“Please do.”
“The girls were ten and seven, and forever following us about the estate.”
“How sweet.”
“The sweetness was lost on us at the time. We were seventeen if you recall and quite puffed up with self-importance as only boys on the verge of manhood can be.”
Sophie took mental exception to the use of “only” in that statement, but wisely held her tongue.
“One fine afternoon, a small group of us decided to picnic down by the lake. It had been an unusually hot spring and the water had turned rather green and murky, but Whit insisted on securing the lovely Miss Wilheim for a row on the water. And she did indeed look lovely, all peaches and cream in a fetching little ensemble with matching bonnet and—”
“Alex.”
“Right. Well, Kate and Mirabelle took it to mind to go out on the lake as well. They stole off with the only other boat—”
“Borrowed.”
“Fine. They borrowed the remaining boat and in less than five minutes managed to ram the vessel straight into the unsuspecting Whit and lovely Miss Wilheim.”
“Oh, dear.”
“Quite. A tremendous to-do followed. Whit, besotted fool that he was, had been so occupied gazing at his future bride that he hadn’t noticed the girls’ approach, nor had he the prudence to keep a firm grip on the oars. He lost them both in the collision. And while I’m sure he would have been perfectly happy to spend the rest of the day, and certainly the night, trapped with Miss Wilheim in a small boat, he was sensible enough to realize that the young lady would undoubtedly feel differently about the matter. So, in an attempt to take control of the situation, he demanded that the girls turn over their oars, so that he might row his guest to shore and then return to collect the children.”
“Seems reasonable.”
“Not to a pair of frightened little girls. They were utterly terrified of Whit’s wrath, and he was visibly upset at the time. They were certain he would abandon them in the lake as revenge for the accident. They refused to turn over the oars.”
“That can’t have soothed his temper.”
“Indeed it did not. He started in on Kate immediately, berating her for her already legendary clumsiness. It was terribly unfair of him, as each girl had an oar and was equally responsible, but that fact was lost on him at the time, and he chastised her until the poor chit started crying. Mirabelle has always been uncommonly protective of Kate and she simply would not abide Whit’s behavior. She stood up, oar in hand, and positively roasted Whit. The girl’s always had a tongue like a rapier, for all that she generally keeps it in check. By the time she was through, Whit’s ears were exceedingly red at the tips.”
Alex chuckled at the memory. “Poor Whit. Reduced to shamefaced silence by a mere slip of a girl. He was mortified, furious, and he acted on instinct, reaching over and grabbing Mirabelle’s oar.”
“Oh, no.”
“Precisely what Mirabelle said with an added ‘you don’t’ at the end. She had an impressive grip for a ten-year-old, and she pulled that oar back with every shred of strength she owned. Whit came right along with it.”
“Oh, heavens,” Sophie laughed.
“It gets better. He wasn’t fully standing, and as he went over his knees caught on the side of the boat.” Alex demonstrated Whit’s unfortunate predicament with a brief pantomime of his hands. “The girls screamed. Miss Wilheim screamed. Hell, Whit may very well have screamed, but he was already half submerged, so we’ll never know.”
“Oh, dear Lord!” Sophie was laughing hard enough to draw attention to herself, but she didn’t care.
“And that is precisely what the lovely Miss Wilheim screamed. Right before she was tossed headfirst into the water.”
“How awful.” She was barely able to get the words out between fits of giggles.
“I found it rather amusing from my standpoint on shore.”
“I’m certain you did. What ever happened?”
“Well, the girls beat a hasty retreat to the far shore and disappeared into the house. Whit was forced to assist the now considerably less lovely Miss Wilheim to shore. Fortunately, the water only came up to her chin so she was never in any real danger. But they did look a sight, covered in green. And she rather like a disembodied head, complete with bonnet of course, bobbing in the water like a cork.”
Sophie felt tears of mirth on her cheeks. “The poor thing. Was she very angry?”
“She and her mother packed up and left that very afternoon.”