Shuffling along the hallway, Delilah finally broke free from the endless conversations. Terence - similarly bulky young man like his brothers - had joined an hour later in the drawing-room that was large enough to fit five or six people more than the party already gathered there. Brown leather seats had been decorated with cushions made by Charlotte and her maids, and the coffee table between them had been garnished with plates on plates of appetizers.
Raindrops plummeted against the window, a stark contrast to the sun that had been shining earlier that morning.
Delilah excused herself to find her cousin. Charlotte had given her a simple reason to escape from the continuous discussion of the Sangreden's newest laws, political drama, and arranged marriages. Talfryn was far from the strategic man inhabiting his name in tales. He was much more like an obsessed gossip.
The three long scars that zigzagged across her leg were throbbing and the bitter drops of August Flower elixir she swallowed did nothing to stop the pain.
From the drawing-room to Charlotte's own residence, Delilah would have to walk back to the main entrance, up the stairs, and through another two long corridors. She was surprised the walking stick had withstood so long. Her cotton dress glided against the walnut floor, ruffled on the ruby carpets, before swaying as Delilah stopped outside Charlotte's door – painted the same as the white walls.
Giggles emanated from inside along with a sudden thud.
"Charlotte?" Delilah called with her knocks. Murmurs passed through the door, though none that she understood. "Charlotte? Your guests are here." Murmurs passed again, then were accompanied by a series of stomps. Charlotte appeared in the crack of the opened door. "Cousin, I love you, but you have terrible timing."
Buttons were undone on her green bodice and her skirt was caught in the petticoat beneath. Charlotte's skin had flustered with a reddish hue – turning to a shade like the bark of cherry trees. Her hair released into its natural state, much like it had been months ago against the highwaymen. Straining herself up to glimpse through the gap in the door, Delilah smirked. "It seems I do." A maid Delilah could not remember the name of hurried from the chaste, retying her apron around her waist and readjusting her bodice. "I am afraid that Baron Albert and his family arrived two hours ago and are waiting in the drawing-room." Charlotte's face soured.
"You couldn't send a maid to tell me that?"
"Well, sending a maid may have kept you longer." Delilah's smirk widened as Charlotte's brown skin reddened further. A hue only those closest to her could tell was a blush. "A moment." Then, she shut the door.
Delilah hated waiting. More so now when she could hardly stand. The sweet cousin Charlotte was, left her in the hallway for another five or so minutes before re-emerging. Her dress had been readjusted, re-buttoned, and her hair pinned back in a tight bun. "Did Baron send you? That would be the sole reason why you, my kind, loving cousin would deliver me to this torture." They walked. Arm looped in arm. "As loving as I wish I am, no. I could not withstand the torment without you. The Albert boys are unbearable. Like yapping, frustrated dogs that have not been petted for weeks."
"What about Terence? The oldest right? He's meant to be more...I don't know...pleasant?"
"More bearable, definitely." Charlotte raised her brows. "Quiet. Average looks. You will not want to rip your eyes out or remove your ears." Two laughs filled the hall like birds singing in the breeze.
"Could be worse?"
"Could be worse."
---
Fox-like screeches bounced between the walls of the drawing-room. Tarquin and Tate hunched over in gut-rooted laughter. Whisky, gin, and wine occupied the drawers where the window looked out on the courtyard. The rain continued to pour as the sun dipped behind the clouds, taking with it the last hour of daylight remaining.
Delilah so wished to fill a glass with each and every drink available. The guests' cackling bore into her ears. Glances to Charlotte caused her to consider filling two.
The named heir to the Albertian South sat tall, blank, and without moving his lips once next to her cousin. To which the latter slumped herself back into her seat, boredom written in large letters through her eyes. Meanwhile, Delilah suffered more so between his two brothers.
Crushed between their burly shoulders, she could not escape the two swine snorting at their own jokes. "Miss Franklyn, Miss Franklyn. Listen to mine next." Tate wheezed as he spoke. "What..." he gulped in his laugh, "what do you call fly without wings?" The boys watched her. Squished her even more as they waited. Delilah hunched her shoulders, unwilling to engage in their childishness. "A Walk!" And with the punchline, the screeches returned.
Was whiskey stronger or gin? Delilah could not decide but knew she needed one. Her attempt to pour a glass earlier had been futile. Baron took it moments from her lips and swallowed the liquid in one gulp. "Do. Not. Pour. Another." He pulled her close with his arm around her shoulders, then released her as he turned to tell Baron Albert another tall tale of his latest job. The very job she had almost died on. Alas, she resigned to suffering between the Albert boys, wishing she had been stuck next to the quiet one.
---
"If you threaten me with torture like that again, I will move to Smacallves and never speak to you again."
"Take me with you?" Delilah fell onto the bed beside her cousin, drained from the hours subjected to the egotistical men of the south. "No." Hair free from the confines of pins and bobbles, Charlotte's face emerged from the mound of pillows it was buried in. "You lost that privilege after disturbing me." Teeth peeked out from behind Charlotte's cherry-painted lips along with a murderous glint in her eyes. "You'll have to stay here," she leaned closer to Delilah, who remained lying stomach-down on the bed. "AND SUFFER!"
Smacks followed by smacks caught Delilah off-guard. Giggles ruptured from her throat as she scrambled to catch the pillow Charlotte violently slammed against her back. The lady's face contorted into the personification of chaos and glee.
"Spar me! I am injured!" Delilah cried out as tears prickled her eyes and her cheeks ached around the corners of her lips. "Mercy! Mercy!"
The battle continued onwards through the night. Ended only when the grandfather clock across the room chimed midnight and the two ladies collapsed into sleep atop the silk covers.
YOU ARE READING
A Bullet Or Two
FantasíaWhat would you do if everything you were destined to have was taken away? Delilah Franklyn, the dutiful step-daughter to the Baron of Farhilm, was raised to take his role. Moulded to lead the prosperous East Quarter. Yet when responsibility falls in...
