“I did tell them so, Bea. The maids didn’t lie to you,” Nancy replied as she sat up from the bed.
Beatrice scoffed, “Are you ill? Blueberry scones are your favorite! You never say no to them.”
Nancy found herself chuckling a bit at her sister’s bafflement.
“No, dear. I’m not ill. Just not hungry,” she replied as Beatrice set the tray on the little table beside her bed and sat down.
“Have some tea first. It’ll help grow your appetite,” Beatrice handed her a steaming cup of tea, “I’ve already added the milk. Don’t worry, I haven’t made too ‘blond’ as you say.”
Nancy felt the corners of her lips twitch as she took the cup in her hands. Her little sister knew exactly how she liked it.
“Thanks, Bea.”
“Drink up. It’ll help with the sadness too.”
She had thought that the hurt would have eased up because she had spent her nights at her family’s new residence crying herself to sleep. Her mind had conjured the faces of her mother and her husband on a repeated cycle of torture, their expressions and words taunting her endlessly.
Nancy felt utterly alone and was devastated by the time the sun had risen. She had not wanted to see or speak with anyone and had kept to herself through most of the week, only leaving her room when Anne had come to ask her to accompany her and Dash on a walk.
As Nancy swallowed, her eyebrows rose at her sister.
“Oh come on. I may be young, but I am not stupid. And I witnessed the first part of your argument with Mama the other day.”
“I am sorry you had to see that, Bea.”
“Do not apologize. She was totally unfair towards you.”
Nancy pouted, the harsh words she had delivered echoing in her mind. As the days after their argument had passed, her guilt had grown like a terrible sore over her chest.
“Well… Not entirely. Mama is only concerned for your well-being,” she said.
“But what about your well-being? We’ve got this house here, which is just as beautiful, if not more beautiful than Suttington Manor, we have each other… What else could we ask for?” her sister said as she sipped on her cup and tore a chunk from the scone before throwing it in her mouth.
“She’s our mother. It’s her job to worry,” Nancy replied.
“Why are you defending her? Aren’t you the one who stormed off?”
Nancy narrowed her eyes at her, “How exactly do you know that?”
Beatrice looked down at her cup in feigned innocence, “I guessed it. That’s no matter. I am here to cheer you up.”
Her sister handed her a piece of blueberry scone. Nancy hesitated and Beatrice then shoved it in her mouth.
“You have to eat something!” she giggled.
“Hey!” Nancy said through mouthfuls of crumbs as she took the piece out of her mouth, “All right, all right, I’ll have some. Just please do not choke me.”
She couldn’t help but giggle along with her sister, the weight of her conflicts somehow becoming slightly lighter.
As she and Beatrice munched on the scones, she noticed her sister’s face dimming.
“What’s the matter?” Nancy asked.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Beatrice waved a hand dismissively as she finished her tea.
“Bea,” Nancy put her hand on her sister’s chin, “Come on, it’s me. You can tell me.”
Beatrice looked down once.
