The Oxford Set
United States Senator for Peach County Chuck Jackson never expected his daughter to marry into the English aristocracy, although he did plan to marry her off to Prince William as a backup, but that’s exactly what happened when Thelma Jackson went to Oxford to study politics and came across Harold Perceville, son of the Earl and Countess of Waering, eloquently taking down a college libtard in a debate.
The two quickly fell in love and got married after graduating. Now she lives in his sprawling country estate in the heart of rural Waeringshire.
Chuck didn’t mind this turn of events. After all, Harold was as passionately conservative as Thelma was, and his father, Ambrose Perceville; 8th Earl of Waering, being one of the most pernicious MPs of the Thatcher era, was a man of his own heart.
Chuck and his wife Nancy had grown accustomed to spending Christmas with Harold’s family in the dinky little town of Waering, having Christmas dinner in a castle that looked like it had come right out of Game of Thrones.
And this year was no different. Except, whilst having the remnants of Monday’s Christmas dinner before 2024 came knocking, Chuck found out more about his son-in-law’s family that he would have liked.
“I’ve noticed you followed my advice and built a high rise in the middle of town where the church used to be,” Chuck said as he ate a bit of his leftover goose.
”No, that’s still the Cathedral, I’m afraid,” Ambrose said. “It’s covered in scaffolding. Renovation works.”
”Oh. Well, keep in mind what I told you,” Chuck said. “There’s a lot of money to be made in Real Estate.”
”I will,” Ambrose said. “Although I’m sure the people of Waering wouldn’t take it too kindly if I had Waering Cathedral demolished and replaced with a tower block incongruous with the rest of the town.”
”Screw what they think,” Chuck said. “We’re talking big bucks here.”
“I value my reputation more than money,” Ambrose said. “Perhaps you should too, Chuck.”
Chuck laughed this off before taking a big chuck out of his roast potatoes.
Nancy Jackson turned round and looked at the castle courtyard through the window.
As she did so, a little girl in a white glowing dress skipped about around the circular lawn in the middle of the courtyard.
”There’s a little girl outside,” Nancy said. “I assume she doesn’t belong to you.”
“She certainly doesn’t.” Ambrose’s wife, Margaret, said as she also rushed to the window.
”Ambrose, call the guards!” Margaret said. “There’s a peasant girl on the loose!”
”But that’s impossible,” Ambrose said. “The guards should have lowered the portcullis and locked the gates at the front.”
”She could have climbed over the castle walls,” Margaret said. “Peasants are awfully nimble, so I’ve been told.”
”Right you are, dear,” Ambrose said, before calling for the Stewards.
”Father stop!” Harold said. “It’s not worth it.”
Deciding to listen to his son, Ambrose resumed eating his carrots.
”She’s a ghost, mother,” Harold said. “Personally, I wouldn’t worry about it.”
Chuck looked at his son-in-law in confusion. “Seriously? You still believe in ghosts.”
”Of course,” Harold said. “I can’t possibly ignore their existence.”
”He’s right, dad,” Thelma said. “Once you know they’re there, you can’t escape them.”
Chuck looked at his daughter, agog. “You’re nuts. More nuts than your brother, even, and he votes Democrat.”
”Now, now, Harold,” Ambrose said. “I thought we’d agreed to keep this ghost obsession of yours private.”
”And allow you to chase after a girl who is merely the spiritual form of a deceased person?” Harold said. “I think not.”
Margaret resumed looking out of the window.
The girl was still there, skipping about like she owned the place, despite the fact that she was very obviously lost.
”Right,” Margaret said. “We need to get rid of her ourselves. We just can’t let a member of the riff-raff roam the grounds.”
”As you wish, dear,” Ambrose said. “Besides, I think we could all do with some fresh air.”
With that, Ambrose and Margaret rushed out of the dining room. Chuck and Nancy decided to follow suit, despite not knowing what was going on.
Harold and Thelma were left alone, and they exchanged looks.
”Should we join them?” Thelma said.
”It’s a complete waste of time,” Harold said. “But yes, we should.”
Harold and Thelma then left the dining room before dessert was served.
The group took an extensive tour of the grounds, but found no sign of the girl.
”Admit it, she’s gone,” Chuck said. “We lost her.”
His despondency was short-lived, however, when he observed the large trebuchet standing proudly in the middle of the Percevilles’
private island. “But I gotta get me one of those!”
“Now, do you accept that she’s a ghost?” Harold said.
”No,” Nancy said. “She must be out there somewhere. She needs to be returned to her parents.”
”She doesn’t, mom,” Thelma said. “She needs to be left alone. This is her home now.”
”You’re not suggesting we adopt the girl, are you?” Margaret said.
”No, I‘m just saying you should learn to coexist,” Thelma said. “Harold and me live peacefully with the ghosts at our place. You can do the same with yours.”
”That’s enough, Harold,” Ambrose said. “I think we’ve had quite enough of ghosts for one day.”
“Agreed,” Harold said. “But if you still don’t believe they exist, how about we have a seance in the Chinewrde Bedroom using the Ouija Board you gave me?”
”Hell no,” Chuck said. “I’m not going nowhere near witchy stuff.”
”If ghosts do not exist,” Harold said, “then what do you have to fear from a letter board?”
Chuck looked at Harold for a moment, not knowing how to respond.
”Fine,” Ambrose said. “If it means you’ll stop going on about it, we can use your letter board.”
”Excellent,” Harold said.
”Now then,” Margaret said. “I believe we haven’t had dessert yet.”
”You’re right,” Ambrose said. “Ok, everyone, back to the dining room.”
And so the Percevilles and the Jacksons walked back to the castle to finish their meal.
Knowing the coast was clear, the girl reappeared through one of the castle walls, and continued skipping around the grounds, like she’d done for the past six hundred years.
The Robinsonverse 