Donovan was sitting in an armchair and reading a newspaper, as if he were in a park on a sunny afternoon, oblivious to the commotion around him.
Maren, the second oldest, who Lila considered to be the quiet one—if any of these people could be considered quiet, which was debatable—was in the corner of the room with a book. Margaret, one of the youngest, whom they called Peg-leg Meg despite her having two fully functioning legs, was playing the piano. Birdie, the youngest at thirteen years, was on the floor, playing with a pair of rambunctious puppies that would streak away from her and tumble over each other across the floor. Lila watched Donovan lift his legs to allow the puppies to pass without looking up from his newspaper.
And the oldest daughter, Mathilda, or Tilly as she was called, was lurking in front of the large street-facing windows, her arms crossed, her gaze fixed outside. She looked terribly bored.
Blythe was sitting in an armchair next to Donovan, a small Pomeranian dog on her lap, resting its head on the arm of the chair.
“Lady Aleksander,” the butler intoned.
Beck jerked around at his desk. “Lila!” he practically shouted. Meg had not heard the announcement of a visitor and continued to play the piano. “So good of you to come. Please, come in, come in.”
“Thank you for seeing me on such short—”
“What’s that?” Beck shouted, rising to his feet and cupping his hand around his ear. “I can’t hear you over the piano!”
“I said thank you for—”
“Meg!”Tilly shouted. “Will youstop? My ears are ringing and no one can hear a thing!”
Meg stopped and looked up with surprise. “Why didn’t you say?”
“I just did. We have a guest,” Tilly said, gesturing half-heartedly to Lila.
Meg stood up to look across the piano at Lila. “Oh.”
Now all of them were looking at Lila. Even the dogs. “Good afternoon,” she said.
“You all remember Lady Aleksander?” Beck asked.
“Isn’t she the matchmaker?” Maren asked.
“What’s a matchmaker?” Birdie inquired.
“She’s not here forme, is she, Papa?” Tilly demanded. “I swear I—”
“She is not here for you, love,” Beck said. “At least, I don’t think she is.” He looked to Lila for confirmation.
“No, no,” Lila said.
But her quick answer caused Tilly to gasp with affront. “Whynotme?”
“Tilly, another time!” Blythe complained.
“That’s what you always say, Mama,” Tilly said, and turned back to the window. “I’m twenty years old! Does no one care?”
“I do, Tilly, darling,” Beck assured her. “I care very much. Now then, Lila, what can we do for you?”
Lila looked around the room. She’d really hoped for a little privacy. “I need a smidge of information.”
“Ah. Splendid.” He stood there expectantly, waiting for her to ask. They all looked at her expectantly, in fact.
“Oh. I see. I think it’s a private matter,” Blythe said.
“Yes, thank you. It is,” Lila agreed.
“And byprivate, you mean you wish my many offspring were not present to hear it?” Beck asked. “I assure you, they listen to no one.”
“Beck!” Blythe said. “She means to speak to you privately. She looks very serious just now.”
