Josi S. Kilpack - Meet Me Under the Kissing Bough

Bingham, Nottinghamshire, England, 1819

Deborah took a breath and forced her smile a bit wider as the first carriage turned into view, the frozen gravel crunching beneath the iron-banded wheels. When she recognized Mothers set of four grays pulling the carriage, she felt herself relax. Mothers presence would go a long way to setting the other guestsand Deborah herselfat ease as the party gathered throughout the afternoon.

Her daughter, Jane, shifted on the step beside Deborah, pulling her wool shawl tighter across her shoulders while letting out a dramatic sigh, as though they d been waiting in the cold for hours, not less than a single minute. Deborah ignored her daughters angst, mostly because her own angst demanded the majority of her attention. It was not an easy thing to step back into a life she had set in a corner for five years, but what better time to do so than at Christmastide?

New beginnings.

Letting go of the past.

Redemption and laughter.

All these things were the wishes she had for her three children. And herself.

Jane shifted again as the carriage stopped in front of the house, and Deborah straightened her spine so as to appear confident and capable.

Ah, there are my two favorite girls, her mother, Lady Affing-ton, said after the footman helped her down from the carriage. She and Deborah pressed cheeks, kissed the air, and squeezed hands.

I am so glad you could come, Mother, Deborah said, feeling a lump of gratitude rise up in her throat. She could never have done this without Mother s encouragement. Thank you.

You must assume I am invited to far more house parties than is the case, Mother said, her green eyes smiling. She could have had her choice of warmer climes, but she was here because, as always, she was Deborah s best support. Besides, your cook makes the best Christmas pudding.

You are a terrible liar, Mother, Deborah said. Her cook, though dependable and skilled, struggled with puddings, an on-going joke said in whispers. Deborah had hired a woman from the village to come in to make the Christmas puddings and pastries this year, and Cook felt too overwhelmed with the other demands upon the kitchen to be offended. Deborah wantedneededeverything to be just right.

Mother laughed, causing the small golden bird that trimmed her hat to quiver as though it, too, were enjoying the joke. The bird was nestled among faux berries and fresh evergreen that trimmed the rest of the bonnet. Mother loved any chance to dress to a theme, and Deborah felt sure that every item packed in the three trunks now being unloaded from beneath the carriage would be perfectly coordinated to the season. Mother had even talked Deborah into ordering half a dozen new dresses, including a red dress made from a lovely damask satin she d set aside for Fifth Nighther favorite evening of the twelve-day celebration. The dress currently hung in her wardrobe, but Deborah was not yet sure she would wear it. She d been out of mourning for over a year now but felt conspicuous when she wore anything other than her grays and purples.

Today she wore a new rich purple muslin with ivory lace and a double-ruffled hem. It felt ostentatious, and she d wondered a dozen times if she should change into something more subtle. But she was the hostess of a Christmas house party and needed to set the tone.

It was time for double-ruffled hems and red damask satin.

Deborah looked past her mother to the open carriage door. Where is your mystery guest?

They will arrive in a few days, Mother said, then looked past Deborah to Jane still standing on the step. Ah, there is my beautiful granddaughter.

Jane s sour expression did not change. I am freezing to death, Grandmama.

Mother laughed and gave Jane the same air kiss and cheek press she d bestowed on Deborah.

Now, where are my grandsons? Mother asked, looking around as though Nicholas and Ashley might have blended so perfectly into the brick that she d missed them upon initial inspection.

In the nursery, Jane said, shooting another glare in Deborah s direction. At thirteen years old, Jane was proving herself a master at the role of disgruntled adolescent. Mother did not make them greet the guests.

Which is exactly right, Mother said with a crisp nod.

Deborah sent a grateful smile for the support.

It was time Jane learned how to conduct herself in company, even if she was still more girl than she was young woman. However, realizing that Jane would have her Season in only a few more years had been only one part of the motivation behind Deborahs inviting Society back into her life.

Deborah looked down the drive and felt her stomach flip in anticipation.

Was it right to have invited him?

Was she ready ?

You are the eldest child, and a daughter no less, Mother said to Jane, drawing Deborah s attention back to the moment. How should you ever become a hostess if you do not learn at the knee of such an expert? Besides that, those boys are bedlam personified; they d as likely get run down by a carriage as not if your mother left them uncontained. Now, Jane dearshe looped her arm through Jane s and turned her toward the house come with me to the parlor and enjoy a cup of tea until the other guests arrive. I am positively frozen in my shoes!

Lady Constance and her ward, a quiet young woman with dark hair and green eyes, were the next to arrive, then Nigels sister and her family, then three carriages at once. Deborah enjoyed reuniting with family and friends, but she remained alert for the sound of the final carriage to arrive. Just before it was time to dress for dinner, she at last heard the wheels upon the drive.

Deborah excused herself from a conversation with her brother, Lord Affington, and nodded at the footman to open the front door when she reached it, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one noticed her departure. She had insisted Jane join her to greet the other guests, but this one she wanted to greet alone.