A Yuletide Treasure by Cynthia Bailey Pratt Read Free Book Online

will be bringing down trees all over these valleys. It’s so heavy and we’ve had such a dry fall, there’s nothing for the roots to cling to.”
    The coach shook and swayed as Merridew fought for every foot of road. Rex, huddled on the floor, kept; his thoughtful brown gaze fixed on his mistress, only occasionally casting a glance at Philip. He had no difficulty interpreting that look, despite the difference in their species. It was reproachful, full of disappointment that he, one of the Lords of Creation, couldn’t do a better job. Except for a few minor details, it was identical to the look Mr. Perriflyn kept giving him.
    Miss Twainsbury bore up uncomplainingly, never even to the extent of a mournful glance, despite a return of the bluish tinge around her mouth and a tendency for her soft pink lips to quiver. Philip wondered at himself. It wasn’t like him to notice things like that.
    In spite of Mr. Perriflyn’s flapping ears, Philip committed himself as the temperature in the carriage continued to drop. ‘There’s no doubt, Miss Twainsbury, that you will pass at least this one night under the Manor roof.”
    “I’m afraid you are right. I haven’t anywhere else to go, have I?”
    “Not that I can see. The inn is very fine, but hardly fitting for a young lady.”
    ‘Very well,” she said, folding her hands. “It’s the only sensible thing to do.”
    Rex was the first out of the carriage as they arrived at the Manor. He gave one bark to show his appreciation, then set off, his nose close to the ground. Snuffling up the snow made him break stride, sneezing.
    Merridew came up to the door. “These beasts are done,” he said bluntly.
    “Then please saddle Paladin and Icarus.”
    “Two?”
    “I’ll have Perriflyn ride home and then I’ll bring the doctor back on Icarus. Riding horses will get through where carriage horses cannot.”
    “But young Dr. March goes in fear of horses. He can’t ride,” Merridew said in protest.
    “Well, it’s a grand day for learning, don’t you think?”
    * * * *
    Rather soggily, Camilla squelched up the staircase behind Sir Philip, who carried the now awake but silent Nanny Mallow. The Manor had the air of a house that had settled peaceably into middle age. The walls could have used a new wash of distemper, but the mellow biscuit color flattered the white-painted woodwork. The carpet runner was a trifle worn over the edges of the steps, but not seriously so. Yet there were fine paintings on the walls, and several tables interspersed down the length of the hall bore ornaments Camilla felt she’d like to investigate. The combination confused her.
    To Camilla, used to scrubbing and painting their smaller home every spring in a rigorous regime, as well as dusting daily with great care the curiosities her mother kept locked up the rest of the time in a tall cabinet, it seemed both comfortable and welcoming.
    With no more introduction than “Miss Twainsbury, my niece, Tinarose,” Sir Philip laid his burden on the bed and left on his mission.
    Mavis had just that instant withdrawn a gleaming brass bed warmer from between the sheets. She laid it on the hearth and crept closer. “Who’s that?” Nanny asked crisply. “Mavis? Mavis Duke?”
    “Yes’m,” Mavis said, strangely cowed.
    “Well, don’t stand there, girl. Help me off with m’bonnet.”
    “Yes’m.”
    Camilla turned to the other girl as she turned aside from the fireplace, hanging up the bellows with which she’d been encouraging the flames.
    “How do you do, Miss LaCorte?”
    The girl’s dark eyes flashed over her in one all-encompassing glance. “What did Uncle Philip say your name was?”
    ‘Twainsbury; Camilla Twainsbury. I’m a friend of Nanny Mallow’s.”
    “Oh, you must be the one who found her. Mavis told me.”
    That’s right”
    “I’m glad you did,” Tinarose said with a sudden smile. ‘”We all like Nanny Mallow, but we’re not often allowed to go see her. My mother...” She