Delilah laughed.

“And, Mother.” Camille summoned up her courage. She and her mother were usually in such accord. “About Mrs. Montgomery-Wells—”

“There’s nothing to apologize for there, dear. I fully understand how difficult it must be to get a troupe of actors to play one’s family, especially at Christmas.” She moved a silver glass ball from one branch to another, then studied it to determine if it was perfectly placed. “Just as you are sensitive about the mention of your past mistakes, I seem to be rather sensitive about reminders that I am inevitably growing older.” She cast Camille a wry smile. “And I suspect that Christmas, being here with all of you, only makes it more poignant. I recall every Christmas, you know. The gifts and the parties and the laughter. The awe on your faces when you looked at the newly decorated tree. The Christmas plays the three of you would put on, before you and Beryl grew too old to find Delilah of any use. I remember the sleigh rides in those years when there was snow and it was entirely too cold to go out-of-doors, and yet we did so, anyway. And I remember the way you would distract whatever cook we had at the moment, while Beryl stole freshly made gingerbread.”

Beryl shifted uneasily.

Mother slanted a chastising look at her. “You thought I didn’t know about that?” Beryl smiled weakly. “The cooks knew as well. There are a number of other pranks the two of you played, mostly involving impersonating one another, that I know about, but I needn’t go into that now.”

“Oh, but I would like to hear.” Delilah grinned.

“Oh, I daresay that’s enough but thank you, Mother.” Camille chuckled then sobered. “But I owe you a far greater apology than miscasting your part. When I first thought of this plan, I thought I needed a proper family, or at least a family more proper than we are. In that, I did you a grave disservice. I had always thought that you simply liked being surrounded by nobility, regardless of whether they had wealth or power.” She chose her words with care. “But I have come to realize, in recent days, that you offered a home, albeit temporary, at Christmas and throughout the year, to those who were lost. Admittedly, they were inevitably an odd lot—”

“Do you remember the Oriental gentleman with the long, drooping mustache who could pull coins out of your nose?” Delilah said with a slight smile.

“No, but I recall the Frenchman. Oh, I think he claimed to be a comte, who was convinced the true hereditary king of France would be restored to the throne and his ancestral lands would at last be returned to him.” Beryl shook her head in a thoughtful manner. “I do wonder if he ever gave up hoping.”