Page 45 of All I Want for Christmas… Is You
As she entered, all three scattered, squawking in surprise. She let out a cry of her own and opened her mouth to speak, but in that instant the library door opened and slammed shut, and her face heated profusely.
“Well,” she said low, eyeing all three suspiciously, but she could say nothing more. How could she reprimand them for eavesdropping when she was as guilty of the same?
“We din’t do it, Aunt Em,” Jonathon said, his eyes wide with fright. Lettie elbowed him at once and he looked at her guiltily. “Oh,” he said softly.
“What sort thing did you not do?” Emma asked, straightening the folds of her skirts as she entered the drawing room. She cast a nervous backward glance at the door.
“Oh... just nothing,” Jon answered in a small little voice, looking guiltier every instant. He peered down at his feet suddenly. His socks were muddy.
Emma inspected his sisters as well. Their shoes were muddy too, and with a fresh dusting of snow on the ground, there was only one place they would have acquired such a bit of muck: in the stables.
“We were merely admiring the new crèche, Aunt Em,” Samantha offered sweetly, giving her little brother a nudge.
Emma’s brow lifted. “From the door?” she asked dubiously.
Samantha considered that an instant and then admitted with a shrug, “Well, we did hear the duke shouting,” she said matter-of-factly.
Emma’s face burned a little hotter. “Yes, well... so did I,” she confessed. “It seems someone has robbed him of his means of escap—er departure,” she explained, watching them and noting all three fidgeted at the news.
“Did you see the crèche, Aunt Em?” Lettie asked suddenly, conveniently changing the topic.
Samantha perked up. “Oh, yes—isn’t it grand?” she added quickly, giving her sister a well-done nod.
“And it’s already half full!” Jonathon blurted excitedly.
Both his sisters elbowed him this time, one from each direction.
Emma ventured closer to examine the small wooden crib that now sat before the hearth. It was crudely constructed, but still a charming sight. Given the scarcity of time before Christmas, she imagined Andrew had troubled to build it himself, for it very much looked as though he had. “I see that it is,” she said a little warily and couldn’t help but wonder how they’d managed such a great start so early this morning.
Jonathon shifted excitedly from foot to foot. “Just like you said, Aunt Em! There’s one straw for each of us for every whee—”
With a horrified gasp, Samantha slapped a hand over her brother’s impetuous mouth. “Weeeed,” she squealed in his stead. “One for each weed.”
Emma’s brows drew together. “One for each... weed?”
Samantha nodded. “Oh, yes, Aunt Em! One blade of straw for each and every weed we pulled from mother’s herb garden. Wasn’t that a good deed?”
“Really?” Emma asked. She didn’t have the heart to remind them that they were in the midst of winter. There was no garden to speak of. And she was beginning to understand with sudden clarity the strange conversation she’d overheard outside the library door. Taking in Jonathon’s guilty expression, and the girls’ much too innocent smiles, she had a sudden insight as to what dreadful mishap had befallen the duke’s carriage wheels. Nevertheless, she also knew the children could never have accomplished such a monumental feat alone, nor were they devious enough to carry it through without help. And she knew precisely who to hold accountable. Their father, the trickster. “One for each weed, is it?” she muttered, cursing her dear brother to Jericho and back.
“Oh, yes, Aunt Em!” Samantha and Lettie replied at once, both grinning with what could be nothing more than relief. Jonathon, with Samantha’s hand still muzzling his mouth, merely glanced up at his sisters, his brows drawing together in confusion.
“Is it alright if we each put straws in if we all three helped?”
Emma tilted them a knowing look. “It took all three of you to pull a single weed?”
All three children nodded soberly.
“Well, now, don’t you think that’s a mite excessive? Besides, pulling weeds in the middle of winter may not precisely qualify as a good deed, at all,” she informed them lamentably.
“Oh, but they were very special weeds,” Lettie returned hopefully.
“And we pulled them all for a very good cause, Aunt Em,” Samantha declared.
“Is that so?” Emma relented. She couldn’t quite bring herself to believe they had actually vandalized the duke’s carriage on her behalf. The thought of it was too humiliating by half. Nevertheless, the image of them stealing carriage wheels—along with the duke’s reaction this morn—struck a humorous chord. She stifled a smile. For shame that her brother would stoop to such ends to prevent the duke from leaving Newgale. Not to mention that he should involve his precious children in such terrible misconduct. For certain, she was going to blister his ears at the first opportunity. In the meantime, it was all she could do to keep from bursting into hilarities at their guilty expressions.
“Aunt Em,” Lettie said plaintively, looking a little dismayed, “you did say one wisp of straw for each good deed, did you not? We only did what you said,” she reassured.
Emma pursed her lips together, trying in vain to frown at them. “Yes, I did say that, didn’t I?”
