**Written for FanFic 100!**
Novels and Tea, Birds and Kites
Prompt: 063. Summer.
When one is as authoritative, industrious, and exacting as Miss Betsey Trotwood, daily life can be exceedingly tiring. You can hardly blame her when, on one hot summer day, after a particularly violent battle against SEVEN donkeys and three stupid boys, wherein Janet flung the pitcher and drenched only Miss Betsey's best shawl, and wherein Mr. Dick broke a window playing cricket with his reflection, she threw her hands up, cried "I need a holiday!", and stormed out the door.
Janet and Mr. Dick stared at each other in the gaping solitude of the parlor. "It's your fault, you know," said Janet, and of course Mr. Dick believed her good sense and hung his head in shame. "Well, we mustn't bother her," he said resolutely. "She shall have the best holiday she's ever had because, well, she's the best WOMAN. In the WORLD!"
Meanwhile, Miss Betsey had stood outside the door, gulping the steamy but fresh air, thinking. "I shall finish my novel," she decided, "take some tea, and watch the birds. This will put my mind at rest."
Thus settled, she resolved to collect her materials and retreat to the yard.
Miss Betsey had been working on her novel for twenty years. No one had been allowed to read it, as it was a romance, which the woman considered frivolous and humiliating. But she had started, and Miss Betsey always finished what she started. She didn't always remember where she PUT the things she started, however, and it took a great deal of ransacking bureau drawers to find the manuscript.
Just as she had gone to exit the door, she came face-to-face with Mr. Dick, who immediately gasped and turned red.
"Ah, Miss Trotwood! I am sorry to interfere, indeed!" His eyes fell on the document. "Are you working on your Mem – oh, nevermind, I shan't interfere, have a pleasant holiday!" And he precipitately disappeared.
Now, this episode somehow ruffled Miss Betsey: she felt as though Mr. Dick were afraid of her. "Oh, fiddlesticks," she chided herself, "how could he be afraid of an hour long absence from me?" And so she continued with her plan.
Of course she had forgotten most of her manuscript, and after rereading the last three chapters, and recalling what trash it really was, she decided to finish it in another 10 years, and besides, she couldn't concentrate anyway, what with the recollection of Dick's nervous face.
So, she decided to sip her tea. She was sitting on the little porch outside the front door, with a view of the street. But about hallway through her first cup, she noticed a strange noise, like a door opening and closing. She glanced both east and west, and saw no carriage (and more importantly, no donkeys), but still didn't recognize the source of the sound. Then she peered upwards and saw Mr. Dick, sticking his head out his window and looking down at her stealthily.
"Dick!" cried Miss Betsey, imperiously.
"I hope you are having a peaceful holiday by yourself?" he ventured, hopefully.
Miss Betsey fidgeted. "Why, yes, Dick. Thank you for asking. Put your head back indoors, please." And he did so.
By now Miss Betsey was really beginning to doubt the therapeutic effects of a day off. Though she was much too stubborn to admit it to herself, she felt guilty, mean, and childish. But she was determined to have her holiday out. "Who knows when my next opportunity will be?"
She had apparently drunk all her tea while considering this, so her third and final goal came at last. "I shall watch the birds, and commune with nature."
She had not thought that there might not BE any birds.
Miss Betsey was chafing, dreading her foolish reentry and the sight of Mr. Dick's anxious face, when suddenly, a great shadow fluttered across the ground before her, startling her seriously. Past experience induced her to look up, first, and what did she see? Mr. Dick's magnificent kite, floating like a sail on the breeze.
"Miss, Miss Trotwood?" Mr. Dick whispered from beyond the corner of the house.
"What is it, sir?"
"I hope that my kite will provide you with some shade? It IS so very hot and I hope I am not an intrusion but – "
"Stop it, Mr. Dick."
The poor man's face fell. "Oh, I understand. I am sorry to bother you, Miss Trotwood."
"NO, Mr. Dick." Miss Betsey rose up from her chair, shaking her head decidedly. "Please do not stop, for you are very kind and I am a great fool."
"Oh no, no you aren't!" Mr. Dick protested with vehemence, but Miss Betsey held up her hand to silence him.
"Yes I was, Dick, and I will tell you why. It is because I entirely forgot that a holiday is no holiday unless spent in the companionship of a friend."
Mr. Dick brightened considerably; he positively beamed when she beckoned him to take a seat beside her, so they could watch the road and ward of any vagabond donkeys that might happen to straggle by. "For though a holiday is best with companionship," said Miss Betsey, "that don't mean we have to put up with the donkeys!"