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“Where have the two of you been?” Lord Remington said. His voice was playful, dancing above them like some sort of evil fairy.
“Our for a ride,” Baldwin returned.
“How terribly quaint,” Lord Remington said. “Marta, you really must allow me the same sort of time soon. I would love to stretch my horse’s legs across the moors and be allowed to turn my head to see your beautiful face. I can’t envision a better afternoon. You’re undeserving of such a beauty, Baldwin, but I suppose I must let it pass.”
Baldwin’s hands clenched into fists. He looked ready to smash Lord Remington’s skull against the side of the stable door. That moment, however, Uncle Everett sauntered out of the back of the stables, looking cheerful, his cheeks pink from a fast ride.
“There you are!” he said to all of them. “I imagine my Margaret is in a tiff, worried we won’t make it back in time for dinner. Shall we?”
Together, the three 20-somethings marched behind Uncle Everett. Marta and Baldwin both looked as though they’d seen an actual ghost, while Lord Remington walked jauntily, clearly pleased with himself. How on earth he’d managed to finagle a dinner invitation on this, one of the most important days of Marta’s life, was beyond her.
When they appeared in the foyer, Uncle Everett blared a greeting across the expanse of the mansion. His voice seemed to shake the very foundation of the place. That moment, Ewan shot out from the parlour, his eyes shadowed. He took a look at Lord Remington and muttered, “No,” to himself, a sound Marta assumed only she could hear.
Why did Ewan not wish to see Lord Remington? Was it because he’d known that Baldwin was on the verge of his proposal? Perhaps Ewan hadn’t been told about the dinner reservation and thus didn’t know enough to tell Baldwin of the fact?
Aunt Margaret popped out of the kitchen. Marta knew by now that she enjoyed hunkering over the shoulder of the cook and demanding maximum flavour. The cook seemed to mind incredibly, even going so far as to shove her elbow into Margaret’s stomach several times. Each time, Margaret informed everyone that it was only a mistake, and worth the pain, as the dinner had turned out splendidly.
But this was Aunt Margaret’s way, wasn’t it? She had to have her hand in everyone’s business.
“Good evening, Lord Remington!” Aunt Margaret cried. She approached, her breasts bouncing and her arms extended. “It’s remarkable that you asked to come at the last minute. We’re having the very best lamb cutlets that our money could possibly buy. It would have been a waste not to enjoy them with someone like you.”
Baldwin shot Marta a dangerous look. Marta shrugged, unsure of what to say. They watched as Lord Remington performed all the maneuvers he was meant to, as the potential-husband of Aunt Margaret’s niece, including complimenting Margaret’s appearance and mentioning just how delightful the dinner smelled.
They sat. Lord Remington perched across from Marta at the dinner table, while Ewan and Baldwin sat across from one another. Laura perched on her own chair, her eyes on her still-empty plate. Aunt Margaret and Uncle Everett sat on either side of the heads of the table. That moment, another door popped open, followed by the squeals of familiar little boys.
“Goodness. We’re quite the zoo these days, aren’t we, Ewan?” Aunt Margaret said.
Ewan’s cheeks burned red. Marta felt he’d been acting strangely, hardly looking into her eyes. Had they lost whatever friendship they’d built?
“Slow down, please!” Tatiana cried, as Walter and Malcolm hopped down the hall to join them. They rushed into chairs on opposite sides of the table, then grabbed the forks and knives and pounded them on the tabletop. When Tatiana appeared in the doorway, her eyes sombre and fatigued, she said, “What did I tell you about table manners?”
The boys took no notice. Instead, they seemed to bang louder.
“Silence!” Aunt Margaret barked. “I don’t imagine that my grandsons were raised in barns. Right now, it seems as though this is their first time at the dinner table, and should be treated as such. Would either of you like to sit on the floor at our feet and be handed scraps throughout the meal?”
Walter and Malcolm exchanged glances, then placed their silverware back on the tabletop. Uncle Everett cleared his throat and said, “Thank you, boys.” Tatiana collapsed in the chair beside Marta and arched her brow.
“Laura, I really can’t manage them without you. They asked if they might be allowed to stay on here with you.”
Laura’s eyes told Marta that she comprehended every single word. However, she pretended that she hadn’t. Why? She furrowed her brow and turned her eyes toward Malcolm and Walter. She spoke to them in German and said, “You both had better behave. Your mother wants to eat my head.”
At this, they smirked and quivered with laughter, but they didn’t budge beyond that.
The dinner was served to a quiet audience. Lamb cutlets were placed on every plate, along with broccoli and freshly-baked rolls. Marta’s throat felt terribly tight. She wondered if she’d be able to speak ever again. Her eyes turned from Baldwin to Lord Remington and back again. She’d only just informed Baldwin that she would marry him. Now, faced with the unfortunate predicament of blaring this news in front of the man who attempted to court her, she felt lacklustre and strange.
Baldwin’s black eyes targeted her across the table. Marta shook her head delicately, a sign that they would push the announcement back to a more appropriate time. But Baldwin, it seemed, had waited too long. He shot up from his chair, making it smash behind him. Everyone blinked at him with wide, panicked eyes.
“Have you remembered something, Baldwin?” Lord Remington said. “You look as though you’re on the verge of some sort of mental collapse.” He tittered with laughter at his own joke.
“In fact, I have remembered something,” Baldwin returned. He drew his chin higher. His eyes were perpetually stormy, hard.
Suddenly, Ewan also shot up from the table. Laura’s eyes broadened with panic. The way she looked at Ewan was incredibly curious, although Marta couldn’t fully articulate why. Baldwin arched his brow at Ewan, incredulous at his action.
“Perhaps whatever it is you’ve remembered can wait until after our guest has taken his leave?” Ewan said suddenly to Baldwin. He placed his hand at the back of his head, as though he wanted to cushion the blow.
But Baldwin had already announced himself. He sputtered and said, “It’s entirely unbecoming to halt one’s announcement at the very beginning.”
“And yet, don’t you imagine it’s rather unbecoming to announce something that doesn’t technically pertain to the matter at hand?” Ewan said. Again, his voice seemed to stagger along, unable to bring ready clarity.
