Read Online A Christmas Conspiracy by Mary Chase Comstock - Free Book Online

then asked, “Shall I fetch you a vase?”
    “Yes, I daresay you should,” Fanny agreed as she glanced down at the orchid, a smile twitching at the corner of her mouth. “Only, unless you wish to attend me in the dungeon, I wish you will not let Sir Giles know of this.”
    “I would not dream of it, my lady,” the maid said demurely.
    “My eternal gratitude, Sally.”
    “Also, Cook was wondering if you would be wanting to meet with her about the menus?”
    “Preparations for the holiday are already begun, are they not?”
    “Why, yes indeed, but she . . .”
    “Is it still Mrs. Partridge?”
    Sally nodded.
    “How lovely! Then please tell her I send my compliments, but she must not worry herself over my visit. I am sure everything is just as it should be.”
    “Very well, my lady. But I feel duty bound to tell you, the holiday menus were approved by your daughters.”
    “Ah! I see ... I collect a preponderance of sweetmeats and comfits must comprise the greater parts of the courses?”
    “So I understand.”
    Fanny shrugged. “Christmas comes but once a year.”
    * * * *
    In a very few minutes, Fanny saw her trunks delivered and was able to partake in a cup of morning chocolate while Sally busied herself with the unpacking. Flops had not yet stirred himself. He had opened one speculative eye when Sally entered with the tray but, as it did not contain anything like a crumpet or cake, he soon returned to his slumbers. When a light rap came at the door, therefore, he did not so much as lift his head.
    Fanny’s heart fluttered at the notion that it might be Giles, but was still touched to see her daughters peep in at her. She was also more than a little curious to watch their machinations commence. They entered the chamber shyly, but their apparent diffidence was underlain by such an unholy sparkle in their eyes, Fanny was hard pressed to keep from laughing aloud and begging to be made a part of their secret. How good it was to feel laughter bubble up from her heart again! She could almost sense it washing away the layers of protective cynicism with which she had varnished that vital organ.
    “Good morning, Mama,” they said together, curtseying as they did so.
    “Good morning, Octavia,” she said nodding at one. Then she smiled at the other, “Good morning, Eugenia.”
    The twins exchanged an expression of sheer amazement.
    “Why, you know which of us is which!” Genie gasped.
    “I am, after all, your mama!” Fanny reminded them. “It would be a shocking thing indeed if I should not!”
    “But I do not think even Father knows for certain,” Tavie protested. “He is forever calling me or Genie ‘my dear’ or some other such substitute for our names.”
    “Fathers,” Fanny told them with elegant simplicity, “are not mothers.”
    The girls nodded their heads in worldly-wise agreement with this self-evident bit of wisdom.
    “Now, come sit here by the fire with me,” she said, indicating a pair of chairs, “and we shall have ourselves a coze.”
    “We are so happy to have you home at last, Mama,” Tavie began, “but we were wondering . . .”
    Fanny smiled, knowing full well she must play the innocent in this game of theirs. “Ah! You must be wondering why I am come home, all of a sudden,” she said ingenuously.
    “Why, no,” Tavie objected bluntly. “It is merely that...” As her voice trailed off, she darted a beseeching glance at her sister.
    “That is to say . . .” Genie hesitated, twisting the edge of her handkerchief. Emboldened by the sight of her mama’s noxious flannel gown, however, she went on dauntlessly. “We wondered if perhaps you might require some, er, guidance in choosing your ensemble today.”
    “Yes,” Tavie continued, relieved that the entree to this delicate subject had been made. “We can see that you must have lived . . . quite retired . . . and may not be up to snuff in such matters. We know you should like to look . . . presentable.”
    Fanny was forced