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"Do you suppose she'd find me so disagreeable?" Tom sniffs.
"As she has both ears and eyes, yes," I snap back.
"Ha! You've been called down, my good man," Father says, laughing.
"John, don't encourage her. Gemma, it is not becoming to be so unkind," Grandmama chides. "I do not know this Miss Moore. I don't know that I can allow this visit."
"She gives excellent instruction in drawing and painting," I offer.
"And charges handsomely for it, no doubt. That sort always does," Grandmama says, taking a bite of potatoes. "Your drawing will not suffer during these few weeks. Your time is better spent at home or accompanying me on calls so that you may become better acquainted with people who matter."
I could kick her for that comment. Miss Moore is worth ten of her "people who matter." I clear my throat. "Of course, we will be making ornaments to brighten the hospitals this time of year. Miss Moore stresses that one cannot perform enough charitable acts."
"That is quite admirable," Grandmama says, cutting her pork loin into tiny pieces."Perhaps I shall go with you and see this Miss Moore for myself."
"No!" I practically shout. "What I mean is . . ." What do I mean? "Miss Moore would be terribly embarrassed to have her good works so publicly known. She advises discretion in all matters. As the Bible says ..." I pause. Having never read much of the Bible, I haven't the vaguest idea what it says. "Let thine ornaments be only for God's ears--fingers. God's fingers."
Hurriedly, I take a sip of tea. Grandmama seems perplexed. "The Bible says that? Where?"
Too much hot tea fills my mouth. I choke it down."Psalms," I rasp out, coughing.
Father gives me a curious look. He knows I'm lying.
"Psalms, you say? Which psalm?" Grandmama asks.
Father's wry smile seems to say, Aha, now you're caught in a trap, my girl.
The tea burns its way to my stomach in instant penance. "The Christmas psalm."
Grandmama resumes her noisy chewing. "I think it best if we visit Mrs. Rogers."
"Mother," Father says, "our Gemma is a young lady with interests of her own."
"Interests of her own? Nonsense! She's not yet out of the schoolroom,'' Grandmama harrumphs.
"A bit of freedom will do her good," Father says.
"Freedom can lead to misfortune," my grandmother says. She hasn't said my mother's name out loud, but she's stabbed Father with the threat of it.
"Did I mention that Gemma had the most extraordinary luck of meeting Simon Middleton at the train station today?" The moment it's out of his mouth, Tom realizes he's made a mistake.
"And how did that happen?" Father demands.
Tom blanches."Well, I couldn't secure a hansom, and you see, there was the most horrendous congestion of wagons at--"
"My boy," Father blasts, "do you mean to tell me that my daughter was alone at Victoria?"
"Only for a moment,"Tom says. Father's fist comes down on the table, rattling our plates and making Grandmama's hands flutter. "You've disappointed me today." And with that, he leaves the room.
"I'm always a disappointment,"Tom says.
"I do hope you know what you're doing, Thomas," Grandmama whispers."His mood blackens by the day."
"At least I am willing to do something," Tom says bitterly.
Mrs. Jones appears."Is everything all right, madam?"
"Yes, quite," Grandmama says."Mr. Doyle shall have his cake later," she says, as if nothing in the world is the matter.
