Mischief and Manors

by Ashtyn Newbold

  I wiped the smile from my face. “Do not let your pride be elevated too severely. We Downings have a slight propensity to laugh very easily.” I raised my eyebrows at Peter and Charles, who had begun to giggle in affirmation of my claim. They had finished their biscuits, so I looked again to Owen, and was surprised to see him staring at me again with that intent look in his penetrating eyes. Why did he always do that? I found it completely unnerving. I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, eager to escape it. “Is that all?”

  The intensity of his eyes softened along with my tenseness. “Almost. I have only one question.

  “What?”

  His amused smile returned. “Tell me, Annette—why are you still covered in vomit?”

  My gaze shot down to my dress and I laughed, realizing to my dismay that I still hadn’t changed. Owen laughed too, and it was then that I noticed just how much I liked the sound. His laugh was low and musical, contagiously delightful. It was then too that I realized, no matter how atrocious he was, that I didn’t mind him calling me by my Christian name.

  A

  Chapter 5

  Istood in front of the mirror in my room, smoothing my hands over the clean blue gown I now wore. In comparison to Mrs. Kellaway’s lovely dress, it looked dull and plain. Not to mention that my hair was falling from its knot, and my face looked every bit as red as it had this morning. Dinner was soon, and I was struggling immensely with my appearance, whether I wanted to admit it or not.

  I walked closer to the mirror, pulled the pins from my hair, and ran my fingers through it, attempting to make myself somewhat presentable. It was always a futile effort, but tonight I needed to look nice. It was the best I could manage. A knock sounded at the door, pulling my attention from my task.

  “Yes?” I turned toward the doorway.

  Lizzie’s high, friendly voice echoed through the hallway. “May I enter?”

  I faced the mirror again. “You may.”

  I saw Lizzie’s reflection as she walked through the door. She stopped dead in her tracks, her jaw dropping to her collar. “What are you doing?” she gasped.

  My hands froze. “Making myself presentable for dinner.”

  She shook her head and hands in a fluster. “No, no, no. No. Please excuse me, I will return shortly.” Then she turned and ran from the room, letting the door swing shut behind her.

  I scowled at my reflection. What was that about? I shrugged and pulled hard on my hair, loosening a thick tangle.

  A few minutes later, after my many attempts to tame my hair, Lizzie burst through the door, wielding a heavy hairbrush and a box of other items like decorative pins and cosmetics. She walked behind me and waved the hairbrush in the air. “Allow me.”

  “No, Lizzie, you don’t have to,” I protested quickly. But she was already pulling a chair up behind me and pressing down on my shoulders for me to sit down.

  She clucked her tongue in disapproval. “Good heavens, why didn’t you allow me to help you dress? This gown is too plain for dinner.” She stared into the mirror at my reflection. “I am going to make you look beautiful!”

  It had been so long since I had even considered beauty a possibility for me. Or since I had cared. But a girlish excitement lit up inside me at the thought. Then I remembered. “I don’t have a prettier gown than this one.”

  She smiled at me. “Then I will have to make your hair breathtaking enough to outshine it.”

  I saw my eyes spark with excitement in the mirror the moment Lizzie’s did. She nearly jumped with joy and set to work brushing through my hair. She smiled as if it was her favorite thing in the world to do. Then she froze, lifting the brush from my head. “Oh! Wait a moment. We must turn your chair around.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because facing the mirror will ruin the surprise.”

  “Oh.” I nodded and turned my chair obligingly, and she immediately set to work again. I cringed as she untangled an exceptionally large knot.

  “You will absolutely love Mr. and Mrs. Everard. They are completely darling,” she said giddily.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Everard?”

  “They’re Mrs. Kellaway’s parents. She informed you of their arrival, yes? They are expected to arrive very soon.”

  “Oh, yes, she told me.” I felt extremely relieved that there would be other guests staying here as well. This way, my brothers and I would not have to be the very center of attention. My heart sunk as I realized that I had let Peter and Charles out of my sight again. How had I been so daft? I should have kept them under constant watch after the incident in the kitchen.

  I whipped my head around, cringing as the movement caused my hair to snag in the hairbrush. “Lizzie, do you know where my brothers have gone?”

  She continued calmly brushing my hair. “They wished to go out and explore the grounds. Is that all right?”

  My heart fell. “Is someone watching them?”

  “Yes … yes, I think so.”

  I relaxed only slightly. “Perhaps I should go check on them.”

  “No, no, miss! I am almost finished. Your hair is already smooth, and I will have it arranged in ten minutes.”

  Almost finished? She had barely started. Lizzie gave me a wide, reassuring smile and set to work pulling strands up and pinning them, her movements faster than before.

  Several minutes passed and I grew impatient. I had begun wringing my hands together, feeling pins scrape against my head as Lizzie worked quickly and skillfully.

  “There.” She stepped back to admire her work. “You look lovely. Now only a bit of cosmetics to make the red of your face less intense, and you will be breathtaking.”

  I sat patiently as she applied a thin layer of what she called her “own concoction” (which frightened me a bit) then clapped her hands together gleefully and released a dramatic sigh. “Yes, yes, not a soul will even bat an eye at the gown.”

  I stood and turned tentatively to the mirror. My hair was pulled up loosely, with intricate twists and braids trailing to a bun. My face was no longer bright scarlet, but appeared to be in a constant pink blush. But mostly, the glint of confidence in my eyes was what surprised me. Now I needed only to be able to act as elegant as I felt. Surely I could unearth my manners from the days that my parents regularly exposed me to society.

  “Thank you, Lizzie,” I said, smiling.

  “Oh!” she gasped. “Yes. Keep it.”

  My brow furrowed. “Keep what?”

  “The smile, of course! Dr. Kellaway will be unable to stop staring.” She gave me a little grin.

  I shot a warning glance at her. She knew that I did not desire Owen’s attentions more than I did Aunt Ruth’s. She put a hand to her mouth. “Forgive me.” I could tell she was hiding a grin behind that hand. “Come, I will show you to the drawing room.”

  We reached the bottom of the staircase and I hurried to the window, looking for any sign of my brothers. My gaze swept over the grounds behind the home, taking in a huge expanse of land. The neatly trimmed grass stretched far and wide, framed with lush and beautifully tended gardens and topiary. I could see a set of stables and an orchard. But despite the beauty they beheld, my eyes were still missing what they sought. Peter and Charles were nowhere in sight.

  “Lizzie, I don’t see them.”

  She rushed to the window and took a look for herself. Her eyes squinted to small slits. “They must have come in already.”

  I shot her a worried glance before following her under the golden archway and to the door of the drawing room. Distracted, I nearly collided with her. She stood with her ear pressed against the door. “Oh, my! It sounds like the Everards are already here!” She opened the door and gave me a slight nudge. “Go on.”

  I stepped through the doorway and immediately saw Peter and Charles, both wearing giddy expressions, standing beside a wispy-haired old man who was sitting in a chair on the right side of the room. I sighed with relief. At least they hadn’t indulged in any further mischief.

  I linger
ed where I stood and observed an elderly woman sitting near my brothers, with Mrs. Kellaway beside her, and Owen—looking quite handsome—lounging on the sofa in the corner of the room. Just as my gaze found place on his face, his eyes flickered up to meet mine. Something flashed quickly across his features. Was it admiration? I quickly banished the thought and stepped farther into the room.

  Mrs. Kellaway stood and rushed toward me. “Annette! You look absolutely stunning!” She admired my hair. “Was this Lizzie’s doing?”

  “Yes.” I looked down demurely. I wasn’t exactly one to ravish in having extra attention on myself, so when I noticed that all eyes in the room were on me, especially the pair of intense blue eyes in the corner, I felt a cursed blush burn slowly up my cheeks.

  “Come, come, meet my parents.” Mrs. Kellaway waved me forward. She held her hand out to the stout old woman who sat with great posture on the recamier. “This is my mother, Mrs. Harriet Everard. And Mother, meet Miss Annette Downing.”

  The woman smiled buoyantly. “Aren’t you darling!” Her extremely high-pitched, friendly voice shocked me. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Downing. I have already met your brothers. They are quite darling themselves.” Her hazel eyes widened when she spoke, as if she was constantly engulfed in rapturous surprise.

  I gave my most gracious smile. “I must warn you, their faces can be somewhat deceitful … they usually prove to be quite disastrous.”

  She threw her hand out in disagreement. “Nonsense. No young boy is truly himself if he doesn’t prove to be disastrous every now and then. I am sure they will remain every bit as darling.” She winked.

  I smiled. I liked this woman immensely. “Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Everard.”

  She held up her hands in objection. “Please, call me Grandmother.”

  My heart warmed at her request. I had never known any of my own grandparents, and Mrs. Everard seemed to be the very epitome of what I would want my grandmother to be like. I nodded in silent acceptance of her request and followed Mrs. Kellaway to stand before the old man to whom my brothers had been speaking. She introduced me to him as she had to her mother, then introduced the man to me.

  “This is my father, Mr. Hugh Everard.”

  I curtsied politely. “It is nice to meet you, Mr. Everard.” His response consisted merely of a curt nod of his head, the movement making his thin, wispy, white hair sway.

  His wife, Grandmother, leaned over the edge of the recamier and remarked, “Hugh. That rough exterior is not fooling a soul.” She turned her gaze on me. “You may call him Grandfather.”

  I laughed softly and politely, the way I remembered hearing my mother laugh in social settings. “Very well.” I gave Peter and Charles a questioning look, grateful to have them so near as a diversion from polite conversation—a skill I had never possessed. “What have you two been doing?”

  “We played outside and then we came inside and talked to Grandfather,” Peter said. “He taught us a trick.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Really? May I see it?”

  Peter looked uncertainly at Charles, then back at me. “Grandfather should show you, he’s the best at it.”

  Grandfather chuckled lightly. “No, no, I will allow you to show her.” His voice was low and soft, a surprising match to his gruff appearance.

  Peter and Charles clasped their hands together in pleading gestures. Charles stuck out his lower lip. “Please, please, please, show her?”

  I could tell that Grandfather was considering it, his mouth twisted in thought. “Oh, very well,” he said, giving in. He pointed a blaming finger at my brothers. “How could I possibly say no to those eyes?”

  “It is horribly difficult,” I agreed.

  Grandfather sat up in his chair and looked at my brothers in silence for several seconds, building the suspense in their eyes. “I shall begin.”

  I glanced up to see Owen hurrying over to stand beside me. “Wait, Grandfather, I want to see this too.” He rubbed his hands together and let his gaze settle on my face. “It never fails to amaze me.”

  I pressed down my smile before it could form. He was utterly ridiculous.

  “Does anyone else wish to join us before I begin?” Grandfather asked impatiently.

  His wife waved her hand dismissively. “We can see you well enough from here.”

  He took that as leave to start, turning in his chair to face his audience. I watched as he held up two fingers, pinched together. “This is my invisible needle and thread. Grandmother over there gave it to me as a gift for my birthday. She is always insisting that I learn to sew.” He smiled wryly, letting a pause precede his words, “And learn to sew I did.”

  Peter and Charles giggled, their eyes lit bright with excitement.

  “I am going to sew my mouth right shut.” Grandfather took his pinched fingers to his upper lip and poked the right side of it. “Oh!” he gasped, feigning the pain that would come from the poke of a needle.

  A smile crept onto my face as I watched the hilarity of his facial expressions. He pulled his invisible needle up through his lip, pulling it up and down, up and down. As he did, the corner of his lip moved as if truly suspended by a strand of thread.

  Peter and Charles gaped in amazement. Owen shook his head as if completely bewildered. “Amazing. Absolutely amazing,” he whispered, giving me a grin that I saw from the corner of my eye.

  Grandfather repeated the mime with all four corners of his lips, then pretended to knot the end of the thread. His eyes widened in fear as he attempted—but failed—to open his mouth. “Mmph mmm mmph!”

  My brothers burst into giggles and clapped their hands. I laughed and against my conscious will, turned my head to Owen, who was laughing too. I looked away quickly. He was only seconds away from saying something that would make me angry, I was sure of it.

  Grandmother, Grandfather, and Mrs. Kellaway were already sitting—Grandmother and Mrs. Kellaway on the recamier and Grandfather in the chair in front of me. Owen went to the corner to reclaim his seat on the sofa, and my brothers took their seats on the settee beside Grandfather. I could already tell that the three of them would be fast friends.

  I surveyed the room for a place to sit, standing awkwardly as I did so. And, of course, the only place available was beside Owen, who sat wiggling his eyebrows and patting the cushion beside him. I glanced around one last time, searching desperately for an alternative. There were none, so I reluctantly walked over and joined him on the sofa, sitting as far from him as possible.

  He greeted me with an amused smile. “It looked as if you wanted to flee from the room when you realized the only place to sit was beside me.” He regarded me in a serious way that I had not seen before now. “If I have done anything to offend you, I apologize. Everything was only meant in joking.”

  I sneaked a speculative glance at his face. He seemed sincere. Almost. But something about the way his lips were curled up at the corners made me feel like I was still being teased. I did not like it. Not at all.

  “I do not wish for your apology. I’m not easily offended.” My voice came out sharper than I intended.

  Apparently, to Owen, the sharpness of my voice belied my claim. “It sounds to me that you were offended. So please, accept my apology.”

  “No, thank you, I would rather not,” I said, taking a passive glance around the room.

  He groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. “You are very stubborn.”

  A small smile curved my lips. I thoroughly enjoyed my outward state of defiance—and the frustrated expression on Owen’s face. In fact, I felt oddly close to releasing a wicked laugh that would challenge even Charles’s display.

  In the midst of my self-celebration, I hadn’t noticed Owen shift to where he sat only inches from me. My heart gave a wayward leap at his closeness. I had been quick to learn that he did not live strictly within the bounds of propriety. He leaned in my direction to speak softly in my ear. “Would it help if I told you how beautiful you look?” Then h
e raised a questioning eyebrow and smiled crookedly, making that dimple appear again.

  My face blushed furiously and I looked around, hoping that no one had seen or heard him. What nerve, thinking he could woo me into accepting his apology with a compliment! And an ingenuine one at that. I pulled away quickly and scowled at him. “No, it would not.”

  He gave an exasperated sigh. “So you are offended by compliments. Hmm, is there anything that does not offend you? If so, I would love to hear it.”

  I glared at him, ready to snap a diatribe that would wipe away his maddening smile, erase that infuriating dimple. But before I could speak, Mrs. Kellaway’s voice pierced the tense silence. “Is everything well over there?” She gave Owen a stern glance.

  She must have noticed my glare. How embarrassing it would be if I were to admit that the only reason Owen was receiving my glare, was because he offered an apology and a compliment. So as quickly as possible, I said, “Yes, everything is fine.”

  I was grateful to see the door swing open just after I spoke, revealing the butler standing in the doorway. “Dinner is served.”

  Mrs. Kellaway stood and walked to him. “Thank you, Wilson.” Then she turned around and waved us forward. “Come, everyone. Follow me.”

  The walk to the dining room required decorum, so I grudgingly took Owen’s arm. In the dining room, Mrs. Kellaway was seated at the head of the table, with Grandfather in the seat of honor to her right, and Grandmother to her left.

  “Come, come, take a seat!” she said, her smile warm. I walked to the table, which was set for seven, but could easily accommodate at least twelve, and took a chair beside Grandmother. Charles sat down beside me, and Peter beside him. Owen took the remaining seat directly across from me.

  Frustration bubbled in my stomach. It would be nearly impossible to avoid his eyes with him sitting straight across from me. He seemed to recognize my dilemma, because just as I looked across to him, he flashed a smile in my direction.

  I glowered at my plate. Why did he seem to relish in my discomfort? Charles tapped my arm. “What’s wrong, Annette?”