“Charlotte, my love, would you prefer something else?” Jane asked.
“Tea will suffice, thank you,” Charlotte replied softly, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.
“Is there anything else we can do to make you more comfortable?” I asked, unable to quell the nagging worry that gnawed at my heart each time I observed Charlotte’s increasingly fragile state.
“Your company is more than enough, Lizzy,” Charlotte assured me, reaching over the arm of the sofa and squeezing my hand in gratitude.
“Indeed,” Aunt Gardiner chimed in, “there is no greater comfort than being surrounded by those you hold most dear. I particularly enjoy the comforts of home and family at this time of year. I was so pleased you girls could come to stay with us.”
I flicked my gaze to my aunt, and she gave me a rather firm look. Instantly, I knew what she meant by it. Stop fretting over Charlotte and let her be easy—let her enjoy what there was of the evening to cherish.
“Ah, yes,” I sighed. “I shall never forget this Christmas season in London. Surely, it is to be a year to remember. For us all.”
Charlotte turned her head slightly toward me. “Lizzy, have you had any word from home? I had a letter from Mama today. Maria is putting her hair up and making over one of my old party gowns to prepare for a Twelfth-Night ball at the Gouldings’ house.”
I chuckled and pulled a letter out of the pocket of my gown. “Kitty and Lydia are making the same plans. I have a letter from Papa.”
“Oh, do read it, Elizabeth,” my aunt encouraged. “Thomas never fails to make me laugh, though I do not think that is always his intent.”
“I can assure you, it is, though he would never confess it. Here, now, this is what he says.” I cleared my throat and held the letter up, the better to read it in the firelight.
“My dearest Lizzy and Jane,
“I hope this letter finds you in good health and spirits. I write to you with news of a festive surprise from your beloved sisters, Lydia and Kitty. I am currently held hostage in my library; my captors—a shelf full of disorganized books—being far more pleasing to the eye than the sight of our drawing room at present. I fear the out-of-doors have come in for the winter, and there remains not one poor mistletoe weed in all of Hertfordshire, for every last one of them is presently hanging from the beams of the house.
“My two youngest daughters have taken it upon themselves to transform the house into a bower of illicit doings. All they lack are the gentlemen to do them with, but fear not, for I am certain the fine lieutenants stationed in Meryton will be happy to oblige. If, that is, they can get through the door. And if they do, fear not that they will remain long, for Mary is presently exercising her vocals and trying to compete with the stray dog that lingers behind the kitchen for scraps.
“There is a new vicar in Meryton, and he is presently desiring to add to the choir for this season’s performance of “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen.” One wonders if anything could be ‘restful’ with such caterwauling and carrying on. I say, I am anxiously waiting for someone to write a Christmas chorale on the wonders of silence.
“I hope all is well with you, my dears. Lizzy, pray, write soon and assure your mother that Jane has a long line of suitors waiting to beg the favor of a stolen moment under the mistletoe with her. For unless she is satisfied that Jane has not gone away in vain, and is not missing out on better opportunities here with the officers, I shall not have any peace at all. Think kindly of your poor father and write whatever you may that is not a complete untruth. It is Christmas, after all.
“With hopes of peace in my library, if not on earth,
Your loving father.”
By the time I finished reading, the whole room had erupted into laughter, and tears of mirth streamed down my face. “Oh, Papa! How could he say such things?” Jane asked, her face aglow with giggles.
“Indeed,” Charlotte piped up from the side chair she had pulled close to the fire. “Your father is nothing if not witty and inventive.”
I nodded in agreement. “‘Inventive,’ he certainly is! I can only hope that these officers our sisters admire will be worthy of their affections.”
Jane gave me an impish grin as well before saying, “I thought you were friends with one of them already? Mr. Wickham was always charming, as I recall.”
My smile faltered then. “Yes, yes, that’s quite true. But I wonder sometimes at his sincerity.”
“What is this?” Aunt Gardiner asked. “I thought he was a favorite of yours.”
“Oh! We shared a few laughs, but nothing... That is, perhaps charm is nothing more than a momentary fancy.”
“What do you mean by that, Lizzy?” Charlotte wondered.
“Nothing,” I said quickly as I tried to cover my momentary lapse into darker thought. Taking up my cup of spiced tea again, I smiled before adding, “But who cares about Mr. Wickham? There are so many interesting men in London right now.”
Mrs. Gardiner chuckled softly. “Girls, what do you think of Mr. Van der Meer? Your uncle is quite taken with him. He seems a good man, does he not?”
Jane and I shared a glance, and she looked down.
“Oh, I see,” our aunt murmured. “Someone else has taken your fancy, Jane?”
