A Christmas Affair Read Free

because no home could endure two tyrants.
She
was not in the least bit tyrannical.
    The thought of her beloved brother intensified the frown puckering her copper-colored brows. It had been over five months since they had last heard from Daniel, and that letter was more than a month in reaching them. She knew his regiment had fought in the Battle of Vitoria that drove Napoleon’s brother from Spain, but she’d been unable to learn anything else. Her entreaties to the War Office had gone unanswered, and as the weeks passed, she was beginning to fear the worst.
    “Well, at least Aunt has brought the latest gazettes with her,” Amelia said with forced cheerfulness. She sensed Amanda’s disquiet and was anxious to tease her into a more gentle humor. “I haven’t seen a copy of
La Belle Assemblie
since her last visit, and I wouldn’t want Charles to think me unfashionable when he comes home for the holidays.”
    “Yes, we wouldn’t want to give him a horror of you,” Amanda replied, shaking off her melancholy at the warm glow in her sister’s eyes. Amelia had been in love with the neighbor’s eldest son since the pair of them were in leadingstrings, and although nothing had been said, there was an understanding that they would marry once Charles had fulfilled his obligation to his king.
    “Perhaps you might want to study the gazettes as well,” the younger girl ventured, casting Amanda a hopeful look. “It’s been years since you’ve had a new gown, and I’m certain that you’ll want to look your best for the Harmiston’s Christmas ball. I heard it from Lavinia Whitehead that her cousin Eustace will be in attendance.” This last bit of information was offered with a sly look that brought a reluctant smile to Amanda’s face.
    “If you mean that as some sort of inducement, Amelia, I fear you are far off the mark,” she said with a chuckle. “Eustace Whitehead is an odious prig who told me that he considers redheaded women to be, and I quote, ‘inherently forward.’”
    “He could never have said anything so thick-skulled!” Amelia was clearly horrified.
    “Ah, but he did,” Amanda assured her, her dimples flashing at the memory. It had been at the squire’s last rout, and the pompous young clergyman had cornered her out on the terrace, his beefy hands clutching his lapels as he offered his opinion on everything from how the war was being fought, to the wanton conduct of females with “hair too colorful to be pleasing.”
    “What did you say?”
    “Only that I could quite understand how he felt, as I had often regarded men with double chins to be prosy, self-indulgent bores,” Amanda replied sweetly, tucking a flame-colored tendril back into place. As usual her thick hair was bound up in a tidy bun, a few wisps escaping confinement to curl about her neck and ears. The style was better suited to a woman twice her tender years, but Amanda liked its ease and practicality. Besides, as she had once told her younger brother, an old maid such as herself ought to dress the part.
    “You didn’t,” Amelia gasped, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. But even as she made the demand, she already knew the answer. Amanda, with sufficient provocation, would say whatever crossed her mind.
    An arch smile was the only reply as Amanda turned her attention to the mending on her lap. Tuesday was the day she and Amelia set aside to catch up on the family’s sewing, and with four growing children, there seemed to be an unending supply of it. The shift she was now hemming had once belonged to Amelia, and she was cutting it down for Belinda. She was only happy that the lively eight-year-old was so indifferent to the vagaries of fashion, for there was no way the family coffers could extend to a new wardrobe this year.
    They were just finishing up the last of the mending when the door to the parlor opened, and an elderly lady dressed in black merino entered the parlor, her sallow face pinched with displeasure.