Selina doubted that they heard her because the rain and boom of the thunder were deafening. She found it all somewhat exhilarating, not minding the fact that she was soaked through. The only regret was going to be her sketchbook. She was probably going to have to start again, but she had enough art supplies in her trunk, so she wasn’t in the slightest bit bothered by it. Having the opportunity to begin her sketches again just meant more time to herself and being immersed in nature. Selina still had several weeks of stay on the country estate, so she welcomed the opportunity to get out of the house. She arrived at the front door and thought better of it.
“What would Mama say? She would have my head once I was all clean and warm.”
Getting in through the servants’ quarters was her safest option, so she snuck around, taking care to lay low. There was no telling if anyone should happen to look out of the windows and spot her dishevelled form. Selina burst through the kitchen door, laughing and breathless.
“Selina! Child! What were you doing out in that weather?”
She nearly groaned. Selina had forgotten that Mrs Albermale, the cook, was almost as bad as her mother when it came to mothering.
“I was sketching when the clouds decided to burst open and wet me good and proper.”
“You look like a wet dog with all that hair stuck to your scalp and shoulders!”
Selina narrowed her eyes at her sister, planting her hands on her hips.
“Is that so, oh sister dear?”
Ophelia giggled. “You should see yourself, Selina! If Mama were to see you ...”
“Then perhaps it’s best that you get wet along with me.”
Her sister furrowed her brow, her nose scrunched up.
“I shall not enter into that storm, so I hardly know what you could mean.”
When Selina stretched her arms out and went running towards her, Ophelia screeched and rounded the table.
“Don’t you dare, Selina! This is a new dress, and I shall not get it wet.”
Selina stopped and held her palms out, her face serious.
“Oh, alright, little sister. You win.”
Ophelia’s shoulders went down, and she breathed a sigh of relief. It seems that my sister does not know me well enough, or I am a great actress. I choose the latter. Selina ambled toward her sister, and when she was near enough, she grabbed her sister and hugged her tight.
“Selina!” Ophelia gasped. “How could you do such a thing? My dress!”
Selina gave her sister a sound kiss on her cheek before releasing her. She had made a visible wet print on her sister’s dress, but it was still nowhere as wet as she was.
“We do everything together, right? Might as well get wet together too. Do you not think so? You look mighty fetching in that partially wet-dog look.”
Ophelia looked at her dress and grimaced. Her laughter was unexpected and infectious. Soon Selina and Mrs Albermale joined in, their bodies shaking.
“Whoooo, you two will be the death of me,” said Mrs Albermale. “If it is not Ophelia trying to convince me to part with sweets, it’s Selina being a basket case. What will I do with the two of you?”
“Give us sweets?” Ophelia hopefully asked.
“Not tell Mama about my wet state?” Selina added.
“Ha! I see now. You wish me to dole out sweets meant for dinner, and lie to your mama?”
Both the girls nodded, their eyes pleading.
“You are always telling me that I should eat more to make myself plumper,” said Ophelia. “Do you not think that sweets would do the trick?”
Selina laughed. “You are hardly a stick figure, Phee. However, I doubt that a few sweets will make much difference.”
Ophelia shot her a withering look, sticking out her tongue before returning her sweet gaze to the cook.
“Do not mind my sister, Mrs Albermale. Selina is just jealous that she cannot consume your sweet treats with the same gusto that I can.”
Selina picked a potato peel off the table and aimed it at her sister, hitting her on her head. Ophelia gasped, her hand going to her head.
“Selina! I just had my hair washed!”
She laughed. “As did I. Only I had Mother Nature do the honours of washing my red locks.”
To prove her point, Selina swung her hair, releasing some wetness onto the occupants of the kitchen. Mrs Albermale, having seen her intent, had used her apron to block her face, but Ophelia had caught it full in the face.
“Selina! This the last straw!”
Ophelia ran towards her sister, pushing herself away from the table as she took a corner. Selina had already started running with a squeal, occupying the space her sister had just vacated. She was shorter than her younger sister, but she more than made up for that in speed.
“You come right back here, Selina!”
“And admit surrender? Never!”
Ophelia grabbed a handful of potato peels and pulled her arm back. Selina eyed them, her body ready to duck.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“I take after you, oh big sister of mine. I dare much.”
Mrs Albermale held her hands out. “Girls, girls! My kitchen is not a place for a food fight.”
Ophelia paid that no heed and hurled the handful of peels at Selina, who managed to duck from most of them, but a couple still got her. She landed on her knees and crawled under the table, meaning to grab her sister’s legs, but Ophelia was not to be caught in such a manner. She lifted herself onto the table and peered down, waiting for her sister to emerge.
“Selina! Ophelia! This is hardly proper, girls. Get away from that table at once.”
Selina ignored the cook, as she knew that Ophelia would as well. This was a customary thing for them to do, and they both understood the rules: whoever surrenders first will be the other one’s servant for one week. This was a game that they had played from their younger years in an effort to amuse themselves during stormy weather. It was as serious as it was playful. Selina gathered the peels on the floor into a pile and listened carefully to the telling creaks of the table above her. She would know exactly where her sister was as she shifted her weight across the table. There was silence. Oh, I see that she is learning. Smart girl.
“Girls! I shall call your mother if you do not stop this foolishness!”
“Oh, Mrs Albermale!” they both whined.
“We are merely playing, we truly are,” said Selina.
“Yes!” added Ophelia. “Selina and I often do this at home. Do not call our Mama, please. She would surely scold us until our ears rang with her disapproval.”
“Then you best come away from that table–I have a dinner to prepare.”
Selina hesitated. To come out would mean defeat, but neither did she want to earn her mother’s ire. She slowly crawled to the end of the table and looked up. To her surprise, Ophelia grinned down at her before dropping a pile of peels onto her face.
“I won!” She laughed. “You have to do what I say for the week now!
Ophelia jumped off the table, clearly pleased with herself. Selina hated to admit it, but her sister won fair and square. Gone were the days when Ophelia would constantly be caught by Selina; now she was the victor. Selina smiled.
“You are the victor, and I am at your service for the week. However, I shall not be doing anything that is untoward or wholly out of character for me.”
Ophelia held her hands out. “Agreed. But I do believe that I have earned the bragging rights to declare to whosoever I wish that I have conquered my sister.”
Selina took her sister’s hands, standing up and away from the table.
“Let us not become too enamoured with the idea, Phee. There are yet other games to play while we are here.”
“My dear sister, you are ever the sore loser.”
Selina had to admit that she loved to win, and often did, whether it was chess with her father or charades with her cousins–sans Susan and Martha. They never cared to take part in any games, believing themselves above s
uch frivolous ventures. Although what was so silly about their games, Selina could never understand. If anything, she believed that the cousins were not adept at playing games, and, not wishing to disclose such information that would inevitably taint their supposed perfect charms, they ridiculed those that would partake in games.
Selina laughed. “You may have your victory, and I shall be your servant, but this is far from over.”
“You both speak as though you may have an all-out war of some kind,” commented Mrs Albermale. “Why can you not be as the other girls? Mind you, this house would not be as entertaining had you girls been any different.”
“It is far too boring to be anyone else but ourselves. Besides, Ophelia is lady enough for both of us. I have never met a more poised and sophisticated young woman in my life. I would be jealous if I did not adore my sister. Furthermore, becoming a proper lady has passed me, Mrs Albermale. I am now the age of twenty, a marrying age for many. Ophelia will likely marry before I do, and it would not bother me.”
Ophelia came to her sister and put an arm around her waist, leaning her head against hers.
“You are the most precious sister around. I dare anyone to try and surpass your intelligence.”
Selina returned the side embrace, her manner thoughtful.
“Poor Mama had wished to find me a suitor in London this past Season, but perhaps she was consoled by the attention you garnered from a certain gentleman and yet you were not yet introduced!”
Ophelia immediately blushed. “Oh, hush, Selina. ’Tis nothing, I assure you.”
“Your rosy cheeks say another thing altogether. Do you think that we shall see him again?”
Ophelia looked down and shrugged, her mumbles unintelligible.
“What is this I hear? A suitor for our Ophelia?”
“Do not make much of it, I beg you. A brief conversation does not a suitor make. I wish to enjoy our stay without the need to remember any past encounters with any gentleman. Now, if you will excuse me, I must freshen up for dinner.”
Ophelia left the kitchen, her head held high. Selina had seen the longing looks her sister had shared with her young man, but she held back due to Selina’s ending failure during the Season. Ophelia was a dutiful and loving sister to a fault, but she would not allow her sister to give up her chance of love because of her. If Selina was to have love, she was confident that it would find her.
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The Lost Love of a Stunning Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 29
