Page 56 of His Duchess of Scandal
Hermia stifled another snicker behind her hand. “Indeed, they will, I am sure. But it is customary to exchange these things. Here, I will show you. Let me pretend that my mother sent me a wedding gift. I would begin to write my note as follows.”
She ignored the pang in her heart.
Since her wedding day, she had not received anything from her parents. Except for the warning to be a good wife, of course.
But instead of dwelling on it, she dipped her quill in the inkpot and began to write.
Dear Mama.
“This, of course, is more informal,” she said. “If she were not my mama, I would address it to Lady Wickleby. Yes?”
“Yes,” Phoebe affirmed, nodding.
Hermia continued to write.
It is ever so lovely of you to send me the gift of…
“And then you would state the gift, so the recipient knows you have seen their gift and acknowledged it enough to distinguish it from other presents.”
“This seems like a lot of effort for a gift I just want to enjoy.” Phoebe frowned, sighing, as if it were the most burdensome thing of all.
Hermia pressed her lips tightly together and drew her attention back to the note.
In fact, I find myself admiring it most days! It was ever so kind of you to think of giving me this gift. I hope you are well, and I invite you to Branmere Hall to admire your gift in its new home.
Sincerely,
Hermia Thorne, the Duchess of Branmere.
Phoebe made an intrigued noise in the back of her throat. “That is all?”
“That is all. Of course, depending on your relationship, you may enquire about how they are doing, add an anecdote, or share something about yourself. It also depends on the gift. If you received… let us say tickets to the opera, you might invite the person who gifted you such a thing for tea to discuss the opera. Would you like to try one?”
Phoebe looked reluctant, but she nodded eventually, knowing this was what a proper lady would do.
“I will write one to Miss Tarnen,” she announced.
As she began to scribble on a fresh card, she looked at Hermia.
“What did your mama get you for your wedding to my papa?”
“She…” Hermia trailed off.
She could lie and make something up, but it felt too dishonest. She could tell the truth, but that would no doubt prompt more questions from the inquisitive little girl.
“I have not yet received anything from her,” she finally answered, “but I am certain it is only because she is acquiring something worthy of a duchess.”
“Oh, I hope so!” Phoebe’s tongue poked out as she became engrossed in her thank-you note.
Her dark waves spilled over the table, and Hermia couldn’t help but wonder, not for the first time, if she was a younger version of her mother.
She tamped down her curiosity. Enough doors were already closed to her in this house. She didn’t need to make metaphorical ones close, too, by asking the wrong questions.
“How does this sound?” Phoebe asked, picking up her card with a proud smile. “Dear Miss Tarnen, I would like to say thank you. I hope you know that whenever you go… away from the library, I smile, but only for a while, because you are not there to tell me what to do. Please do not shout, or I might pout! And then you will be cross, and I will be sad.”
Hermia’s smile widened at the adorable way the girl had rhymed her note, just to bluntly end it on an unrhyming note.
She clapped her hands together. “Bravo. Well done, Clever Phoebe. Would you like to try another?”
