“Yes, those pigs are jumping over the moon again.” Jeffrey smiled broadly, pretending to admire those flying pigs through the window of the inn.
In spite of himself, Gerard managed a small smile at his friend’s jest.
“Why do you have your nose in a book again? We’re out on a walk,” Harry complained at Rose.
“I like reading. You like walking. I’m here, aren’t I? Stop arguing with me.”
“You look weird with your nose in a book all the time. Might as well bind the book to the end of your nose. Complete the picture then.”
“Of what?”
“Of the ugly bluestocking.”
“Harry!”
Charlotte gripped the bridge of her nose in despair and walked ahead of her siblings. She had come to take them on their usual weekly walk in Hyde Park, an event that was often fraught these days thanks to Harry’s determination to cause trouble. Yet today it felt worse than ever.
“Do not talk to me again,” Rose snapped at her brother. “I do not want to hear your voice.”
“Shall I put all my words down in a book instead? You might actually care to pay attention then.”
“You are insufferable. I cannot stand you. I can’t wait until you’re old enough to go to university. Maybe then I’ll get some peace, so –”
“So you can read more books?” Harry challenged her. “You’ll turn into a book at this rate.”
Charlotte glanced over her shoulder. Rose and Harry were dropping behind her now in their infernal argument, though neither of them appeared to have noticed. Harry was walking with ease, swinging his arms at his side and smiling triumphantly at his sister. Rose was outraged, a fierceness in her eyes and her closed book now clutched in her hand. She looked tempted to lash out at her brother and use it as some sort of weapon.
Charlotte’s pace faltered as she looked around the park.
A number of people were gazing their way. Some ladies with haughty expressions turned away, raising their noses that inch higher into the air. There were gentlemen too who glowered at the spectacle that Rose and Harry were making of themselves.
Good God, what would Aunt Susan say to this? What will people say?
“Rose, Harry.” Charlotte stepped back toward them, forcing a smile in case anyone was looking at them, though she hissed between gritted teeth. “You two are making a spectacle. Do you wish to be the talk of the park in your argument?”
“I don’t care.” Harry shrugged, but Rose did. She blushed a deep shade of red then thrust the book toward Harry accusatorily.
“He started it,” she complained.
“Did not.”
“Did too.”
“How old are you both?” Charlotte’s forced smile as she looked between the two of them. “You’re not five and six anymore. Are you really incapable of having a civilized conversation in public? Can you not see how shameful it is to cause such a display?”
She turned on her heel again and walked on. She forced a smile at a lady she recognized passing by, but the lady did not return that look. If anything, the lady hurried on as fast as she possibly could, as if she feared being breathed on by Charlotte and her siblings.
Charlotte walked with a quicker pace now. She passed over the bridge in Hyde Park and walked along the river. For a minute or so, her brother and sister remained silent, then there was a sudden squeal of panic.
“What are youdoing?” Rose cried. “Harry, give it back.”
“Would you two hush?” Charlotte begged as quietly as she could, but her siblings carried on as if she had not spoken at all.
“You want it that badly? I wonder if I threw it in this river if you’d dive in after it. Imagine what Charlotte would say to us then.” He laughed, almost hysterically at the idea, as if it was the greatest joke that he heard all day.
Charlotte froze and turned back toward him, her gaze narrowing. He tried to stifle his laughter, but failed, as Rose was now jumping up and down, trying her best to capture the book he had taken from her.
“Give it back,” she begged.
