Chapter Six #2
Kate sat on her bed now, trying to weave together two different colors of jute she had purchased at Rhomberg’s.
The sun had already begun its descent, however, and it was getting harder to see in the dim room.
She wanted to get up and switch on the light, but she was reluctant to let go of the braided strands.
She peered at her work, concentrating intensely when she heard a car door bang.
She jumped, and the strands slipped through her fingers, ruining her latest pattern.
Kate got up, her insides clenching, and went to her tiny window. A group of people were tumbling out of a car, laughing and shouting their hellos. Ray appeared on the lawn to greet them. They were obviously friends of his. She let the curtain drop and slumped back onto her bed.
As more and more people began to arrive, the noise from below started to intensify.
She wondered if she should go down and fetch Minnie, but she had no desire to be a part of any of this.
She heard a loud bang and prayed that nothing would get broken.
Picking up her strands of jute, she tried to figure out where she had left off.
Before she had gotten very far, however, there was a light rap on her door.
“Kate?” called a voice.
It was Edmund.
Kate again dropped her work and scrambled up. “Edmund?” She opened the door a crack. “What are you doing here?”
Edmund smiled, his dimples showing. “Well, I’ve come for the party. Ray invited me this morning when I stopped over to do the milking.”
“Oh.”
“Louisa told me you were up here. ‘Sulking’ is the word she used.” Another smile tugged at his lips. “Can I come in?”
“Oh, yes. Come in.” She opened the door wide and returned to her bed, plopping down on it. “You know you don’t need to ask.”
Edmund stepped inside. He seemed taller somehow, but it was probably the fact that not only was his head bent to avoid the dormered ceiling, she was looking up at him from a seated position.
As children, they had spent many hours in this room playing or reading or hiding during endless games of hide-and-seek, but it felt strange to be up here with him now, as adults.
He closed the door behind him. “Why aren’t you downstairs, Possum? Are you not feeling well?”
“No, it’s not that. I just don’t feel like socializing, I guess you could say.” She picked up a few strands and tried again to weave them.
Edmund watched for a few moments. “Working on something new?” He gently eased himself onto the end of the bed, careful not to disrupt anything.
“Well, I’m trying.” She kept her eyes on the project.
“I don’t know how you do it.”
“Do what?”
“Create something from nothing.”
She glanced at him briefly and was about to return her attention to her basket when she paused.
If she wasn’t mistaken, there was something new in his eyes.
Something more tender than before, and she felt a corresponding something deep within her.
She studied the tiny, familiar scar near his right eye, his dimpled chin, his smattering of freckles.
She had seen his features a hundred thousand times, but tonight they seemed different in some way.
Her pulse picked up a little, which unnerved her, and she pulled her eyes back to her work.
“You do the same,” she said, giving a little shrug. “You put specks in the ground, and you get corn and wheat and vegetables. Something from nothing.”
Edmund gave a little laugh. “I s’pose you’re right.”
She had not meant it to be funny, but she couldn’t help but smile, too. “Anyway, it was you that encouraged me to try. Remember? That day you found me in the badger hole?”
“I do!” He laughed, fingering a strand of jute. “You know, Kate,” he said more seriously, “I was thinking that . . .” He suddenly looked uncomfortable. “That maybe—”
He was interrupted by a quick, loud knock.
“Kate?” called an unfamiliar woman’s voice. “Are you up here?”
The door opened, and Mary Crawford’s head popped round it. Her eyes grew large at the sight of the two of them on the bed. “Oh! I do beg your pardon!” she said and quickly closed the door.
Edmund jumped up and hurried over, throwing it open. “Mary!” he called, clearly expecting her to be halfway down the stairs, but, no, she was still right outside the door. He nearly knocked her over in his haste to call her back.
He took a step back, staring at her. “I . . . I didn’t know you’d be here.” He quickly smoothed his hair. “You look different,” he added admiringly. “I mean, in a good way. Doesn’t she, Kate?” He glanced over his shoulder and then looked back at Mary as if she were some sort of goddess.
Kate, too, could not stop staring at Mary’s exquisite silk evening gown in the deepest emerald green she had ever seen.
It was accentuated with silver jewelry, a glistening silver belt that hugged her thighs, a silver hair clip in her black bobbed curls, and even silver T-strap heels.
Her lips were a bright red, and her rouge a perfect pink.
She was a vision of loveliness, like she had just stepped out of the pages of Vogue.
Is this what she imagined one wore to a farmhouse party?
Kate wondered, looking down at her plain blue housedress.
Mary laughed prettily. “Well, thank you, kind sir. Louisa stopped in just this morning and asked us to come,” Mary replied. “So sweet of her, and luckily, we had no other plans. So here we are!”
“Your brother is here, too?” Edmund asked, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Well, of course he is! I couldn’t come unchaperoned, now, could I? Not like the two of you here in this cozy den. Have I interrupted anything scandalous?” She flashed a devilish grin. “Oh, please say that I have!”
Edmund blushed deeply and gave an uncomfortable little grunt. “Ha! No, nothing like that! We were just talking, weren’t we, Kate?” He glanced at her quickly and then back at Mary. “Do you want to come in? Is that aright, Kate?” He threw her an anxious look.
Kate did not want Mary Crawford to enter her inner sanctum, but she saw no way to say so without being rude, especially as she was practically in the room already. “I suppose so, but it’s pretty small.”
Mary stepped into the tiny dormered attic space.
“How utterly charming!” she declared, looking around.
“A perfect little space. And what is this?” She studied the various materials strewn across the bed.
“Are you working on a basket? How splendid! The artist at work. Oh, I do wish Henry could see this. Would you mind if I asked him up?” she asked, moving toward the door.
“No!” Kate snapped, louder than she had intended. “I mean, no,” she repeated in a lower tone. “Please. I’m feeling a little tired.” She set her materials down.
“Oh, surely not!” Mary declared, turning back. “Are you not to join us below? You’re the one I came up here to find!”
“Thank you, no.”
“But why not? It’s most entertaining. I’ve met your brother, Ray, and he says he’s going to start a bonfire soon!”
“You’re hardly dressed for a bonfire!” Kate couldn’t help but scoff.
“Kate!” Edmund exclaimed. His tone was slightly scolding, which infuriated her. Who was he to chastise her?
Mary let out an amused little chuckle. “Well, all the better to feel the benefit of a fire, don’t you think?
Though, I did bring a coat. Really more a wrap, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.
” She laid a hand on Edmund’s arm as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“You’re staying for the party, aren’t you? ”
Edmund did not respond immediately, and Kate saw his Adam’s apple bob a couple of times. He was staring at her like a man possessed.
“I have a mind to . . . yes,” he faltered. “I came up to get Kate, you see.” He gestured weakly.
“Ah! So, you have two envoys, Kate! How popular you are!” she twittered. “Come, we’ll make up our own little party, shall we?” She held out a slender manicured hand to Kate.
Kate frowned. “I’m not coming down. You two go on ahead.”
“But why? Don’t you like parties?” Mary entreated, her bright red lips pursed.
“Not particularly.”
“None? You must like birthday parties, at least?”
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never had one.”
“Never had one!” She looked at Edmund with wide eyes.
“Well, since I don’t know when my birthday really is, we’ve never celebrated it.”
“Ah, yes! Frank was telling us that you were an orphan.” Mary paused, thinking, and tapped her lips with her elegant fingers. “But surely you have some date by which you mark your age.”
“Mom picked March 15th.”
“Ooo! The Ides of March. How perfect for such a gothic heroine stuck up here in the attic.”
Kate had no idea what the Ides of March were or what it meant to be gothic, so she did not respond. Instead, she flashed Mary a grimace and picked up some twine.
“See what I mean?” Mary gave a pretty little laugh. “Well, I have obviously failed in my quest to abscond you. Edmund, it’s up to you to convince her.”
Edmund cleared his throat, looking uneasy. “Can’t you come down for just a little bit?” he implored.
Kate’s brow creased severely. She was still a bit annoyed with him for scolding her.
Mary retreated to the door. “Well, I’ll let you two discuss the matter further in private. I sense some unrequited tension between the two of you. It’s utterly delicious, but I’ll only ruin it if I remain.”
Unrequited tension?
Kate looked to Edmund, who seemed equally confused by this comment.
Mary stepped out into the hall but then turned, one hand still on the knob. “But Edmund, do try your best,” she said sweetly, as if he were hers to command! It infuriated Kate all over again. Worse, Edmund seemed all too willing to obey.
Mary flashed another smile and then retreated down the steps.
Before Edmund could even speak, Kate cut him off. “Just go,” she said bitterly.
Edmund did not leave, however, but slumped back down on the bed. “What’s wrong, Kate?” he asked heavily, as if she were the problem.