Read Online A Christmas Conspiracy by Mary Chase Comstock - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mary Chase Comstock
Tags: Regency Romance Novella
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before evening. Having rejected several quite appropriate morning gowns as antediluvian, her daughters settled at last on a claret velvet with a shockingly low décolletage.
“Now,” Genie proclaimed, “you look very much the thing, Mama!”
Tavie also smiled with glowing approval, commenting speculatively, “I know most young ladies make their come outs in white, but do you not think, Mama, we would look splendid in something more along these lines?”
Fanny maintained her countenance with an effort. “To be sure, you would, my dears, but I am afraid the patronesses would never approve. Mrs. Drummond-Burrell, you must know, is a dreary old quiz. You do wish to gain vouchers to Almack’s, do you not?”
Genie looked troubled. “But, Mama! Miss Fortescue vowed we should never be approved.”
“She declared the Thames would freeze solid before such hoydens as we were admitted,” Tavie continued in aggrieved tones.
“Perhaps it may not come to that,” their mother smiled. “I am old friends with Sally Jersey, and, barring claret velvet gowns, I believe arrangements can be made. Now, who is this Miss Fortescue?”
“An ogress!” Genie cried uncharitably.
“Ah!” Fanny nodded knowingly. “A governess, I take it.”
“Our last,” Tavie sniffed. “But now it is even worse, for we must have this dreadful Miss Walleye to direct our lives.”
At the mention of this name, Fanny leaned forward with redoubled interest.
“Indeed,” Genie seconded, “I do not know what Father can have been thinking of. It is true we wagered with the stable boys, but it was all in fun.”
“One would think,” Tavie grumbled petulantly, “gambling was tantamount to capital crime. His face turned quite ashen with rage. Now he says he must set a musty, mouldy paragon on us to counteract our bad blood.”
“I believe I see,” Fanny said quietly, attempting to quell the tremor in her voice.
Genie and Tavie looked suddenly stricken.
“Oh, Mama!” Tavie cried, throwing herself at her parent’s knees. “We ought not to have said that at all!”
“To be sure,” Genie declared as she joined her sister in this supplicating position. “I do not believe you can be held to account for your bad blood any more than we!”
“Pish!” Fanny drew them to her and took several deep breaths before continuing in what she hoped was a composed manner. “You are granddaughters of an earl,” she told them firmly, “and spring from an ancient and noble family. ‘Bad blood,’ as your father terms it, has nothing at all to do with you. As for his remarks about wagers, all you must know is he once taxed me with having made a bad one. He has difficulty forgetting what he perceives to be past wrongs.”
As the girls nodded vigorously at the veracity of this determination, Fanny swallowed the shame and anger she felt erupting in her breast. Granted, considering the scene he had interrupted all those years ago, Giles had had reason enough to suspect her of more than a flirtation with Quentin Willoughby. However, if he had truly loved her, he would have listened to her explanations.
“Now, run along,” she told them with forced cheerfulness. “I am certain you have much to do.”
After the girls had humbly begged their mama’s pardon once more, they kissed her shyly and departed quietly. When they had done so, Fanny arranged her golden curls under a scant bit of lace that served as a cap and made her way down the stairs to the breakfast parlor. There, she discovered Giles, all by himself, absently pushing his food about his plate.
She did not immediately address him, but stood a few moments in silent observation. This room had been hung with greenery, as well as the rest of the house, but her husband’s troubled countenance seemed more a reflection of the chilling, crystalline picture beyond the window than the seasonal cheer within. She had known, to be sure, her sudden arrival would discomfit, perhaps even offend, him. She had
“Now,” Genie proclaimed, “you look very much the thing, Mama!”
Tavie also smiled with glowing approval, commenting speculatively, “I know most young ladies make their come outs in white, but do you not think, Mama, we would look splendid in something more along these lines?”
Fanny maintained her countenance with an effort. “To be sure, you would, my dears, but I am afraid the patronesses would never approve. Mrs. Drummond-Burrell, you must know, is a dreary old quiz. You do wish to gain vouchers to Almack’s, do you not?”
Genie looked troubled. “But, Mama! Miss Fortescue vowed we should never be approved.”
“She declared the Thames would freeze solid before such hoydens as we were admitted,” Tavie continued in aggrieved tones.
“Perhaps it may not come to that,” their mother smiled. “I am old friends with Sally Jersey, and, barring claret velvet gowns, I believe arrangements can be made. Now, who is this Miss Fortescue?”
“An ogress!” Genie cried uncharitably.
“Ah!” Fanny nodded knowingly. “A governess, I take it.”
“Our last,” Tavie sniffed. “But now it is even worse, for we must have this dreadful Miss Walleye to direct our lives.”
At the mention of this name, Fanny leaned forward with redoubled interest.
“Indeed,” Genie seconded, “I do not know what Father can have been thinking of. It is true we wagered with the stable boys, but it was all in fun.”
“One would think,” Tavie grumbled petulantly, “gambling was tantamount to capital crime. His face turned quite ashen with rage. Now he says he must set a musty, mouldy paragon on us to counteract our bad blood.”
“I believe I see,” Fanny said quietly, attempting to quell the tremor in her voice.
Genie and Tavie looked suddenly stricken.
“Oh, Mama!” Tavie cried, throwing herself at her parent’s knees. “We ought not to have said that at all!”
“To be sure,” Genie declared as she joined her sister in this supplicating position. “I do not believe you can be held to account for your bad blood any more than we!”
“Pish!” Fanny drew them to her and took several deep breaths before continuing in what she hoped was a composed manner. “You are granddaughters of an earl,” she told them firmly, “and spring from an ancient and noble family. ‘Bad blood,’ as your father terms it, has nothing at all to do with you. As for his remarks about wagers, all you must know is he once taxed me with having made a bad one. He has difficulty forgetting what he perceives to be past wrongs.”
As the girls nodded vigorously at the veracity of this determination, Fanny swallowed the shame and anger she felt erupting in her breast. Granted, considering the scene he had interrupted all those years ago, Giles had had reason enough to suspect her of more than a flirtation with Quentin Willoughby. However, if he had truly loved her, he would have listened to her explanations.
“Now, run along,” she told them with forced cheerfulness. “I am certain you have much to do.”
After the girls had humbly begged their mama’s pardon once more, they kissed her shyly and departed quietly. When they had done so, Fanny arranged her golden curls under a scant bit of lace that served as a cap and made her way down the stairs to the breakfast parlor. There, she discovered Giles, all by himself, absently pushing his food about his plate.
She did not immediately address him, but stood a few moments in silent observation. This room had been hung with greenery, as well as the rest of the house, but her husband’s troubled countenance seemed more a reflection of the chilling, crystalline picture beyond the window than the seasonal cheer within. She had known, to be sure, her sudden arrival would discomfit, perhaps even offend, him. She had
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