03. the ambush

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THE JOURNEY FROM LONDON to the countryside was long and cumbersome, and the violent jolting of the carriage was the issue of least consequence

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THE JOURNEY FROM LONDON to the countryside was long and cumbersome, and the violent jolting of the carriage was the issue of least consequence. Olive wouldn't have been able to keep her nose stuffed into her book even if she were riding on the smoothest cloud through the stillest of air, for it was Aunt Jane that was the main source of her current affliction: a headache.

On top of her usual, irritating habit of belching and farting nearly constantly, Aunt Jane had been nagging Maria and Olive all day long to "sit up straight," and to "remember to be on the best of behavior" so that Maria's uncle wouldn't regret inviting them to stay at his estate.

The carriage jolted once more, and simultaneously, Aunt Jane belched horribly. After covering her mouth, quickly, the woman fumbled through her handbag.

"Ugh, where are my charcoal tablets?" she groaned. "Oh, this is doing nothing for my indigestion."

The two young ladies had heard Miss Heliotrope's anecdote about her indigestion so many times that they'd each memorized the most recurring bit; the next part, which Maria mouthed, perfectly in sync: "I'm an absolute martyr to my stomach."

Olive had to hide her grin behind her novel, for Maria's mockery of their governess was something she found devastatingly hilarious.

Olive had to hide her grin behind her novel, for Maria's mockery of their governess was something she found devastatingly hilarious

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"Olive, dear, do sit up. I thought I told you to work on your embroidery?"

Olive sighed, forcing her eyes to meet her Aunt's disapproving gaze.

"I tried, Aunt Jane, but–"

Maria and Aunt Jane shrieked as the carriage jostled over a rut in the road, leading all three of its passengers to bob from side to side. Olive gripped the seat beneath her to steady herself, secretly finding humor in the situation.

"Ouch," Maria grimaced, pulling a needle out of her thumb. She held it up, examining her pinpricked finger before putting it to her lips. Maria glanced over at Aunt Jane, who had finally seemed to gather why Olive had long-given up on her embroidery.

"Oh, never mind," the elderly woman said, finally excusing Olive from interrogation. "Maria, dear, are you alright?"

"Yes, Miss Heliotrope, twas just a pinprick. But I think I'll practice my needlepoint at a later moment, if that is alright with you?"

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