She glared at him, then narrowed her eyes in thought. Something sly passed over her features.
“Blind Man’s Buff!” she said, almost gleeful.
Oscar stared, unable to process it. “I beg your pardon?”
“Blind Man’s Buff,” Nancy repeated, as if this were the most obvious answer in the world. “You put on a blindfold. The children will guide you by sound alone. It is a game, Oscar. One you might even win.”
He stared, nonplussed. “You want me to chase the children around a room, blindfolded?”
She nodded. “It is safer than launching themselves from furniture. And you would not have to…look. At anyone.”
He started to protest, but the logic was unassailable, and something in Nancy’s smile made him want to refuse her nothing.
He found himself saying, “Very well. I will attempt your…game.”
Her eyes glinted, and Oscar braced himself for the onslaught.
Blind Man’s Bluff. What could possibly go wrong?
“An hour ago, you were ready to throw the children out a window,” Nancy pointed out, tying the scarf around Oscar’s head. “Now you’re submitting to games that involve blindfolds. I cannot quite believe my eyes…and ears?”
Oscar gave a noncommittal grunt and stood rigid with his hands clasped behind his back, like a condemned man awaiting the ax. He wore an old cravat over his eyes, the color clashing horribly with his waistcoat, but the effect was oddly disarming.
“Is it secure?” he asked.
Nancy gave the knot an extra yank, for good measure. “If you can see anything at all, you’re cheating.”
He said, “I have never cheated at anything.”
She snorted. “You have never played. That is not the same.”
The nursery was cleared for action, most of the obstacles already removed—except for the twins, who darted about, equal parts excitement and suspicion.
“Now,” Nancy said, “you will stand in the center. The rest of us will circle. If you catch someone, you must name who it is. Only then may you remove the blindfold.”
Oscar looked perfectly miserable, but he complied. “What do I do with them, once I catch them?”
“Do not eat them,” Clara said, from beneath the window seat. “That is all.”
Henry giggled, a sound so sharp and sudden it made Nancy smile in spite of herself.
Oscar stood in the center, every line of his body braced for humiliation.
“Are you ready?” Nancy asked.
“No,” Oscar replied. “But proceed.”
She signaled the children to begin. They moved in a loose orbit, Clara with the grace of a stalking cat, Henry in a series of unpredictable zigzags. Nancy herself crept lightly, savoring the oddity of the moment.
Oscar turned slowly, head cocked as if listening for artillery in the distance. He reached out, caught air, and missed by inches. Henry darted behind him and blew a raspberry, which set Clara off laughing.
Oscar stiffened. “Clara.”
“Incorrect!” Clara crowed, and Oscar had to start again, this time with less dignity.
The room rang with laughter. Even Henry, who had been so cowed earlier, joined in, emboldened by the new rules.
Oscar made a grab for Clara and missed, stumbling into the corner.
