Greetings of the Season and Other Stories Read Online Free

gift as well as Mama.”
    “He can well afford it,” her fond mother commented, popping another bonbon into her mouth, then sucking on it as if the effort to chew was just too great. “If he ever gets his nose out of the smelly stables and kennels long enough to go shopping. And not in the village, either. There is nothing but pinchbeck stuff in the local shops. He’ll send to London if he has any sense.”
    If the squire had any sense, Petra thought, he wouldn’t be hanging around Lady Montravan. The hunting-mad squire was going to see his carefree bachelor days ended, if Petra was any judge, as soon as Bevin brought home his bride. Lady Montravan had declared often enough her refusal to take up residence in Montravan’s pawky dower house. And why should she, spending her own jointure on its upkeep, when Merton had a perfectly fine manor house just waiting for a mistress?
    The dowager had finally swallowed the sweet, but not the bitter thought of Merton’s coming the lickpenny with her present. “He’d better come down handsome, I say, after all the trouble I have gone to for his gift.”
    The squire’s gift was to be the needlepoint pillow with a portrait of his favorite hunter on the cover, the one that Petra was currently embroidering.
    Lady Montravan believed that handmade gifts showed greater feeling than mere monetary expenditures. “Why, giving Merton a gift he can jolly well go purchase for himself is foolish beyond permission,” the dowager had declared. “And as for buying Bevin a present, la, I am sure the boy has five of everything he could ever want or need. And doxies to provide the rest. Buying gifts for nabobs is like bringing coals to Newcastle.”
    Still, he was her son, so after much deliberation Lady Montravan decided on a burgundy velvet dressing gown with satin lapels and sash, with his initials embroidered on the chest and the family crest embroidered on the back. By Petra. A lion, a scepter, and a hawk, in gold thread.
    “Now that Mama is giving Bev such a marvelous surprise,” Allissa had mused to Petra, “I need a really special gift for him, too, to thank him for the tiara.”
    “What if he gives you something else, something equally nice, just more suitable?”
    “Then I’ll still want to give him something wonderful, so he feels guilty. My birthday is soon.” She twirled a golden lock around her finger, thinking. “Mama says handworked gifts show heart.” So Lady Allissa designed a pair of slippers to match the burgundy dressing gown, with a lion on the right shoe, a hawk and a scepter to be embroidered on the left. By Petra.
    Miss Sinclaire kept sewing, turning to catch the afternoon light. Lady Montravan was still exhausted from reading Vincent’s lists out loud to her companion. “I swear,” she said, “this doling out of money to the servants is another ridiculous tradition. Heaven knows we pay them a good enough wage. Why should we have to reward them extra simply for doing their jobs?”
    “Because they work harder at Christmastide, with all the extra company and such, my lady,” Petra offered. “And so they mi gh t have more joy in the season, buying gifts for their loved ones, too.”
    Allissa looked up from her magazine. “And you know servants can never manage to save any money. Besides, Mama, you shouldn’t say such things. Petra is a paid employee, too.”
    “Nonsense,” Lady Montravan stated, without lifting the scented cloth from her eyes to see Petra’s blush. “Petra is one of the family. Bevin explained it to you ages ago. We are not paying her a wage to make herself useful; we give her an allowance, the same as we give you one.”
    Except that Petra could not refuse to make all the arrangements for the ball, the household’s celebration, and the arrival of the ducal party. She couldn’t say she was too busy to wrap and pack all the baskets for the tenants, and she could not choose to work on her own Christmas gifts instead of embroidering