The Mischief of the Mistletoe: A Pink Carnation Christmas

Table of Contents

 

 

A
LSO BY
L
AUREN
W
ILLIG

DUTTON

Published by Penguin Group (USA) Inc.
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Published by Dutton, a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

 

First printing, November 2010

Copyright © 2010 by Lauren Willig

All rights reserved

 

REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

Willig, Lauren.

The mischief of the mistletoe / Lauren Willig. p. cm.

eISBN : 978-1-101-44470-2

1. Women teachers—Fiction. 2. Girl's schools—Fiction. 3. Austen, Jane, 1775-1817—Fiction. 4. England—Social life and customs—19th century—Fiction. 5. Christmas stories. I. Title.

PS3623.I575M57 2010

813'.6—dc22 2010011703

 

Set in Granjon

 

PUBLISHER'S NOTE

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

 

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For my Tweedos
(You know who you are)
&
For all of you
who asked for a book about Turnip

A note for readers of the Pink Carnation series: the action of this book begins after
The Seduction of the Crimson Rose,
but before
The Temptation of the Night Jasmine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

—
Jane Austen,
The Watsons

 

 

 

—Jane Austen,
The Watsons

I
am for teaching,” announced Miss Arabella Dempsey.

Her grand pronouncement fell decidedly flat. It was hard to make grand pronouncements while struggling uphill on a steep road against a stiff wind, and even harder when the wind chose that moment to thrust your bonnet ribbons between your teeth. Arabella tasted wet satin and old dye.

“For what?” asked Miss Jane Austen, swiping at her own bonnet ribbons as the wind blew them into her face.

So much for grand pronouncements. “I intend to apply for a position at Miss Climpson's Select Seminary for Young Ladies. There's a position open for a junior instructress.” There. It was out. Short, simple, to the point.

Jane screwed up her face against the wind. At least, Arabella hoped it was against the wind. “Are you quite sure?”

Sure? Arabella had never been less sure of anything in her life. “Absolutely.”

Jane hitched her pile of books up under one arm and shoved her ribbons back into place. “If you rest for a moment, perhaps the impulse will pass,” she suggested.

“It's not an impulse. It's a considered opinion.”

“Not considered enough. Have you ever been inside a young ladies' academy?”

Arabella made a face at the top of Jane's bonneted head. It was very hard having an argument with someone when all you could see was the crown of her hat. Jane might be several years her senior, but she was also several inches shorter. The combination of the two put Arabella at a distinct disadvantage.

Six years older, Jane had always been as much an older sibling as a playmate, telling stories and bandaging bruised knees. Arabella's father had been at one time a pupil of Mr. Austen's at Oxford, when Mr. Austen had been a young proctor at St. John's. Back in the golden days of childhood, Arabella's father's parish had lain not far from Steventon, and both books and children had been exchanged back and forth between the two households.