Under The Mistletoe Read Online Free

right to expect me to be hostess in his own home, Mama,” she said. “I am his wife. It is what all men expect.”
    â€œWell!” There were two spots of color high on her mother’s cheekbones. “You are the most ungrateful of daughters, Lizzie! I am very vexed with you. Besides, how can you expect to be hostess of such a large house party when you have no experience? And when you have Jeremy to attend to? I have given you almost half a year of my time and this is the thanks I receive?”
    â€œI do appreciate all your help, Mama,” Elizabeth said. “You know I do.”
    But her sister-in-law set a hand on her arm and smiled at her. “Come and join the group about the pianoforte with me, Lizzie,” she said. She had had her own conflicts with her mother-in-law during the eight years of her marriage.
    Elizabeth, grateful for the excuse to avoid further conversation with her mother, nevertheless felt guilty as Annabelle linked an arm through hers and led her away. She had lied to her mother. She was not grateful. It was with dismay that she had watched September turn into October and October into November without any sign that her parents intended to return home and leave her mistress of Wyldwood again. Despite loneliness and depression over her apparently failed marriage, she had liked being mistress of her own home for a few months.
    It was later in the evening, after they were all assembled in thedrawing room, that trouble struck again. There were two tables set up for cards. Another group was gathered about the fireplace, conversing. A crowd of younger people was clustered about the pianoforte, listening to young Harriet perform. Elizabeth was on her feet watching the card games and reflecting on the fact that Christmas was already shaping up to be its usual predictable, tedious self. With what high hopes she had embarked upon a totally different life last year. She really had been happy about her arranged marriage, especially after meeting the jolly Mr. Chambers and then receiving his son. But nothing had come of her bright hopes after all, except that she had Jeremy.
    Mr. Chambers was moving away from the fireside group and stopped beside her.
    â€œWe will be decorating the house tomorrow?” he asked.
    â€œDecorating?” She looked blankly at him.
    â€œFor Christmas.” He raised his eyebrows. “With holly and ivy and pine branches and mistletoe and all that.”
    â€œOh,” she said.
    â€œAnd a kissing bough.”
    Harriet had just finished playing. At the same moment a lull had fallen on the conversation by the fire. His words were generally audible.
    â€œA what ?” Lady Templar asked, looking up from her cards.
    â€œA kissing bough, ma’am,” Mr. Chambers repeated. “And other decorations to make the house festive for the season. Have you made no plans, Elizabeth?”
    â€œWe have never used Christmas decorations,” she said. She had sometimes wished they had. The assembly rooms in the village at home had been decorated one year for a Christmas ball. They had looked gloriously festive, and they had smelled richly of pine.
    â€œThen we will this year,” he announced.
    There was an audible stirring of interest from the direction of the pianoforte.
    â€œA kissing bough,” young Sukie said, and there was a titter of self-conscious male laughter and the higher trill of girlish giggles.
    â€œI always did like a few tasteful Christmas decorations in a house,” Aunt Martha said with an apologetic glance at Lady Templar. “We had some one year when we remained at home for the holiday. Do you remember, Randolph? But never a kissing bough, I must admit. I believe that might be vulgar.”
    â€œThere will certainly never be one in this house,” Lady Templar said in the voice her family recognized as useless to argue with.“Such bourgeois vulgarity would not be tolerated in this family. I will direct