For Your Arms Only by Linden, Caroline (best fiction books to read .TXT) 📗

Not when the gift cost this much. And she had called him a brother years ago, when she was still a girl. Cressida realized this was more than a brotherly gift. Tom knew how tight their finances were. He hadn’t sold his consuls to buy silk for her and Callie, but to help feed them. In that light, this expense was even more outrageous, but the gift was so touching she couldn’t bear to argue with him about it. She bit her lip and nodded. “Thank you, Tom.”

The corner of his mouth crooked upward, then he slipped through the door. Cressida caressed the bundle of silk, already thinking of the dresses they could make. The rose would look best on Callie, of course, with her darker hair and eyes, but the blue-green was the most beautiful color she’d ever seen. For one night, at least, they wouldn’t look like the poorest people in town.

It also sealed her fate regarding the party. There was no way she could refuse to go now—and if she was very honest with herself, she was not sorry the decision had been made for her. She hugged the package close to her chest and ran up the stairs in search of Callie, who was mending in her room.

Her sister’s eyes widened in amazement when Cressida showed her the silk. “Where did you get it?” She stroked it lightly.

Cressida hesitated. “Tom gave it to me—to us.”

Callie’s hand froze. “How on earth?”

“I think he would be gravely insulted if we refused. He knows how things stand. He said it was a gift, like from a brother to a sister.” Callie put her hand back in her lap, looking troubled. Cressida sank onto the opposite chair. “He said we should go to the Hayes party, and needed something to look nice.”

“That was his reason?”

Cressida nodded.

Callie chewed her lip. “We are not Mr. Webb’s sisters. Granny would not approve of us accepting such a gift from him.”

“Granny won’t know,” Cressida said bluntly. “If that’s your only basis for objection…”

“Then you want to go to the party at Penford. I know you, Cressida; if you were set on not going, you would have told Mr. Webb in no uncertain terms, and he wouldn’t have bought this.”

Again she hesitated. Cressida wasn’t immune to the lure of the blue-green silk, nor to the thought of looking elegant and even lovely in a dress made of it. And if the enigmatic Major Hayes were to see her in it…“Julia is my friend,” she said. “She particularly asked me to go, and Penford is lovely. We’ve little enough to do at nights, except mend and read. Why shouldn’t we have a night out?” Callie’s eyes narrowed at her. Cressida felt the heat rising in her face, but somehow couldn’t stop herself from blundering on. “And perhaps it will help us form a better opinion of Major Hayes and decide if we wish to accept his help in finding Papa.”

“You are the only one hesitant to accept his help,” Callie pointed out. “What do you have against him?”

She didn’t even entirely know, beyond the fact that she seemed unable to act sensibly and rationally in his presence. “Don’t you think it odd, that a man who had been thought dead for five years, whom everyone thought to be a traitor, should suddenly reappear? And not just that, but come straight to us and offer to help find Papa? Why would Lord Hastings send him, a man who is likely to be mistrusted by everyone and who must have a great many other things to tend to?”

“Lord Hastings must have had a good reason…” Callie’s voice trailed off.

“Well, no one knows what it is.” Cressida sighed, drumming her fingers on the package that lay across her lap. “Even Julia said she doesn’t know if we can trust him.”

Callie touched the silk again. “I think we have little choice. You yourself said we have no idea where Papa might have gone, or why. Major Hayes is the only person who has offered help, and we need it. The rent is due in a fortnight, we’re about to lose our horses, we still owe half the merchants in town, and we have only a small income. We’ll be cast on the parish if Papa doesn’t return soon.”

“I know.” Cressida shook her head, shoving aside her reservations. “Very well. I promise to either present a good argument against him, or graciously accept his help, by the day after the party. Because we’re going to go and have a splendid time.”

“We’ll have to sew through the night.” Callie’s eyes sparkled as she set aside the drab brown dress she had been mending.

“Get your scissors,” Cressida replied with a grin. “We’re going to look marvelous!”

For two days they sewed, early in the morning after chores and late into the evening after dinner. Callie, with her eye for fashion, cut the shining silk for two gowns, and Cressida ripped lace from her old best gown for trim. Cressida, who could whip a fine straight seam in no time, did most of the construction work, while Callie turned rosettes on the skirt hems and corded the sleeves with tiny bands of silk. Working with such fine cloth, anticipating the evening awaiting them, their spirits rose above all the worries about money, Papa’s absence, and Granny’s health. Granny sat with them during the day, smiling and laughing with them both, just as they used to do in Portsmouth. Tom sat with them at night, smoking his pipe in the corner and blushing whenever Callie would hold up a sleeve or a skirt and ask his opinion. For two days Cressida didn’t worry about anything but the undeniably exciting prospect of being well-dressed, well-fed, and carefree for an evening.

When the night arrived, Brighampton was a flurry of activity. Cressida shivered as she pulled the sinfully soft silk over her head, marveling at her appearance. The aquamarine color looked very well against her skin and hair, and