"I said to Charles that the police need to act faster on these street urchins, every time I walk through the streets, I'm afraid that someone might attempt to steal my handbag. I don't think my heart could take such an attack," Mrs Oliver said.

"Hm." Mrs Atkinson shoved a piece of chicken into her mouth to keep from having to give a longer response.

I glanced to my left and looked at William who rolled his eyes and tried to act like a normal human being when it came to eating his luncheon. By now, he probably would have eaten the entire plate and something of mine, but he had been told to watch his manners. He nibbled on a piece of carrot as slowly as he could, but no one noticed other than me, they were too busy trying to ignore Mrs Oliver and her continuous rants about those less fortunate than herself.

Her favourite past time appeared to be ranting and raving about those who had been forced to live on the streets due to circumstances outside of their control. She talked about the workhouses not doing enough, the police turning a blind eye, and people not doing enough to get themselves out of these situations. Mrs Oliver was of the belief that people put themselves into those situations and that it would be their responsibility to get out of it. The police and the workhouses were just a temporary solution to a problem they had to solve.

Every time she started to off on a tangent about those who lived on the streets, William would nudge me with his foot and roll his eyes. Mrs Atkinson pretended not to notice and just distracted herself with her food so she would not have to offer much of a comment. It just looked like she was searching for someone to agree with her and when she did not get that, she changed the person who was displeased with. No one appeared to please her, not even her own daughter.

"Sit up straight, Sophie. You look like an animal," Mrs Oliver hissed.

"Yes, Mother."

"If she sits any straighter, her spine is going to snap in half," William whispered.

"I doubt even that would please her mother."

"Speak up you two, whispering at the luncheon table is remarkably rude." She turned to Mrs Atkinson. "Did you not teach your son manners? I expect this kind of behaviour from your little friend but not your son who I would have thought you taught better."

"William, no whispering," Mr Atkinson said but I could not ignore the slight smile on his lips.

No one said anything about her comment towards me, no doubt not wanting to get into a fight at the luncheon table. Instead, we all sat there and picked at our food with Mrs Oliver barely eating a thing and the rest of us doing whatever we could to ensure that we were not pulled into a conversation with Mrs Oliver. Rather than return to her rants about those on the streets of in workhouses, Mrs Oliver turned her attention towards someone a little closer to home – me.

She commented on the scar on my face, the length of my hair, the dress, anything she could see she made fault with. I ignored her as best I could, kept my head down and tried to keep my mouth full of food so I did not end up saying anything back. Mrs Atkinson looked between the two of us but did not say anything, no one did. We all just sat there and listened to her speak about every single one of my faults without doing anything to try and stop her. It did not bother me that much, but it seemed to annoy William.

He sat beside me with a fork in hand which he pressed onto one of his carrots until he squashed it into an orange mess. Once he had destroyed his carrots, he moved onto the peas and before long, every vegetable on his plate had been squashed. The one thing he did not touch was the chicken which he stuffed into his face to keep from saying something. The only issue is that once he ran out of chicken, there would be nothing left for him to use to keep quiet.

Mr Atkinson noticed this but did not say anything, he just pulled a face and exchanged a glance with his wife. Both of them looked anxious but I did not know why. William had only ever made comments about someone in private, the occasional muttering that he would never say to someone's face, especially Mrs Oliver. Still, judging by his behaviour in my room before luncheon, I had a feeling that he had had enough of the little comments and she had finally crossed a line.

After he finished his chicken, William sat there and spun his fork around in his hand. With no food left to silence him, I could see how agitated he had started to become the longer Mrs Oliver ranted about the smallest details about me. He lightly tapped the end of his fork on the table, but Mrs Oliver did not seem to notice, she was just wrapped up in her own world.

"It is such a shame that you have chosen someone like her, I am sure there were girls who were far better suited to this way of life than her. Those who no doubt would be able to find an appropriate suitor when the time comes. I am trying to find someone suitable for Sophie, but she makes it rather hard to do so."

"Do you ever listen to yourself?" William said after a little while. Mrs Atkinson paused with her fork just a few inches from her mouth.

"What did you say, young man? You dare talk back to me?"

"It's not talking back; it's asking a reasonable question. Have you ever listened to the nonsense that comes out of your mouth?"

"The cheek! I thought you would have taught him better."

"This has nothing to do with whether or not Mother and Father taught me my manners, this is about whether or not you have any. You go on about Sophie being respectful towards people or for the two of us to stop whispering at the table because it's rude, but you don't do the same. You sit there and you rant about those who live on the street of in the workhouses due to circumstances beyond their control and then you pick fault with Lizzie. She has done nothing to you and has, in fact, been sitting here all afternoon taking your abuse without saying a word."

"William, please," Mrs Atkinson said. She lowered her fork to the plate and exchanged a glance with her husband.

"No. I know you dislike it as much as I do, her constant need to tear people down just to make herself feel better. You have no idea about Lizzie, the reason she keeps her hair that short or what caused the scar on her face, so you have no right to talk about it like you do. She spent most of today working on her dress in the hopes that it would please you and yet all you have done is tear her down over and over again.

"You cannot go on about manners when you don't appear to have any of your own. I am very surprised that Sophie has yet to answer back to you about all the abuse you send her way. It's no wonder that she barely says a word to anyone, I expect she is scared you will berate her for it no matter what she may say to you. Just because you have money, does not give you the right to say whatever you please to whomever you please. It does not work that way."

William fell silent and so did everyone else. No one dared to even breathe, and Mrs Oliver looked like someone had slapped her across the face, although I expect that was how it felt. All those times she had ranted and raved about someone, I doubt anyone said anything back to her but there was William, who just insulted her in more ways than one. He had done the one thing no one else had dared to do and he looked rather pleased with himself for doing so.

Across the table, Sophie lifted her head a little and offered William a small smile, the most interaction we had had with her all luncheon. Beside me, I felt Mr Atkinson tense up as he waited for the immediate aftermath of William's words. We were all waiting for the inevitable blow-up of the situation, but it did not come. Mrs Oliver said nothing which no one expected, least of all me. William had provided her with the perfect ammunition she needed against him and the Atkinsons and yet she did not use it. She just sat there.

The main meal plates were cleared in silence with Mrs Atkinson muttering a hasty thank you to Mrs Langdon and nothing more. Mrs Langdon and Shelia replaced the chicken and vegetables with a slice of cherry pie and some ice-cream. I dived straight into mine after discovering that cherry pie had become my favourite dessert and even with the awkward tension around the table, nothing would stop me from eating it.

Mrs Oliver only picked at hers, but she still said nothing on the matter. William kicked me from under the table and when I looked at him, he raised an eyebrow and nudged his head towards Mrs Oliver. None of us could believe that Mrs Oliver had not taken a rather prime opportunity to snap back at William, or any of us for that matter. The entire thing felt a little awkward.

"Thank you luncheon, Mrs Atkinson. It was delicious," Sophie said after a little while. She had barely touched her dessert, but I expected she just wanted to try and break the tension a little.

"You are very welcome, Sophie. Of course, the credit goes to Mrs Langdon and Shelia."

"Dessert courtesy of William."

"You made the cherry pie?" I turned to look at him.

He nodded. "Whilst you were upstairs, finishing that dress, I made a cherry pie. What did you think I had spent the day doing?"

"Annoying everyone?"

"Close. Very close."

William laughed and leant back in his chair, slouching down a little and forgetting all of his manners, although I did not know if he had any in the first place. That boy was a mystery to everyone, but I expect his outburst towards Mrs Oliver had helped him relax a little more than he usually would. He even went as far as moving his hair a little, so it no longer covered his pointy ears.

Once the plates had been cleared up, we moved into the living room where Mrs Oliver remained strangely quiet and the only conversation came between Mr Atkinson and William who were arguing over whether the snowman would melt or not. The snow had stopped but it was cold enough that snowman would probably be sticking around for a little while longer. Sophie listened to their conversation, but her eyes were on me, watching me and looking at my dress.

The last time she had visited, she had asked countless questions about my dress and how I had made it. I expected she wanted to ask more questions about it but did not dare to say anything just in case her mother told her off. Despite that, I did not think Mrs Oliver would even say anything since she had not said a word to anyone since William's outburst during luncheon.

"Did you really make your dress?" Sophie muttered.

"Yes. I think I stabbed my thumb more times then the dress itself," I said, laughing a little.

"Perhaps you could teach me, I'm useless with a needle and thread."

"I can try. That is if your mother agrees, I don't want to do something she would disapprove of."

Sophie looked towards Mrs Oliver who sat up and looked a little startled that she had been addressed, albeit it not fully. She turned to look at me and then to Sophie, her eyebrows furrowed a little in uncertainty about why she would be addressed. Mrs Atkinson looked at her, expecting her to say no as I think we all were, but she did not.

"If it is what you want, then very well. That is, if you are staying here," Mrs Oliver said.

"That has yet to be decided."

"Then you shall write to us and let us know. For now, I think we should be going. We have imposed on you for long enough."

"If you are sure," Mrs Atkinson said.

"I am."

"Very well, I shall see you out."

Mrs Atkinson stood up and led Mrs Oliver and Sophie out of the living room and to the front door. William looked at me and raised an eyebrow. Before we could say anything, we both just started to laugh.

~~~

First Published - December 16th, 2020