A Christmas Conspiracy (3 page)

Fanny sighed. “Why are you not eating cakes with Hillary?”

“Why, so I was, but you see I have brought a few with me.” With that, Lady Madden released the squirming dog onto Fanny’s lap, and displayed a bulky napkin which she unfolded to reveal a number of cakes. “Hillary, you know, can be quite tedious, so I was determined to have a coze with you, for I guessed your indisposition was all a hum to avoid the boy. Now then,” she said, making herself comfortable before the fire, “let us be cozy here and you may tell me your troubles.”

“My only trouble,” Fanny exclaimed in exasperation, “is a surfeit of company!”

“Indeed,” the lady returned, nodding her head, “you must be sterner with the boy, or he will soon have the run of your house. Does he not know how very vexing it is to break in on one’s solitude?”

Fanny wondered for a moment whether Madcap had been dropped on her head as a child. Clearly, she was blind to her own capacity to annoy.

“Perhaps,” Fanny managed with some effort, “you might persuade Hillary to accompany you on your next call.”

“How unfortunate that this is my last!” Madcap sighed. Then she leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial tone, “But you must know I have arranged it so on purpose, Fanny, for I have such a good plan!”

If Fanny had not had the headache before, one threatened now at the sound of this unpromising revelation. Madcap’s plans had often proved excruciating in the past.

“Pray, tell me another day, Madcap,” Fanny groaned.

“But there is no time, I assure you, for Christmas is speeding toward us and we have much to do.”

“Madcap! You have not—!”

“Oh, but I have! It is to be a town party rather than a country house party! How smart we shall be for having thought of it!”

“I beg your pardon?” Fanny said darkly.

“A Christmas house party in London! Let the rest of them rusticate in the country. Those of us who have the sense to remain shall have a far more lively holiday!”

“In
whose
house,” Fanny asked with rising dread, “is this gathering to be held?”

“Why surely mine is ineligible,” Madcap demurred, “for you must own the neighborhood is not what it was, and there are few as comfortably arranged as you. I have already told Lord Alfie and Chatty Beswick that it is a certain thing. And do you know, that lovely Quentin Willoughby is returned from the continent. Why, we can—”

“We can do no such thing!” Fanny cut her off.

“Why ever not?” Madcap exclaimed fretfully. “I thought you were quite fond of Willoughby. Why you always used—”

Fanny lifted her chin a fraction. “It will not do at all, Madcap. I suddenly recollect a prior engagement!”

Chapter Three

“A prior engagement?” Madcap clapped her hands. “Pray, where are we off to?”

“We
are not off anywhere,” Fanny told her dampingly.
“I
am going home for Christmas.”

“Home? To your father’s? Whatever for?”

“No,” Fanny sighed. “Not home to my father’s. That would be ineligible, as you know quite well. I have not the least desire be stared out of countenance by his distressing wife.”

“I could not imagine that you did!” Madcap remarked between bites of cake. “Why the earl should marry someone bound to cut up his fun, I cannot begin to fathom. Not only a precisian, but the veriest puritan as well!”

Fanny sighed, disliking Madcap’s imprecision very nearly as much as having cake crumbs scattered about her chamber. “Winnifred is not a puritan, Madcap,” she corrected evenly. “She merely attends services.”

“Two services on Sundays,” Madcap objected in scandalized tones, “so it is very nearly the same thing. But this is nothing to the point, Fanny. You surely do not mean to say you will visit Giles for Christmas? Why you would have no fun at all! Besides, he would not in the least welcome you.”

“Your confidence in my charms is overwhelming. If you must know, I have just received a letter from Giles begging me to return.”

“Never!”

“And as for having fun,” Fanny mused, glancing once more at the letter she held, “I have reason to believe that more than sufficient preparations are being made to see to my entertainment.”

“Preparations?” Madcap asked, biting into yet another cake. “Why, what do you mean?”

“That,” she returned mysteriously, “will be my secret.”

* * * *

“How many kissing boughs, do you think?” Tavie asked.

“Let me see. How many doorways have we?” Genie did a quick count on her fingers. “Eleven on the main floor?”

“I count twelve.” Tavie frowned. “We had best make it thirteen to be safe.”

“No, that might be bad luck,” Genie cautioned. “Remember, it has been years since the hall was decorated—I wish to do it just right. It will have to be fourteen. More than enough is always better than too few.”

“I hope, after all, we shall have need of them. What if she doesn’t come?”

“She’ll come,” Genie said. “The letter was exceedingly moving, did you not think?”

“Indeed it was,” Tavie sighed. “It brings tears to my eyes every time I think of it.”

“Father expressed himself quite well, if I do say so. Now, after we have set the servants to gathering boughs for garlands, you and I must contrive to go into the village. Between us, I think we have saved enough pin money for Father to buy Mama a bauble.”

Tavie bit her lower lip and looked up at her sister. “Do you not think we might charge it to account?”

Genie thought a moment. “There would be no harm in trying. Besides, we could afford something ever so much nicer then.”

“Something very sparkly!”

“Something that will prove to her she is forgiven!”

“Diamonds!” they exclaimed as one, then convulsed in laughter.

“Kissing boughs and diamonds must make a potent combination!” Genie declared. “Now, how shall we go about getting permission to go into the village?”

“I have already thought of something entirely unobjectionable. We must tell father we are posting a note of apology to the mistresses at Albany Academy. He must certainly approve that!”

“Indeed he must,” Genie agreed.

Less than an hour later, the twins were being driven into the village in possession of an abjectly worded apology for the post, and well-supplied reticules.

“I thought Father looked almost moved,” Tavie said in amazement.

“It was odd, wasn’t it?” Genie nodded. “Do you think Mama should buy him something as well?”

Tavie thought a moment. “If we are allowed to charge.”

As it turned out the proprietor of the village’s small jeweler, Mr. Berowne, was only too happy to take Genie and Tavie’s order on account. Their father, Sir Giles, was generally reckoned a generous man and surely he would not object to a bauble or two to please his charming young daughters. After all, it was the season for such things.

He began by taking out a tray of pretty little silver brooches, displayed rather nicely, he thought, against black velvet. The girls frowned.

“Have you something with more sparkle?” one of them asked.

He replaced the tray and showed them several garnet and amethyst rings.

“Those are very pretty,” the other said doubtfully, “but. . . have you no diamonds?”

The proprietor felt his pulse begin to race.

“Well,” he said slowly, “I do have one quite special piece that was left with me for ... er ... safekeeping.”

“Ah then, we cannot buy it, can we?”

“Of course you can,” he returned immediately.

“But if it is in safekeeping . . .”

“Merely a term of art, I assure you,” the gentleman said firmly. “It is most certainly for sale.”

“Then, please, may we see it?”

Mr. Berowne disappeared behind a set of curtains and returned some ten minutes later bearing a leather box. He quickly blew a layer of dust from its lid and placed the box before the girls. Then with the ceremony befitting the presentation of the Order of the Garter, he opened it.

As one, the girls drew in their breath.

“Splendid!” one of them sighed.

“Perfect,” pronounced the other.

Before them lay a choker of such exquisite design as belonged in a fairy tale. Not only did diamonds sparkle along the filigree, but emeralds, rubies, and sapphires. The centerpiece formed a peacock with its tail unfurled. Mr. Berowne maintained an expression of perfect gravity as he held his breath. The choker had been left as security some years ago by an obvious demi-rep fleeing an angry lover. He never thought to have the good fortune either to sell such a garish piece or see its former owner again.

“How much?”

An honest enough man (and one well aware of the perils presented by taking advantage of the most important of the local gentry), he named them a price advantageous to his pocket without imperiling his livelihood.

After a few moments of quiet disputation the girls agreed.

“Now, what have you for a gentleman?”

* * * *

When the twins returned home later that day, a chill wind and sudden flurry of flakes followed them in through the door. They were greeted, however, with the warming sounds of merriment as the staff scurried about, decking the halls and staircases with greenery and candles, and setting about the numerous kissing boughs as they had been instructed. Indeed, they were much diverted to note that a number of the parlor maids found excuses to tarry about these locations, to the immense gratification of several forward footmen. Even Bently, the ordinarily dour butler, seemed a trifle flushed.

Why this is very good, to be sure.
Genie laughed inwardly.
They will set an excellent example for our parents.

It is to be hoped,
Tavie responded archly,
that Father and Mama are quick studies.

Do you think Father will object to all of this?
Genie glanced about the gay confusion.
After all, we are not quite used to such frivolity here.

There is one way to find out.
Genie shuddered.
Here he is.

Indeed, Sir Giles was standing in the doorway of his library with an unreadable expression. As soon as his presence there had been generally noted, the servants quieted their revelry and stood hushed, waiting for his pronouncement.

Sir Giles eyes wandered slowly over the little assembly until they rested on his daughters. To their great surprise, Genie and Tavie saw one corner of his mouth twitch.

“I thought, at the very least,” he said dryly, “that I should find a greased pig dressed as Father Christmas. How gratifying it is to be mistaken in my apprehensions. Bently,” he said, turning to the butler, “have some punch brought up that you may all toast the beginning of the holidays. Oh, and some ratafia for the young ladies.”

Tavie bit back a grimace.

Do not fuss,
Genie admonished.
I
know it is noxious stuff, but it is better than a scolding.

Very well. But be warned, I shall pour it into some potted palm or other in the conservatory.

Vandalish hoyden! Just be sure to avoid Father’s orchids.

Indeed,
Tavie agreed equably,
for they are so far above the touch of other poor flowers, I shouldn't wonder they'd speak up and demand champagne!

And who could blame them?

When their father had disappeared once more, the entire assembly exhaled sighs of excessive relief. Sir Giles was not a harsh master, but his quiet, severe manner was daunting.

* * * *

Ensconced before the fire in the privacy of his library, Sir Giles sat quietly, tapping the points of his steepled fingers together. Outside, it had begun to snow in earnest. The seasonal weather, in combination with the gay confusion in the entry, prompted a lightness of heart he had not felt for some years. It had been far too long since he had enjoyed the sight of flushed cheeks and glowing eyes. He had always been reserved, even a little austere, by nature. Any lightness he felt must be the product of others’ liveliness.

It had taken him aback to see his daughters just now. How they had grown to resemble their mother! he thought, acknowledging a still-painful wrench at his heart. How curious that he should continue to love Fanny even when the echoes of betrayal and humiliation still resounded in his heart.

Sir Giles closed his eyes as images from the days of their courtship insinuated themselves on him. How dizzy he had been with her beauty and winning ways! How flattered that the daughter of an earl would deign to entertain the attentions of a mere baronet! It had seemed to him when she at last accepted his suit that the world had unfurled itself at his feet. With her at his side, everything good was within his grasp.

And so it had been. For a while. The estate had prospered, the twins had been born. And, oh, how he and she had loved one another. Even now he knew he was not mistaken in that. She had loved him.

The pain of it was that their happiness had not vanished quickly. Rather, it had faded like a consumptive child, sometimes rallying, sometimes even reaching reeling, illusory heights. Then there had been relapses.

What was to be expected, though? Theirs was a true
mésalliance
from the start. There was no doubt of that, for every meddling soul in six counties had made it their business to advise them both of this sorry fact. In birth, wealth, and temperament, they were sadly at odds. Yet, at first, it had not seemed to matter.

All had been well until the twins entered the schoolroom and Fanny had begun travelling to London on her own to enjoy the season. True, he would generally join her for the last few weeks, but there was so much to be done at the estate that such an extravagant waste of time as spending the entire interval was not to be thought of.

Fanny had been welcomed back to her former circle enthusiastically. The beaux who had courted her so assiduously years before paid flattering court to her once again. She wrote him detailed letters recounting all of what she termed “their silliness,” but it soon began to rankle. The notion that he had taken her from her own kind was inescapable.

Sir Giles shook his head. He thought he had finished these labyrinthine journeys through the bitter past long ago. Apparently it took very little to set him going again. Beyond the door he could hear the servants cheer the arrival of the punch. He was glad the girls had revived the old custom of decorating the halls, even though it prompted pangs of memory.