I forced a smile for his sake. “Nothing.” I sneaked a glare through my lashes at Owen.
The food was brought in and everything looked delicious. Some sort of cream soup was served first with bread, and was followed by a vast array of beef, roasted duck, vegetables, and fruits.
Peter and Charles gaped in wonder as the food was placed on the table. Their expressions made my heart sink as I remembered our early months at Oak Cottage. My damaged ribs ached as if the pain was provoked by memory. While I had enjoyed many meals of this grandeur before my parents died, my brothers had never enjoyed food of this quality. I felt a sudden pang of guilt and inferiority at the thought that I couldn’t provide this splendor for them. When Aunt Ruth had grand meals made, she never shared.
The food was served and everyone dug in. My brothers quite literally dug in. To my dismay, they surpassed even their utensils, sipping their soup straight from their bowls. They picked up large chunks of meat and tore at them hungrily with their teeth, making juice dribble down their chins.
Mrs. Kellaway looked appalled. Owen was laughing secretively. “I suppose you truly meant it when you said their table manners were awful.”
I was tempted to put my face in my hands and keep it there for the rest of my life.
“Peter, Charles,” Owen said. They looked up for a moment, soup dripping from their faces. “Did you forget your spoons?”
Peter and Charles each offered a bashful grin. “Oh, yes. I forgot,” Peter said, lifting his arm to quickly wipe his chin.
Owen chuckled. “And your napkins?”
I laughed, embarrassed, and grabbed my own napkin, using it to clean Charles’s food-covered face. I shook my head as he broke into giggles.
Owen took his napkin, reached across the table, and began cleaning the rest of the soup from Peter’s chin. At the sight, I was struck by the memory of a time when my father had done that very thing, with the same warm look in his eye. I tore my gaze away. No. It wasn’t possible that he could have the same warm look as my father. My father was too kind and Owen was too … I actually didn’t know what Owen was.
“There,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Try to eat slowly and use your silver. I know it is difficult to remember when you’re hungry.” He gave them a broad smile that melted my heart a little.
When dessert was brought in, my brothers stared with unblinking eyes at the trays circling the table. I was about to offer Charles a pudding when he began squirming in his chair. “Georgie! Be quiet,” I heard him say in a hushed voice.
I gave him a puzzled look. “Who’s Georgie?” I followed his gaze as it traveled slowly down to the pocket of his trousers. A small, round lump sat quivering over his leg. Dread began creeping up my stomach and into my chest. “Charles. Who is Georgie?”
In answer, he reached his hand inside his pocket. Before I could stop him, he had removed Georgie from his pocket and was holding him high in the air.
To my complete distress, my suspicions were confirmed—Georgie was a mouse. A small grey mouse, who happened to have a very slick tail. For as soon as Charles pulled Georgie from his pocket, he slipped his tail right from between Charles’s fingers and scurried across the table. Charles stared after him with an adoring grin. “He is very quick, isn’t he?”
I very nearly dove across the table. The mouse stopped just in front of Grandmother, as if to take a look around.
I could have never imagined what chaos such a small creature would ensue.
Mrs. Kellaway pointed a shaking finger at the mouse and let out a scream that could have shattered the windows. She nearly tipped the table as she leapt from her seat. With a bloodcurdling shriek, Grandmother flew from her chair and ran across the room, clutching her chest in panic.
I also would have never imagined that Grandmother could move so quickly.
I looked around frantically, only to see Peter and Charles giggling hysterically at the riot their beloved new pet was causing. Jumping into action, I grabbed my empty glass and slammed the open end over the mouse, trapping it inside.
“Don’t hurt him!” Charles screamed, tugging on my skirts.
I twisted to look at him. My face flushed with embarrassment. “Take him outside.”
Charles quickly obeyed, snatching Georgie and hurrying to the door. Peter accompanied him. I could hear their secretive giggles as they left the room.
I sat back in my chair and put my face in my hands. How embarrassing! I was completely wrong to assume that they hadn’t been working mischief while they were out of doors unsupervised! Surely Mrs. Kellaway would not allow us to stay any longer. Two incidents in one day? Even I hadn’t expected their behavior to be this horrible.
I took a deep breath. Then another. “I am very sorry.” I did not dare look up, for fear of what their expressions would entail. Anger? Disapproval? After a long stretch of silence, the temptation was too great. I glanced up.
Owen was looking at me, his lips quivering in an apparent effort not to laugh. Grandfather sat rigid, his wrinkled face completely expressionless. Grandmother stood across the room, attempting to steady her breath, and Mrs. Kellaway had returned to her chair, but still looked extremely stunned.
I rotated in my chair and faced her shamefully. “I truly am very sorry.” It was all I could manage. How many apologies had been uttered within the walls of this house today? It seemed like thousands.
She drew a shaky breath and put on a smile. “Don’t worry, the fault is not your own.”
I nodded silently. But of course the fault was mine. My brothers were so young, and it was now obvious to me that I had not taught them well enough. After a long moment of silence, everyone carried on with the meal except Grandmother, who was still catching her breath in the corner.
My heart beat hard with shame. I looked across the table at Owen. He leaned forward and said in a hushed voice, “It would seem that the mouse was a rabid wolf by the way they reacted.” He pointed his gaze at his mother and Grandmother.
I allowed myself a small smile. “I’m surprised you were able to keep your wits. That thing was entirely terrifying.”
He laughed. “Entirely.”
Looking upon his smiling face, I was struck by a pang of guilt about not accepting his apology. He had meant it in earnest, and I had refused it. Although he was an unyielding, mischievous tease who could never be serious, I was fairly certain that his intentions weren’t all bad.
My thoughts were interrupted by a flustered sigh from Grandmother as she reclaimed her seat at the table. She shook her head then patted her hair tentatively. “Those boys ought to be kept on leashes.”
My eyes flew of their own accord to Owen. We looked at each other, as if to see who could hold out longer without laughing. His eyes widened and his shoulders shook. My lips pressed together and my chin quivered. Then, as if calling a truce, we both burst into laughter. I was reminded of just how infectious and delightful his laugh was.
Grandmother looked at us with confusion. “Am I truly that funny?”
Owen and I laughed until tears pooled in our eyes. Why Grandmother’s unknowing agreement with Owen on his absurd idea about leashes gave me such a keen urge to laugh, I knew not. I only knew that I hadn’t laughed this hard in years. Perhaps it wasn’t only Grandmother’s comment, but the look on Owen’s face that brought me to such a state. I sighed as my laughter subsided, feeling much lighter than I had felt only moments before.
Everyone else had resumed their own conversations and didn’t seem to notice Owen lean across the table. “Will you please accept my apology?” he asked, displaying his playful grin.
I looked at him appraisingly, for I did not want him to know just how relieved I was that he had asked again. “Yes,” I said with an unconstrained smile.
He sat back, relief apparent in his eyes. “Now that you are in a cheerful mood, will you also accept me as your friend?”
The question rang loud in my ears, pulling at my heart. When was the last time I had considered
anyone I knew as a friend? After moving to Maidstone, I knew no one. Grief was aching fresh within me and I had no intention of making friends. I had taken on the role of a mother to my brothers and that was the sole purpose of my life. I made a promise.
“At least something better than an enemy?”
Owen’s voice brought my mind back to the present. My lips curled slowly into a smile. Something within me yearned for friendship with fresh longing. So, leaning toward him, I answered, “Yes.”
As I lay in bed that night, I was surprised by how easily sleep was eluding me. With the contributions of both a long, eventful day, and the new comfort of this bed, I expected that I would fall asleep the moment my head hit the pillow. But that was not so, for the opposing emotions within me were much too strong. Embarrassment, worry, and excitement all played their part in my inability to sleep, and my thoughts refused to dispel their thick clouds of unanswerable questions.
How did Mrs. Kellaway truly feel about us staying here? What did she think of Peter and Charles’s awful behavior? Would they ever learn to be well-behaved? And one question, that repeated itself, each time with renewed vigor, demanding an answer: what was it about Owen that made me feel so vulnerable?
Finally, after several hours of drowning in thought, my mind grew weary. I blamed my inability to answer these questions on the sleep that had begun blanketing my clear thought, carrying me down further and further into its depths until, at last, it swallowed me whole.
A
Chapter 6
The sun was already shining bright through my window when I awoke. I flew out of bed the moment I saw it. How long had I slept? Clearly much longer than I had planned. I wanted to get an early start, to be able to explore the home and grounds at my own leisure.
I raced into a gown and checked my reflection quickly. The upper part of my arm where Aunt Ruth had gripped so tightly the other day was turning green and yellow with a fresh bruise. I wished for some of Lizzie’s cosmetic concoction to cover it, but I certainly wasn’t going to bother her with such a silly thing. Praying that it would go unnoticed, I raced down the hall to Peter and Charles’s bedchamber.
I threw open the door and found only two empty, neatly made beds. Where could they be now? The only reliable explanation that came to mind was that they were at breakfast. However, noting their behavior the day before, they could be anywhere, doing anything.
I hurried down the stairs and stopped outside the dining room, leaning my ear against the door. I could hear Grandfather’s soft voice intermingled with familiar giggles. Easing the door open, I stepped inside, finding Grandmother, Grandfather, and my brothers all seated at the table. I leaned against the doorframe in relief.
Grandmother looked up from her plate. “Oh, Miss Downing! Have a seat!” she exclaimed around a mouthful of food.
I walked around the table and took a chair beside Peter. “I suppose I got off to a late start this morning.”
Grandmother threw out her hand. “No matter, dear, you had a very eventful day yesterday.”
I nodded in agreement then asked, “Where are the others?”
“Hmm. I seem to have forgotten.” She scrunched her brow. “But I can tell you that they were here at breakfast only minutes ago.”
“Oh.” I felt a small pinch of disappointment. I had planned on asking Mrs. Kellaway for a tour of the home. I looked to my brothers. “And how did you sleep?”
Their faces lit up and they both began rambling on at once. “The beds were so comfortable!” Peter exclaimed.
“And so bouncy!” Charles added.
Grandmother and Grandfather laughed heartily. “Why don’t you boys come with us to the library?” Grandfather suggested. “If that is fine with your sister.”
I eyed my brothers carefully, not knowing if I should allow them this excursion. They had behaved horribly the day before, so it could be unwise to let them out of my sight again. Grandmother and Grandfather seemed trustworthy enough, and they had proved to be kind. Even so, I had no doubt that they were both capable of delivering a good scolding if necessary. So I nodded and said, “Yes, that would be wonderful. I was actually planning on exploring around a bit myself.”
“Perfect. We would be more than delighted to take them off your hands anytime. They are so darling,” Grandmother raved.
Apparently she had forgiven them for the disaster at dinner. “Well, thank you.” I stood and leaned over my brothers. “Promise me that you will be on your best behavior.” I raised my eyebrows at them.
“We promise!” Peter answered before they jumped from their chairs.
I laughed and placed my hand on Grandmother’s shoulder. “I won’t be gone for long. Thank you very much.”
She reached up a withered hand and patted mine. “Anytime, my dear.”
With one last glance at my brothers, I left the room in a hurry, eager to begin exploring. I never fully claimed the opportunity to see the grounds in detail the first time I came here. I had been avoiding a certain boy by keeping to my room.
Remembering my bonnet, I raced up the stairs and swiped it quickly from my trunk. I made a mental note to unpack later. Oh, how I despised wearing my bonnet. It itched my neck and blocked my sight. But, for the purpose of preventing further damage to my already disfigured complexion, I put it on, and tying the ribbon as loosely as possible, I hurried down the stairs and out the door.
I was welcomed by a warm breeze that carried all the smells I loved: freshly cut grass, flourishing gardens, and sunshine—I knew sunshine must have a smell for how delightful it is. I walked out behind the home and stopped to admire a beautiful bed of flowers. Yellow, purple, white, and red met my eyes. I sighed. Flowers had always been a love of mine.
As I was bending over to examine more closely a hollyhock plant that had caught my admiring eye, the sound of nearby footfalls startled me immensely.
I jumped a little, then turned quickly to discover who was approaching. Just as I did, the wind caught hold of my bonnet in a vicious gust, making it fall flat over my face. I stumbled blindly backward, being pushed by the sudden wind. In my wild attempt to adjust my bonnet, I fell over backward, landing rather hard and painfully on my backside.
Much to my dismay, whoever had been approaching now knelt beside me on the grass. And much to my even greater dismay, I heard his low and amused chuckle.
Owen.
What greater opportunity was there than this for him to tease me? I was mortified. What could I do? I racked my brain in a flurry for options. I could stand up boldly and walk away, or I could laugh at myself, or I could tell him that I fell over on purpose.
I berated myself for my stupidity and chose to leave my bonnet where it sat, shielding my face from the teasing expression that I would undoubtedly see if I were to adjust it.
Apparently Owen couldn’t even leave me with the solace found in the concealment of my face. He took my bonnet, lifted it gently, and tipped his head to peer at my face beneath it. “Are you having troubles this morning?”
I was intent on not looking at his face, but when I heard the raw amusement in his voice my eyes flew up to his angrily. “No. Before you made an appearance, I was perfectly content.”
“If I am not mistaken, you toppled of your own accord,” he said to his defense.
“You startled me!” I pulled my bonnet from his grasp. “And do you have any idea how horrid it is to wear a bonnet? They are horribly uncomfortable, and the only vision you can perceive must be straight in front of your eyes.”
“And when the wind becomes involved, even that isn’t so.”
I let out an exasperated sigh, frustrated that he wouldn’t offer even the slightest hint of empathy. “You … are … atrocious.”
He laughed and cast me a look that hinted at a challenge. “You called me that yesterday. It seems that your vocabulary would consist of a bit more variety.”
I couldn’t help but rise to the challenge. “Oh, it does.” My voice was bold, and I looked him straight in
the eyes. “Would you like to hear?”
He leaned back on his hands with a satisfied smile. “I would love to.”
I turned to him, feeling extremely bold for reasons I could not name. “You are awful, barbaric, heinous, nefarious, abhorrent, flagrant, wicked, and entirely atrocious.” I regretted the words as soon as they escaped my daring mouth. What was he doing to me? I was never this outspoken.
But Owen only laughed again, seemingly pleased with the insult. “Now, Annette, is that an appropriate way to speak to a friend?”
“Is teasing and belittling any way to treat a friend? Or a lady for that matter?” I felt extremely relieved that he had taken my insults so lightly. He must have known I didn’t mean them. At least not all of them. In times of embarrassment, I tended to turn a bit atrocious myself.
“No, it’s not,” he answered seriously. He ran a hand through his hair as if frustrated about something. “I apologize.”
I was surprised by his sudden change of mood. Attempting to swallow my pride, I said, “I’m sorry too. I really didn’t mean all those things …”
He lifted an eyebrow in heavy skepticism.
“I didn’t!” I protested.
“You did.”
“I did not!” I suddenly felt the strongest urge to punch him, square in the chest, but something told me that more harm would come to my hand than to him, for the strain of his jacket against the muscle in his shoulders, arms, and chest warned me … and strangely captivated me. I looked away quickly, remembering that I was supposed to be angry with him right now.
He stood, laughing, and extended his hand in an offer to help me up. “You did mean it, and I deserved each and every word.”
I ignored his hand. “I don’t wish for your gallant assistance. I am quite capable of standing on my own, thank you.”
“Are you?”
I stood up rather dramatically and looked at him with defiance. “I am.”
“What an accomplishment.”
I gasped. His lips were twitching at the corners, which I now knew meant that he was trying to hold back laughter. I then realized that I too was trying not to laugh, for the absurdity of what I had done dawned on me suddenly. Laughter burst from within me, and once it broke free, it didn’t want to stop.
Mischief and Manors Page 7