Twins of Tenby Hall

Chapter 27

Had Izzy been home at Tenby the two girls would be excitedly planning for the younger twin's matrimonial festivities.

Alas, Izzy was not home, therefor Matthew and Miranda were forced to postpone their impending nuptials until her safe return. 

Snow drifted down upon Southamptons, blanketing the sleepy flora and fauna in a delicate blanket of flurry.
Isabel Riley and the Dunsworth siblings were visiting a public park; enjoying the general glittering splendor of the outdoors, breathing in the icy air and laying tracks in the newly fallen snow. As they walked, they were hailed by someone behind them; they turned to find Miss Wescott leaving the company of her parents to catch up to their little party. The three walkers plastered on smiles as they waited for the girl to join them.

Isabel, who had been trying these past weeks to mend Miss Wescott's injured feelings, welcomed her kindly and complimented her hooded cloak, expounding that she would have her seamstress create one just like it for herself. This pleased Miss Wescott, she believing herself quite the setter of trends. They conversed about the weather, the joys of winter, and which seasons were their favorite and why.

Sicily Dunsworth, thoroughly bored of the polite, societal conversation, rolled a crunchy ball of snow and sailed it towards her brother's back, garnering a very satisfactory response – an exclamation of surprise and displeasure as he hurriedly brushed the dripping ice from under his collar. He had whipped one back towards her before any of the three of them had a chance to react. Sicily ate the snow from her stinging cheek with a glint in her eye towards Izzy. Izzy discerned the meaning of this glint and exacted revenge on behalf of Sicily. A war ensued. 

"Stop! Oh do please stop!" wailed Miss Wescott. "I hate snow-fights!" 

"Come now Miss Wescott," Dunsworth turned on her. "Are you so averse to a little fun?" Sicily and Isabel stared at each other with raised brows. 

The lady pouted. "It is so wet, and cold. I will be made wet and aggrieved." 

"Your cloak is heavy, and protects you well; we will go easy on you I swear it." He grinned at her, tossing a ball of snow in his hand lightly. 

"I shan't join you, I don't think it any fun at all. I shall sit on this bench if you would be so kind as to brush it off for me, and shall watch from there." 

"Very well." agreed he with a smile. He strode to the bench Miss Wescott had pointed out, gave it one mighty, unceremonious swipe with an arm, then jogged back to his sister and Isabel – who stood and observed him with keen interest. Miss Wescott gaped, offended by his slight, and slumped onto the cold, wooden seat with barely concealed displeasure. 

"I give to the count of sixty for you two to fill your stores with artillery, then we shall have a proper battle." declared he with a confidant smirk, already gathering balls of packed snow a few yards from them. 

With a cry, Sicily and Isabel began forming their own spheres and piling them behind a tree trunk. Dunsworth called time. The battle broke out and the players entirely forgot about poor Miss Wescott sitting forlornly nearby until, eventually, a wayward missile streaked through the air toward her and landed quite smartly on her collarbone. She jumped up and squealed in such distress the other three thought she might have lost an eye! 

"It has only hit her chest." Dunsworth said in relief once he and the other girls had inspected the damage. "We are terribly sorry Miss Wescott, I suppose we let our game run a little out of hand. I hope you will forgive us?" 

"Has only hit my chest??" bewailed the damsel. "How insensitive Mr Dunsworth, Sir! It stings and is dripping freezing ice down my décolletage! Why must you oblige them their silly games instead of sitting with me?"