Chapter 29
That evening, we gathered in the sitting room for games, something we hadn’t done since Father died.
While it still felt strange to have Algernon and Cynthia sitting where Father and Curtis would have been, it also had an air of comfortable companionship, at least from Algernon.
He was nothing like Father, but for the first time in a long time, there was laughter stirring in our home again.
We’d chosen a pantomime game, which was always one of my favorites. Comfort and I had always been unbeatable partners; it was as if we could read each other’s minds. I had been looking forward to playing again and slipping back into that easy rhythm with her.
Mother sat in her favorite chair, smiling as she awarded points and penalties to the two teams. In hindsight, it would have been better to split up Algernon or Cynthia, because neither of them looked as though they had ever played any sort of pantomime game in their lives.
Algernon, at least, laughed at his own floundering attempts and clumsy inexperience.
Cynthia, however, sat stiff-backed and lock-jawed, as though she’d been tricked into a chore instead of invited to a game.
Her haughty disdain hadn’t softened since Comfort’s sharp words earlier, something Mother and Algernon were quick to notice, especially after Comfort and I won by a wide margin in the first round.
“Let’s switch up the teams!” Mother suggested brightly and Algernon gave an overly dramatic sigh.
“You can try, Lenora, dear, but I’m afraid no one can make up for my poor acting. Cynthia, I’m sorry you had to partner me last round.”
Cynthia didn’t respond and Comfort and I exchanged glances, silently debating, as Mother’s voice gently coaxed, “Algernon, why don’t you partner with Comfort? And Truly, you and Cynthia will be a team.”
I gave a little shrug and scooted over to sit beside my new partner. Cynthia didn’t look at me, and kept her hands folded neatly in her lap. Did Mother know I would be more forgiving than my sister would?
Comfort went first, paired with Algernon. She was a good actress, dramatic and precise, and Algernon was far quicker to catch her cues than he had been with Cynthia.
“A bird! Eagle? Falcon? Owl!” he called out, nearly bouncing from his seat as he guessed.
Comfort nodded, picked up another slip of paper, and began again.
Algernon watched closely. “A boat? A stream? River? Ocean!”
Comfort grinned and picked up a third piece of paper.
“Your head? Hair? A crown—the king!”
“Time!” Mother called, clapping her hands with delight. Comfort and Algernon whooped and slapped hands like they’d just won a tournament.
Then Mother turned to Cynthia and me. “Your turn, girls.”
I stood, since Cynthia immediately shook her head when I gestured to her. I pulled a slip of parchment from the bowl. My word was reading. Easy. Too easy.
I mimed opening a book and scanning the lines with my eyes.
“Praying,” Cynthia guessed, her voice flat and uninterested.
I shook my head, turned an imaginary page.
“Clapping.”
I turned another page, licking my thumb dramatically.
“Tasting.”
For heaven’s sake. I sat on the floor, miming lifting a heavy tome into my lap and flipping through its pages.
“Sitting.”
“Time!” Mother announced again.
“Reading!” I burst out, exasperated.
“Oh,” was all Cynthia said, her tone dripping with indifference.
I forced a polite smile. “That is all right. We’ll get the next one.”
We didn’t. No matter how obvious my pantomiming was, Cynthia’s guesses grew duller and duller, as though she were trying to guess wrong on purpose.
By contrast, Comfort and Algernon seemed to grow livelier with each turn, laughing and applauding each other until the sitting room rang with their joy.
Eventually, Algernon proposed a history quiz instead, at which Cynthia perked up instantly.
Comfort and I, who had never seen much joy in memorizing battles or royal lineages, participated with thinly veiled boredom.
Still, I found myself watching Algernon more than the game.
He was easy-going and good-natured, he was sensitive toward everyone’s needs, and his eyes shone with adoration every time he looked at Mother.
He wasn’t a replacement for Father, but I came to the conclusion that he would be a wonderful stepfather.
Mostly, I was simply glad to see Mother happy again.
After the games, talk shifted to wedding plans. Comfort and Cynthia both lobbied for a grand affair, with banners strung across town, enough musicians to drown out the birds, and dancing until dawn. But Mother, after a quiet glance at me, shook her head decisively.
“We will have a quiet, simple wedding,” she said. “The engagement party was plenty already. Quite honestly, I’d prefer something small for the ceremony.”
I wasn’t fooled. I knew she was saying it for my sake, and my chest warmed with gratitude.
Then came more talk about living arrangements after the wedding. Cynthia wanted to stay at her manor, of course, but Algernon and Mother had already agreed: after the wedding, he and Cynthia would move here and the other manor would be sold.
At that, Cynthia’s icy composure finally cracked. She stood so quickly her chair toppled to the floor. “I’m tired. I’m going home.” For a second, she stood waiting for her father to follow her.
“I’ll be there in just a few more minutes,” he said.
Cynthia glared at where Algernon was holding Mother’s hand, then ran out of the house. The slam of the front door rattled the windows. For such a slim girl, she must have a lot of muscle hidden on her frame.
“I hope you will forgive my daughter,” Algernon said, looking at me directly. His voice was soft, almost pleading. “She really is a lovely girl. Her recent behavior is most unlike her.”
“It’s alright,” I said automatically.
But Algernon pressed on, his worry plain. “I would also like to apologize—most sincerely—for what she said before. That was unkind and uncalled for.”
“It’s alright,” I said, this time with more warmth. “I’m sure she didn’t mean it.” I smiled at Mother, then added, “People sometimes say things they don’t mean. I’ve done the same thing before and I was shown grace. I’d like to extend the same grace to Cynthia.”
Relief swept over Algernon’s face. He gently squeezed Mother’s hand. “Lenora, your daughters are remarkable.”
Mother beamed, eyes shining as she looked at us. “I know they are. They always have been.”