his chosen profession would coarsen his sensitivities.
Her son had inherited her wide gray eyes and his hair was blond, not gold like Abigail's, but wheaten even in the candlelight. Attired as he was in scarlet coat and breeches and Hessian boots, a shako under his arm, he was the very picture of the best of English manhood, she thought with a touch of pride. “It is so good to see you at last, William. I believe you've grown broader than when we saw you last."
William laughed, his audacious grin flashing at his mother. “Put that down to the feed we fellows are getting. Mama. Beer, bread, meat, and gin are cheap in Flanders."
"Really, William!” Lady Mary laughed. “I am serious. I could swear you have grown a full inch. You appear to such fine advantage in all your finery, I assure you."
"Yes, you have become quite the handsome one, William. Or do you pad your shoulders with buckram?” Abigail asked, feeling her brother's upper arm with exaggerated curiosity.
He slapped away her hand and said with dignity, “Indeed I do not, brat. And I'll thank you not to inspect me like a cut of beef offered for sale by the village butcher.” Abigail giggled. She threw herself at him to kiss his cheek again. William tolerated the salutation good-naturedly and affectionately tweaked one of her gold curls, remarking that she had improved considerably since he had last seen her. “You've turned into a dashed pretty girl, Abby. If you weren't my own sister I would instantly fall at your feet in admiration."
Abigail blushed hotly at her brother's lavish compliment. “Oh, William, truly? Am I pretty?"
He pretended to study her judiciously, while she stared up at him in anxious suspense. “I doubt that there are more than one or two who can hold a candle to you,” he said at last.
Abigail was made speechless with pleasure.
Lady Mary had listened with amusement, but she shook her head in mock reproval at her son. “William, you must not encourage her so. Your sister is already as vain as she can hold."
William's easy smile flashed out. “Is she! Then I shall certainly exercise restraint in future. And I shall warn off my friends by saying that my sister is only passable and not worth their attention."
"Oh, no, no, William! You would not be so beastly!” Abigail exclaimed, horrified. “Why, I would not be asked to dance at all."
William laughed at her. “Silly puss. As though the fellows don't have eyes in their heads. I promise you that you shall never lack for dance partners."
Abigail realized that she had been the butt of one of his teases and she pushed him. “Wretch! I shall revenge myself upon you, see if I don't.'’ William immediately threatened her with a turn over his knee for her impertinence. Abigail squealed and put a table between them. “You would not dare!"
"Wouldn't I just!'’ William said, grinning. He feinted a lunge toward her and she squealed again, her eyes reflecting high enjoyment of her brother's company.
"A truce, I pray you!” Lady Mary protested, laughing. “Don't you think that we may go in to dinner?"
"Of course. Allow me to escort you properly, Mama,” William said, holding out his arm to her. He offered his other arm to his sister and proudly escorted both ladies into the dining room.
Dinner was a convivial meal, made pleasant by lighthearted banter and laughter and the familiar teasing between brother and sister. Lady Mary could not remember being happier, when she had the two people dearest to her heart beside her. As she glanced from her son's animated face, with its slender bones and the hint of down on his upper lip, to her daughter, whose blue eyes sparkled with unalloyed pleasure, she wished that her husband had survived long enough to see what fine children they had made between them. She found that she was content merely to watch their expressive faces and listen to their chatter. It was a scene that she knew she would always cherish—the candlelight shedding its soft
Her son had inherited her wide gray eyes and his hair was blond, not gold like Abigail's, but wheaten even in the candlelight. Attired as he was in scarlet coat and breeches and Hessian boots, a shako under his arm, he was the very picture of the best of English manhood, she thought with a touch of pride. “It is so good to see you at last, William. I believe you've grown broader than when we saw you last."
William laughed, his audacious grin flashing at his mother. “Put that down to the feed we fellows are getting. Mama. Beer, bread, meat, and gin are cheap in Flanders."
"Really, William!” Lady Mary laughed. “I am serious. I could swear you have grown a full inch. You appear to such fine advantage in all your finery, I assure you."
"Yes, you have become quite the handsome one, William. Or do you pad your shoulders with buckram?” Abigail asked, feeling her brother's upper arm with exaggerated curiosity.
He slapped away her hand and said with dignity, “Indeed I do not, brat. And I'll thank you not to inspect me like a cut of beef offered for sale by the village butcher.” Abigail giggled. She threw herself at him to kiss his cheek again. William tolerated the salutation good-naturedly and affectionately tweaked one of her gold curls, remarking that she had improved considerably since he had last seen her. “You've turned into a dashed pretty girl, Abby. If you weren't my own sister I would instantly fall at your feet in admiration."
Abigail blushed hotly at her brother's lavish compliment. “Oh, William, truly? Am I pretty?"
He pretended to study her judiciously, while she stared up at him in anxious suspense. “I doubt that there are more than one or two who can hold a candle to you,” he said at last.
Abigail was made speechless with pleasure.
Lady Mary had listened with amusement, but she shook her head in mock reproval at her son. “William, you must not encourage her so. Your sister is already as vain as she can hold."
William's easy smile flashed out. “Is she! Then I shall certainly exercise restraint in future. And I shall warn off my friends by saying that my sister is only passable and not worth their attention."
"Oh, no, no, William! You would not be so beastly!” Abigail exclaimed, horrified. “Why, I would not be asked to dance at all."
William laughed at her. “Silly puss. As though the fellows don't have eyes in their heads. I promise you that you shall never lack for dance partners."
Abigail realized that she had been the butt of one of his teases and she pushed him. “Wretch! I shall revenge myself upon you, see if I don't.'’ William immediately threatened her with a turn over his knee for her impertinence. Abigail squealed and put a table between them. “You would not dare!"
"Wouldn't I just!'’ William said, grinning. He feinted a lunge toward her and she squealed again, her eyes reflecting high enjoyment of her brother's company.
"A truce, I pray you!” Lady Mary protested, laughing. “Don't you think that we may go in to dinner?"
"Of course. Allow me to escort you properly, Mama,” William said, holding out his arm to her. He offered his other arm to his sister and proudly escorted both ladies into the dining room.
Dinner was a convivial meal, made pleasant by lighthearted banter and laughter and the familiar teasing between brother and sister. Lady Mary could not remember being happier, when she had the two people dearest to her heart beside her. As she glanced from her son's animated face, with its slender bones and the hint of down on his upper lip, to her daughter, whose blue eyes sparkled with unalloyed pleasure, she wished that her husband had survived long enough to see what fine children they had made between them. She found that she was content merely to watch their expressive faces and listen to their chatter. It was a scene that she knew she would always cherish—the candlelight shedding its soft
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