Page 7 of Mischief and Manors (Change of Heart #1)

CHAPTER 7

I stood 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 dress, it looked dull and plain. My hair was falling from its knot. My face still looked like a boiled radish, though a little less red than before.

I walked closer to the mirror, plucked the pins from my hair, and ran my fingers through it. I pulled all my hair up to the crown of my head, my arms aching as I pinned down a few locks. When I released my grip, most of the hair fell back down to my shoulders. I gave a frustrated sigh, tugging the pins loose again. A knock sounded at the door, pulling my attention from my task.

“Yes?” I turned toward the doorway.

I saw Lizzie’s reflection as she walked through the door. She froze, her jaw dropping to her collar. “Miss—what are you doing?”

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

She shook her head in a fluster. “Please excuse me, I’ll return shortly.” She turned and bustled 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.

When Lizzie burst through the door again, she held a hairbrush and a box of other items that looked like decorative pins and cosmetics. “You mustn’t allow Mrs. Kellaway to see you arranging your own hair. ‘Tisn’t proper, miss.”

I met her gaze in the mirror. I was still unaccustomed to having my own maid. “I do it every day.”

“This is Kellaway Manor.” Lizzie pulled up a chair up behind me and pressed softly on my shoulders for me to sit down. “Old habits must be done away with.” Her eyes traced over me. “This gown is too plain for dinner.”

“This is my finest gown.”

She blinked. “Well, then, I will have to make your hair breathtaking enough to outshine it.”

A smile tugged on my lips. “Very well.” I had worn my usual chignon for years. It was orderly and neat and kept my eyes clear enough to keep careful watch of my brothers. I wasn’t certain what difference a more intricate arrangement could make in elevating my appearance, but I was willing to allow Lizzie to try.

She set to work brushing through my hair. She froze, lifting the brush from my head. “We must turn your chair around.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Because facing the mirror will ruin the surprise.”

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

“You will love Mr. and Mrs. Everard,” she said in a giddy voice.

“Mr. and Mrs. Everard?”

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

“Oh, yes, she told me.” At least there would be other guests staying here as well—perhaps then my brothers and I could avoid being the center of attention.

My heart sank as I realized that Lizzie was here and not supervising my brothers where I had left her earlier. Who was watching them now? 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 with them?”

“Yes . . . yes, I think so.”

I relaxed only slightly. “Perhaps I should go see.”

“No, no, miss! I am almost finished. I will have your hair 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. I wrung my hands together, glacing repeatedly at the clock. Pins scraped across my scalp.

“There.” Lizzie stepped back to admire the result. “You look lovely. There will be no need to pinch your cheeks. They are red enough already.”

She didn’t mean it as an insult, but I couldn’t help but scowl.

“On second thought, I will cover some of the sunburn.” She applied a thin layer of cream to my face followed by a puff of powder. I coughed.

When she finished, she clapped her hands together. “Perfect. No one will even notice the gown.”

I stood and turned toward the mirror. My hair was pulled up loosely, with intricate twists and braids. My face was no longer bright scarlet, but appeared to be in a constant pink blush. Now I needed only 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 with a smile.

She excused herself with a curtsy, leaving me alone in my bedchamber. I drew a deep breath, wiping my palms on my skirts. I needed to find Peter and Charles.

I reached the bottom of the staircase and hurried to the window. My gaze swept over the grounds behind the house. The neatly trimmed grass stretched far and wide, framed with lush gardens and topiary. I could see the stables and a conservatory of some sort, but Peter and Charles were nowhere in sight.

I walked to the golden archway and took a tentative step toward the open drawing room door. A mixture of relief and dismay dropped through my stomach. Peter and Charles were standing beside an elderly man and woman. Mrs. Kellaway sat beside them, and Owen lounged on the sofa in the corner of the room.

I lingered where I stood, silently observing from the corridor.

Owen’s eyes flickered up to meet mine. He had caught me.

I slipped through the door, feeling suddenly timid and overwhelmed. I touched a hand to one of the delicate twists in my hair. Owen’s gaze traced over me as stepped forward. He seemed to have been the only one to notice my entrance. I shifted uncomfortably. What was he staring at? He must have been surprised to see me in a clean gown with neat hair. He would likely tease me about it later.

Mrs. Kellaway stood and rushed toward me. “Annette, welcome!” She admired my hair. “Was this Lizzie’s doing?”

“Yes,” I said with a soft smile. I wasn’t one to delight in having extra attention on myself, so when I noticed that all eyes in the room were on me, I felt a cursed blush burn slowly up my cheeks.

“I must introduce you to my parents.” Mrs. Kellaway waved me forward. She gestured to the stout old woman who sat with perfect posture on the recamier. “This is my mother, Mrs. Harriett Everard. Mother, meet Miss Annette Downing.”

“What a pleasure, Miss Downing.” Mrs. Everard’s hazel eyes widened as she spoke, bringing greater emphasis to each of her words. “I have already met your brothers, and I find them excessively adorable.”

I smiled. “I must warn you, their faces can be somewhat deceiving . . . they often prove to be quite mischievous.”

She threw her hand out in disagreement. “Nonsense. No young boy is truly himself if he doesn’t prove to be mischievous every now and then. A small bit of mischief wouldn’t make them any less darling.” She winked.

Perhaps not a small bit . I truly hoped they wouldn’t give her any reason to change her opinion. I followed Mrs. Kellaway toward the old man with whom my brothers had been speaking. “Meet my father, Mr. Hugh Everard.”

I curtsied politely. 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 Mr. Everard,” Peter said, tugging on my arm with excitement. “He taught us a trick.”

I raised my eyebrows. “A trick? May I see it?”

Peter glanced at Charles, then back at me. “Mr. Everard should show you. He’s the best at it.”

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

“It is horribly difficult,” I agreed.

Mr. Everard sat up in his chair and stared at my brothers in silence for several seconds, building the suspense in their expressions. “I shall begin.”

I glanced up to see Owen walk over to stand beside me. “Wait, Grandfather, I want to see too.” He shot a glance in my direction. “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?” Mr. Everard asked in an impatient voice.

His wife waved her hand dismissively before placing a pair of spectacles on her nose. “We can see you well enough from here.”

Mr. Everard turned in his chair to face his audience. I watched as he held up two fingers, pinched together. “This is my invisible needle and thread. Mrs. Everard 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 lighting up.

“I am going to sew my mouth right shut.” Mr. Everard 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 his expressions. He pulled his invisible needle up through his lip, pulling it down, then up again. 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. He gave me a grin that I saw from the corner of my eye.

Mr. Everard 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 will, turned my head to Owen, who was laughing too. I looked away fast.

After the lip-sewing display was over, Owen went to the corner to reclaim his seat on the sofa, and my brothers took their seats on the settee beside Mr. Everard. I could already tell that the three of them would be fast friends.

I surveyed the room for a place to sit, bunching the sides of my skirts in my palms. The only place available was beside Owen. He gave the cushion beside him a pat. Did his brows wiggle? I couldn’t be certain. I glanced around one last time, in desperate search of an alternative.

Unfortunately, there were none.