Mischief and Manors

by Ashtyn Newbold

  My brothers were eager to try, so Owen helped them next. After several attempts, Peter finally hit the target from a closer range. After he had hit it once, he rarely missed.

  “Well done!” Owen said. “You are a natural.”

  I could tell Peter was trying to keep his smile moderate when he said, “I know.”

  When Charles tried, though, he struggled to come even close to the target. Owen gave him plenty of advice, but nothing seemed to do the trick. Charles shot arrow after arrow with no success. While Owen was working with Charles, I decided to try myself. I watched carefully as Owen adjusted Charles, and tried to replicate his stance. I was proud of how accurate it felt, until I released the arrow.

  The moment I let it fly, I lowered my bow and watched with alarm as my arrow flew into a tree at least twenty feet behind the target. The arrow embedded itself in a branch near the top. I gasped and covered my mouth, embarrassed, trying to hide my smile.

  I could feel the shock of Owen’s gaze on me, so I turned to him nonchalantly. “I was aiming for the branch just above that one.”

  An amused smile teased his lips. “Were you?”

  “I was. I came awfully close, didn’t I?” I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling.

  He lifted a hand to shade his face from the sun, and squinted at the tree thoughtfully. “Perhaps you should try again. Certainly you will hit it this time.”

  “I could hit it with my eyes closed, to be sure,” I said in a faint voice.

  “Really? Is that so? You must demonstrate.” His face was perfectly smooth and in character, but his eyes betrayed amusement. I knew he was playing with me, but I was far too good at this game.

  “Very well. Fetch me an arrow. But before I shoot, you must know that I prefer to choose my target after I have released my arrow.” I grinned to myself. Now I had won for certain.

  His act faltered for a quick moment in a look of surprise, but his cool demeanor quickly recovered. “I have never heard of such a technique. You must be a true master.”

  “I confess, I am.”

  “And a true master of archery prefers to use the same arrow when aiming for the same target each time she attempts it, does she not?”

  Momentarily taken off guard, and having no idea of what he meant, I replied, “Well, of course.”

  A grin lifted one side of his mouth, making his dimple appear in his cheek. The mischievous twinkle flashed in his eyes.

  Oh, no.

  “Then you must recover that arrow if you hope to ever hit your target.”

  I knew I was good at this game, but I had forgotten just how skilled a competitor Owen was. He knew as well as I did that I couldn’t back down from a challenge. I took a deep breath.

  The time those years ago when I had climbed a tree with Owen flashed in my mind. It was not an experience that settled among my fondest. I had spent so long wondering how it would feel to fly, to soar out of the branches above and touch the clouds. But the ground was where I belonged, and it was still where I belonged.

  Now he was going to make me climb a tree again. It took all my concentration just to retain my calm, cool expression.

  “Oh, how perfect this is. I forgot to mention that I am also a master tree climber,” I said as I walked past him with a lifted chin, and started toward the tree. I caught a look of amusement on his face as I passed.

  My brothers giggled behind me as I stopped in front of the tree. I stole a glance backward at them, and found Owen standing directly behind me. His resolve had crumbled, for he was smiling without reservation now. “Annette, don’t do it,” he warned.

  “I have to recover my arrow, of course. You reminded me yourself.”

  He looked at me in disbelief. “You are really going to climb a tree again?”

  “Yes,” a smile crept onto my face, “but this time there is a factor that will drastically alter the outcome.”

  His lips twitched. “What is that?” he asked, echoing my words from the water garden.

  “This time I’m skilled enough to descend it.”

  I turned swiftly to face the tree again, grinning at my wit. I could hear Owen laughing behind me with disbelief and amusement. My eyes traveled up and up. The tree was very tall. But, to maintain my act, I pushed aside my nerves and started climbing. The trunk was too wide for me to wrap my arms around, so I jumped and grabbed the lowest branch, and swung my foot onto a knot in the bark. The movement jostled my ribs on my right side and I winced, pausing to painstakingly collect my breath.

  Recovered momentarily, I continued climbing, gripping each branch above me, and stepping onto the branch below. I stepped onto a crevice between two branches, and hoisted myself up repeatedly, until I could see the arrow wedged deeply into the base of a thick branch only a few feet above me. One more step up would do it.

  I clung tightly to the trunk and studied the position of the branches above me. The nearest branch was a bit too high for me to reach, and I could see no stable place for footing. I paused my climbing to catch my breath and consider the options before me.

  That was when the rain started.

  I hadn’t noticed the sky turn grey or the clouds grow dark, but there it was above me.

  I felt a single, fat drop on my arm. Then a second, and a third. I looked up to see the rain intensifying, drops landing on my face and in my hair. It was warm rain, and it took me completely by surprise. The leaves of the tree seemed to shield me partially, but once the rain intensified, it tore through the leaves effortlessly, until it fell down on me in heavy, wet sheets.

  I shifted my grip on the trunk to wipe the water from my face, and looked down through the rain. Owen was absolutely drenched. He was holding his jacket over Peter’s and Charles’s heads, blocking the rain from them. I wanted to laugh, but realized that this was not a laughing matter at all. I was trapped in this tree, and my boots had become very slick. How had I let Owen trick me into climbing something again? I couldn’t blame him this time, though. I had gotten myself into this, and I needed to get myself out of it. I would not go falling out of a tree again, that I was sure of.

  Without thinking, I hugged the trunk as tightly as I could, and began inching my way downward, moving my arms under the branches that came in my way. The descent felt painfully slow, and I could feel the ragged bark of the tree scratching through my gown. I dug my fingers into the trunk, and pressed the side of my face against it. By now, I was completely soaked, and I could only hope that my gown hadn’t become transparent. My hair was dripping and plastered over my eyes, so I could scarcely see a thing. I was beginning to wonder if I would slip.

  Just then, I felt two strong hands grip my waist and heard Owen say, “Let go!”

  I was startled enough already that I dropped my grip on the trunk instantly and felt myself being pulled backward. I must have been closer to the bottom than I thought. My eyes caught a quick glimpse of Owen through the hair over my eyes and the sheets of rain that blurred everything.

  He was laughing as he lifted me from the tree and spun me around to face him. I landed softly on my feet and before I knew what had just happened, I was laughing too. His hands fell from my waist and he grasped my hand. Charles took Owen’s other hand and Peter took mine, and we raced blindly to the house. I laughed until my stomach ached and ran as fast as I could, nearly tripping over my wet gown.

  We burst through the door and stopped in the hall, our gasping breaths and laughter echoing off the walls. Owen released a sigh and raked his hand through his hair, releasing drops of water. “Well, that was … sudden.”

  I nodded, trying to stop laughing. The laughter alone was making my ribs ache. Climbing that tree had not been an intelligent move, for more reasons than one.

  Owen tipped his head to look at me. His lips quivered. “‘Master tree climber’?”

  “Well, I couldn’t allow you to win!”

  He chuckled. “It seems that we need to call this match a draw.”

  I shook my head, refusing to secede.
“I didn’t climb that tree only to end with ‘a draw’.” A realization made me gasp. “And why is it that every time you teach Peter and Charles, I am forced into climbing something?”

  “You can’t blame me this time. You started it. I was only playing along.”

  “At least admit that I won,” I said with a pleading look.

  His eyes were shining with amusement as he stepped toward me. Then, placing his hand against the wall behind my shoulder, he leaned his head even closer and whispered, “Never.”

  I gasped in outrage, ducked under his arm, and whirled to face him again. He was unbelievable. I was the clear winner. I was about to protest, but he was already laughing at me, so I let the subject drop. At least, for now. “Fine. A draw.”

  Just then, the sound of humming reached my ears. Owen and I stopped and looked toward the end of the short hall. It was a strange, high sound, and I couldn’t decipher a tune at all.

  “That sounds like my Grandmother,” Owen whispered.

  Just after he spoke, she appeared, walking past the end of the hall. She glanced lazily down it, and took another step. Then her gaze jerked down the hall again. Her eyes lit up like she had just struck gold. Her lips pursed into a tiny heart.

  I held my breath.

  “Boys!” Grandmother yelled down the hall to my brothers. “Come along with me to dry off.” She waved them forward, and took their hands once they reached her. Her lips were still pursed and her eyes were fresh with mischief. She turned and shuffled away from the hall, pulling my brothers along with her.

  I released my breath slowly, carefully, thinking she was gone. But then in a swift motion, she peeked only her head around the corner, put a hand to her pursed lips, gave a low, hooting chuckle, and disappeared from sight.

  I grimaced. How embarrassing! She must be thinking all sorts of things right now that weren’t true. She obviously took Peter and Charles just to leave me alone with Owen. I glanced up at him tentatively, hoping that he didn’t realize Grandmother’s scheme.

  He was smiling down at me, and it made my heart skitter a bit, for I noticed that the rain was having a very unfair effect on his appearance. The water was doing nothing but favors for him, soaking his hair, and dripping down his face, and catching in his lashes, and landing on his lips …

  I stopped myself, realizing how long I had been staring at him, and how unbecoming my own appearance must have been, for I was sure the water was having the absolute opposite effect on me. I could feel that my hair was hanging loose and was plastered to my face. I suddenly felt extremely self-conscious and excruciatingly awkward.

  He lifted his jacket and shook the water from it, then draped it over my shoulders.

  I looked down at a puddle near my feet. “You don’t have to.”

  He waved off my protest. “Take it. Would you like to sit down? We can light the fire in the sitting room and dry off. Besides, you now owe me a question.”

  Oh, yes. Another question. My stomach fluttered, but I flashed him a smile anyway. “That sounds nice. Thank you.”

  After Owen lit the fire, he positioned two chairs closely across from each other, and we sat down in front of the fireplace. I wrapped Owen’s jacket snug around my shoulders and sat back, sinking into the comfortable chair. I could already feel the radiating warmth of the fire wicking away the water from my gown and skin and hair. It felt wonderful.

  Owen was leaning forward in his chair, watching me intently. I tried to ignore it, looking at the flames dancing in the fireplace, but each time I peeked at him again, he was still staring at me.

  “What?”

  He scrunched his brow and narrowed his eyes. “I’m thinking of a question.”

  I nodded in understanding and looked back to the fire for a while, but I could still feel his gaze on my face. I looked at him again. He was still watching me. And in my current state, it made me feel especially self-conscious.

  “Do you have to stare at me while you think?” I blurted.

  He looked down with a soft laugh, then up again. “There is nothing I would rather look at. Why would I choose to gaze elsewhere when there is so much beauty before me?”

  I looked down, feeling my face burn, regretting that I had even asked. Beauty? I had just nearly drowned in rain. I could not even begin to think of how to respond, so thankfully, Owen spoke again to rescue me from my distress.

  “I have chosen a question,” he said.

  My eyes shot up to meet his. My heart pounded hard in my chest.

  “What are you most afraid of?”

  The question rang in my ears. What was I most afraid of? It was something that I hadn’t ever really thought about. Perhaps Owen could choose a different question, one that I actually had an answer for. My mind threw a thought in front of me suddenly. The thought made my heart race even more and I realized that I was afraid of something. Very afraid.

  I closed my eyes for a moment, then took a deep breath and opened them. Owen watched me patiently, waiting for an answer. Why did he want to know this? I gathered the fabric of my skirts into tight balls in my hands, hoping that it would provide me with some stability—that it would give me something to hold onto.

  I began in a taut voice, “When my brothers and I first went to live with my aunt, I was very afraid of her. I feared her voice, and her demands, and her expectations of me. Everything she told me was … belittling. Never kind, never caring. I feared that she would hurt me if I did something wrong. And sometimes she did. But her words always hurt more than anything else.”

  Owen was leaning forward now, and in his eyes I could see that fiery anger that I had seen in the orchard when I talked of Aunt Ruth before.

  “I longed to have someone that would protect me from her harm. But with no one to rely on, I realized that the only person that could do that for me was myself. I could choose what to do with her words. Once I discovered that, everything changed. I was free from her and everything else. I felt … unbreakable.”

  It seemed odd to be saying these things aloud, but it filled me with a power that spread throughout my entire body. I actually did feel the things I was saying, and to declare them aloud was incredibly satisfying. My voice lowered and my spirits dropped as fear and worry caught up with me again. I tightened my grip on my skirts and moved my gaze to the fire.

  “But the thing I fear now, more than anything, is that my brothers will suffer from her as I did, and that they will believe the things she says to them. That she will hurt them the way she hurt me. I’ve already seen it beginning, and I can’t bear to imagine them so defeated.”

  I looked away from the fire and back at Owen. His eyes held heavy sorrow and hot anger all at once. I found myself wishing again that he would just laugh at me. But instead, he reached forward and uncurled my hand from my wad of skirts, and held it between both of his. The gesture itself surprised me, and the warmth of his hands against my cold hand sent sudden chills up my arms. He rubbed his thumb over the top of my hand in a circle, watching it carefully.

  “I cannot imagine how they could be defeated with someone as brave as you watching over them.” He looked up then, and I felt oddly shy in the moment, with my hand in his by the warm fire, and looking into his smiling eyes. My heart was beating hard, and I tried to calm it, telling it, Owen is only a friend, nothing more.

  I repeated those words to my heart until I was sure it was true. But for some reason, my heart refused to listen. It thudded quickly in my chest and I felt, suddenly, as I did the day before—that it was trying to speak back to me. It frightened me, and made me feel completely defenseless. I needed to find something to laugh about before I could hear what my heart was trying to reveal to me.

  “Considering how fearlessly they hid my bonnet with her underthings, I doubt that they are extremely afraid of her, at least.”

  Owen tipped his head back with a laugh, and I took the opportunity to slip my hand away. There. My heart became silent then, and my thoughts were rejuvenated.

  “We
may need to save that story for another day,” I said, answering to the curious look he cast me. “Thank you for teaching them to shoot. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, until the rain started, anyway.”

  He shook his head with a wry smile. “The real enjoyment began after the rain started.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I changed my mind. I certainly won.”

  “We agreed on a draw,” he said with a teasing grin.

  I gave an exasperated sigh. “No, because that means you are still a partial winner. And you always win.” I hated admitting that to him, but we both knew it was true.

  “Not always.”

  I cast him a skeptical look. “Oh? Then what have I won?”

  He drew a breath, held it, and looked at me with deep thought evident throughout his expression. “More than you realize,” he said in a quiet voice. His mouth was curled in a smile, but his eyes were solemn and they held both a statement and a secret, strategically leaving me bereft. He was digging into my heart with his questions, but I realized that I had no idea of what was in his. I wished I hadn’t agreed to his terms. It didn’t feel like a fair arrangement at all.

  All I could do was raise an eyebrow at him, and wonder what it was that he was hiding from me. But from the depth of his gaze and the careful ease of his facade, I feared I would never know.

  When I stood from my chair to leave, a severe pang struck my side suddenly, making me gasp. My hand flew to my right side instinctively.

  Owen’s brow furrowed and he stepped toward me. “Are you hurt?”

  I shook my head dismissively. “It is just an old injury. I broke some ribs a few years ago that never healed sufficiently. I’m afraid scaling that tree may have awakened the pain a bit.”

  His concern only intensified. “What caused the injury?”

  My heart pounded hard. I did not want to talk about this. I swallowed. “It was nothing important.”

  Owen caught my arm as I turned to leave. “Annette. Did your aunt have anything to do with it?”