The Lady Pursues

Chapter One (Part 2)

1806 (Continued...)

Later, after Charity had a bath, her slippers were declared hopeless, and everyone had a proper scolding, she went to find Ian after supper, but he seemed less than grateful for the food, and still a bit green.

He turned away in his bed. "I think being sent to meals would be more of a punishment. See if Ernest wants it."

"I would, but I saw Pru dropping some rolls into her lap for him. I think she feels bad about boxing his ears."

"She should feel bad for Richard. He'll be sporting a bruise for days now."

"I don't think she feels bad about that at all. She abominates him." She put her napkin on his dresser.

Ian laughed, then grimaced and grasped his stomach. "Is that one of your new words? Like debauched?"

"I still don't know what it means."

"Well, I won't be the one to tell you."

"Why do the others call you Monk?"

"Because they think I'm not much fun. Now, go on." He shooed at her when she made to sit on the bed, so she knelt near it instead. "You shouldn't be in here. You'll get in trouble."

"No, I won't. I'm performing an act of Christian charity."

He smiled a little. "Still living up to your name? It's still not a good idea risking the wrath of your mother. Not that anyone ever punishes you."

Charity frowned at that. "They could. I just haven't done anything much yet."

"Well, try not to. I like you better the way you are."

She smiled widely. He was so much nicer than Ernest, no wonder she liked him best. Then again, she liked him in a much different way. She wasn't as much of a reader as Pru, but sometimes, when Pru read Shakespeare, she'd mark all the best lovey bits for Charity. Pru found them silly, but Charity thought they were glorious.

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out ev'n to the edge of doom.

The edge of doom. It was just so achingly lovely. Whenever she heard anything romantic like that, she thought of Ian, so she surely must be in love. And maybe it was time he knew.

Ian was still shooing her off gallantly, protecting her from punishment. "Go on. If you're in here, I'll be the one to get in trouble. Mother will think I told you to bring me food. I know what she'll do then."

Or maybe he was protecting himself. He was still very gallant and brave, facing his punishment like a true hero. "What does she do to you?"

"Besides the punishing, she gives me this look and calls me a Douglass through and through. That's the worst part."

"Well, I only know two people named Douglass," Charity said with a shrug, "so that sounds nice to me."

He gave her a wry smile. "I don't think she means it nicely." He frowned heavily. "She doesn't talk about my father much, so it must be pretty bad."

"Do you remember him?"

"I remember some." He shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it."

"But I want to hear about it."

"Not if you get in trouble. Now..."

"I'm not afraid of getting in trouble. And I've been punished. Don't you remember when I took Mama's jewelry box to make you and Ernest play treasure hunt with me? I was made to practice piano for two hours every day for a week."