Intention

Chapter 12: Closer

Portia Featherington was not someone who liked to be wrong, but in this case, she was indeed mistaken. Sir Hazelwood was not fifty years old, as she and Penelope thought, but sixty. It was a sunny but frosty winter's day, and seeking shelter and warmth, they had settled in the study instead of the drawing room in her Aunt Petunia's estate. Somehow, this room had two fireplaces and thankfully both were lit, easing the permeating cold from outside.

The study was one of the largest rooms in her Aunt Petunia's estate and had been Sir Crawford Petunia's husband's workplace.

On either side of the study there were two large bookcases containing dozens of literatures regarding ornithology and nature. Sir Crawford, aka as Richard had been a great lover of birds and other species. A couple of specimens, blackbirds and finches and some kind of yellowish creature stood on the mantelpiece, their beady eyes gawking at the company that was present.

Portia did not like this at all. Those blasted birds unnerved her. She also was not a fan of the interior. The room had dark green wallpaper that had illustrations of all sorts of animals on them. It was a poor sight to see in her opinion.

The study was comfortable though; she had to admit.

It was evident that Richard entertained his friends there. The sofa and armchairs were the wrong colour, a kind of dark brownish-red that Portia did not like, but they were comfortable to sit on. However, Portia was determined to undertake a mini-renovation next time they visited, there were also other chambers in the estate that did appeal to her 'refined' taste. The house needed some Featherington brightness, a little yellow here and there, for example.

'I hope you are well, Sir Hazelwood,' Portia asked politely.

Sir Hazelwood smiled, baring his teeth, and Portia almost regretted asking the question. The man had black teeth, rotting in several places. He was poorly groomed, looked much older than his 60 years and did not seem to be in the best of physical condition. Portia could not help observing that the man was quite overweight and was bald except for the two "strips" of hair on either side of his head. She seriously wondered why he did not remove the remaining hair instead of leaving it like that; it looked almost comical.

'Thank you, Lady Featherington. I appreciate the invitation. It is a real pleasure to meet you and your lovely daughters,' and with that, he let his gaze linger on Penelope as he took a sip of his tea.

Prudence cringed openly and Portia had to nudge her to make her change her expression.

'How old are you, my dear?' asked Sir Hazelwood, suddenly breaking the uncomfortable silence.

The person he was addressing did not look up from her cup of tea, which was untouched.

'Penelope!' Portia called out and met the murdering expression and nod of her head to her right, in the direction of the uninvited guest, Penelope could immediately conclude that Sir Hazelwood had asked or said something.

'Hhm? Oh... I am sorry Sir Hazelwood. Did you say anything?'

" I inquired how old you were."

Penelope blinked a few times, not expecting the question, and then looked imploringly at her mother before answering.

'I will be twenty this summer, Sir,' she replied, her eyes downcast.

'Ah, twenty. That is a lovely age. A lovely age for sure,' he repeated with a grin. It was just as well that Penelope did not look up, because if she had seen the way the man next to her was looking at her, she would have spontaneously walked out of the room.

'My condolences on the passing of Lady Hazelwood,' Portia stated, taking her turn to break the awkward silence.

'Thank you. She passed away a few months ago,' Sir Hazelwood replied with a pained look.