Page 21 of It's a British Christmas

“You should not be waiting on me. For goodness sake everyone is acting like I’m some sort of invalid.”

Kitty directed the maid to set the tray on the table next to the bed. “I’m afraid when Penrose gets something into his mind, it doesn’t leave easily.” She snapped open the snowy white serviette and handed it to Merry. “And I have an ulterior motive. I want to begin making the plans for the Christmas Eve ball.”

“Of course. I’ll be happy to take notes.” Merry shifted to lean against the pillows.

“Eat your meal first, and then we can work.”

The duchess talked as Merry ate the delicious thick soup and fresh bread.

“The Penrose Christmas Eve Ball has been a tradition for generations. In fact, the original ball was held the Christmas after the first King George had assumed the throne. The story is passed down that he actually attended, but there has never been anything written to prove that.”

Merry laid her spoon alongside her bowl. “I am looking forward to it. Lord and Lady Bedford hosted a very small gathering on Christmas Eve each year, because they included the girls. They also had what they called a “Christmas Tree,” a tradition they learned from their German cook. Several footmen cut down a pine, and they set it up in the house. They the girls would make paper dolls, stars, and such, to hang on the tree. It was quite entertaining and brought a wonderful smell to the drawing room.”

“I have heard of that. Maybe we should do the same here. I’m sure the girls will love it.”

“I agree. That activity might bring a little bit of their parents back.” She wiped her mouth and placed the tray away from her. “I’m finished with my soup, and ready to plan the ball.”

Merry’s eyes shot open at the sound of young voices. “Miss Merry! We’ve come to visit with you.”

Apparently her sore body had needed the rest, for she had fallen asleep. Lady Charlotte and Lady Clare raced into her room, with Miss Jennings following behind. “Ladies always walk,” she scolded.

“His Grace wished for the girls to call on you since you won’t be able to join them for afternoon tea.” Miss Jennings’s lip curled and she looked so far down her nose, Merry thought the governess would become permanently cross-eyed.

“Thank you very much for bringing them.”

“It was His Grace’s wishes.” She sniffed, all her displeasure in the sound.

“What happened, Miss Merry? The duke told us you were injured in a spill from your horse.”

Merry sighed. “No, pet. I was not injured. I did fall from my horse, but aside from a few aches and−mostly in the area where I sit down−I’m fine.”

At Miss Jennings’ sharp inhale, Merry glanced at her.

“This is not proper conversation for young girls.”

Merry raised her eyebrows. “What did I say?”

Miss Jennings drew herself up. “A properly brought up lady never mentions any part of her body.”

Biting back a retort, Merry returned her attention to the girls, encouraging them to tell her all about their lessons.

After about fifteen minutes of visiting, Miss Jennings reminded the girls the time drew near for their tea. Hugging Merry fiercely, they left to return to the nursery. Their governess remained behind.

Once the latch on the door caught, Miss Jennings moved closer to Merry’s bed. “I know what you’re trying to do.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Her eyes grew to slits. “I thought you claimed to be an experienced rider?”

“And if I did?”

“Then how is it you came to fall from your horse?”

Merry’s jaw muscles worked. The nerve of this woman! “Not that it’s any of your concern, but my horse unexpectedly reared and threw me.”

“Right into His Grace’s arms?”

Stunned into speechlessness, Merry didn’t move a muscle as the governess hissed.