The Scarlett Maiden

Eight: Dinner

        Chapter Eight

         “Please excuse my absence,” I said smoothly, taking the empty seat beside Lilly. “There was a family manner I needed to take care of.”

Her mother smiled. “Already excused, dear.”

I nodded distractedly, looking at Lilly. Her eyes were guarded, despite her overall pleasant expression. Despite the fact that I didn’t like her as much as Alana, I did not enjoy seeing her in pain.

“So, Ethan,” Mister Witherworth coughed, his eyes on his venison. “Lilly tells me you’re interested in law?”

         “My father is Judge, sir,” I replied. “I’m expected to follow his footsteps.”

         “Is that what you want to do?” A new voice says.

I look to the left, noticing a younger girl who I haven’t seen before. She shares the same round face, as Lilly, and her eyes are just as bright.

         “Isabella,” she says, noticing my confusion. “I’m Lilly’s sister.”

I smiled at her. “Hello.”

         “You’d make a good Judge,” Mister Witherworth continued, sending a look to his youngest daughter. “One can’t deny what’s in the blood.”

“I’ve been told that much, sir.”

         “I think you should do what you want to,” Isabella murmured.

         “Isabella–“

Whatever he was going to say is cut off by the sound of the kitchen door thumping lightly into the wall, as Alana walked in with another tray of food. Our eyes met on their own accord, and a small smile formed on my lips. She smiled back, purposely brushing against me as she set it down. Chills ran through my body.

“Ethan?”

I looked up at the speaker, snapping from my trance. “Ma’am?”

Mrs. Witherworth smiled. “I asked how your mother was.”

         “Oh, she’s just fine,” I assured, feeling warmth rush to my ears. Thank heavens Blake talked me out of that haircut, and it would not be visible.  “Worrying about her children, as always.”

She laughed. “She and I used to be nannies in the same house. Seven Children.”

         “I wasn’t aware of that.”

         “No?” She frowned. “We were the best of friends.”

Isabella seemed to be repressing laughter across the table from me. “Mother, you accused her of theft and had her fired.”

Mister Witherworth made an angry noise, while his wife flushed brightly. Lilly chuckled into her napkin. “You never told me that, Mother.”

         “It slipped from my memory,” she murmured, biting hard on a piece of bread. “I’m getting old, you know.”

         “Nonsense,” I assured. “You don’t look a day over twenty.”

She smiled at me, and the table was silent for a while. My hunger had gotten the best of me, and with my gorging, Lilly’s annoyance, and Isabella’s lack of snarky commentary, there was really nothing to go on. I suddenly felt like I was in a disaster dinner between the Capulets and the Montagues. 

         “Ethan, why don’t you go into the cellar and pick some wine?” Mister Witherworth suggested, just as I felt the need to break the silence. “Alana will show you the way.”