A Truelove of Turtle Doves

Chpt 25 - Murder Of Crows

The silence in the room was actually quite pleasant.

It made me wish that my father would just keep his mouth shut.

Of course, that was impossible for him.

Any opportunity he had to ruin a moment of content, he would take it.

Just like he was doing right now.

"I would go for a trip down to the promenade - a nice evening activity - and take a refreshing walk, but I don't trust those pirates as far as I can throw them."

He was, as per usual, standing by the large window, pulling the white chiffon curtains back in order to look out over the town. And also in order to stare suspiciously at Le Dauphin in the docks.

"Oh please, Benedict, we can take a chauffeur if you want to go for a walk that badly," my mother replied, rolling her eyes.

Mrs Hardinge piped up, "Yes, a walk would be lovely, don't you think, Philip?"

Mr Hardinge simply shook his head, pipe sticking out of the corner of his mouth, but before he could properly respond, my father cut across.

"No no no, Clara, a chauffeur wouldn't do, and a walk wouldn't be 'lovely' if we were surrounded by thieves and murderers. Like I said, I don't trust them as far as I can throw them."

"And how far can you throw them, exactly, father?" I couldn't help the sarcastic tone of my voice.

His comments usually grated on me, but it had been getting worse by the day, and I was certain that it was something to do with the fact that I was in a relationship with Francis.

If he was insulting all pirates - or I suppose, specifically, all of the pirates on the docks - then he was insulting Francis, and it seemed that both my heart and head wouldn't take it.

My father narrowed his eyes at me. "What is it to you, boy?"

I held his gaze for a moment before returning to my sketchbook. "Nothing."

He snorted.

I bit my tongue to stop myself from making another snarky comment.

"Girls, you've been down to the promenade a few times this past month or so. How is it down there? Not too savage, I hope?" inquired Mrs Hardinge, pouring herself and my mother another cup of tea.

Josie and Lauren blinked before glancing at each other for a moment.

Josie's tone was cautious when she replied, "No, it's been perfectly fine down there. Nothing out of the ordinary."

Lauren nodded enthusiastically.

"Lies! Incessant, bloody lies!" raved my father, who had once again taken up his favourite hobby of pacing the length of the drawing room.

Mr Hardinge made an attempt to calm him down. "Now now, Benedict, we can't be sure of that." A poor attempt, but one nonetheless.

My mother huffed slightly. "Edward, I'm assuming that they are not lying?"

"No, ma'am. The promenade and the docks are as civil as ever, I assure you."

Edward was situated just behind the sisters, standing as still and relaxed as ever, to the point where he looked almost like a statue. The only thing that gave it away was that he had to blink. And he was breathing, of course.

What did surprise me was the simple fact that Michael wasn't here. I found it strange to say the least, and the looks I had received upon entering the room just over an hour ago from Lauren, Josie and Ed told me that they felt the same.