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 lingered 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 he 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?”

I forced a smile for his sake. “Nothing.” I sneaked a glare through my lashes at Owen.

The food was brought in and everything looked delicious. Some sort of cream soup was served first with bread, and was followed by a vast array of beef, roasted duck, vegetables, and fruits.

Peter and Charles gaped in wonder as the food was placed on the table. Their expressions made my heart sink as I remembered our early months at Oak Cottage. My damaged ribs ached as if the pain was provoked by memory. While I had enjoyed many meals of this grandeur before my parents died, my brothers had never enjoyed food of this quality. I felt a sudden pang of guilt and inferiority at the thought that I couldn’t provide this splendor for them. When Aunt Ruth had grand meals made, she never shared.

The food was served and everyone dug in. My brothers quite literally dug in. To my dismay, they surpassed even their utensils, sipping their soup straight from their bowls. They picked up large chunks of meat and tore at them hungrily with their teeth, making juice dribble down their chins.

Mrs. Kellaway looked appalled. Owen was laughing secretively. “I suppose you truly meant it when you said their table manners were awful.”

I was tempted to put my face in my hands and keep it there for the rest of my life.

“Peter, Charles,” Owen said. They looked up for a moment, soup dripping from their faces. “Did you forget your spoons?”

Peter and Charles each offered a bashful grin. “Oh, yes. I forgot,” Peter said, lifting his arm to quickly wipe his chin.

Owen chuckled. “And your napkins?”

I laughed, embarrassed, and grabbed my own napkin, using it to clean Charles’s food-covered face. I shook my head as he broke into giggles.

Owen took his napkin, reached across the table, and began cleaning the rest of the soup from Peter’s chin. At the sight, I was struck by the memory of a time when my father had done that very thing, with the same warm look in his eye. I tore my gaze away. No. It wasn’t possible that he could have the same warm look as my father. My father was too kind and Owen was too … I actually didn’t know what Owen was.

“There,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Try to eat slowly and use your silver. I know it is difficult to remember when you’re hungry.” He gave them a broad smile that melted my heart a little.

When dessert was brought in, my brothers stared with unblinking eyes at the trays circling the table. I was about to offer Charles a pudding when he began squirming in his chair. “Georgie! Be quiet,” I heard him say in a hushed voice.

I gave him a puzzled look. “Who’s Georgie?” I followed his gaze as it traveled slowly down to the pocket of his trousers. A small, round lump sat quivering over his leg. Dread began creeping up my stomach and into my chest. “Charles. Who is Georgie?”

In answer, he reached his hand inside his pocket. Before I could stop him, he had removed Georgie from his pocket and was holding him high in the air.

To my complete distress, my suspicions were confirmed—Georgie was a mouse. A small grey mouse, who happened to have a very slick tail. For as soon as Charles pulled Georgie from his pocket, he slipped his tail right from between Charles’s fingers and scurried across the table. Charles stared after him with an adoring grin. “He is very quick, isn’t he?”

I very nearly dove across the table. The mouse stopped just in front of Grandmother, as if to take a look around.

I could have never imagined what chaos such a small creature would ensue.

Mrs. Kellaway pointed a shaking finger at the mouse and let out a scream that could have shattered the windows. She nearly tipped the table as she leapt from her seat. With a bloodcurdling shriek, Grandmother flew from her chair and ran across the room, clutching her chest in panic.

I also would have never imagined that Grandmother could move so quickly.

I looked around frantically, only to see Peter and Charles giggling hysterically at the riot their beloved new pet was causing. Jumping into action, I grabbed my empty glass and slammed the open end over the mouse, trapping it inside.

“Don’t hurt him!” Charles screamed, tugging on my skirts.

I twisted to look at him. My face flushed with embarrassment. “Take him outside.”

Charles quickly obeyed, snatching Georgie and hurrying to the door. Peter accompanied him. I could hear their secretive giggles as they left the room.

I sat back in my chair and put my face in my hands. How embarrassing! I was completely wrong to assume that they hadn’t been working mischief while they were out of doors unsupervised! Surely Mrs. Kellaway would not allow us to stay any longer. Two incidents in one day? Even I hadn’t expected their behavior to be this horrible.

I took a deep breath. Then another. “I am very sorry.” I did not dare look up, for fear of what their expressions would entail. Anger? Disapproval? After a long stretch of silence, the temptation was too great. I glanced up.

Owen was looking at me, his lips quivering in an apparent effort not to laugh. Grandfather sat rigid, his wrinkled face completely expressionless. Grandmother stood across the room, attempting to steady her breath, and Mrs. Kellaway had returned to her chair, but still looked extremely stunned.

I rotated in my chair and faced her shamefully. “I truly am very sorry.” It was all I could manage. How many apologies had been uttered within the walls of this house today? It seemed like thousands.

She drew a shaky breath and put on a smile. “Don’t worry, the fault is not your own.”

I nodded silently. But of course the fault was mine. My brothers were so young, and it was now obvious to me that I had not taught them well enough. After a long moment of silence, everyone carried on with the meal except Grandmother, who was still catching her breath in the corner.

My heart beat hard with shame. I looked across the table at Owen. He leaned forward and said in a hushed voice, “It would seem that the mouse was a rabid wolf by the way they reacted.” He pointed his gaze at his mother and Grandmother.

I allowed myself a small smile. “I’m surprised you were able to keep your wits. That thing was entirely terrifying.”

He laughed. “Entirely.”

Looking upon his smiling face, I was struck by a pang of guilt about not accepting his apology. He had meant it in earnest, and I had refused it. Although he was an unyielding, mischievous tease who could never be serious, I was fairly certain that his intentions weren’t all bad.

My thoughts were interrupted by a flustered sigh from Grandmother as she reclaimed her seat at the table. She shook her head then patted her hair tentatively. “Those boys ought to be kept on leashes.”

My eyes flew of their own accord to Owen. We looked at each other, as if to see who could hold out longer without laughing. His eyes widened and his shoulders shook. My lips pressed together and my chin quivered. Then, as if calling a truce, we both burst into laughter. I was reminded of just how infectious and delightful his laugh was.

Grandmother looked at us with confusion. “Am I truly that funny?”

Owen and I laughed until tears pooled in our eyes. Why Grandmother’s unknowing agreement with Owen on his absurd idea about leashes gave me such a keen urge to laugh, I knew not. I only knew that I hadn’t laughed this hard in years. Perhaps it wasn’t only Grandmother’s comment, but the look on Owen’s face that brought me to such a state. I sighed as my laughter subsided, feeling much lighter than I had felt only moments before.

Everyone else had resumed their own conversations and didn’t seem to notice Owen lean across the table. “Will you please accept my apology?” he asked, displaying his playful grin.

I looked at him appraisingly, for I did not want him to know just how relieved I was that he had asked again. “Yes,” I said with an unconstrained smile.

He sat back, relief apparent in his eyes. “Now that you are in a cheerful mood, will you also accept me as your friend?”

The question rang loud in my ears, pulling at my heart. When was the last time I had considered anyone I knew as a friend? After moving to Maidstone, I knew no one. Grief was aching fresh within me and I had no intention of making friends. I had taken on the role of a mother to my brothers and that was the sole purpose of my life. I made a promise.

“At least something better than an enemy?”

Owen’s voice brought my mind back to the present. My lips curled slowly into a smile. Something within me yearned for friendship with fresh longing. So, leaning toward him, I answered, “Yes.”

As I lay in bed that night, I was surprised by how easily sleep was eluding me. With the contributions of both a long, eventful day, and the new comfort of this bed, I expected that I would fall asleep the moment my head hit the pillow. But that was not so, for the opposing emotions within me were much too strong. Embarrassment, worry, and excitement all played their part in my inability to sleep, and my thoughts refused to dispel their thick clouds of unanswerable questions.

How did Mrs. Kellaway truly feel about us staying here? What did she think of Peter and Charles’s awful behavior? Would they ever learn to be well-behaved? And one question, that repeated itself, each time with renewed vigor, demanding an answer: what was it about Owen that made me feel so vulnerable?

Finally, after several hours of drowning in thought, my mind grew weary. I blamed my inability to answer these questions on the sleep that had begun blanketing my clear thought, carrying me down further and further into its depths until, at last, it swallowed me whole.

A