The Little Wren

The Second Chapter

So here it is. I think I'd better take a break from writing. Whew!

It’s always been my brother’s job to take me out to shop ever since he learnt to drive a carriage (My brother has strange tendencies.). But Quinn was out on Saturday, so one thing led to another, and I ended up enlisting my Aunt to bring me to Bond Street.

It was not bad, apart from the fact that half the purchases were bought not for me, but for Vivian. The pretty bonnets, the flaring gowns, were all for “darling Vivian, who has hardly any clothes” and I got a plain red gown with a (chipped) pearl necklace.

“Dear me,” Aunt twittered. “Are there no more carriages available?”

I turned towards her. “It would appear so, Aunt.”

She stuck her hand out but quickly pulled it back as the road was filled by a car chugging past, blowing out copious gusts of smoke.

“What’s the world coming to now?” she snapped. “Who’s made these new-fangled cars nowadays? What’s happened to the carriages?”

“I think it’s called the Revolution, Aunt,” I offered, trying to keep a straight face. My Aunt is very old-fashioned.

“I swear, I will never step on one of those... those abominations!” she said, crossing her arms.

I was about to answer, but just then, a gleaming Volkswagon drew up in front of us. Out stepped Andrew Wynter. He proffered a hand to my Aunt. “Did you call for a taxi?” he said, trademark smile already on his lips.

“Oh, yes!” she blabbered. “I’ve always dreamt of sitting in a car!”

Andrew turned his smile to me, a twinkle in his eye betraying what he knew about Aunt’s proclamation. “And you, Lady Mercer?”

I grinned back at him, enjoying the joke. “Of course, Lord Waverly.” Then I entered the smoothly-panelled interior as gracefully as I could, though I fancy I might have flashed a stocking or something.

Aunt clambered in clumsily, settling herself and all her voluminous skirts on the leather seat with a gigantic, “Whoomph!” After arranging them neatly, she squeezed me to the side and cozied up to Andrew.

“Oh, thank you for picking us up, Lord Waverly!” she exclaimed. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come up!”

“Walked home?” I said primly, sneaking a peek at Andrew’s face. He was grinning, which I took as a good sign.

Lillibetta shot me a glare, then turned back to Andrew. “You know the way to the Wagnor Castle, don’t you?” she warbled.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s his first time there, Aunt. Of course he doesn’t know the way.”

“Oh, but that’s not true!” she said slyly, her eyes slipping to mine with a look of triumph. “Lord Waverly visits every two days just to see Vivian! He is most persistent in his attentions to my darling daughter!”

“Oh,” I said, woodenly. I felt as if my heart had been stomped on. “I see.” I refused to look at Andrew.

We passed the rest of the car ride in silence (broken only by Aunt’s chattering).

“We’re here!” Aunt clucked, pointing at the large castle looming in front of us. She hopped off as the car slowed down, pulling at Andrew’s hand so he was forced to follow her. “Do come in and have a little tea or cakes. Vivian does make the most delicious pastries!”

I was left alone in the car, cursing as my skirt got caught in between the seats. Carefully, I tugged at it and the flimsy material tore.

“Damn!” I swore, my fingers trembling. This was my favourite gown, a pale peach that brought out the gold flecks in my eyes.

“Having trouble?” Andrew said, his face appearing around the corner of the door, his brows creased adorably. Aunt hung on his arm, pouting.

I nodded, my lips pursed. Andrew gave me a little smile and reached over, pulling a lever. The seat that had been pinning my dress down lifted up and I quickly pulled out the torn skirt. I sighed. The material was torn beyond repair.

“I can fix it for you,” Andrew offered. “My tailor is very effective.”

“You would?” I said, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes,” he replied. “Naturally.”

“Then I thank you,” I said primly, declining to take his hand and hopping off the car myself.

***

The Wagnor Castle was, of course, large, shiny, and well-furnished. Vivian hurried out from the spiral staircase, her eyes widening theatrically as she stared at Andrew.

“Dear me!” she shrieked. “It’s Lord Waverly!” She then dipped into a low curtsey, peeking sultrily at Andrew through lowered lashes.

How cliche. Vivian never was a very innovative person.

Andrew bowed over her hand, lightly touching his lips to it. “Lady Wagnor,”he said, smiling. “It is indeed a pleasure to see you again.”

She tittered meaninglessly, barely granting me a glance. The two Wagnor ladies each grabbed one of Andrew’s elbows and guided him towards the drawing room, while I was left to fend for myself (again).

Andrew, blast him, didn’t even look back. I followed them reluctantly, wishing I was as pretty as Vivian. “Darling” Vivian, with her shiny blue eyes and silky black hair, and a figure as rounded as a... as a...

Pie?

Nah. I’ve never been that good at adjectives.

 Hope u enjoyed it!