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That corner of his mouth twitched again. ‘I think you’re a little too fiery for a snowflake.’ Then, suddenly, his mouth flattened into a grim line, and similar lines spread across his forehead. ‘But we still haven’t discussed that matter of you running away - and more specifically, how you are to be punished!’
Blast! And there I thought I would get off easily. As inconspicuously as possible, I looked around the room for carpet beaters and horse whips. True, I hadn’t seen or heard from Uncle Bufford in ten years, but I had heard stories…
‘Your punishment,’ he proclaimed, his face sterner than ever, ‘is to have your allowance cut. Not another penny you’ll get out of me for dresses, or jewellery, or whatever frivolous things you girls buy nowadays, do you hear me? Not another penny!’ Maybe I was mistaken, I mean, this was the terrible uncle after all, the figure that had haunted mine and my sister’s nightmares as little children, but I could have sworn he gave me a small smile. ‘I hope this terribly harsh punishment will be a lesson to you.’
I shot up from my seat and almost saluted. Instead, I gave a hurried curtsy. ‘Yes, Sir! It definitely will, Sir!’
‘Good! Now off with you, and don’t bother me again unless the house burns down. I’m a busy man!’
‘Yes, Sir! Just as you say, Sir!’
I hurried towards the door. Just in time before opening it, I remembered to let my shoulders sag and my lips quiver. When I stepped outside, and my aunt hurriedly straightened from where she had been trying unsuccessfully to listen at the thick oak door, she took in my woeful face with a nod of satisfaction.
‘There! You see? That’s what happens when you display a lack of respect for your elders.’
I nodded, meekly. ‘Yes, Aunt. I’ll remember, Aunt.’
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‘What did he say to you?’
‘He… he said…’ Making my lower lip tremble expressively, I trailed off into a sob-like noise. Now that was good acting!
My aunt gave another satisfied nod. ‘There! I told you that you would regret what you did. Now, off to your room with you, and stay there until I call you.’
‘Yes, Aunt. As you wish, Aunt.’
Hurrying off down the corridor, I managed to disguise my giggle as another sob. That must have been the best punishment ever! Reaching the door to my room, I pushed it open and sauntered in.
The room was just as I remembered it - except for one thing. My little sister Ella, the only one of my five sisters with whom I really got along and who by God’s good grace happened to be my roommate, was lying on my bed, crying her eyes out.
My eyebrows rose. Even for Ella, who could be a bit sentimental and romantic sometimes, this was going rather far. Usually, she lay on her own bed, and went without the crying. In fact, at this hour of the day, she mostly didn’t lie in bed at all, but was in the garden, conducting a supposedly secret and insufferably sappy romance with the neighbour’s son.
It was only then that I noticed she was holding something. Curious, I stepped closer.
‘Oh, Lill!’ Ella said. Or to be precise, she didn’t say it. She wailed it. Rather a curious way to say hello but, shrugging, I opened my mouth to respond with an, ‘Oh, Ella,’ when I noticed what the thing she was holding was: a picture of me!
‘Oh, my dear, dear sister!’ Covering her eyes with one hand, Ella let her forehead slump forward onto the picture frame. ‘Oh, my dearest Lill!’
I closed my mouth. A picture? Where the heck did she get a picture of me? Had I ever sat down to have my portrait taken? Not since Mother and Father had died, surely! Uncle Bufford wouldn’t waste a penny on something like that!
‘Oh, Lill! Where can you be?’
I opened my mouth to say ‘right behind you’ - but Ella continued before I could get a word out. She seemed to be doing the dialogue fine without my help: ‘Staying with relatives? No, no, we would have heard something by now. It has to be something else. Something sinister. Could it be… that man! That man she mentioned! He has abducted her and is having his wicked way with her!’
My mouth was already open, but that didn’t prevent my chin from dropping down farther. Images flashed past my inner eye - images of Rikkard Ambrose having his ‘wicked way’ with me, whatever that meant exactly. They were highly illicit images not suitable for a young lady at all.
‘Or… or someone has abducted her! To demand ransom!’
My eyebrows shot up. Demand ransom? From Uncle Bufford? Well, if something like that ever happened, the kidnappers would have another thing coming. But I had to admire Ella’s imagination, at least.
‘Or she’s been killed by a serial killer! Oh, Lill! No! Please! Please come back alive and well!’
I felt this was the right time to announce my presence.
‘Of course,’ I told her, striding forward and patting her on the shoulder. ‘Always happy to oblige.’
Ella stiffened. Then, very, very, very, very slowly, she turned around to look at me. I smiled at her. ‘Hello, little sister? How have you been?’
