After we left the churchyard, we headed back to the house where the rest of the family would be meeting us. Father also managed to convince Mother's brothers to attend as a sort of last hurrah to Grandfather's house before it fell into the hands of Grandmother. We were to have a sort of picnic lunch containing sandwiches and mini-cakes that Mrs Smith, Mary and Helen had spent the past day preparing.

When we got home I placed my case in my room and started to unpack it so I didn't have to do it later. My toothbrush and toothpaste returned to the washroom, my hairbrush to my dresser and my nightdress to under my pillow. I put my other dress in the laundry basket for Mrs Smith to find. Everything had been returned to its place and it felt right, although I knew it wouldn't last.

Father had barely spoken to me on the drive home, but he kept turning around to look at me like he expected me to leap from the car and make a break for it - I'd be lying if I said the thought hadn't crossed my mind at least once. Every time he looked at me I felt a bubble of anger start to float to the surface but I managed to pop it before it got too far. If Father was trying to get a rise out of me, it was certainly working.

"Isabel! Hurry up!" Father yelled up the stairs.

I huffed. "I'm coming."

I rolled my eyes and moved as slowly as I could which I knew would annoy Father, but meant I had to spend less time in his presence. When I appeared at the top of the stairs, someone knocked at the door and Mrs Smith appeared from the parlour to open the door. I rushed down the stairs just as Sebastian stepped through the threshold.

"Twice in two days, how unusual," he said.

"I think I've now seen enough of you to last a lifetime." I laughed.

"Likewise, Izzy."

Sebastian patted me on the head like an animal and then quickly moved into the other room before I could do anything. He was quickly followed by Cole and Oliver with Oliver looking like he wanted to be anywhere else. I slipped into the parlour and took a seat on the floor, my eyes instantly drawn to the selection of food on the table. My stomach groaned in protest at the slightest smell of jam, it was getting rather argumentative since I hadn't had anything to eat since the day before.

Father looked at me, almost as if he expected me to start eating from the selection of food, but I kept my hands in my lap to prove a point. I knew we weren't going to eat until everyone else had arrived and we were still waiting for more than half the family. Uncle Matthew smiled at me when he entered the room and I was somewhat glad that there would be at least one adult in the room who didn't dislike me for one reason or another. I knew it would get awkward once Uncle Christopher and Uncle James appeared.

I kept my hands to myself and did everything I could to distract myself from the food as the rest of the family appeared. Someone had moved the armchairs and sofas from the drawing-room so that we had plenty of space to sit but it still wouldn't be enough and I would have to remain on the floor, probably with the younger ones. It didn't bother me as much as I thought it did since it meant I could stay out of sight.

"Can I sit on your lap?" Florence asked, standing in front of me.

"Go on then, but don't wiggle."

"I don't wiggle!" Florence settled herself onto my legs.

"Oh really?" I jabbed her in the side with my fingers and she shrieked, writhing around and giggling as I tickled her.

"Izzy! Stop!" she exclaimed in between giggles and trying to fight me off.

"That's enough, you two," Mother said.

I stopped tickling Florence and allowed her to settle back on my lap, her back pressing into me and her head resting against my shoulder. Father glared at me but said nothing, I knew he wanted to chastise me for my behaviour both with Florence and back at the church but he bit back whatever retort he had saved up. Part of me wanted to egg him on, to keep tickling Florence just to see what he would do, but I decided not to seeing as the entire immediate family had been gathered in one place.

Uncle Christopher was the last one to arrive for lunch, muttering a hasty apology along with a comment about a rather heavy workload - an odd thing to be doing on a Sunday. He took a seat beside Uncle James and his eyes flitted to me briefly. I hadn't seen him since the incident on the day of the will reading and I still had no idea whether he had told Mother and Father about it. Still, I didn't want him to mention it so I refused to even meet his eye.

With everyone gathered, Father gave the go-ahead for us to start to devour the food provided. We were all given a plate and the younger ones had strict warnings about spilling anything on the floor but I had the feeling that the warning was aimed at me also. A bubble of anger floated up.

"How is work going, Sebastian?" Mother asked, lightly dabbing her mouth with a napkin.

"Quite well, we have our busy hours. I actually saw Izzy yesterday, she was in there with a friend of hers."

"And Nancy, Evelyn's older sister," I said. Almost immediately I saw the flush of Sebastian's cheeks.

"You've gone all red, son. Something you want to share?" Uncle Matthew teased.

"Don't tease the boy, Matthew. He's an adult."

"But teasing him is so much fun, my sweet. Besides, there have been very few times when Sebastian has gone soft on a girl."

"I've not gone soft over a girl," Sebastian muttered, but his face told a different story.

When I saw Evelyn on Monday, I would have to tell her about Sebastian's reaction. I was more than certain she had a plan to get Nancy and Sebastian to be together and I wanted to let her know that Sebastian appeared to be smitten with Nancy like she was over him. Even though Evelyn and I had never really spoken before that interaction at the start of the week, I liked the idea of the two of us becoming better friends. At least it meant I had somewhere to escape to.

Questions continued to be asked about what the family were up to. Uncle Zachariah appeared to be working on a new children's book, Uncle Matthew would be starting a new carpentry project, Cole was due to start a job at a bakery and Oliver was close to finishing his normal studies before embarking on a university course in scientific research.

I sat back and listened to the conversation, not talking and just trying my hardest to blend into the wall as I picked at the food on the plate. Florence, despite her statement, wiggled almost the entire time and I found it hard to keep her in one place let alone eat. I should have made her sit on the floor the moment we were allowed to stop eating, but I had the feeling that Father wouldn't have liked it, even if it did make more sense than having her sitting on my lap.

Of course, the inevitable happened.

During one of her wiggling sessions to try and sit a little more comfortably on my lap, Florence's elbow nudged my plate and sent one of Mrs Smith's jam tarts flying off the plate and onto the floor before I could do anything to stop it.

"Isabel!" Father exclaimed, grabbing a napkin and handing it to me.

"It wasn't my fault," I said. I moved Florence from my lap and shovelled the pieces of the jam tart onto the napkin and balled it up.

"No harm done, a hot cloth and it will come out," Mother said.

"We warned you about spilling food on the floor."

"I didn't do it! Florence's elbow knocked my plate and it fell off."

"Don't blame your cousin for your mistake. You should have asked Florence to move before you started eating. You're supposed to have a brain in that head of yours, it might do well to use it every once in a while."

The room fell silent.

No one dared to breathe too loudly and we could have heard a pin drop had someone wanted to test the theory. Father stared at me with narrowed eyebrows and a glare in his eyes, there was no regret in what he said, no sense of remorse. I stared back at him, the anger bubbles appearing faster and faster but I made no attempt to pop them or force them back down, I just let them sit in my chest until it felt like I was going to explode.

"Robert, that was too far," Mother said softly, but I don't think he even noticed she spoke, he just kept staring at me.

"Fine," I said, standing up. "If that's how you really feel."

With both my plate still to hand and the balled-up napkin full of tart pieces, I knew what I had to do. I threw both onto the floor as hard as I could. The napkin burst open and sent pieces of jam tart scattering across the floor. The plate smashed the moment it collided and sent the remainder of my lunch flying across the room. I glared at Father and then made a point of deliberately walking through some of the pieces of jam tart just to drive the point home even further.

I stormed out of the room but rather than head up to my room and barricade myself in there for the remainder of the day, I left the house. The front door slammed shut behind me but no one made any attempt to follow me or even call me to come back. Breaking out into a run, I darted across the gravel driveway and disappeared into the tree line that surrounded the house, weaving in and out of the trees.

Branches snagged on my hair and clothing, but I didn't stop running. I didn't stop even when my legs and lungs burned and it felt like my heart was going to explode out of my chest. I ran and I ran until I almost fell into the pond. My chest heaved and I struggled to get more than a breath in as I stood in front of the pond, staring into the water and watching it ripple in the breeze.

Staring into that water, I wondered whether or not anyone would care if I went into it and never came out again. Father had made his feelings abundantly clear back at the house and Mother didn't even try to defend me other than pointing out that his comment might have been a little too harsh. All it would take was just one step. One step forwards into the freezing cold water never to come back up. No one more having to deal with Grandmother or Aunt Matilda, not more worrying about Father or about my future.

Just nothing.

"I hate this!" I yelled, my voice echoing through the trees and sending several birds flying from the trees.

I dropped down onto the edge of the pond, not caring if my dress got muddy or my stockings got wet. Hot tears streamed down my face but I didn't know if they were out of anger or because Father's words had cut that deep. Pulling my knees into my chest, I sobbed into the bottom of my dress until it felt I had been drained of all emotion until it felt like I had nothing left to give.

When I looked up from my dress, ignoring the wet patches on my knees from my tears, I saw a small frog from the pond sitting just to the left of me. It regarded me with a croak before hopping into the water and disappearing below the murky surface. I wished I could be that frog. Swimming around in a pond without a care in the world, without annoying family members yelling at me, trying to control me.

I pulled my shoes off along with my stockings and dipped my toes into the icy water of the pond, fighting the urge to recoil when it hit my ankle. Nothing was stopping me from going all the way, to keep moving until my entire body had been submerged. Grandfather always said that the pond was deeper than it looked.

Who would care if I went in and never came out?

~~~

A/N - We're back! This chapter was one of my favourites to write and definitely became the catalyst for the story moving forward. I hope you enjoy!

Questions! Was Robert right to react like that? What about Izzy? What do you think she should do?

Comment below!

First Published - August 31st, 2021