Page 13 of Miss Murchison’s Mistletoe Memories

Chapter Four

Three days passed, during which Èibhlin saw little of Niall.

Each morning at breakfast, the Duchess explained, with barely concealed satisfaction, that his duties kept him occupied elsewhere. Èibhlin tried not to show her disappointment, focusing instead on her correspondence with her father, and the small excursions into London that the Duchess permitted, always accompanied by Aunt Muireall. On the fourth morning, as Èibhlin sat in the morning room composing a letter to her father, the Duchess entered with an air of animation that immediately caught her attention.

“Good morning, Miss Murchison, Miss Èibhlin,” she said, settling herself gracefully near the window. “I trust that you both slept well?”

“Tolerably, Your Grace,” Aunt Muireall replied, not looking up from her embroidery. “Though I find that the London air does not agree with me as well as our Scottish climate.”

The Duchess’ smile tightened fractionally.

“How unfortunate. Perhaps you might benefit from a visit to Bath when your duties here are complete. The waters are said to be most restorative.”

Èibhlin hastened to intervene before her aunt could respond.

“Did you wish to speak with us about something specific, Your Grace? You seem in particularly good spirits this morning.”

“Indeed I am, Miss Èibhlin.” The Duchess folded her hands in her lap, her expression one of satisfied determination. “I have decided to host a Ball before Christmas, as I have done in previous years — but this will also be a grand affair to properly introduce you to society.”

Èibhlin’s heart gave a little leap of excitement and trepidation.

“A Ball? That is most generous, Your Grace.”

“It is the perfect opportunity,” the Duchess continued, warming to her theme. “The Christmas season allows for more... intimate gatherings… before the crush of the spring Season begins. I have already sent word to Lady Harrington and several other influential Ladies. We shall make it an event to remember.”

“How very thoughtful,” Aunt Muireall said, her tone suggesting that she found it quite the opposite. “Though I fear that such grandeur may overwhelm my niece, accustomed as she is to simpler entertainments.”

“Nonsense,” the Duchess replied dismissively. “Miss Èibhlin comported herself admirably at dinner. I have every confidence in her ability to navigate a formal Ball. And of course, I shall be there to guide her.”

Aunt Muireall made a small, somewhat inelegant noise, quickly suppressed.

“Of course she comported herself admirably.”

Her tone was full of barely contained irritation, and Èibhlin hoped that the conversation would not become an argument. The Duchess, however, simply gave Aunt Muireall a hard look, then went on.

“The house will need to be decorated extensively, of course,” the Duchess’ gaze swept the room as if she was already envisioning its transformation. “Draperies, ribbons, evergreens, holly, mistletoe — all of the traditional Christmas adornments, arranged with suitable elegance. I thought that perhaps you might assist with the preparations, Miss Èibhlin. It would give you an opportunity to become better acquainted with London customs.”

“I would be delighted to help, Your Grace,” Èibhlin replied sincerely.

“Excellent. I shall speak with Mrs Graves about the arrangements.” The Duchess’ expression grew thoughtful. “Sir Thomas enquired most particularly about you after the dinner, Miss Èibhlin. I believe that we may expect him to call soon. He was most impressed by your musical performance.”

Aunt Muireall looked up sharply from her embroidery again.

“Sir Thomas Thornfield? The gentleman who spoke so enthusiastically about Scottish grouse?”

“The very same,” the Duchess confirmed, with a complacent smile. “A most eligible widower, with a substantial fortune and impeccable connections. His interest in Miss Èibhlin is most flattering.”

“Indeed?” Aunt Muireall’s voice held a note of scepticism. “And what of his age? He must be at least twenty years my niece’s senior.”

“A difference of years can be advantageous in a marriage,” the Duchess replied smoothly. “Sir Thomas has the maturity to appreciate a young woman of Miss Èibhlin’s... unique qualities.”

Just as Èibhlin was about to respond, the door opened, and Niall entered. He paused momentarily upon seeing the assembled women, then continued into the room with a bow.

“Good morning, Mother, Miss Murchison, Miss Èibhlin,” he said, his gaze lingering briefly on Èibhlin before returning to his mother. “I apologise for interrupting. I was looking for my correspondence.”

“It is on your desk in the study, where it always is,” the Duchess replied, a hint of impatience in her voice. “Though since you are here, you may as well know that I have decided to, again, host a Ball before Christmas. To introduce Miss Èibhlin to society.”

Niall’s expression remained carefully neutral.