Read Online The Carriagemaker's Daughter by Amy Lake - Free Book Online Page B

been magical for the children of the country household. Pamela remembered waking to the hush of an early Christmas morning, creeping downstairs to see the huge linen-draped tables that had appeared overnight, as if by magic, in the grand entrance hall. Tables of gifts and of every kind of food and drink, including one entirely devoted to spun-sugar candies, covered the marble floor. She remembered the thrill of anticipation, a happiness almost too great to be endured.
    Things seemed different as an adult. Oh, Jonathan was glad enough to see her, Lady Pamela supposed. Even Celia had managed a smile or two of greeting, followed almost immediately by complaints about the lateness of the hour. Pam and Amanda’s arrival had been delayed well into the evening as a result of their carriage mishap, and Celia, as they were shortly to discover, was still in high dudgeon over Lord Quentin’s departure earlier that day.
    “He’s gone,” Lady Detweiler had told her, wandering into Pamela’s sitting room last night, one hand cradling a huge snifter of brandy. At Luton less than an hour, Amanda had wasted no time in securing the latest on dits from her maid. “Left for Tavelstock just this morning.”
    “Who’s gone?”  Pam had been supervising the unpacking of several trunks of clothing; her attention was currently diverted by the sight of a rip in the hem of a fine watered silk.
    “Charles Quentin, you goose, who else?”
    Lady Pam yawned and set the dress aside. Her own stitching was as fine as any abigail’s; she’d repair the small tear tomorrow herself. “Jonathan said that he would need to be spending some time at the estate. The old earl, you know.”
    “Yes, well yawn all you may, I don’t see any likely candidates in the remaining lot.”
    “Likely candidates?  What about Lord Burgess?  He’s had a tendre for you for ages, you know.”
    Jeremy Burgess and Lady Detweiler enjoyed a mutual loathing. It was an old joke, and Amanda sputtered. “Pah. We are not talking about me. As you know full well. And as for Lord Burgess–”
    “Well, I think we should. Now, Viscount Dreybridge is no longer available, but–”
    “Fustian. How long will he be gone, d’ you think?”
    “Viscount Dreybridge?  He’s still here.”
    “You,” said Amanda, “are being deliberately obtuse. Well, never mind. Lord Quentin will be back on the new year, although dawn tomorrow  wouldn’t be soon enough for your dear sister-in-law. Let’s hope she hasn’t scared him off permanently.”
    “Charles should be able to handle Celia.”
    “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?  What is it about men, anyway?  Even the intelligent ones seem to lose all power of reason at the sight of a plump pair of breasts.”
    “I don’t know what it is,” sighed Pam. “I wish I did.”
    Lady Pamela now shut the balcony doors, and returned to the dressing room to complete her morning’s toilette . Amanda wouldn’t be out of bed for another hour, at least. This would be a good chance to find her brother and catch up on the family news.
    * * * *
    Helène tramped back to the house through a bright carpet of new-fallen snow. She had woken up early that day, feeling a sudden urge to explore her new home. She had seen almost nothing of the larger grounds of the estate since her arrival, and a morning of good exercise had proved exactly the thing to raise her spirits.
    Bright sunlight pierced the cold morning sky, and the crisp air was pleasant enough if you’d spent the past hour climbing to the top of the nearest  hill. The grounds of Luton had stretched like a glittering wonderland below her, the Lea River a crystalline ribbon running to the north of the main gardens. A thick woods of pine nearby had looked particularly inviting, and she planned to explore it later that week.
    Helène brushed at her skirt, which showed the evidence of a recent encounter with knee-high snowdrifts. Her mood, which had fallen precipitously after the scene she had