No answer.
Not once had he dared touch on this subject in the years since he’d visited his aunt Willowfair. Upon returning to his father’s house after that disastrous summer, he had been forbidden to speak upon the subject. His “behavior” at Hill House was dubbed “reprehensible” and he was never to be given the opportunity for repetition. A lad of his station shouldn’t dream of such tomfoolery, running about the countryside unattended, disregarding his studies, bullying his cousin (a part Leo didn’t remember but couldn’t argue), and fraternizing with the locals. What would people think?
So five years had passed, and Foxbrush had come to visit Leo’s home, but Leo had never returned the favor. He and his cousin got along about as well as they always had, which is to say, not at all.
And yet, there Leo stood (his mother could see him from the corner of her eye), bold as brass, requesting to spend the summer months in a remote mountain household, shut away with a cousin he despised.
Starflower narrowed her eyes at the parchment before her and at her own elegant handwriting. What had gone on that summer so many years ago? She knew that Leo thought about his time at Hill House frequently, though they never spoke of it. What had he found up in those lonely forests that so captivated him? She had asked young Foxbrush many questions on the subject (for Foxbrush was always his aunt’s special pet), but even he had proven reticent. The last thing she wanted was to send her son back to that place where, at least that once, her control over him had slipped.
But his father had agreed. And Starflower never crossed Leo’s father.
Yet even now she could turn this situation to her advantage. A smile touched the corner of her mouth. Starflower made certain it was the corner Leo could not see.
“Very well,” she said, her voice as smooth as silk. “You may visit your aunt at Hill House this summer.”
“Really?” The clouds on Leo’s face cleared, though his expression was far more surprised than pleased. “Really, you don’t mind?”
“Of course not! Why should I mind?” She lifted her half-complete letter so that Leo could watch as she tore it into three long pieces. “I shall not send this letter to Middlecrescent after all, but shall inform the baron that you have regretfully declined his kind offer.” Then she turned, and Leo saw the heretofore hidden smile, and his heart sank.
Starflower handed her quill to him, along with a fresh sheet of parchment. “You may write and invite Baron Middlecrescent’s daughter to join you. Have a pleasant summer, darling.”
So that was her game, was it?
Leo should have known this was coming. After all, he was sixteen. Lads in his position always started having eligible girls forced down their throats right about this time. He shouldn’t be surprised; he should have seen it coming a mile off!
But this knowledge did nothing to improve Leo’s mood as he stormed down the passage from his mother’s sitting room, up a flight of stairs, and on to his own set of rooms in a nearby wing. He slammed the wall with his fist as he went, rattling the gilt-edged frames and mirrors, and knocking a few candles from their sconces. Servants took one look at his face and quickly bowed their heads, pretending not to see him as he passed.
Which one was Middlecrescent’s daughter anyway?
Leo entered the first in his series of five connected rooms, slammed the door, realized there was someone cleaning his hearth, and barked for that person to get out, all without really noticing. His mind was caught up in trying to recall Daylily of Middlecrescent’s face. But memory escaped him. She blended in with all the other girls around his age who’d come and gone from the house throughout the last several years. Of course, he had always known that he would be matched up with one of them eventually, but this thought had never encouraged any particular effort to differentiate among the lot. They were all pretty, flouncy, chattery things as far as he was concerned.
There was no avoiding writing the required letter, however. He knew better than to take up arms against his mother twice in one day. Standing up to her about his summer destination had depleted his supply of courage. There could be no further rebellion on this score.
Dragon’s teeth, she would poke, prod, and pry him into the shape she wanted, and Lumé help him if he resisted!