She might even be able to slip away during the chaos of the children joining them and get an article or two written for the Chronicles. It was always a bit difficult to manage the newssheet during the winter, and particularly around the holidays, but none of them had seemed to mind yet, and somehow, it always worked out well enough.

If she thought about it long enough, she might be able to submit articles about Christmas itself, or removal to the country for winter. Or even the burden of extended family.

Surely there were several people who could relate with that particular trial.

But her mother was most particular about Elinor’s writing time during family occasions. Something about seclusion and making the most of the limited time they all had together; Elinor hadn’t listened attentively enough to actually capture the full speech. The meaning was clear enough.

Never mind that there was nothing limited about two full weeks, sometimes three, with everyone remotely connected to them via her father’s bloodlines.

She’d have to sneak time before bed at night. And she could take mental notes throughout the day. She’d have to protect identities, of course, and alter quotes enough to avoid being blatant in the retelling. It would not do to offend her entire family, especially since she generally liked them.

Generally.

And there was the possibility that no one would find her stories as amusing as she did. Some things required years and years of context for the true scope to be appreciated, and without knowing the persons she would be describing, there would undoubtedly be something missing in the retelling.

So perhaps it would be best if she left it to something generic and relatable rather than the peculiar extremes she was used to.

Not nearly as amusing, but infinitely more sensible.

She snorted to herself. Sensible. When had she become that?

They neared the blue room only for a commotion to be heard from the front of the house. Curious, they altered course to move towards the entry hall instead, the sounds of male voices growing louder by the minute.

“Did the cousin husbands venture out this morning?” Elinor wondered aloud.

“I don’t believe so,” Elizabeth replied. “Lord Winthrop’s brother? And several friends?”

Ellen skipped like a child for a few paces. “Someone tell Letitia!”

They burst into helpless giggles and Elinor pushed back a stray lock of her fair hair, tugging her shawl more tightly about her as they neared the cool air from the wintery day.

“Come in, come in, one and all are welcome. Plenty of room, plenty indeed.”

Elinor raised a brow at her father’s cheerful boast, smiling slightly. Room they had, but plenty of it, they did not. Still, there was no dampening her father’s generosity and spirit.

She stopped, and her sisters along with her, and watched as her slightly rotund father gestured and waved, bustling in with what had to be six men, and her uncle James. The slick surface of her father’s balding head reflected the light of the day a bit, his hat being used to emphasize his broad gesturing.