He put his hands up to placate his little sister. His azure eyes pierced into Mary as he looked past Margaret’s shoulder and into her soul. “Good luck ever writing something for the real world,” the words were spoken quietly. The grotesque laugh that followed it shattered the ominous moment and left a residual film of embarrassment.
Mary didn’t cry. She didn’t sniffle. She didn’t even move for a few minutes until Margaret shook her, gave her a little hug and told her men could be so cruel, especially when they were drunk. Especially when they were older brothers.
But Mary didn’t view Gregory as an older brother. He was so much more to her, until that moment. From that moment, he was just a broken stranger.
At least she had Margaret. Margaret was her one plus one to make two, to make life better. But now their mothers wanted to see them settled before their daughters were considered long in the tooth, just spinsters on the shelf. Their mothers’s goals and her personal goals were in direct conflict. She had one summer to accomplish her goals.
Drat. This was either going to be the best summer or the worst summer ever.
Gregory sat in the parlor trying not to stare at Mary. He had no idea what she was thinking. Her impervious mien revealed nothing. She could be writing another godawful play in her head, looking for shapes and meaning in any tea leaves that happened to sneak into her cup, or she could be plotting her mother’s demise.
The devil it mattered anyways what she was thinking. If the mothers wanted their daughters married, it had nothing to do with him. His summer would be all about his plan to ensure the estate was in order, find a hobby, and secure a biddable wife. He would make easy headway with the estates, he had some irons in the fire for a hobby, and he was fairly certain he already knew he would marry. He was a duke afterall, whomever he asked was sure to accept.
He could care less what Mary was thinking. Yes, that’s right. He reminded himself that he should care less so as not to care anything at all, in fact not to even think of thinking of her thoughts. Yes, that was much more reasonable.
With a clearer head, he announced, “That’s wonderful for you two. Let me know if I can be of any assistance.”But try with herculean effort not to need any of my assistance.
“Yes, now that you mention it, you could be of great assistance.” That was not very herculean. That was more akin to an imp’s amount of effort.
“The Winchesters have decided to host a week-long house party this summer. It would be magnanimous of you to be present.”
“Be present.” That didn’t sound like it meant to just be around.
“Yes. You know, attend the dinners, play parlor games, dance with us and some of the other young ladies.” Margaret could see she was losing her brother. “Anyways, don’t worry about the details at this precise moment. Just be present. I’m sure mother will have some excellent suggestions to give us all the best summer possible.” Or the guilt trip to ensure you have the best summer ever.
***
This was not going to be the best summer ever. This might not even rank in the top ten, and there were only about sixteen in Mary’s working memory, twenty minus the four before her memories began.
After tea, the two women had decided to relax and have dinner in their rooms. Mary had much on her mind and Margaret was content to spend the evening drawing and reading.
The next day the two women met for breakfast. The sideboard was full of boiled eggs, bacon, cold meats, tongue, kippers, and bread. Mary mindlessly put one of everything on her plate without realizing that she was really only going to eat the boiled eggs and maybe nibble on some bread.
Lost in her ruminations about her play and how she was going to not only write it, act in it, and share it with an audience of some kind, she didn’t notice Gregory had entered the room.
She focused her eyes on her plate and her pupils narrowed as they took in the enormity of the food in front of her.
“Hungry this morning, Lady Edwards?”
“Good morning, Your Grace.” She ignored his taunt as a footman refilled her tea. “I hope you are finding your home a welcoming place upon your return.” What was she talking about? Wasn’t there something, anything of substance to discuss?
“Yes,” was his bemused reply. “Surely the weather will reimburse us for the rain of late. It looks a fine day for riding today.”
“Quite.” She knew it was her turn to say something, the etiquette of conversation and all, but all she could think about was how much food was on her plate and how ridiculous it must look. And this led her to think of how ridiculous it was of her in the first place to be worried about how it all looked to him. Maybe she was that hungry.
She shoveled a mouthful of kippers past her lips and forced herself to chew. Why did she have to choose the kippers?
“Yes, well, I believe I shall tour the estates and take note of the most imminent issues.”
She swallowed. “Quite a fine idea, Your Grace.”
“Your grace?” As Margaret breezed into the room, Mary could breathe again. “I noticed this yesterday and didn’t say anything, but really you two, Your Graces? Lady Edwards? You act as if you haven’t seen each other in somewhat indecent dishabille. Or maybe you act as if you have just seen it recently.” With that Margaret burst into laughter.
Thank God Margaret was filling her plate, albeit much more appropriately than Mary, with only cold meats, bread, and a single boiled egg, like a normal woman; that way she didn’t notice Mary’s deep crimson blush. With any luck Gregory didn’t notice either.
“Oh you two. Let’s act as if we have been friends for the past decade. Shall we? Gregory? Mary?”
“Quite.”
