Christmas approached quickly following Grayson's arrival. We brought in the Yule log and decorated a Christmas tree. Anne Marie and Sybil strung dried oranges and lemons to create a festive garland. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed my brother kiss his companion beneath the mistletoe. A tight smile crossed my face. I pictured Spencer embracing me and stealing a kiss. I wondered how he celebrated the holiday in Yorkshire.

Although Spence hadn't written in quite a while, I kept an eye out for a package from him. The previous week, I sent his gift—a lovely pair of kid leather gloves. I expected something in return and watched daily for the mail's arrival. Time grew shorter, and nothing appeared. Anxiety welled inside me.

Miss Young presented Cassie with a box of greeting cards. I joined her at the schoolroom table and helped her select cards for the family. As she wrote hers, I picked one with a smiling girl wearing a red coat and matching muff.

"She looks a bit like you," my young companion remarked.

"Yes, a bit," I conceded, opening it. The inside verse read: 'Whatever is good, whatever is true, goes with my Christmas wish to you.' I signed it impulsively and addressed the envelope to Spencer. "May I have a stamp, Miss Young?"

"Certainly, Priscilla," the governess responded. "You know where I keep them."

"Thank you, Miss Young." I rose and approached the secretary in the corner. Taking a stamp, I pasted it onto the envelope. "I'll take it down now to go in this afternoon's post."

Cassandra remained at the table, shuffling through the box of cards while Miss Young wrapped her gifts. I noticed her folding a hand-knitted scarf she made for Mr. Blanchard. She stroked her hand lovingly across the soft lamb's wool and smiled tenderly.

I hurried downstairs to the great hall and placed my card in the mail bracket on the receiving table. The bracket contained slots for both the outgoing and incoming posts. Anne Marie had not yet picked up the new arrivals for delivery. Absently, I picked up the stack and rifled through it. Noticing Spencer's handwriting, I extracted his card and slipped it into my pocket. Turning, I began to retrace my steps but hesitated.

Withdrawing the envelope, I studied it, then swiftly replaced it with the other incoming letters. As I mounted the staircase, Anne Marie bustled into the hall. She quickly retrieved the mail and began sorting it. I ran upstairs before she noticed me and rushed into the schoolroom.

An hour passed before Anne Marie entered the nursery with the mail. She handed three envelopes to Miss Young and swiftly departed. The governess kept two for herself and gave one to Mr. Blanchard.

"Is there one for me, Miss Young?" I asked demurely.

"Not today, Priscilla," Claudia responded, slitting an envelope with a paper-knife. I received a card from Mama and Papa and one from my married sister in Western-super-Mare. She says she's pregnant again. The new baby will make five. Oh, I do hope she has a girl this time. They keep trying but haven't succeeded yet. Hilliard, uh—Mr. Blanchard—received a letter from his cousin in Australia."

"Oh." My brow furrowed. What happened to the card from Spencer? I wondered.

As I considered the question, Grayson popped into the schoolroom. I smiled at him, comforted by his presence.

"Thad and I are going for a sleigh ride," he announced, grinning from ear to ear. "We thought you and Cassandra might join us."

"Oh, can we, Miss Young?" Cassie asked, her face brightening.

"Yes, certainly," our teacher answered. "Dress warmly."

"We'll meet you downstairs." Gray bowed slightly and departed.

Cassandra and I hurried into our warm coats, hats, and scarves. Flushed with pleasure, we raced to the great hall to wait for Grayson and Thad.

"Drat it all," Cassie moaned, glancing down her coat front. "I've forgotten my muff. Please tell Gray to wait for me." She dashed up the stairs, her shoes clattering on the risers.

I hastened to the receiving table to investigate the mail slots. Both slots appeared empty, and I wondered what had happened to Spencer's letter. Squatting, I looked beneath the table, and crawling along the floor, I widened my search.

"Looking for something, Prissy?" Lottie asked, blocking my way.

My eyes met her sapphire slippers and traveled upwards. Her heavily rouged mouth grinned down at me, and her lips curled maliciously.

"I've lost a pearl earbob," I lied, hiding my real purpose. "It must have rolled when it fell."

"You are wearing two earbobs," my sister-in-law remarked.

Lottie leaned down until we were eye to eye. The odor of morning eggs and sausage wafted over me as she spoke. I cringed involuntarily, then softened my expression. Sitting back on my heels, I inched backward slightly.

"Oh, well, um, I lost one earlier," I stated glibly. "While I waited for Gray and Thad, I thought I would take another look."

"You make a bad liar, Prissy," Charlotte hissed, her face hardening. "What are you searching for?"

"Spencer's letter," I blurted hurriedly. "The one that arrived in the post this morning. It wasn't amongst the mail Anne Marie delivered to the nursery. What did you do with it?"

"Me?" My brother's wife slapped her palm against her chest to indicate herself. Her lips formed a perfect O, and her eyes turned to flint. "Are you accusing me of stealing your love letters? How amusing." Her ruckus laughter echoed throughout the hall.

"Who else?" I asked, leaping to my feet. "Why are you so against me, Charlotte?" I faced her squarely, my eyes holding hers.

"I'm not against you, Miss Priss," Lottie hissed, advancing. "It is you who are against me. Why? What have I done to you? Are you jealous?"

"Hardly," I remarked dryly. "Nevertheless, I want my letter. Kindly put it back where it belongs and stop using Anne Marie as your tool."

"You are a ridiculous little child," Lottie stated condescendingly. "Let me know when you grow up. You have remained in the nurseries for too long. Stop fantasizing and enter the real world." Spinning on her heels, she marched toward Papa's office. She flung open the door without knocking and slammed it behind her.

I stared after her with incredulity. My brother's wife had a lot of nerve, entering Papa's office without introduction. Charlotte acted more like the lady of the manor each day. I wondered at her presumptuousness.

As I contemplated Charlotte's actions, Gray sashayed down the grand staircase with Thad on his heels. They seemed to act in tandem with each other. Standing side by side, they swept off their top hats and bowed at the waist.

"Cassie forgot her muff," I explained, joining my brother and his companion. "She hurried back upstairs to find it. She'll return momentarily."

As I spoke, Cassandra ran along the upstairs corridor. She hesitated at the top of the stairs, stood still, then descended at a ladylike pace. I marveled at the change in her since her arrival a short time ago. The Cockney street child had disappeared entirely. Cassie wore her long brown hair braided and pinned securely across the top of her head. A fur-lined navy hood shadowed her heart-shaped face and brought a glow to her sapphire eyes. She smiled brightly and greeted Gray and Thad in a soft voice.

"Good day, Miss Cassie." Thad bowed and extended his arm to the girl. She slid her hand into his crooked elbow and murmured her own good day. Laughing merrily, they preceded Gray and me outside to the waiting sleigh.

"Shall we, Prissy?" Gray asked, extending his elbow. I closed my gloved fingers around it and sauntered outside.

Cassandra sat beside Thad in the sleigh, and he grasped the reigns. Grayson and I took the seat behind them. My brother tucked the lap robe snuggly around me, and we raced across the snow-covered drive.

Thad began to sing God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen in a deep baritone. Gray joined, and I added my voice quickly. Cassie's small soprano entered after a short hesitation. We continued to sing carol after carol as the wintery scene flew past. Finally, we stopped for breath at a crossroads.

"Which way, Gray?" Thad called over his shoulder.

"Which way, Priss?" my brother echoed his friend. He usually deferred his decisions to me.

"If we go through Everstow village, we can stop at the Three Horseshoes for a cup of mulled wine," I mused, considering the options. "Or we can go along the Gloucester Road and lunch at the Red Lion. Their venison is divine."

"Take the Gloucester Road, mate," Grayson directed, tapping Thad's shoulder playfully. "Onward to the most divine venison in England."

Thad chirruped to the horses, and we turned right onto the crossroad. The jingle bells tinkled joyfully. Gray began to sing accordingly. We pulled into the innyard and clambered out. When Cassie stumbled at the door, Thaddeus quickly steadied her. I noticed her blush as she smiled upward, her eyes filling with infatuation.

Poor Cassandra, I thought, considering Gray's relationship with his companion. The young girl didn't realize the true nature of the situation. She was headed toward a downfall if she thought Thad was genuinely interested in her.

We squeezed into an oaken booth and ordered the venison along with glasses of cider. I pushed thoughts about Lottie's duplicity from my mind and enjoyed the jolly comradery. Cassie lost her composure after drinking the cider and giggled loud enough to draw attention from the surrounding bar patrons. Turning toward her simultaneously, we shushed her. Shrinking against the booth's back, she clasped her hands across her mouth. However, she could not stifle her laughter.

"Poor Cassie," Thad commiserated, chuckling. "Shall we have another round? Tis Christmas.

The child should enjoy herself."

"You wouldn't dare," I countered, suppressing my merriment.

"He would," Gray answered, nodding sedately. Thad and I burst out again, and then Thad ordered the cider.

"I'm not a child, you know, Thaddeus," Cassie slurred a quarter-hour later. Practically falling into the sleigh, she leaned heavily against his shoulder. "I'm nearly thirteen, and that's quite a young lady, wouldn't you say?"

"Oh, indeed, thirteen is quite the age, Cassandra, but you won't think it when you're twenty-three or thirty-three," Thad remarked, taking the reins and chirruping to the horses. "You'll soon realize thirteen is quite young."

"Such a wise statement," Grayson murmured from beside me.

"You shouldn't have let her drink so much, Thad," I admonished, folding my arms tightly across my chest. "One glass was enough. What will I say to Miss Young?"

"A pox on Miss Young," my brother's companion answered, dismissing the governess. "Tis only Christmas once a year. We'll wash her face in the snow when we return. That shall sober her up."

"Ow dare you," Cassandra shouted, her Cockney accept quickly returning. "I'd like that, I would. Wait 'til I bury your head in the snow, my man. You'll see." Swinging her arm back, she punched Thad in the shoulder.

"Yow! Where'd that come from, you wild cat?" Thaddeus exclaimed, edging away from the unhinged girl. She continued to whirl her arms, occasionally connecting with him.

"That's enough, Cassandra," I shouted, encircling her with my arms. "Enough."

Cassie sank against the seatback, panting for breath. After a moment, she composed herself and apologized. I hoped it settled her. Thad chucked to the horses, and they plunged forward quickly. The girl's face paled. She grasped the sleigh's frame tightly, her body swaying.

"Stop, Thad, stop!" I shouted, leaning forward. Noticing Cassie's appearance, Gray added his plea to mine.

Thad quickly halted the horses and turned to stare at us, incredulous. Cassandra rose and, stumbling into the snow, bent at the waist. She vomited between her spread feet. Turning away hurriedly, Grayson buried his face in my sleeve. He disliked the sight of sickness.

"You all right, Cass?" Thad exited the sleigh and hastily approached the ill girl. She bent and hurled again. "Oh, dear."

"I warned you against plying her with drink," I called out. "See what's happened?"

"Ugh!" Thad exclaimed, his face turning green.

Cassie stood in the snow, hugging her stomach. After a while, Thad helped her into the sleigh, and we moved forward at a more sedate speed. At the front door, I assisted her into the great hall and upstairs. I left her lying across her bed, moaning with cramps.

"What happened to Cassandra?" Miss Young asked, standing in the doorway.

"Too much cider," I answered blandly.

"I got my menses, too," Cassie groaned, rolling into a fetal position. "Bad timing."

"Oh, dear." The governess wrung her hands. "Just lie there until it passes. I'll have your dinner brought to your room. Perhaps Priscilla will sit with you."

"I'll read to you," I suggested, pulling up a chair. I picked up a novella from the nightstand: Cricket on the Hearth by Charles Dickens. It's a lovely story, Cass."

"I doubt I'll understand a word of it," my young companion murmured, rolling over to face the windows.

"We shall try," I stated, opening the first page.

By the time Sybil arrived with Cassie's tray, she was sitting up and listening intently. I left her to her meal and prepared to join the family in the dining room.