Free A Yuletide Treasure by Cynthia Bailey Pratt

something new to see, strange people to meet, never-walked byways waiting for exploration....” As she spoke, she recalled her father saying something very much like this once as she rode beside him on the roof of a carriage. She couldn’t have been more than six or eight. She remembered that Linny, never a good traveler, had been sick and had ridden inside with Mother. She’d been more than glad to get out in the fresh air.
    “Difficult for your mother, however. When I came to the Manor—” She stopped suddenly as if remembering that she was speaking to a stranger not deserving of confidence.
    “I suppose it must have been. Mother doesn’t talk much about such things.”
    “Where is she now? Staying in the village, perhaps?”
    “No,” Camilla said, now thoroughly lost. “She’s traveling to give aid to my sister, who finds herself in the same condition as you yourself, ma’am,”
    The white hand, decorated only with the thinnest of golden wedding bands, lifted to smooth unconsciously over the mound of her abdomen. “Is she married?”
    Camilla drew herself up, giving Lady LaCorte a glance in which anger was mixed with disappointment. She’d hoped for better of a woman of greater age and rank than herself. “Of course. Married three years or more to John Armistead of Leeds, a rising attorney of the city. I take leave to tell you that your insinuation is insulting, ma’am, not only to my mother and my sister, but to myself.”
    ‘Tempestuous creature, aren’t you?” her ladyship said, seeming pleased rather than angered by Camilla’s outburst. For the first time, she looked fully into her eyes. “You may be the thoroughly nice girl you seem, or you may prove a conniver. Perhaps you are no more than as impetuous as my own girls. Whatever the reason you have come to the Manor, I hope you’ll be comfortable here until you find other accommodation. Dinner has been moved back until seven o’clock. Join us if you wish.”
    Lady LaCorte swept out of the room in her heavy gleamless dress. Even her shoes and stockings, glimpsed under her very long dress as she lifted the hem, were black as the bottom of a well.
    Camilla sank down on the bed, another trespass against her mother’s sacred rules. She pursed her lips and blew hard, just evading a whistle. Twice, at least, Camilla had heard in Lady LaCorte’s voice such an air of miserable despair that she’d forgiven her on the spot for her sharpness. But it seemed as though the older woman had wanted to make her disdain very clear as almost every word she’d said, by content or by tone, had been reviling and rude. Camilla could not begin to explain it. Unfortunately, Lady LaCorte had been too harsh to permit Camilla to indulge in any of the whys that crowded her mouth.
    Merridew brought up the tub, grumbling away. Mavis and another younger girl, who never opened her lips or looked her way, brought up the cans of hot water, making several trips.
    Clean, warm and dry, Camilla didn’t trouble anyone to help her dress. Her hair was not so bad as she feared. The dress Lady LaCorte had lent her was simple in design, with a crossover front that meant all the ties and fastenings were within Camilla’s reach. Of a lightweight green wool, embroidered on bodice and down the seams with white-work leaves and flowers, it was too old for her. The high starched ruffle at the neck forced her to keep her head up while the sleeves tumbling to her knuckles made her wonder if the dining room was very drafty.
    She paused in Nanny Mallow’s chamber for an instant. Nanny was asleep, and Mrs. Duke would brook not the slightest chance of waking her. She all but pushed Camilla out of the room by continuing to advance, hissing all the while in a hoarse whisper, until Camilla had either to become nose-to-nose with her or back away. She chose discretion.
    “It’s bad enough that doctor had to come in, disturbing her just when she’d nodded off, without you doing the same, miss. All