Shame? How could she feel shame with regards to Hugh Sterling?

She pressed her hand to her quaking heart. She didn’t understand it, but she dared not deny it.

It was shame that she felt, and the need to repent of… something.

She swallowed hard. See him for the man he was, he asked.

Well, she wasn’t sure that was possible, but she could try.

For some bizarre reason, at this moment, she actually wanted to.

She also wanted to throw mistletoe at his head for turning her emotions on her, but there was no mistletoe at hand.

More’s the pity.

Elinor cleared her suddenly clogged throat and brushed at her skirts, then did her best to sweep into the drawing room without any signs of strain.

Hugh was already deep in conversation with Lawrence, one of the more tolerable cousin husbands, apparently none the worse for wear after his outburst.

Acting now or acting then? Or accustomed to quickly recovering? There was no telling with him, and she wasn’t sure why it mattered.

But it did.

“Ah, my dear girl, so delighted to have you here at last,” her father blustered as he came over, his cheeks rosy, possibly from too much port.

“Papa?” Elinor tried to smile as he took her hands exuberantly. “I did not realize I had kept you waiting.”

Her father shook his head with just as much bluster. “Not at all, love, not at all. We only needed you to complete the quartet.”

“Quartet?” she repeated. She looked across the room in confusion, then saw her sisters standing by the pianoforte, looking back at her.

Oh. That quartet.

She’d completely forgotten about that little tradition.

She blanched at the thought. “Papa, we have not rehearsed at all. And normally, we don’t perform until…”

“Yes, yes, my dear, but we have guests this year, and we must allow for adjustments.” He patted her hand and smiled with all the fatherly fondness he possessed. “Just sing a song you already know, and we’ll excuse any lack of harmonies.”

Oh, was that all? None of them were particularly gifted singers, but they were accomplished enough, and when joined together, sounded better than any of them alone.

They were used to performing for family.

They never performed for guests.

Grumbling under her breath, Elinor moved towards her sisters, feeling the eyes of the room on her.

“Sorry!” Emma whispered when she reached them. “We didn’t have a choice!”

Elinor shook her head. “What are we singing?”

“Adeste Fideles?” Elizabeth suggested, looking just as panicked, though she was far and away the best singer of the sisters. “We did all right when we sang that one.”

“I didn’t,” Ellen pointed out sourly.

The sisters glared at her. “You were ill that year,” Elinor reminded her. “You remember your part?”

Her youngest sister nodded, still looking sullen.

“Fine. Let’s get this over with.” Elinor sighed and turned to face the room, all of whom had gathered around to hear them.