beauties need a steady hand."

Huw nodded, his eyes moving appreciatively over the equine duo. "Indeed he does, Jago. Castor and Pollux here are in good hands with Roskrow." His gaze then shifted towards Giles's towering figure, a twinkle in his eye. "Oh, he's more than capable; just look at him." Pride coloured Huw's voice, reflecting the deep bond between the two experienced ex-soldiers. "These beauties need a steady hand, and Mr. Roskrow's got it in spades."

Castor and Pollux, true to their mythological namesakes, stood patient and alert, their breath misting in the cold air. They pawed at the ground lightly, eager to be off, their ears flicking back and forth as if listening to some distant call. Giles moved with purposeful precision, checking the horses and sleigh. His movements betrayed a mix of excitement and nerves—this was not just any ride, after all.

Eli nestled under the thick blankets, her cheeks flushed from both cold and anticipation. As Giles, clad in his greatcoat, climbed aboard and slipped an arm around her shoulders, a thrill coursed through her that defied the chill air.

The sleigh glided out of the courtyard and through a gateway in the Castle wall, cutting a smooth path through the pristine snow. Jingling bells adorned the horses, their steamy breath mingling with the frosty air.

Bundled in winter attire, Eli and Giles sat close, faces aglow in the light of twin torches and a diamond-studded sky. The world hushed around them, save for the whisper of runners on snow and the warning cry of a tawny owl.

They had entered a realm of silvery enchantment, where time stood still, and winter's beauty reigned supreme. The air crackled with unspoken words and growing affection, each shared glance bringing them closer to mutual realisation.

As they journeyed on, the rhythmic jingle of bells and the gentle sway of the sleigh cocooned them in intimacy. Here, away from society's prying eyes, they were free to explore the depths of their feelings.

Eli's mind drifted to the poetry evening in the Great Library—a new turning point in their relationship. There, amidst the scent of old leather and flickering candlelight, they had discovered new depths in each other.

Their voices had intertwined like a duet as they shared favourite verses, revealing facets of character previously hidden. Giles' passionate recitations and insightful commentary had showcased an intellect as sharp as it was compassionate. Eli had found herself mesmerised by the play of light in his pale blue eyes, each shared glance a secret conversation in their dance of hearts and minds.

[Chris in Prague]

[To the 20 or so regular readers, this six-month-long story of essentially one week (!) in December 1962, is drawing to a close. It should be finished within this month. I have many overdue photos. to take and post within Cant Cove. Should there be any interest, I could start another thread beginning with Chapter One of Sylvia Trevelver's life, incorporating some of her stories already told but in chronological order. I could, should there be any interest, also do something similar with the (much shorter) life story of Bill Truscott, the Yardmaster at Wadebridge.]

[dannyboy]

Never mind Cant Cove, we want the stories! Seriously though, it would be interesting to read about Sylvia Trevelvers life. Likewise, Bill Truscotts early life on the railways. 

[Chris in Prague]

Never mind Cant Cove, we want the stories! Seriously though, it would be interesting to read about Sylvia Trevelvers life. Likewise, Bill Truscotts early life on the railways. 

Thank you, David. I will do so. I should have more free time, now, being semi-retired.

[crewearpley40]

Look forward to both stories and cant Cove photos

[dannyboy]

I should have more free time, now, being semi-retired.

Intit a lovely feeling? If I am remembering correctly, when I hit 64, I went from a 42 hour week to 36 hours. Then twelve months(ish) later, went down to a 24 hour week and then, about 18 months after that, retired properly. 

[Chris in Prague]

I should have more free time, now, being semi-retired.

Intit a lovely feeling? If I am remembering correctly, when I hit 64, I went from a 42 hour week to 36 hours. Then twelve months(ish) later, went down to a 24 hour week and then, about 18 months after that, retired properly. 

Yes, I've more than halved my workload and removed a lot of stress. Less money for buying locos., though.

[Chris in Prague]

Warmly wrapped at the front of the sleigh, Eli's senses were alive with the crisp winter air, the jingle of harness bells, and the comforting warmth of Giles beside her. The memory of their laughter echoing through the Great Hall at dinner earlier that evening blended seamlessly with the quiet intimacy of their literary exchange afterwards, creating a tapestry of shared experiences that wrapped warmly around her heart.

Eli's mind wandered to the way Giles had looked at her during their evening together. It was not just admiration in his gaze, but a deep understanding that made her feel truly seen, not just for her youthful beauty, for the first time. That look had ignited a spark within her, a flame of hope and possibility that now burned brightly in the winter night. She could still hear the warmth of his voice as he had recited Keats, the words seeming to caress her very soul: "A thing of beauty is a joy forever: Its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness..."

The sleigh ride, following their poetic rendezvous, felt like a natural progression of their companionship. As they glided through the snow-laden landscape, Eli was acutely aware of Giles' presence—the solid strength of his arm around her, the subtle scent of his 'Acqua di Parma Colonia' cologne mingling with the crisp winter air. Each breath, each heartbeat seemed to pulse with new significance.

A thrill of excitement coursed through her veins, not just from the adventure of the midnight ride, but from the sense that she and Giles were on the cusp of something profound. The poetry evening had unlocked a door within her heart, revealing not just a potential life partner in Giles, but a kindred spirit with whom she could share the deepest parts of soul.

As the sleigh carved its path through the pristine snow, Eli felt as though they were writing their own poem—a verse of possibility and promise etched in starlight and frost. The world around them faded into a blur of silver and shadow, leaving only the two of them in a bubble of shared warmth and deepening affection.

Eli turned to look at Giles, her eyes shining with emotion, picturing a portrait to be painted. In that moment, surrounded by the hushed beauty of the winter night, she realised that their story was just beginning. The poetry evening had been the prologue, and now, with each beat of her heart and each mile of their midnight journey, they were crafting the opening chapter of a tale that promised to be as beautiful and enduring as the timeless verses they had shared.

As Castor and Pollux began their steady, muffled progress, Eli tilted her face skyward, catching snowflakes on her tongue. The delicate crystals melted instantly, a fleeting kiss of winter's purity. "Isn't it simply marvellous?" she exclaimed, her breath forming misty clouds in the crisp air. "Just look at the stars!"

Giles observed her with a gaze that held the warmth of a thousand suns. His heart swelled with an emotion so profound it threatened to overwhelm him. Love, he realised, was not just affection or desire but a deep, all-encompassing emotion that seemed to rewrite the very fabric of his being. With a mischievous twinkle in his pale blue eyes, reminiscent of the twinkling stars above, he laughed softly. "What a perfect night for a midnight joyride, don't you think, Eli? Just us, alone beneath the heavens."

"Indeed! I do believe we've earned a bit of adventure," she replied, her voice filled with excitement that seemed to vibrate through the air around them. After all, what's life without a little thrill?"

"Quite right", he said, tightening his grip on the reins. The leather creaked softly under his fingers, a tactile reminder of the power he commanded. "Let's make the most of it. Hold on tight!" With a flick of his wrist, smooth as silk yet strong as steel, he urged the horses into a trot. The bells jingled merrily, a crystalline symphony accompanying their midnight adventure.

Eli laughed, the sound pure and unrestrained, rising above the snow-muffled world around them. Her spirit soared as the sleigh glided over the snow, each moment a unique treasure to be savoured. "You're a daring one, Giles! Just don't let us tip over; I'd rather not end up in a snowdrift!"

"Fear not, my dear! I've got matters well in hand", he assured her, his tone light and teasing, yet underscored with a confidence born of years of mastering far more perilous situations. "Besides, what's a little snow, my dear? It's all in good fun!"