The Purpose of Miss Shepley

Chapter Six (part II)

Mrs. Burke insisted on dressing me in my best linen frock, and I was soon glad she had, even though it itched terribly.

Charles Shepley arrived not long after I'd breakfasted, pink-cheeked from riding and very smartly dressed. He wore a silk cravat and a coat of blue wool that matched his eyes a little too precisely. His boots were polished to a high gloss, and his flaxen hair was obviously a point of great pride for him. He wore it in the current fashion of the younger Folk -- long about his ears and meticulously disheveled.

Our meeting, like all our meetings, was awkward from the first. My grandfather clapped him on the shoulder, saying it had been far too long, inquiring after his mother and father, and generally voicing approval of what a fine figure of a man Charles had become.

And then it was my turn. I offered him my hand and curtsied, telling him, "Welcome to Ewert Hall, Cousin. It is a pleasure to see you again."

He kissed my hand, lingering over it too long. And then he wouldn't let it go.

"It is such a great pleasure to be here again..." he said, his eyes darting between my grandfather and me, "and a great pleasure to see my sweet cousin again, and my lord, sir... I am so grateful for your hospitality, and on such short notice. I do apologize for that. I hope it is not too inconvenient...? But I knew I must visit the ancestral seat again before I returned to Northpoint... A proper visit, you know. And after your fainting episode, well... Dear Cousin, I was gravely concerned for your health. I hope you fare well today?"

"Oh..." I tried to pull my hand away, but Charles still clung to it. I fought a frown. "I'm quite well, thank you."

"That's not like her, you know," my grandfather said. "Not like my poor Pearl... No, Edith's rarely even had a cold in her nose. Always been a hardy one, haven't you, girl?"

"Oh, yes. Very hardy," I agreed. I felt an urge I knew I should resist, but between Charles gripping my hand and my grandfather talking about me like some prize ewe, I was vexed, and the urge won over me. I said, "I've a strong back and good teeth, too." I smiled widely, showing them all.

My grandfather forced a laugh.

Charles dropped my hand and his perpetual smile, but he recovered quickly. He nodded to my grandfather, his eyebrows raised. "My cousin has an unusual wit." He said it as though he thought it a good thing.

My grandfather nodded, muttering, "Oh, that she does..."

It was decided that I should show Charles through the portrait hall, and then we'd lunch in the garden. And so, I found myself trapped, arm in arm and alone with him, under the vague gazes of our ancestors.

We made our way very slowly. There were over a dozen generations here, and Charles was keen to demonstrate that he knew them all.

"Oh, there's old Elgar Eweherd," he said. "He built the west wing in 324, you know, but it burnt down again in 326. This painting was the only thing salvaged from the rubble."

"Oh, no, there was quite a bit of silver and a rather clever toy boat. It's upstairs in the nurs-"

"Ah, and there's my great grandmother Purity. You know, she was forced to pose with the quill in her right hand, but in truth, she was left-handed."

I nodded quickly. "Oh, yes. Her needlework is all backwards. It's fascina-"

"Ah, and here's the miniature of Grandfather Able himself." Charles drew in a deep and affected breath. "Astonishing. I always forget how detailed it is..."

I tried to not frown. "How... often do you think of it...?"

Charles ignored my question, perhaps unsurprisingly, and advanced along the hall.