The Edges of Grace

Chapter Seven

Mason

"Are all these plums for The Winter Dinner?" her voice rang with boldness, but the tentative shiver under it caught my attention. We stood by the warehouse in the pantry, where all the harvest from the orchards is stored. Mother looked after all of it with diligence, but Mileva maintained that not only was it unladylike, but also downright insulting for her to look into such matters. Of course, now that her position is under threat, she might reconsider, or pretend to have reconsidered. I however, prudently kept all of this to myself as I averted my eyes and resisted the impulse to support her elbows, to hold her and firm her stead and provide her encouragement.

Perhaps Mileva is right in saying that I must not jump into trust with such blindness. Felicity, after all, owes me nothing. She is not responsible for Mansfield, if it's true that mother has left something to Mileva's inheritance. However, I look at her face and her pale, trembling gaze makes me taste shame-- metallic and unforgiving in my mouth. How could I doubt her? She who doesn't have a fraction of what I've ever had. Those biscuits-- her first thought was about her orphanage.

I try not to think about the twisting noose of greed which is binding her to us, and what may come of it.

The apprentices of the gardener nodded, and she bit her lip. "These are far too much. According Miss Rosetta's list of dishes, and her recipes, about half of these plums would suffice. Why must we hoard all of these?"

I shook my head at her naivete. "Felicity," I said gently, "Dear cousin, you're unfamiliar with the ways around here. Why must you tax yourself?" She shook her head gently and said, "If I am to enjoy the luxury and ease of Mansfield, then isn't it fair of me to shoulder some of the responsibility? I realize it will be some time before I will be considered worthy of managing the accounts and important documents of the household, but surely this task is one I won't be begrudged over?"

Silenced, I watched her distribute the excess of plums among all the servants, smiling at their smiles. 

It wasn't too late before Mileva was informed, and she stormed into both of our tea session in my study, which Felicity had shyly confessed her fascination of. Felicity froze, but her eyes had a new strength, which I couldn't help but appreciate. I felt a small ache at the pit of my stomach. She's my cousin.

I looked away, ashamed at my weakness. Ashamed that she had to give me strength as she said, "Cousin Mileva, you look rather flustered. Sit down and have tea with us, it might calm your nerves."

Mileva shut the door, her lips a thin line of anger. "Flustered, am I?" She turned to face me. "I expect nothing of a stranger, but surely you could have stopped us from becoming a laughing stock?" Felicity's eyes went shiny with hurt.

"Cousin I--" she started, but Mileva held up an arrogant hand, not even bothering a glance in her direction. "Do not call me that," she hissed, her eyes on me, "Do you know what the servants are saying? That the new mistress is determined to give away all of the Mansfield fortune. Heaven and earth, surely it is not a mere exaggeration?" Felicity bit her lips, and said, "Please let me explain, Lady Mileva. The orchard was in surplus-- what use did we have for so much fruit?" 

"I know the story," snarled Mileva, "Don't you dare try and educate myself upon issues you consider me lacking in knowledge. Stepping down with grace and letting Mason decide what is to be done would have bode very well, yet you chose to portray yourself as a kind of messiah-- did you not?" Felicity's mouth hung open, and I sat there, frozen as stone. I couldn't bring myself to say a word in her defence.

"What would you have done with the surplus?" she whispered, her head hung low, her eyes blinking fast to stop the tears. "Sold them-- didn't that solicitor tell you about one of our secondary sources of income? Or didn't that penetrate your head?" Felicity looked up, astonished at both the prospect of selling the excess of fruits and Mileva's language.

"Mileva," I said quietly, pained. I had to clench my fists to stop them from smoothing the tears in Felicity's eyes, from drawing her to me, and taking her away. You are a madman, I tell myself and sit as I had, numb. 

"Well, pardon me for my judgement that doing a good deed of charity is more suitable then adding to a fortune that is larger than all of your hearts put together," saying so, Felicity stormed out, leaving us siblings glowering at each other.

Blehhh my writing sucks rn whatever take care <3