George didn't reappear until the next morning, the day of the picnic. I knew his trip to the village would take longer than first planned due to his stop at the Marlow's house, but I had not expected him to be gone all day. I tried my best to distract myself by studying or reading, but it didn't do much good.

By the next morning, I was itching to find out just what he had discovered and wanted to venture down to the kitchen to find him myself, but I couldn't. Father had planned for the Seabrooks and the Marlows to arrive before midday, which left me no extra time to find George. Instead, I ate breakfast slowly, trying to pace myself a little more so that it wouldn't threaten to make a reappearance once the picnic started.

I dressed without his help, forgoing the tie and jacket that I had worn to the supper. This picnic would be an informal affair, so the airs and graces of the other night didn't have to be exacted in the same way. For that, I was grateful. With the summer sun still burning stronger than it had in days, not having to wear a choking collar and tie was a welcomed relief.

Also, knowing that Andrew would be at the picnic certainly took some of the pressure off me. I could spend some time with him and not have to worry too much about what was going on around me. Father wanted me to speak with Clara Marlow, and I was more than happy to do so if Andrew was there, too. He had the ability to turn an uncomfortable situation into a funny one, and I needed that.

I ran a brush through my hair, taking several deep breaths to calm my rising nerves. Despite the lack of formality, and knowing Andrew would make things a little easier, my palms were already slick with sweat. This was my last chance to get on Father's good side. I couldn't mess that up.

A short, sharp knock at the door echoed through the room, and I almost dropped my hairbrush in surprise.

"Come in," I said, hoping it was George.

The door slowly creaked open to reveal not George, but Father standing in the doorway, bold as brass. He hadn't forgone the formalities the way I had and still wore his jacket and tie over a crisp white shirt without a single blemish. Even his hair had been slicked back. Father looked at me, a small raise in his eyebrow at my less-than-perfect appearance.

"Good morning, Nathaniel."

"Good morning, sir."

"And how are you feeling today? I take it we will not be having any repeats of the other evening."

"No, sir. I'm fine."

"Good." He nodded his head. "I will forgive your current attire if it means we do not end up with a repeat of the other day. Our guests will be arriving soon, so make sure that you are downstairs shortly."

"Yes, sir. I will be down soon."

"Good." He cleared his throat. "Remember what I said, Nathaniel. This is your last chance."

With that, Father turned on the spot and left the room, leaving the door open. I sighed. Our conversations had turned into nothing more than warnings from him and short replies from me. I couldn't even bring myself to call him anything other than sir most of the time. He never stopped calling me Nathaniel. There was no love in our exchanges, merely conversations that couldn't be avoided. From where I was standing, we were no longer father and son. Simply two people who occupied the same house.

I wondered if our relationship ever stood a chance of being repaired or if it would stay the same for the rest of our lives. Perhaps there truly was no fixing a relationship that had been fractured since the beginning.

I put the brush through my hair one last time and left my room, hoping I would come across George before the Marlows arrived. Alice emerged from Rebecca's room, leaving the door slightly open as Rebecca wanted us to.

"What are you up to?" I asked, sneaking up on her.

Alice jumped, spinning around and slapping me on the arm at the same time. "Don't sneak up on me, Nate!"

"Only if you don't hit me again; that hurt."

"You deserved it."

"So," I said, rubbing my arm. "What were you doing?"

"I just wanted to speak with Miss Edwards. Mrs Lucas agreed to send a small amount of the picnic food up to her this afternoon so that she might have her own indoor picnic. I wanted to tell her, but she is still asleep."

"Strange. She's usually the first one awake, not that she sleeps much, anyway."

Alice shrugged. "Maybe the lack of sleep finally caught up with her. It does eventually."

"Maybe."

I glanced through the small gap in Rebecca's door. The curtains remained shut, but small slithers of sunlight had broken through to light up the darker corners of the room. Rebecca lay curled up beneath the blanket, the only sign of her being the mound of fabric on the bed. Every now and then, the blanket would move. I could just see Sooty's tail moving through the blankets. Rebecca was awake, but keeping her distance.

"You can talk to her later. We have to be downstairs."

Alice grabbed my arm and dragged me from the door. She pulled me down the stairs, her nails digging into my skin through the sleeve of my shirt. I let her drag me, knowing it was futile to try to fight my way from her grip. Alice's grip was ironclad when she had a task in mind, and not getting into trouble was perhaps the biggest task she had to face.

We stumbled out into the main hallway where Father stood with a slightly raised eyebrow and an amused expression. It was the first time I had seen something other than disappointment on his face in over a week. I looked around for any sign of George, hoping he might be offering a hand with the picnic. He was nowhere to be seen. It seemed he had a habit of disappearing after venturing to the village to uncover some potentially crucial information.

Father hadn't informed me of when the Marlows and the Seabrooks were due to arrive and it looked as though we had all gathered in the hall prematurely. Everyone but me appeared dressed for a more formal event. Mother and Alice were in their summer dresses, parasols ready for a turn around the garden, and not a hair out of place. Father wore his suit as usual. I looked like I had just woken up.

I didn't mind too much, though. Although I looked a mess, I felt a lot cooler than the previous evening. Even Alice looked to be struggling more with the heat as she lightly fanned herself in the hallway, catching Father with the slight breeze she had created.

Outside, the sound of wheels on the gravel cut through the blanket of silence that had settled over the bright hallway. The servant opened the door and Father gestured us all through, following behind with a smile stretched across his face. He had always been good at playing the welcoming host. I stared at the carriage, pleased that it was the Seabrook's carriage and not the Marlow's.

Andrew scrambled out of the carriage first, a grin on his face. He abandoned the carriage and crossed the grass, greeting me with his usual slap on the back, knocking the wind out of me.

"Long time no see," he said, even though it had been a little under two weeks since we had last seen each other. "The last time I saw you, you were still a bachelor. Now you're almost betrothed!"

"Not funny," I grumbled.

"Where has your sense of humour gone, Nate?"

"I still have a sense of humour. It's just that you are not particularly funny."

"I'm hilarious. You just don't appreciate my charm. Although you won't have much to laugh about after I have beaten you at tennis." He raised an eyebrow at me.

"The only one who is going to be winning at tennis is me. You and I both know how awful you are at tennis. You prove that the last time we played."

"That's exactly why we need a rematch."

I shook my head and turned away, watching Father and Mr Seabrook exchange the usual pleasantries. Father appeared far more relaxed around Mr Seabrook than he had with Mrs Marlow just a few days previously. It seemed that, despite his bravado, he had been just as nervous about the supper as I had. Perhaps that was why he had had so much wine to drink. Still, nerves did not excuse his behaviour that night.

"When are we expecting Mrs Marlow and her daughters?" Mr Seabrook asked, lightly dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief. "I must admit, it has been several years since I saw her."

"I had thought they would be here before you. They do live closer after all. No matter, I am sure they will be here soon enough." He turned to face us. Mrs Seabrook was deep in conversation with Mother as Alice tried to entertain Emily. "Why don't we let the boys play their games and we can catch up a little?"

"Sounds like a good idea."

Andrew looked at me. "Let's go, we're losing daylight."

"It's ten in the morning."

"The point still stands."

I shook my head and followed Father and Mr Seabrook across the grass, Andrew sprinting ahead of us to the rope that marked our tennis court. How Father thought I was going to be able to talk to Clara Marlow with both a tennis court and Andrew nearby remained a mystery, but that would be a bridge I would have to cross when they arrived. For the time being, I was happy to have the distraction and the time to beat Andrew once again.

Despite the heat, our tennis match quickly turned into an aggressive fight. Andrew spent most of his time rolling on the floor, grass clinging to his shirt with his jacket long since forgotten. From a table a short distance away, Alice had agreed to keep track of the scores. She sat under a canopy with the others, yelling out points and marking them off on a small sheet of paper. Beside her, young Emily babbled away.

Andrew launched the ball into the sky. I looked up, squinting against the sunlight to try to catch sight of the tennis ball, but it was lost to the glaring light. We had flipped a coin to decide which ends we would be playing on and I had lost, meaning I had spent most of the game with the sun in my eyes. I still had more points, though.

I caught sight of the tennis ball just as it started to fall a few yards to the left of me. I ran and dived onto the grass, grateful for the sun to have dried it out so I wouldn't stain my shirt. Despite the effort, the ball dropped to the floor just beside me, missing my tennis racket by the smallest of margins. All that effort and all I got was a mouthful of grass.

"That's an interesting way to play tennis, Master Thorpe," an amused voice said behind me.

I propped myself up on my elbows and looked behind me. Mrs Marlow stood a short distance away from our makeshift court with a raised eyebrow and a slight smile on her face. "It's a new technique," I said, sitting up. "I haven't quite mastered it yet."

"Well, I am sure it will be spectacular when you do."

"Why don't you both come and get something to drink?" Mr Seabrook called from the canopy. "It is rather warm, and you have been playing for a while."

Andrew dropped the tennis racket on the ground, a sign that he wanted to return to the game, and crossed the grass without stopping to help me up. I sighed and brushed the grass from my shirt, scrambling to my feet and following him.

"We're so sorry to be late," Mrs Marlow said to Father. "We were having some issues with one of our horses."

"Not to worry, Mrs Marlow, you are here now. Lemonade?"

"That would be lovely."

I took my own glass from the tray, standing near Clara as I knew Father would expect me to. Sweat dripped down my back and off my forehead. Across from me, Andrew gulped down his lemonade. His face was bright red, grass still covering his shirt, and he too was sweating far more than anyone else at the picnic. Together, we looked like a mess compared to the pristine nature of everyone else gathered. I couldn't help but wonder if Mrs Marlow might be having second thoughts about a match between me and Clara.

"So," Andrew said, "who won that match?"

Alice glanced down at the paper in front of her. "Nate."

"No fair! I scored more points! You're just covering for him because he's your brother."

"If anything, Alice would work against me, not with me. It just proves how bad at tennis you really are."

"We'll be having a rematch and I want an impartial scorer this time, just to be on the safe side."

"I'll do it," Clara said beside me.

Andrew raised an eyebrow. "Will you be impartial?"

"I can be."

"Very well. I'm going to go and practise my serve."

With that, Andrew turned and headed across the grass, leaving an awkward silence between Clara and me. I sipped the last of my lemonade, welcoming the refreshing taste after a long match. Beside me, Clara took a sheet of paper from Alice and began to mark it so she might keep score accurately. She looked up for a brief second, her eyes wandering to a window.

"Who's that?" She asked, nodding to one of the upper windows.

I looked up, seeing Rebecca standing in front of the glass. In the bright light, she looked almost translucent, like she could disappear at any moment. "Just one of the servants."

Clara didn't say anything. She just continued to stare up at the window.

~~~

A/N - We are back with Chapter Twenty-Eight and we have seven chapters left until the end! I cannot wait for you all to read it!

Questions!

Do you think Clara's reaction to Rebecca was strange? Is the picnic going to be a success? 

Comment below!

First Published - April 18th, 2023