“Regardless, we can make it work,” Mattie said, turning her attention back towards her cousin. “It is your decision.”
Franny offered her a weak smile. “I think I would like to stay here.”
Mattie sat on the edge of the bed. “What if we went on a walk later today?” she suggested. “There is a charming spot in the woodlands where I like to sit on a rock and listen to the stream.”
“I think I would like that,” Franny said softly.
“Wonderful,” Mattie responded.
Emma spoke up. “I will join you, as well,” she said. “You never know when you might run into a rich, eligible gentleman.”
Mattie rolled her eyes. “I assure you, we will not encounter any eligible gentlemen on our walk.”
“Then why go at all?” Emma asked.
Ignoring her sister’s question, Mattie smiled at her cousin. “Have you had breakfast yet?”
“Mrs. Watson brought me up a tray,” Franny replied, gesturing towards the discarded tray on the dressing table.
Mattie rose. “Well, I should change, but if you decide to accompany us to the village, you are more than welcome.”
Franny shook her head. “I won’t, but I do thank you.”
Emma, who was pulling her hair into a stylish coiffure, said, “We will bring you back some ribbons.”
“That is not necessary,” Franny responded.
“We insist,” Emma declared. “We need to keep your mind off your parents’ deaths so you will stopmoping around.”
Mattie frowned. “Emma, you are being rude,” she chided.
“Am I?” Emma asked innocently. “I do not think I am. I am merely stating a fact.”
“Well, do try to keep your facts to yourself,” Mattie said, her frustration evident.
Franny adjusted the sleeves of her black gown as tears filled her eyes. “I am sorry for moping around.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Mattie rushed to reassure her. “You have the right to grieve your parents as you see fit.”
Emma walked over to the dressing table, admiring her reflection in the mirror. “I do think Franny is making a big ado out of nothing. When Mother died, I hardly grieved at all.”
Mattie was growing increasingly frustrated by her sister’s insensitive remarks. Did she not hear herself speak? “That is because you were five,” she stated. “And Father and I protected you the best we could.”
“Yes, but grief is a choice, and I chose not to be sad,” Emma remarked.
Bringing a hand up to her forehead, Mattie couldn’t quite believe that she and Emma were related. They were both so different in every way. Emma was so self-absorbed that she failed to feel any empathy towards others.
In a strained voice, Mattie asked, “Could you not at least show some sympathy towards Franny?”
Emma grew thoughtful, and for the briefest of moments, Mattie thought she might have gotten through to her sister.
“I suppose I can,” Emma said as she walked over to Franny and patted her shoulder. “There. There. I’m sorry.” Her words were bland, lacking any genuine emotion. It was evident that her sister wasn’t putting in much effort.
As Mattie contemplated sending Emma away to a convent, Mrs. Watson appeared at the door. “Lord Winston and his sister, Lady Elodie, have arrived,” she announced.
Emma perked up. “Please inform them we will be right down.”
Mrs. Watson tipped her head before she left to do Emma’s bidding.
