Including her plans for Matthew himself. She had only a short time to figure out how to make him and Creath fall in love. Gazing out the windows, she decided a brisk winter stroll might just do the trick. On Christmas Eve day, what could be more romantic than a secluded woods blanketed in pristine, glittering white? She could see it now: Creath’s cheeks would turn fetchingly pink from the chill, Matthew would move close to share his warmth, and then…
They would kiss! Chrystabel was sure of it.
She sighed with satisfaction, confident in her plan. They would kiss, and then they would fall in love. And Matthew would marry Creath, saving the girl from the odious Sir Leonard.
It could all be resolved before Christmas Eve supper.
When a knock sounded on the door, it was Arabel, looking lovely in a forest green gown with silver stars embroidered on its underskirt and silver tissue peeking through its wide, slit sleeves.
“I see you noticed how Lady Trentingham was dressed last night,” Chrystabel said with an approving smile.
“Indeed. And I see you noticed as well.” Arabel beamed back. “You look splendid, Chrys. We’re in red and green. It’s beginning to feel like Yuletide!”
“It certainly is. Mary?” Chrystabel looked to her maid. “Please inform Thomas Steward that I’d like to have all the Christmas greenery unpacked and brought here to my chamber.”
“Of course, milady.”
Taking one last look in the mirror, Chrystabel tweaked her bodice to make the wide neckline perfectly frame the swell of her décolletage. Then she turned and took her sister’s arm. “Shall we breakfast?”
As they quit the room, Chrystabel realized she was humming again, her morning bout of melancholy all but forgotten. It always helped to have plans in place.
But Arabel was frowning. “Why did you ask Mary to fetch the trimmings? You know we haven’t been given leave to decorate.” When they reached the grand staircase, she withdrew her arm to lift her skirts.
“Worry not, dear sister.” Beginning her own descent, Chrystabel swayed her hips, in case Joseph was watching. “Before breakfast is ended, we shall have leave to decorate and more.”
Arabel’s head jerked around to stare at her. “How will you accomplish that?”
Since she hadn’t quite figured it out yet, Chrystabel felt a prickle of irritation. “Persuasion,” was her vague answer.
“What makes you think you can convince them to change their minds?” her sister asked with obvious disbelief.
“You think I cannot?” Chrystabel lifted her chin. “Watch me.”
Arabel just rolled her eyes.
Alas, the entry hall was deserted; Joseph must have gone ahead without them. By the time they found their own way to the dining room, everyone else was already seated.
“Good morning,” Chrystabel sang.
A chorus of good mornings followed.
Lady Trentingham’s gaze took in their altered style of dress. “My, how festive you both look!” She was dressed rather festively herself, in gold sarcenet with lace trim that looked like perfect, delicate snowflakes clinging to her shoulders and neckline. “Add but a strand of pearls, and you two would be ready for your presentation at court—if there still were a court.”
“Oh, I adore pearls,” Arabel cried. “But we haven’t any. Father sold all our family’s best jewels to support King Charles.”
Chrystabel’s eyes involuntarily met Joseph’s. When his darted away, she knew he, too, had been reminded of their rather heated discussion last night. He looked a bit sheepish. Well, good. He ought to feel bad that his family had gone on prospering while hers had sacrificed so much. Although…
Well, he had made some good points. Perhaps Father could have been a bit more mindful of his family’s future alongside his king’s. Even after the war had taken a turn for the worse, he’d never talked about what would happen should the Royalists lose. Chrystabel suspected he’d never considered the possibility, let alone made provisions for it.
Feeling confused and flustered as she sank onto a chair, she allowed herself one deep, calming breath. There was much to accomplish during this meal. She couldn’t afford to lose focus.
Perhaps it would be best to start with the simplest item first.
Buttering a hunk of bread, she favored Creath with a friendly smile. “Isn’t it a beautiful day?”
“Aye.” Though still a bit pale, Creath seemed in tolerably good spirits. “It’s a perfect day for walking. I’m used to spending a good deal of time outdoors, but I’ve been stuck in this castle since I got here.”
Ha! This would be even easier than Chrystabel had realized. She’d invite Creath to walk with her after dinner. Then, later, she’d invite Matthew along as well—and ultimately find some reason to excuse herself and leave the two of them alone.
Perfect. She opened her mouth to issue the first invitation.
“Your frustration is understandable, Creath.” Joseph regarded her over the tankard of weak ale he had halfway to his lips. “But you know you cannot go outside.”
Oh, hang it. Perhaps not so easy, then.
Creath nodded, looking resigned. “I know. It’s just that this is the first nice day we’ve had in ages—but I’ll make do with looking out the window. It’s too dangerous to leave the castle,” she explained to Chrystabel with forced good cheer. “I might be seen and my whereabouts reported to Sir Leonard.”
Her mouth full of bread, all Chrystabel could manage was a sympathetic noise. She swallowed hastily. “Oh, but that seems extremely unlikely, given the dense woods all around. Why, this great big castle is scarcely visible from the road, so surely a small person—”
“It’s not just those passing on the road who are a threat,” Joseph interrupted. “The woods may belong to Tremayne, but there’s no wall to keep people out.”
Chrystabel raised a brow. “Do you often meet outsiders wandering about in your woods?”
“Never,” Lady Trentingham answered for him. She seemed to be concealing a smile.
Joseph set his jaw. “It’s still not worth the risk. Father, don’t you agree?”
“Quite so.”
Joseph’s look was triumphant, as if that settled the matter.
But Chrystabel could be stubborn, too. “What if Creath were disguised?” she
