“No plan can be completely perfect, although . . .” Camille thought for a moment. “I daresay, this is as close to perfect as possible. Mother and Delilah are spending Christmas in Paris with her friend, Countess Something-or-other, and will not return to England until well after the new year. Uncle Basil is on safari in Africa and, as you well know, when he goes off like this, he will not be back for months. Which serves me quite well, as I need a proper English family, having a proper English Christmas, in a proper English country house.” Camille heaved a long-suffering sigh. “And while we might well appear proper from a safe distance, close at hand there is very little truly proper about our family.”

“Millworth Manor is rather proper,” Beryl murmured. “Thank goodness for that.” Camille nodded. “And this year, that proper country house will be filled with a proper family for Christmas.” She narrowed her eyes. “There shall be no dallying between Mother and whatever potential lover has thought the spirit of the season would ease his way into her bed. There shall be no lecherous uncle pursuing any unsuspecting females, who have caught his eye. There shall be none of Mother’s usual stray foreign exiles bemoaning the olden days in whatever country they’re from. Nor will there be aspiring poets, flamboyant artists and absolutely no creative sorts of any type hoping to curry favor and patronage from Mother or any of us.”

“You make it sound like a circus.”

“There’s very little difference between Mother’s house and a circus, especially at Christmas, although a circus is probably less chaotic.” Camille heaved a heartfelt sigh. “If Father were still with us—”

“Well, he isn’t,” Beryl said sharply. “He’s been gone for twenty years now, and even at Christmas, there is nothing to be gained by wishing for what one can’t possibly have.” She drew a deep breath. “However, I suppose, as you are going to a great deal of trouble and expense no doubt—”

“Good Lord, yes.” Camille shook her head. “I had no idea the price of hiring a troupe of actors would be so dear.”

“Well, you are replacing an entire household. Let’s see.” Beryl thought for a moment. “There’s one to play the role of the well-meaning, ambitious, somewhat flighty mother, another for the aging rogue who doesn’t quite understand he is neither as charming nor as dashing as he once was, one for the role of the always indignant, somewhat superior, younger sister. . . .” Beryl fixed her sister with a firm look. “Delilah would never go along with this, you know.”