Lady Crenshaw's Christmas (3 page)

Would Lady Avery truly be envious and do her utmost to make Ginny’s evening a misery?  And what of Her Grace the Duchess of Marcross?  She was capable of saying anything no matter how unkind or cutting, and seeing the rubies around Ginny’s neck would surely make Her Grace angrier than ever. 

Finally it was time to appear at the top of the stairs and enjoy that breath-taking moment, the one no doubt or fear could touch.  As she swept out of her room, however, Anthony was at the top of the stair, waiting for her.  Ginny thought he had never looked so handsome, his dark hair slightly curling round his brow and the blue of his eyes complemented by a cerulean vest and a sapphire stickpin winking in the folds of his snowy cravat.   

Finally feeling that all was right with the world, Ginny went to her husband, her skirts rustling, and held out a gloved hand for him to take in his own. 

“My beloved wife . . .” Anthony murmured.  “There are no words.”  Refusing her hand, he swept her into his arms and carried her down the stairs. 

She wanted to demur, to insist she was perfectly capable of taking herself downstairs.  Instead she put her arms around his neck and relaxed against his chest where she had an excellent vantage point to view his classical profile and breathe in the heady combination of starched cravat mingled with well-soaped skin and a hint of cologne.  “Anthony,” she said, dropping her head to his shoulder, “perhaps we should fore-go the ball and retire early.”

“Fie on you woman,” he growled.  “As if you weren’t tempting enough.”

Ginny lifted her hand to his cheek and turned his face to hers.  “I love you so,” she murmured and was rewarded with a tender smile. 

“This is the happiest Christmas I have ever known,” he whispered in her ear, “and it hasn’t even properly arrived, yet.”  Stopping mid-staircase, he shifted her in his arms, the better to lean in and cover her mouth with his own. 

“If you two can stop making eyes at one another long enough to arrive safely by my side,” Grandaunt intoned from the bottom of the stairs, “I should consider myself twice blessed.”

“Well, if it isn’t Grandmama, come to spoil our fun,” Anthony said with a sly wink for his bride.  “Might I present to you, my wife, the one and only Lady Crenshaw.”  Anthony set her down, took her hand, and twirled her in a pirouette so that her skirts flared out in a sea of ruby red.  “Is she not the most beautiful sight you have ever laid eyes on?”

“She looks most becoming in red,” Grandaunt admitted with a nod that sent the feathers in her headdress bobbing about like a bird in flight.  “I would be telling an untruth, however, if I didn’t give some of the credit to that collar of rubies around her neck.”

“You aren’t wrong, Grandmama, not wrong.  Red is her color from the tip of her toes to her alabaster neck.”

Ginny barely noticed the flush warming her cheeks, so taken up was she with staying upright after being spun about like a top.  She hoped the dancing wouldn’t make her dizzy, as well.  She was so looking forward to waltzing with her husband but expecting a baby seemed to include many unexpected consequences. 

Deciding it was foolish to borrow trouble, she turned her attention elsewhere.  “Grandaunt, you look a picture!” Ginny exclaimed, giving the old lady an affectionate hug.  “No one will deign to notice me whilst standing next to either of you,” she said with a fond look for her husband.  “I suppose it is time to take our places in the reception line and wait for our guests to arrive.”

Taking an arm of each lady, Anthony followed the butler to the large double doors of the ballroom.  Ginny felt so suddenly nervous she thought she might faint, but it was all for naught, for as the doors swung wide, she was caught up in the sheer beauty of the room.  The light of the blazing chandeliers was reflected in the floor to ceiling mirrors that lined the ballroom on either side, each of them festooned with boughs of holly and sumptuous red ribbons.  Hanging from the ceiling in front of each was a large kissing ball bursting with mistletoe.  Both ends of the room boasted a fireplace, the mantel of each decked out in red candles and festive greenery while candelabra of varying heights flanked the doorway and lighted the corners of the room.     

“It’s enchanting . . .” Ginny murmured.  “Oh, Anthony, could this room be any lovelier?”

“No, my dear,” he answered with a tender look, “and you are the loveliest thing in it.” 

Ginny turned to Grandaunt Regina, hoping she was satisfied with the decorations and caught the grand dame wiping a tear from her eye.  “It’s just as in the old days,” she pronounced.  “One can’t expect anything better than perfection.  You might have done a sight worse, my dear, a sight worse, indeed.”

“Hadn’t we best take our places?” Anthony suggested.  “The cream of the
ton
should be landing on our doorstep at any moment.  I find I am very much looking forward to it.”

The three of them hastened to stand in a line in front of the fireplace at the far end of the room, smoothed whatever might be awry, and took a deep breath.  Within moments, the great double doors once more swung wide and Ginny felt her heart jump into her throat.

“It’s all right, Ginny, it’s just Garner,” Anthony said.  The elderly butler was alone as he entered and began his slow trek to the far side of the room.  Anthony ran a finger along the inside of his cravat and Grandaunt Regina sighed.  Ginny thought she might scream from the tension but, finally Garner came within hearing distance in order to ask if everything was ready.

“Yes.  Ready.  Quite,” Anthony snipped.   Taking a deep breath, he added, “That is to say, yes, there is nothing left to do but welcome our guests.”

Garner bowed.  “Very well, my lord.  I shall be most happy to usher them to your side once they have arrived.”  Turning, he made his laborious way back to the front hall.

Ginny and Anthony exchanged a glance.  “You did make out the invitations for eight o’clock, did you not?” he asked.

“Yes, I think so,” Ginny said slowly.  “Grandaunt thought perhaps nine a better hour to start but I believe, I, uh . . .”  She turned to her husband and lowered her voice.  “This was one of those points upon which she and I did not agree.  She thought the later hour was best but I preferred starting at eight of the clock.  I was hoping for plenty of time for dancing before supper is served.  The trouble is, now I can’t recall if I made out the invitations for eight or nine,” she whispered.

“A small setback at most, my love.  People tend to come late whenever they are meant to arrive.  Grandmama will simply assume everyone wants to make a grand entrance.  With guests such as Lord and Lady Avery, His and Her Grace of Marcross and my mother, the potential for drama is rife.”

“Do remind me why we invited a single one of them,” Ginny groaned.

“Well, let’s see,” Anthony said, rocking back on his heels.  “You claim Lady Avery is your most constant caller.  Perhaps it is best we learn to get along with her.”

“Yes, but that hand-clapping!” Ginny said with a sigh.  “At least she seems to have abandoned the lisping.”

“My uncle the duke and his wife require no explanation,” Anthony asserted.

Ginny, finding no fault in this statement, merely nodded.

“And my mother. . . would that she could find herself an Italian count and move to sunnier climes.”

“It would certainly be sunnier for me,” Ginny murmured.  “Perhaps they will all be quite tardy and I shall be too busy with my other guests to speak with them.” 

“And perhaps Her Grace will have your head on a platter for breakfast,” Anthony said tartly.  “As for Lady Avery, there is no escaping her.  She has no other friends.  I would be much surprised if anyone but yourself tolerates her for even a moment.”

“I suppose I feel a bit sorry for her,” Ginny admitted.  “I most definitely pity her husband!  Poor Avery.  I feel somewhat responsible for their ending up together.”

“Whatever your sin might have been, must we pay for the rest of our lives?” Anthony asked with a nod towards the door through which the lady under discussion was even now emerging. 

Chapter Three

Taking in the resplendent figure of Lady Avery, Ginny felt her heart quail within her.  Lucinda, as Ginny thought of her, was barely nineteen years of age and had been a bride for only a few weeks longer than Ginny.  However, she was at least a month further gone and did nothing at all whatsoever to disguise the impending birth of her child.  She worse a flimsy gown, blue to match the cornflower of her eyes, wholly inadequate for both the frigid weather and the quantity of jewels pinned to the bodice.  As if the tiara, eardrops, a ring on each finger, a large quantity of bracelets and at least three necklaces were not enough, dozens of brooches, pins and pendants in all colors adorned her gown, causing the neckline to sag and bunch in a most unbecoming way. 

Ginny felt Grandaunt grasp her hand and turned to catch the furious whispering in her ear.  “Ginerva!  Have you ever known me to being wrong?  Well, take note!  I implied that Lady Avery would be envious of your jewels but it would seem that is not to be the case.”

Ginny chuckled.  “I do believe you are twice right, Grandaunt.  She looks a perfect fright, poor thing.  It is very much too bad she doesn’t take into account her mother’s sensible advice.”

“Does she yet try?” the old lady asked.  “I would have given up years ago were I that child’s mother.”

“Here she comes with Avery in her wake,” Anthony said in dismal tones as if warning of the imminent sinking of a ship.  “We must endeavor to appear as if we notice nothing amiss.”

“But how?” Ginny whispered urgently.  “There is nothing aright on which to comment.”

“Ginny! Sir Anthony!” Lady Avery cried, using their familiar names just as she had when they spent a fortnight quarantined in the same house together the previous spring.  “Oh, my, Ginny, you look so dreadfully worn out.  Are you sure your child is not expected before my little man?  I don’t believe I have seen anyone increase at such a rate!”

“Hello, Lady Avery,” Ginny said.  “What a lovely collection of jewels.  You have a most generous husband,” she added, turning to Lord Avery and giving him a smile.

“Yes, Eustace loves me to death, but carrying about so many large stones is a sad trial.  I found it difficult to rise from the carriage when we arrived and I am persuaded it will be impossible to hold my arms aloft for dancing.”  Without warning she began to slowly list to the side, forcing her husband to push her upright.  “I can’t seem to stand straight,” she explained, as if all present hadn’t just witnessed her unusual ailment with their own eyes.  “It’s on account of this incredibly large diamond pinned to this side, you see?” she asked Ginny. 

Ginny did see and thoroughly wished she hadn’t.  It was a garish display, to say the least, and she feared her other guests would flee in terror from such an apparition.  She struggled for a response and finally arrived at: “It is such a colorful display, a much needed respite from the dull browns and grays of winter.”

“Oh, Ginny, you say the most delightful things,” Lady Avery exclaimed and raising her hands with a great jingling and clanging of bracelets and rings, she attempted to bring them together in one of her obnoxious claps.  She gave up the stupendous effort of lifting so much gold and precious stones when her hands reached a distance of mere inches apart, and, slumping dramatically against her husband, appeared to faint dead away. 

“My flower,” Lord Avery said, attempting to hold aloft the dead weight of his pregnant, heavily jeweled wife and showing signs of failing miserably. 

“Ah, do let me lend a hand or you might both go down,” Anthony said, diving to catch one of Lady Avery’s arms before her husband sank under the weight. 

“Ouch!” Lady Avery cried.  “You’ve hurt my arm!”

“That was a miraculous recovery,” Grandaunt hissed in Ginny’s ear. 

“It was a miraculous illness,” Ginny gravely noted. 

“Avery, perhaps your wife would be more comfortable seated in the parlor until she recovers,” Anthony suggested.

“No!” Lady Avery all but shouted.  “I will not hide in that pokey old hole.  I arrived early so as to not be lost in the crowd.  Everyone must see, as they enter, how very much my husband loves me.”  With those words she took a place in the reception line next to Grandaunt Regina. 

“Did I hear aright?” Anthony asked.  “She did say she arrived early?  Does this mean we have an hour alone with these two before the others arrive?”

“Who knows?” Ginny said, throwing her hands in the air.  “To her early might be as close to
not
fashionably late as could be.”

“Let’s pray you are correct, my darling,” Anthony soothed.  “It’s not a very auspicious beginning to our first ball. However, it can only get better from here.”  

It wasn’t until the orchestra arrived at half past the hour that Ginny realized the truth.  “Anthony,” Ginny groaned, “pray do not tell Grandaunt, but I must have forgotten that I had given nine o’clock as the hour when the ball should begin!”

“Then how the deuce did the Avery’s get wind of the eight o’clock arrival time?”

Ginny twisted her fan between her fingers in agitation.  “I must have said eight when she came to call yesterday.  Of all the people to have arrive early!” she said, dropping her head into her hands.