web of my plans. Sir Jeremy was in a teasing mood with Mama, twitting her on her new hat, which sported an alarming number of papier-mâché cherries on it.
“You will set a new fashion, Celia. Yours will be the only bonnet with sparrows on it,” he said.
“What can you be talking of? This hat has cherries, not birds!” exclaimed Mama. She was wearing a charming robe-dress with cerise piping that exactly matched the hat. She held out the hat for him to see.
Sir Jeremy looked at her solemnly and tapped a false cherry with his finger. “Once you step outside, birds from all around London will spy your bonnet, and think it a feast laid out for their benefit.”
“Nonsense!”
“Not at all. I can see it clearly: hundreds of sparrows upon your hat, and you so covered with their wings, you will seem an angel.” His face was still serious, but the glance he cast at me twinkled.
“I would be overwhelmed with their weight, rather, and sustain a serious injury!” Mama replied tartly, but the corners of her mouth quivered upward briefly.
“No, no!” said Sir Jeremy. “Each one would seize an ornament and try to fly off with it. You would need to keep your bonnet firmly tied, of course, but you would feel as light as a ... er, feather.”
I groaned and rolled my eyes. Once Mama and Sir Jeremy got started on their nonsense, nothing stopped them. They were as bad as children. At first I was amused by their banter. These days I felt more irritated than not. I wistfully eyed the new book I had laid down on a side table when Bartley had announced Sir Jeremy. Sophocles was more to my mood than their absurdity.
“It is far more likely I should strangle!” retorted Mama.
Sir Jeremy picked up the hat and eyed the long wide ribbon that served as a tie for it. “You are right. It is a dangerous bonnet. Let us discard it.” He tossed it over the back of the sofa.
“Jeremy, you odious, odious man!” cried Mama, belatedly trying to catch it. “My new bonnet! You will ruin it! I cannot buy another such, for it was made to order for me!” She leaned as decorously as she could over the back of the sofa, apparently trying to snag some portion of the bonnet with a finger.
“Marry me, and I will buy you all the bonnets you could wish for, all made to order.” Sir Jeremy caught her other hand and held it firmly. Mama turned to him, blushing, and lightly tapped his restraining grip.
“As if I would marry anyone for such a reason!” she returned.
“And why not, Mama?” I interjected. “Think of all the bonnets you could have. You might as well marry him for that reason as any other.” I started out speaking in a funning manner, but somehow— perhaps it was my discontent revealing itself—that last sentence came out sounding quite sarcastic. Sir Jeremy’s lips twitched appreciatively, but Mama did not find it amusing in the least.
She eyed me with a steely look and indicated that I should step out of the room. She usually only needed to take me out of the room and look at me for a minute for me to apologize. But this time I stared right back at her, wanting, somehow, in my frustration to do battle with something or someone, and since Mama was there, it might just as well be she.
“Well, my dear,” she said coolly. “Liveliness is all very well, but you are getting a bit forward, are you not? I am surprised you have not yet learned that impertinence can only bring disgust into the feelings of a gentleman when he encounters it in a young girl. Perhaps I should send you back to Miss Angstead’s after all.” She looked at me and crossed her arms, tapping her fingers on her cheek in a thoughtful manner.
Fear clutched at me at this certain ruination of my plans, and anger wrestled it. Another stick thrust in my spokes! “Not,” I said flippantly, “that there are any men there to set me straight if that is so.”
Mama’s mouth tightened, but she remarked in an even more cool tone: “And impertinence toward
“You will set a new fashion, Celia. Yours will be the only bonnet with sparrows on it,” he said.
“What can you be talking of? This hat has cherries, not birds!” exclaimed Mama. She was wearing a charming robe-dress with cerise piping that exactly matched the hat. She held out the hat for him to see.
Sir Jeremy looked at her solemnly and tapped a false cherry with his finger. “Once you step outside, birds from all around London will spy your bonnet, and think it a feast laid out for their benefit.”
“Nonsense!”
“Not at all. I can see it clearly: hundreds of sparrows upon your hat, and you so covered with their wings, you will seem an angel.” His face was still serious, but the glance he cast at me twinkled.
“I would be overwhelmed with their weight, rather, and sustain a serious injury!” Mama replied tartly, but the corners of her mouth quivered upward briefly.
“No, no!” said Sir Jeremy. “Each one would seize an ornament and try to fly off with it. You would need to keep your bonnet firmly tied, of course, but you would feel as light as a ... er, feather.”
I groaned and rolled my eyes. Once Mama and Sir Jeremy got started on their nonsense, nothing stopped them. They were as bad as children. At first I was amused by their banter. These days I felt more irritated than not. I wistfully eyed the new book I had laid down on a side table when Bartley had announced Sir Jeremy. Sophocles was more to my mood than their absurdity.
“It is far more likely I should strangle!” retorted Mama.
Sir Jeremy picked up the hat and eyed the long wide ribbon that served as a tie for it. “You are right. It is a dangerous bonnet. Let us discard it.” He tossed it over the back of the sofa.
“Jeremy, you odious, odious man!” cried Mama, belatedly trying to catch it. “My new bonnet! You will ruin it! I cannot buy another such, for it was made to order for me!” She leaned as decorously as she could over the back of the sofa, apparently trying to snag some portion of the bonnet with a finger.
“Marry me, and I will buy you all the bonnets you could wish for, all made to order.” Sir Jeremy caught her other hand and held it firmly. Mama turned to him, blushing, and lightly tapped his restraining grip.
“As if I would marry anyone for such a reason!” she returned.
“And why not, Mama?” I interjected. “Think of all the bonnets you could have. You might as well marry him for that reason as any other.” I started out speaking in a funning manner, but somehow— perhaps it was my discontent revealing itself—that last sentence came out sounding quite sarcastic. Sir Jeremy’s lips twitched appreciatively, but Mama did not find it amusing in the least.
She eyed me with a steely look and indicated that I should step out of the room. She usually only needed to take me out of the room and look at me for a minute for me to apologize. But this time I stared right back at her, wanting, somehow, in my frustration to do battle with something or someone, and since Mama was there, it might just as well be she.
“Well, my dear,” she said coolly. “Liveliness is all very well, but you are getting a bit forward, are you not? I am surprised you have not yet learned that impertinence can only bring disgust into the feelings of a gentleman when he encounters it in a young girl. Perhaps I should send you back to Miss Angstead’s after all.” She looked at me and crossed her arms, tapping her fingers on her cheek in a thoughtful manner.
Fear clutched at me at this certain ruination of my plans, and anger wrestled it. Another stick thrust in my spokes! “Not,” I said flippantly, “that there are any men there to set me straight if that is so.”
Mama’s mouth tightened, but she remarked in an even more cool tone: “And impertinence toward
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