Chapter 5 - Dahlia #2
For a moment, Dahlia had thought the thing alive, but upon closer inspection, she realized it was just excellent taxidermy.
"This is Reginald, my pet raven." She lifted one finger and stroked from the back of the raven's beak all the way over its head and down its feathers.
"How on earth did you get him to balance on your shoulder like that?"
"I had the taxidermist install clips to the bottom of his feet."
"Rachel." Dahlia leaned forward. "You must promise never to clip him to any of your silk gowns, or he'll ruin them."
"Fine." She rolled her eyes, as if disappointed that Reginald's appearance hadn't done more to shock Dahlia.
But they’d grown up together, and at least Reginald was properly cured and stuffed. This was nothing compared to the time when Dahlia had caught Rachel feeding a whole family of field mice in a straw-filled box behind their stables on Bainbridge Farm.
Rachel had always been a little different, but her interests were harmless.
Perhaps they would shock some people, but in Dahlia's experience, the difference between a person being called crazy versus just eccentric was a matter of money, and they had plenty of that.
Therefore, her sister was eccentric, and safe from Bedlam.
Dahlia glanced towards their aunt, wondering how the woman would react to such a display. For surely Rachel meant to shock her—that could be the only purpose. Well, perhaps not the only purpose—Rachel truly did seem to dote on her animals, stuffed or otherwise.
But the elderly woman simply wrinkled her brow. "Did you catch it yourself?"
"I found him in a shop." Rachel flounced onto the sofa next to Aunt Janie. Reginald gave a little bow with the movement but remained secure.
Dahlia couldn't help but notice that Aunt Janie snapped her ledger closed immediately.
"Poor thing," Rachel said. "He was all alone in a glass case, just staring at me. I had to have him."
"Does he know any tricks?"
Dahlia rolled her lips in to keep herself from smiling at the ridiculous question.
But Rachel nodded. "Reginald! Freeze!"
All three ladies stared at the taxidermied bird.
"Why, that's marvelous," Aunt Janie finally said.
"We're working on other ones." Rachel stroked the bird's feathers once more. "I haven't found what motivates him yet. Once I do, I'm sure he'll be the most famous bird in all of England. He's very intelligent, you see."
"Of course, darling. Are you getting yourself settled?"
"They're moving me to a better room now."
"That's good. If you don't care for that one, there are seven others. Might be interesting to try a rotation, if your maid is up for all the packing and unpacking."
Dahlia shook her head. She thought Mara was long-suffering; she could only imagine how dedicated Rachel's maid must be.
"Dahlia," Aunt Janie said, "there's been another delivery of flowers from that Calvin fellow."
"Ooh, who's Calvin?" Rachel’s eyes lit with curiosity.
"He’s only a friend. I'm teaching him how to court a lady."
"Are you certain he's not trying to court you?"
Dahlia lifted a shoulder. "I'm sure he would if I allowed it. But I've made it very clear from the beginning that this is for his edification only. We're making excellent progress."
"Doesn't that seem a bit cruel, to make a project out of a person?" Rachel tilted her head. "Won't his feelings be hurt?"
"Calvin is a special case. I assure you that I have his mother's full support in the matter. Before he met me, he tried to court several other ladies with disastrous results. However, I tell him quite plainly where he went astray in order that he might rectify his error and learn."
"So like a finishing school for gentlemen, then." Rachel turned to the bird on her shoulder. "You must mind your Ps and Qs, Reginald, or I shall send you off to be finished."
"I think he's as finished as he's going to get," Dahlia murmured dryly.
Rachel shrugged; the large bird lurched upwards. "The only time someone could be considered finished is when they're dead."
She pursed her lips. Her forehead wrinkled in confusion. "Yes, but Reginald is—"
"Don't you dare say it." Rachel extended a finger.
Dahlia looked heavenwards. "Very well. But Reginald must keep to his rooms during visiting hours."
Rachel sighed. "Must he?"
"You promised that you would give one Season of true effort to this endeavor. After that, you may wear Reginald to a ball for all I care."
A sly smile spread across Rachel's face. "Is that a promise?"
"I'm not going to prevent you from wringing any possible enjoyment from society. Just because your enjoyment looks a little different than normal…well, I'm not one to judge."
"It's one of the things I love most about you. I think we’re going to have a barrel of fun. So much better than living with Adelaide."
"Was living in Devon a trial for you?"
"Not at all. Adelaide's lovely and Percy is hilarious—so easy to rile. However, I felt I had to censor myself, in order to be an example for Hannah. I’d much rather fill the role of the younger sister than the elder. In this house, you’ll have to be an example to me and not vice versa."
"We're very nearly the same age.”
She shrugged. "I don’t make the rules."
Rachel glanced over, noticing Aunt Janie's stockinged feet. She bent towards her own boots, and Reginald stooped with her as if to peer at what she was doing. Dahlia shook her head. Sure enough, when Rachel sat up, she kicked off her boots and flexed her stockinged toes.
"Much better."
"Isn't it though?" Aunt Janie shuffled her feet to the side and slid the ottoman closer to Rachel in offering.
Rachel propped her feet next to Aunt Janie's and gave a sigh of contentment. "This is just lovely. The only thing that would make it better is a little tea."
She made hopeful eye contact with Dahlia, who rolled her eyes, stood, and made for the open doorway.
"Bernard, may we please have some tea?"
"And sandwiches," Rachel called from behind her.
Dahlia pressed her lips together. "And sandwiches, please."
"And biscuits, if there are any," Aunt Janie called.
Bernard looked vaguely amused, and Dahlia took it as a good sign that he wasn't offended at the ladies of the house hollering like harridans.
"And biscuits, if there are any, Bernard.”
"Right away, Miss Dahlia."
"Has he gone already?" Rachel asked when Dahlia reclaimed her seat. At her nod, Rachel sighed. "Oh dear, I should have asked for a bowl of birdseed for Reginald."
Dahlia shook her head. Sometimes she couldn't tell if her sister was serious or not. Then again, she wondered if that wasn't the point. Rachel loved to provoke a reaction in people. It didn't have to be a negative one; any reaction would suffice.
For several minutes, the ladies shared a comfortable silence, until Dahlia found herself thinking of that handsome stranger again.
She shook her head and asked, "Did you have a lovely afternoon playing cards, Aunt Janie?"
"Right. Cards." She blinked. "It was pleasant enough."
Behind Aunt Janie’s back, Rachel acted as if she held an invisible flask, tipped her head back, and pretended to drink.
Dahlia gave a little cough. “I'm pleased to hear it.”
Aunt Janie’s eyes narrowed; she looked back and forth between Rachel and Dahlia. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but a maid entered with a laden tea tray, set it upon the table, and began fussing over it. By the time the maid left, her moment of suspicion had passed.
She asked, “What are you most looking forward to this Season, Rachel?”
“Finishing the books in the library. Or at least as many as possible.”
“And what of beaux? Do you have any hopes in that area?”
“Not particularly.” Rachel slid several tea sandwiches onto her plate and began lifting the top pieces of bread to inspect the fillings.
“Like your sister, then.” Aunt Janie gave a pert nod. “I won’t have to worry about you a whit.”
Dahlia had to resist a sudden, perverse inclination to argue with her, to tell her that she’d been in an inappropriate scenario only just that day. Of course, she refrained from doing so.
She’d put the entire thing out of her mind. She needn’t think of that impertinent man ever again.