Read A Christmas Conspiracy for Free Online Page A

Darlings! What resourceful, audacious darlings! What sort of mother would she be, if she did not do everything she could to further their schemes?
    “I have found everything you need, my lady,” Sally said as she came up beside her, carrying an armful of clothing.
    Fanny turned away from the bed, her heart full of conflicting emotions: jealousy, love, gratitude, and, above all, amusement. It was now entirely clear she must stay on for at least a little while—if only to satisfy her own curiosity, she told herself.
    “Now,” the maid continued as she led Fanny from the room, “we shall have you set to rights and tucked in nicely in just a moment. Would you like me to bring up some tea for you when you are settled?”
    Fanny wondered whether the servant would be shocked if she asked for a decanter of brandy instead. She rarely touched spirits, but tonight they seemed more tempting than usual. As they reached her chamber, she merely smiled, however, and said, “Thank you, Sally, but I think I shall just retire for the evening.”
    The servant nodded and, after making sure the chamber had been appropriately prepared, helped Fanny into the girlish flannel nightrail.
    “Good night, then, my lady,” Sally said with a curtsey. Pausing at the door for a moment, she turned and added, “Welcome home.”
    Alone at last in her chamber, Fanny stretched languorously before the fire. How good it felt to be welcomed home, if only by a servant. And how good it felt to have a purpose—joining her daughters in their mission to “thwart Miss Walleye.” What fun they would have! How disconcerted Giles would be!
    She crawled beneath the covers and burrowed deep into the pillows. The room was silent. Her eyelids soon began to droop, and as she dropped off to sleep, her last thought was that the room was entirely too silent. Had not Flops followed her back then?
    * * * *
    Sir Giles came up to his bedchamber a half hour after the door of the adjoining chamber closed upon his wife. Having submitted to his valet’s ministrations, he was soon prepared to retire, but did not immediately do so. Instead, he stood before the window and stared blindly into the winter night.
    The wind had begun to blow quite ferociously by now and, although it was too dark to see, he somehow sensed that the silent snow was falling even more heavily than before. Unless there were some respite, it seemed the household would be snowed in for Christmas. It was not as if they expected visitors beyond the duty calls of the rector and neighboring gentry, but the notion of such seclusion made him feel his habitual loneliness even more keenly. Perhaps, however, the isolation would foster more intimacy with his daughters. It was clear they needed him, but until recently, he had cravenly evaded his responsibilities to them, leaving their training to strangers.
    His daughters, he realized with a sudden, uneasy consternation, had been models of propriety all evening. They had even essayed to entertain him with a duet after dinner. Tavie, however, had forgot most of the words and repeated the refrain several times to fill the gap while, at the keyboard, her sister appeared to be biting her lip to keep from laughing.
    Sir Giles smiled ruefully. His fear that he had reacted too harshly to their most recent escapade continued to grow steadily. True, he did not like to see them act the part of hoydens. Still, the notion of their following in his own staid footsteps was just as ineligible. Could they not somehow strike a balance?
    Outside, the wind whistled more violently and the window-pane trembled. Sir Giles shivered involuntarily as he glanced back at his empty bed. For years, he had foolishly thought that his loneliness would fade, but instead it had increased. These were hard nights to be alone. They were all hard nights to be alone.
    Sir Giles picked up the candle and carried it to his bedside, hoping he would be able to sleep. Sometimes, weeks of sleeplessness went by before