"Papa!" Penelope, aghast, turned from her inspection of a towering centerpiece of sweetmeats with sprigs of poisonous mistletoe tucked here and there in a creation of the girl's own design.
Vivian's eyes lingered longingly on the pyramid of goodies even as she felt the heat of humiliation in her cheeks. It was bad enough to be sent from one branch of the family to another, treated like a hungry beggar. It was worse yet to land upon a new doorstep only a day before Christmas, when a family had its mind on entertainments planned weeks in advance, and on private traditions. But worst of all was to feel that her presence was an annoyance and an intrusion.
"They would not fit," Penelope said. "Miss Ambrose is much larger than I am, and the colors would be all wrong. She cannot wear one of my gowns."
"I don't see why not," Captain Twitchen disagreed, folding his paper in half to better read an article of interest. "You've got more already than you need for the season, and you'll be having a bushel more made when we return to town, I warrant." He glanced up from his reading, examining his daughter and his wife's cousin. "You look near enough in size to me."
"Might there be one you could spare?" Mrs. Twitchen inquired cautiously of her child.
"Let her stay in her room! You do not wish to dine with a baronet, do you, Miss Ambrose?"
Vivian supposed she didn't much care where or with whom she dined, as long as dine she did. It had been ages since she'd last eaten.
"Penelope," her father said warningly, and gave his daughter a long look.
"But, Papa, it isn't fair! I suppose you'll want me to share all my gowns with her for the season as well, won't you?"
"Hush, child," Mrs. Twitchen said, coming and putting her hands on her daughter's shoulders and steering her out of the room, then gesturing to Vivian to follow. "You'll give him ideas."
Vivian cast a look back at Captain Twitchen and found him once more absorbed in his paper, the troubles of the females of his house best left to its females. For a brief moment, she had a feeling that the man was a sleeping dragon best not wakened.
Turning, she gave a last, loving look at the tower of treats, then followed the fiercely whispering, protesting Penelope and the shushing Mrs. Twitchen up the oaken staircase of Copley Grange and down the hall to Penelope's room.
Her prideful heart wished to refuse a gown so grudgingly lent, but her reasonable mind ordered her to follow the dictates of the captain and his wife. Those two were the ones she needed to please, not Penelope, although she suspected the Twitchen girl could make her life a misery easily enough.
It felt as if it had been a month ago, but it was only this morning that she had arrived here at the home of her first cousin, twice removed-Penelope's mother. They had never met before this day, although the arrangements for Vivian's arrival had been made some weeks past, as soon as old Ann Marbury had died.
Miss Marbury had been the spinster great-aunt of a previous set of cousins-cousins who had found Vivian useful as a companion to their wicked, dotty old relative. For nine years she had fetched and carried, read aloud, and played at cards with the beastly old woman, had endured increasing insults and pinches, and had had food thrown at her as the lady's mind deteriorated.
It had been a blessing to them both when the woman died. Vivian did not think herself hard-hearted for believing so, for as often as Miss Marbury had been cruel and suspicious, she had equally as often spent her days in tearful confusion, inconsolable, asking after those who had died long before Vivian had been born.
Farewell, unfortunate Miss Marbury! And may the angels keep you in good company!
And farewell also, horrid cousins, who kept me caged with an old woman for your convenience and never spared a thought for me or my future!
She was twenty-five years of age, and had never once attended a dance or an assembly, although her family were gentry and such should have been her right. The horrid cousins had preferred keeping her as unpaid help to spending the money to garb her and help her catch a husband and thus be free of their charity.
But now that Miss Marbury was dead and Vivian's usefulness gone with her, Vivian had been passed on to the next relatives willing to take her in and provide for her. She could only hope the Twitchens proved kinder and more generous than her other cousins.
"Penelope, do stop pouting and fussing. You will put wrinkles in your face with such expressions," Mrs. Twitchen said, and opened her daughter's clothespress to examine the possibilities therein.
"Not the green silk-that is my favorite," Penelope said, seeing her mother reaching for the garment. "It brings out my eyes, and would not suit another."
"Miss Ambrose has green eyes as well," Mrs. Twitchen mentioned.
"She cannot!" Penelope cried, then turned to examine Vivian and contradict the distressing statement. But she could not.
Vivian was equally surprised. The two girls were opposites: she herself had dark hair where Penelope had fair; she had a strong build that was underfed where Penelope had a fine build that was too plump. She would not have thought they shared any traits at all. Yet as her seventeen-year-old cousin came near, Vivian saw that indeed they had the same sea green eyes with dark gray rims.
Penelope's face grew red with anger, and she turned away with a flounce.
Mrs. Twitchen was still talking. "She is our cousin, after all, and blood will show. Dear me, we must dress her suitably. I will not be embarrassed in front of the baronet!"
"It is only Cousin John, Mama. I do not see why you need make such a fuss."
Mrs. Twitchen chose several gowns and laid them out over the bed and two upholstered chairs, then spoke to Vivian. "My husband's sister made an excellent match in a baronet. The title has since passed down to Sir John, Captain Twitchen's nephew, whom we have had the great good fortune to entertain on many an occasion, as he adores his uncle so. His wife is descended from the Earl of Surrey."
"Indeed, ma'am," Vivian said, for want of any better comment. She was beginning to wish most heartily that she could be left alone in her new bedroom while the family entertained their guests. Meeting the Twitchens and being installed in their home was strain enough for one day without the addition of baronets and granddaughters of earls.
"He is not half so grand as to deserve such care," Penelope put in.
"Hush, child. You say that because you know no better. When you come out this season, you will see what difference it makes to say your cousin is a baronet."
"And my great-grandfather a baron. I know, Mama."
"You help Miss Ambrose choose something, and give her ear bobs and a necklace to wear if she has none of her own, and perhaps some silk flowers for her hair. Really, we cannot have her looking so shabby, and she a relative of mine!"
Mrs. Twitchen hustled off, murmuring worries about Cook and the footmen, and Vivian was left alone with her cousin.
"I am sorry about this," Vivian said to the girl, feeling awkward and unwelcome. And hungry, to add to her misery. "If I had new gowns meant for my season, I should not like to have another wear one of them first, and she a stranger to me."
"I have been looking forward to my first season since I can remember," Penelope said, a quaver in her voice. "And here you come, right before it is to start! And we will have to have dresses made for you, and take you about, and all our acquaintances will be asking who you are when this was supposed to be my time. And you're too old for a season, too old by half! It's not fair!"