Page 11 of Twelve Drummers Drumming

It was often easier, and her temper was less likely to be roused, and she could dwell on things that mattered to her, even if her family could not be drawn into a discussion on just what Napoleon would do after losing at the Battle of Leipzig.

“Did you go?”

Startled, Jemima saw Arabella looking at her with an accusing eye.

“Go?” She replied blankly, spoon halfway to her mouth.

“To the parade. The march. Mrs. Castle mentioned it as we came into dinner, the soldiers’ parade that went through town today. Did you go?”

Jemima swallowed. She was not a liar, it was not in her nature, but she hardly wished to give her family further reasons to despair at her behavior.

It did not appear to matter, however. Arabella knew her too well.

She sighed heavily. “I knew it would be so, yet I had hoped you had kept away. Jemima, how long will you go against public opinion? The war with Napoleon is almost over, surely, and then we can go back to our lives—you can return to your life!”

“What life?” Jemima snorted. “Waiting for Papa to start parading me around Society like a prize mare?”

“And all of my sisters shall be my bridesmaids!” Caroline’s voice broke through to their conversation for a moment.

Arabella’s head turned to the other end of the table, and then she looked back at Jemima, her voice low. “Just tell me that you were not…seen…by anyone of our acquaintance.”

The face of the soldier flashed into Jemima’s mind: those dark eyes, that furrowed brow, the crutch on one side keeping him upright, the strange feelings that just one glance could stir in her, sensations so forbidden, so dark…

“My word, Jemima, who did you see there?”

Arabella’s shocked voice broke into her reverie, and Jemima started. Her cheeks were flushed, and she put down her spoon hurriedly. Her fruit cake covered in cream lay forgotten.

“No one,” she said quietly. “I saw no one of our acquaintance there.”

And this was not necessarily a complete lie, Jemima told herself the next day.

After all, she had never set eyes on that man, as she was now calling him in her thoughts, before yesterday. He could not really be described as an acquaintance.

“Jemima?”

Indeed, apart from his name, she knew nothing about him, save that he was a soldier and so was part and parcel of the war effort which she desired to end. What else was there to be known?

“Jemima, can you hear me?”

Jemima blinked. She was standing in the breakfast room with Sophia staring at her with concern on her face.

Her little sister moved forward and placed a hand on her arm. “Jemima, are you quite well?”

Jemima swallowed. “Quite well, I assure you. A trick of the light meant something caught my eye, but it is gone. It was just a passing glint. It was nothing.”

Sophia, too young to disbelieve her eldest sister, smiled with relief. She had adorned an orange cotton gown with a beautiful Spencer jacket and was evidently heading off somewhere.

No doubt with Caroline, Jemima thought bitterly. Off to select more delightful gowns for her trousseau.

“I thought you thinking on a gentleman!” Sophia said with a laugh, before scampering off.

Jemima colored but said nothing. What could she say? How could she explain such an inexplicable event as that which had occurred?

Love at first sight?

Nonsense. Jemima had never believed in such nonsense, and she was not about to now. Even as she got left behind by her family, too absorbed in Caroline’s joy to notice her own prickly feelings of being left out.

Although Arabella was about to open her mouth to question further, she paused when she saw Jemima’s expression. Her pelisse was over her arm, and her favorite day dress in mauve with a deep purple print had been adorned with a rather beautiful brooch—one Jemima was almost sure was her own.

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