Curled on the window seat, my cheek chilled against the fogged glass. The sun rose gradually, but the mountains and woods blocked its rays. Not like our old home.
Gardeners scurried across the pavement, clipping hedges and pruning rose bushes. Mother marched through the courtyard, arms flying as an extension of her commands. Father walked with more grace and reservation, allowing her to manage the most minute of details.
“You’ll wrinkle your skirt.” Timothy’s pulchritude was accentuated by the four-piece suit Mother insisted he wear. Dirty blond locks greased back and purple scarf tied tight, he looked like a miniature of Father.
Kicking my legs off the seat, I smoothed my violet skirt. “What’s it matter? A nobleman will come with his wife, they’ll say welcome to the territory, marvel at how well behaved we are, and then disappear.”
He squared his shoulders, hands behind his back. “We might not see them again, but Father works with them often.”
“Yes, yes. Ensuring export and import runs smoothly. But why couldn’t that be done from home?”
“Because the nobility are here. And if we’re to gain relevancy, we must intermingle.”
I banged my head on the window, wishing it opened to the sea. “I liked being irrelevant.”
Timothy smiled, cheeks growing rosy. “So did I.” The clatter of wheels caught our ears. A carriage rounded the fountain, Mother and Father waiting on the steps. “Best not be late.” Timothy extended his hand, gesturing for me to take it.
Reluctantly, I did. We raced through the house, passing stray boxes that hadn’t been emptied. Upon exiting the house and meeting our parents on the steps, our guests dismounted.
A gentleman in a green jacket and thick spectacles helped a lady with a massive skirt out of the carriage.
Father introduced himself, shaking the man’s hand. Mother gave a slight curtsy in response to the lady. Timothy and I stood on the steps, chins up and hands behind our backs. Waiting to be introduced and then ignored. As always.
Movement shifted the carriage. A boy no taller than Timothy emerged, smoothing his cream shirt and black hair. Eyes bluer than the ocean surveyed the grounds, dimpled cheeks brightening his tanned skin. A vision of pulchritude not yet seen in these foreign lands.
“And these are our children, Timothy and Wilhelmina.”
Lashes fluttering, I discovered a thousand eyes on us. Timothy nudged my arm. I curtsied hastily, glancing at Mother’s expression. She didn’t seem upset, so I mustn’t have dozed off too long.
“Such well behaved children,” the lady said.
Rising, I found the boy in front of me. Joy sparkled in his eyes, a stray strand falling over his brow. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Locking my jaw, I gave a slight nod. Throat achingly dry, I feared talking.
“This way to our school room.” Timothy gestured up the steps. Our guest followed.
My heart hammered. Why the school room? Had I missed his name? Feigning composure, I trailed behind them. They conversed little, and about nothing significant. The paintings we’d hung and the general architecture piqued the stranger’s interest.
However, I was ignored. As always.
Upon reaching the school room, I snatched a book and took my place on the window seat. Legs curled against the glass, I tried to pay attention to the words. But my gaze flitted above the pages, to the boy with the ocean eyes.
He and Timothy played cards, few words passing between them. Where Timothy looked exactly like our father, the boy didn’t resemble his. In fact, he took after his mother, even in posture and grace. He’d comb back his thick hair with nimble fingers before revealing a card, or lick his bottom lip when scanning his hand. And if he recognized either motion, he’d pause and apologize.
His manners were so different from the boys in the city. Their salty hair matched their sour expressions, gazes calloused like their hands. The world amounted to work and family. The frivolity of nobles made little sense, even when girls tried to explain the comeliness of high society.
I couldn’t say I understood. And given it was nobility that dragged us from the familiar, I don’t think I wanted to. Though I’d happily appreciate the grace of this stranger for the afternoon.
Timothy left with a quick mention of returning. The boy sat quietly, surveying the room with those glittering eyes. Until they fell on me.
I buried my nose in my book, not entirely sure what word I had left off on. Or started with.
“You have a beautiful house.” Slowly raising my head, I watched in horror when he stood beside me. He gestured to the seat. “May I?”
Pulling my legs in, he sat on the window seat. Sunlight sparkled on his skin and loose sleeves. “I always wondered what these grounds were like.”
Swallowing my fear, I replied, “It’s all right.”
His eyes met mine, butterflies filling my chest. “You don’t like it?”
“I liked waking up to crashing waves.”
His brow parted gently. “All places have their charm. Though I’ll admit this window doesn’t show the grandeur of the forest.”
“What’s great about trees?”
His dimples returned, eyes sparkling. “The morning song of robins. The sweet smell of pine. Not to mention riding through creeks. Every journey through the woods is an adventure.”
Closing my book, I sat up while he spoke. A slight accent colored his words, making them sound grander than their meaning. “Not sure I share your enthusiasm.”
A chuckle lighted his lips, tickling my ears and warming my cheeks. “No worries. Mother says I have enough for the whole kingdom.”
My cheeks pinked while I restrained a giddy grin. “Perhaps some will rub off on me then.”
“Reason enough to return. That and my home is just across the valley.”
“Then I guess I should learn your name.” My gut twisted. Shrinking back, I stuttered, “I mean, I know it. I just…”
He waved off my attempt. “Quite all right, my lady. Perseus is rather hard to remember, or even spell.”
“Then perhaps I’ll call you Percy.”