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“‘Tis my gift to you both,” he said. “For the party. I wanted you to have enough time to make something.”

“Tom. . . ” She shook her head to clear the haze of longing, and carefully folded the linen back around the shimmering fabric. “It’s too much.”

“That’s my decision,” he answered gruffly. “I sold a few of my consuls and had some coins in my pocket when I saw the bolts in the shop, and thought it would become you well. I’ve still got my pension,” he said at her expression. “Don’t worry about me. You told me I’ve been like a brother to you, aye? Can’t a brother give his sister a gift?”

Not when the gift cost this much. And she had called him a brother years ago, when she was still a girl. Cressida realized this was more than a brotherly gesture. Tom knew how tight their finances were. He hadn’t sold his consuls to buy silk for her and Callie, but to help feed them.

That made this purchase even more outrageous, but it was so touching she couldn’t bear to argue with him about it. She bit her lip and nodded. “Thank you, Tom.”

The corner of his mouth crooked upward, then he slipped through the door. Cressida caressed the bundle of silk, already thinking of the dresses they could make. The rose would look best on Callie, of course, with her darker hair and eyes, but the blue-green was the most beautiful color she’d ever seen. For one night, at least, they wouldn’t look like the poorest people in town.

It also sealed her fate regarding the party. There was no way she could refuse to go now—and if she was very honest with herself, she wasn’t sorry the decision had been made for her. She hugged the package close to her chest and ran upstairs in search of Callie, who was mending in her room.

Her sister’s eyes widened in amazement when Cressida showed her the silk. “Where did you get it?” She stroked it reverently.

Cressida hesitated. “Tom gave it to us.”

Callie’s hand froze. “How on earth?”

“I think he would be gravely insulted if we refused. He knows how things stand. He said it was a gift, like from a brother to a sister.”

Callie put her hand back in her lap, looking troubled.

Cressida sank onto the opposite chair. “He said we should go to the Hayes party, and needed something to look nice.”

“That was his reason?”

Cressida nodded.

Callie chewed her lip. “We’re not Mr. Webb’s sisters. Granny would not approve of us accepting such a gift from him.”

“Granny won’t know,” Cressida said bluntly. “If that's your only basis for objection. . . ”

“Then you want to go to the party at Penford. I know you, Cressida. If you were set on not going, you would have told Mr. Webb in no uncertain terms, and he wouldn’t have bought this.”

Again Cressida hesitated. She wasn’t immune to the lure of the blue-green silk, nor to the thought of looking elegant and even lovely in a dress made of it. And if the enigmatic Major Hayes were to see her in it. . .

“Julia is my friend,” she said. “She particularly asked me to go, and Penford is lovely. We’ve little enough to do at nights, except mend and read. Why shouldn’t we have a night out?” Callie’s eyes narrowed at her. Cressida felt the heat rising in her face, but somehow couldn’t stop herself from blundering on. “And perhaps it will help us form a better opinion of Major Hayes and decide if we wish to accept his help in finding Papa.”

“You’re the only one hesitant to accept his help,” Callie pointed out. “What do you have against him?”

She didn’t even entirely know, beyond the fact that she seemed unable to act sensibly and rationally in his presence. “Don’t you think it odd that a man who’s been thought dead for five years, whom everyone thought to be a traitor, should suddenly reappear? And not just that, but come straight to us and offer to help find Papa? Why would Colonel Pickering send him, a man who’s likely to be mistrusted by everyone and who must have a great many other more pressing concerns?”

“The colonel must have had a good reason. . . ”

“Well, no one knows what it is.” Cressida sighed, tapping her fingers on her knee. “Even Julia said she doesn’t know if we can trust him.”

Callie touched the silk again. “I think we have little choice. You yourself said we have no idea where Papa might have gone, or why. Major Hayes is the only person who’s offered help, and we need it. The rent is due in a fortnight, we’re about to lose our horses, we still owe half the merchants in town, and we don’t have nearly enough income to pay any of it. We’ll be cast on the parish soon.”

“I know.” Cressida shook her head, shoving aside her reservations. “Very well. I promise to either present a good argument against him, or graciously accept his help, by the day after the party. Because we’re going to go and have a splendid time.”

“We’ll have to sew through the night.” Callie’s eyes sparkled as she set aside the bedsheet she’d been mending.

“Get your scissors,” Cressida replied with a grin. “We’re going to look marvelous!”

For two days they sewed, from early in the morning before chores and late into the evening after dinner. Callie, with her eye for fashion, cut the shining silk for two gowns, and Cressida ripped lace from her old best dress for trim. Cressida, who could whip a fine straight seam in no time, did most of the construction work, while Callie turned rosettes on the skirt hems and corded the sleeves with tiny bands of silk. Working with such fine cloth, anticipating the evening awaiting them, their spirits rose above all the worries about money, Papa’s absence, and Granny’s health. Granny sat with them during the day, smiling and laughing with them both, just as they used to do in Portsmouth. Tom sat with them at night, smoking his pipe in the corner and blushing whenever Callie would hold up a sleeve or a skirt and ask his opinion. For two days Cressida didn’t worry about anything but the undeniably exciting prospect of being well-dressed, well-fed, and carefree for an evening.

When the night arrived, Brighampton was a flurry of activity. Cressida shivered as she pulled the sinfully soft silk over her head, marveling at her appearance. The aquamarine color looked very well against her skin and hair, and the line of the gown flattered even her gangly figure. She turned from side to side, admiring the swing of the skirt and the feel of the silk against her skin, and for a moment she felt beautiful.