Regency Christmas Wishes(116)
“He should fly here now! At once!”
Lord Trevor Chase would, Cecilia thought suddenly. If the woman he loved was ill, or in distress, he would leap up from the breakfast table and fork the nearest horse in his rush to be by her side. Nothing would stop him. She sat back, as amazed at her thoughts as she was certain of them. But he was a rare man, she decided. This knowledge that had come to her unbidden warmed her. She tightened her grip on Janet. “My dear, didn’t your uncle tell me that Sir Lysander is an only child?”
Janet nodded. She stared sorrowfully at the letter.
“I think we can safely conclude that his parents are overly concerned, and that is the source of this letter.” She scanned the letter quickly, hoping that the timid Sir Lysander would not fail her. She sighed with relief; he did not. “And see here, my dear, how he has signed the letter!”
“ ‘You have my devoted, eternal love,’ ” Janet read. She sniffed. “But not including measles, Miss Ambrose.”
“No, not including measles,” she echoed. “Surely we can allow him one small fault, Lady Janet, don’t you think?”
Lady Janet thought. “Well, perhaps.” She raised her handkerchief, and looked at it with faint disgust.
Cecilia pulled her own handkerchief out of her sleeve. “Here, my dear. This one is quite dry.”
Janet took it gratefully and blew her nose. “You don’t ever cry, Miss Ambrose?”
It was the smallest of jokes, but Cecilia felt the weight of the world melting from her own shoulders. “I wouldn’t dare, Lady Janet!” she declared with a laugh. “Only think how that would ruin my credit at Mrs. Dupree’s Select Academy.” She touched Janet’s shoulder. “This can be our secret.” She stood up. “I recommend that you recline here again. Mrs. Grey has brought over a cucumber from the succession house. A couple of these slices on your eyes will quite remove all the swelling.”
Janet did as she said. Cecilia tucked a light throw around her, then applied the cucumbers. “I would give the cucumber about fifteen minutes. Perhaps then you might finish the rest of those letters.”
“I will do that,” Janet agreed. The cucumber slices covered her eyes, but she pointed to the letter. “Do you think I should reply to Lysander’s sorry letter, Miss Ambrose? I could tell him what I think and make him squirm.”
“You could, I suppose, but wouldn’t it be more noble of you to assure him that you understand, and look forward to seeing him in a week or so?” Janet’s mulish expression, obvious even with the cucumbers, suggested to Cecilia that the milk of human kindness wasn’t precisely flowing through Janet’s veins yet. “I think it is what your dear mother would do,” Cecilia continued, appealing to that higher power.
“I suppose you are right,” Janet said reluctantly, after lengthy consideration. “But I will write him only after I have finished all the other letters!”
“That will show him!” Cecilia said, grateful that the cucumbers hid her smile from Janet’s eyes. “My dear, Christmas can be such a trying time for some people.”
“I should say. I do not know when I have suffered more.”
Cecilia regarded Janet, who had settled herself quite comfortably into the sofa, cucumber slices and all. My credit seems to be on the rise, she thought. I wonder . . . “Lady Janet, perhaps you could help me with something that perplexes me.”
The young lady raised one cucumber. “Perhaps. By the time I finish writing lists for wedding plans, I am usually quite fatigued at close of day.”
No wonder Lord Trevor remains put off by the topic of reproduction, Cecilia thought. Even on this side of her better nature, Lady Janet is enough to make anyone think twice about producing children. “It is a small thing, truly it is,” she said. “Your younger sister seems to have taken the nonsensical notion into her head that you are too busy with wedding plans to even remember that you are sisters.”
“Impossible!” Janet declared.
“I agree, Lady Janet, but she is at that trying age of twelve, and feels that you haven’t time for her.”
“Of course I. . . . well, there may be some truth to that,” Janet said. “H’mm.”
She was silent then, and it occurred to Cecilia that this was probably more introspection than Janet had ever waded in before. “Something to think about, Lady Janet,” she said.
She was in the book room, folding her blanket and wondering where to stash it, when Lady Janet came in. She smiled to see that the cucumbers had done their duty. “Ready to tackle the letters again, my lady?” she asked.