Bride of Choice

Chapter IV: Apples & Mudpies

"Where is Lori, Foster? I haven't seen her since breakfast and she hasn't come to do her embroidery."

"She has gone for a walk with Master Wade, Madame. Miss Poe and Miss Flynn have accompanied them as well."

"Is that so?" Mrs. Lambert smiled to herself. "Well, I need not be anxious about her then. Ellyn, though a trifle outspoken, can be quite sociable and Alice is a cautious and delicate little creature. Although," she added after a pause, "I would feel much better had Garin been with them. He's a sensible man who knows how to keep my son on his toes."

"I couldn't agree more, Madame," he said as he placed a glass of 'morning essence' before her (a simple mixture of dark honey, crushed berries, a squeeze of lemon and a generous amount of cognac).

She smiled as she eyed the shiny glass. "Thank you, Foster, you always know when I need my essence. It has proven countless times to relieve my headaches and boredom fever." The man smiled, despite knowing his mistress' symptoms were mere excuses for drinking so early in the day.

Mrs. Lambert, after tasting her glass, leaned back in her chair and stared out the window at the cheery morning.

"And how is Miss Brightley? Has she put in an appearance since breakfast?"

"I can't say that she has, ma'am. She's a reserved one and keeps to herself most times. Anne says she wished to draw her own bath this morning and didn't take half as long as most young ladies do to get ready."

Mrs. Lambert nodded. "Yes, that was always the way with Idrielle Brightley. Her father was a classmate of Mr. Lambert whose late wife was goddaughter to my aunt. Henrietta was so full of life—quite a contrast when compared to her daughter though I understand there's a younger girl who might've taken more after her mother... But where Idrielle is concerned, a more withdrawn soul has yet to cross my path! And though she looks every bit like her mother, I'm afraid most would consider her ways rather... odd. But she is a sweet girl with a mature air once one takes the time to know her."

Outside, near the entrance of the orchard, Alice frowned as she thought of something to say that would distract young Lori from the mix she was concocting with childish glee.

"Can you imagine what your mother would say if she saw you, child?" she said at last.

Lori snorted.

"Oh, yes, I could!" she giggled, her quick hands emptying a flagon of water into a wooden bowl ready with fresh brown earth from the garden.

"And what should she say except, 'Lorienne Eve Lambert, look at what you've done to your frock! Oh, how I wish you'd sit still like Patty Minton's girl and look pretty despite your plainness! I can almost hear my Aunt Tilda saying how much of a disappointment I am...Anne! Anne! Here, quick girl! Bring towels and a bucket and tell Foster to call up Mr. Lambert so he can see how much he's spoiled my girl.'"

And with a hearty laugh, she stirred the mucky contents, caring little for nasty splashes against her white starched frock.

Alice sighed as she gently ( and helplessly) massaged her temples, looking about her for Wade Lambert or Ellyn Poe. Guessing the two had gone on ahead, she glanced with a sad gaze at the child in her care. Lori, ignorant of the young woman's discomfort (or simply not caring for it), said in her commanding tone as most children left to themselves are in the habit of adopting.

"Refill that glass for me, will you? My cakes are a trifle dry," and turned her attention to the muddy mess she was concocting. Alice sighed once more and, as asked, wandered away to do as requested.

"Children are difficult little messes, aren't they?" she thought to herself as Lori's shrieks came floating to her. "I'd much rather play with the darling pups than fetch water for her muck."

"—Yes! That's what I'm missing! Father's brandy! But how shall I get it without being spotted...?"

~

In the orchard, young Lambert dangled from a lower branch of the tree while Miss Ellyn Poe held a basket of handsome red apples.

"I have to admit that Lori has outdone me in the amount of apples she can eat in a day, but I honestly don't think even she can succeed in eating as many as you have in a single hour!"

Miss Poe laughed as she sprinkled the seeds from her recent core over the grass. She tilted her pretty head to one side and smiled, accentuating her dimples.

"You needn't worry, Mr. Lambert, I assure you. Ever since I was a girl, Daddy's orchard has been my closest friend. Perhaps it's out of habit that I eat so much, and yet I have never suffered the repercussions of it."

He looked her over with a thoughtful gaze as she stooped to examine her overflowing basket. She was a cheerful creature, and he admired her bright eyes, ruddy cheeks and conversational manner.

"Do you ride, Mr. Lambert?"

He blinked a few times and only realised his hesitancy when she turned to look at him.

"Yes! Why, yes, I do—"

"We ought to go together sometime," she said, eyeing one apple for bruises before dropping it into the basket with the others. "There's quite a thrill that comes from having the wind in your face and the adrenaline of a steed bounding off into the sunset. You just feel..." she searched for words.

"Free," young Lambert supplied with a soft smile.

"Yes! That's just it!" Her eyes were shining. "I'd hoped you'd understand... unlike poor Mr. Newton—you don't know him," she said, waving her hand when he opened his mouth to question her. "I can't imagine life without riding, Mr. Lambert, and if only you knew how happy it makes me to know you share my enthusiasm for it. Could you reach that rosy one up there, please? My legs are far too short, I'm afraid."

Wade Lambert, when he agreed to choose a wife, was a picky fellow, as any sensible man should be when considering a life sentence of matrimony, as cautioned by Doctor Garin. (But alas! Dear reader, the pickiest of men often pick the worst apple from the tree.)

Miss Ellyn Poe possessed a playful charm along with a fiery gleam in her eyes which he found refreshing—something he seldom saw in the women of Harwickshire. Despite this, he had assured himself she wasn't charming enough to tempt him to marry. But now, he had to admit there was something pleasant about the dimpled smile and laughing eyes...

Miss Poe broke into a sudden laugh, her eyes sparkling.

"Dear Mr. Lambert, you are very bold to stare at me as you do, sir." She batted her heavy lashes. "Do you like what you see?"

Caught in quite a situation indeed! And I cannot, even as the writer of this little story, tell you in mere words how embarrassed he was, nor how red he'd gotten or what stumbling over words he endured while making pathetic apologies for having been so rude and all to the delight of sweet Ellyn Poe who did nothing to ease his burden as she found his awkward situation a colourful and entertaining one.

But we all have (those of us that were blessed with sisters and brothers, at least) somewhere in our lives been grateful for their intruding nature when we find ourselves in troubling situations. And Lori's delicious mud pies were more than appreciated by the young man when they came flying out from behind the trees, spoiling Miss Poe's lovely dress and carrying his burden of embarrassment to the wayside as he ducked for cover behind the massive trunk. Ellyn, playful by nature, thought 'What fun!' and enjoyed the muddy game as much as Lori and her brother and the trio ran about throwing mud pies until their store ran out causing them to resort to crispy red apples for ammunition.

Alice Flynn, donning a tight frown, shook her head while stationed near the gate. "How unsavoury of them to spoil their clothes. Now they're covered in dirt and one would have assumed Miss Poe possessed more decorum than this!"

Soon after, four little messes trudged their way back to the house, as an open gate was not the most prudent location to be during a battle of apples and mud pies, as even Miss Lori could attest to.