Wilbur of Nandolin stayed for supper.
During this time, Briar discovered that he was not the only one who
disliked the young Count.
He was too full of himself, and had no regard for anybody's feelings, save
his own.
Not even those of his childhood friend, as they'd found out that night.
Sandry had had to intervene many times to keep the peace.
Rosethorn made her dislike known, and Tris was starting to gather sparks in
her hair.
Daja had her hands fisted, and even Lark was becoming quite curt with their
guest.
Sandry silently suffered through all this, but Briar knew what she was
thinking.
Every once in a while he'd catch her glaring at Wilbur.
They made it through supper by just barely containing themselves.
Of course, after supper they weren't quite as lucky.
" Why is Lady Sandrilene drying dishes?" came a whiny call.
"Everyone helps out here, milord." Lark bit out with badly disguised
agitation.
"Sandry lives and learns here, so, like Briar, Daja and Tris, Sandry helps
to do the cleaning and the mending around the house."
"But -but she's an heiress! She should not be cleaning, she should be at
the Citadel with the Duke, preparing to be wed!"
"Wilbur!" Sandry screeched and threw down the towel she'd been using.
"I like doing house work! I find it relaxing. And I love it here at Winding
Circle! I may be an heiress, but that doesn't mean that I have to act like
a spoiled brat! I love all the things I learn here! Washing dishes,
meditation, weaving! It's all a part of me now. And I might not ever get
married! Especially not to some buffle-brain like you!"
Sandry stopped to take a deep breath.
"You weave?" Wilbur made weave sound like syphilis.
"Wilbur of Nandolin, if your mother weren't dead, I'd scold her for raising
such a pompous Bag! If you weren't so irritatingly rude, you would realize
that you aren't the center of the universe! I don't know how I could have
ever stood being around you when we were kids! You were, and still are, a
whiny brat!"
Wilbur stood, and stalked over to where Briar was leaning against the
mantle.
"I suppose you're to blame for Sandrilene's vulgar language. Words like
'Bag', 'kid' and 'brat' have no place in a young lady's vocabulary. Just
because you have a disreputable past and a horrific manner, does not mean
that you must corrupt her as well!"
"You leave Briar out of this!" Sandry protested, as Briar was about to say
something.
Wilbur turned to look at Sandry who was now seething.
"And you, Sandrilene. You should know better than to yell. Any proper lady
would be ashamed of herself for raising her voice. What would her husband
think?"
Sandry walked right up to Wilbur and in a said deadly whisper that everyone
heard,
"Any proper lady would not be caught dead in your company."
"And I suppose you would know, judging by the company you keep."
He threw a sneering glance at Daja and Tris who were holding Briar by the
arms, restraining him, and to Lark and Rosethorn who were talking quietly
to the three of them.
That was too much for Sandry! It was one thing for Wilbur to look down his
nose at her, but if he thought he could get away with openly insulting the
only people, (besides her uncle,) who had accepted her for her, well then,
he had another thing coming!
And so, Sandrilene fa Toren did what any other "proper lady" in her
position would do.
She punched him.
During this time, Briar discovered that he was not the only one who
disliked the young Count.
He was too full of himself, and had no regard for anybody's feelings, save
his own.
Not even those of his childhood friend, as they'd found out that night.
Sandry had had to intervene many times to keep the peace.
Rosethorn made her dislike known, and Tris was starting to gather sparks in
her hair.
Daja had her hands fisted, and even Lark was becoming quite curt with their
guest.
Sandry silently suffered through all this, but Briar knew what she was
thinking.
Every once in a while he'd catch her glaring at Wilbur.
They made it through supper by just barely containing themselves.
Of course, after supper they weren't quite as lucky.
" Why is Lady Sandrilene drying dishes?" came a whiny call.
"Everyone helps out here, milord." Lark bit out with badly disguised
agitation.
"Sandry lives and learns here, so, like Briar, Daja and Tris, Sandry helps
to do the cleaning and the mending around the house."
"But -but she's an heiress! She should not be cleaning, she should be at
the Citadel with the Duke, preparing to be wed!"
"Wilbur!" Sandry screeched and threw down the towel she'd been using.
"I like doing house work! I find it relaxing. And I love it here at Winding
Circle! I may be an heiress, but that doesn't mean that I have to act like
a spoiled brat! I love all the things I learn here! Washing dishes,
meditation, weaving! It's all a part of me now. And I might not ever get
married! Especially not to some buffle-brain like you!"
Sandry stopped to take a deep breath.
"You weave?" Wilbur made weave sound like syphilis.
"Wilbur of Nandolin, if your mother weren't dead, I'd scold her for raising
such a pompous Bag! If you weren't so irritatingly rude, you would realize
that you aren't the center of the universe! I don't know how I could have
ever stood being around you when we were kids! You were, and still are, a
whiny brat!"
Wilbur stood, and stalked over to where Briar was leaning against the
mantle.
"I suppose you're to blame for Sandrilene's vulgar language. Words like
'Bag', 'kid' and 'brat' have no place in a young lady's vocabulary. Just
because you have a disreputable past and a horrific manner, does not mean
that you must corrupt her as well!"
"You leave Briar out of this!" Sandry protested, as Briar was about to say
something.
Wilbur turned to look at Sandry who was now seething.
"And you, Sandrilene. You should know better than to yell. Any proper lady
would be ashamed of herself for raising her voice. What would her husband
think?"
Sandry walked right up to Wilbur and in a said deadly whisper that everyone
heard,
"Any proper lady would not be caught dead in your company."
"And I suppose you would know, judging by the company you keep."
He threw a sneering glance at Daja and Tris who were holding Briar by the
arms, restraining him, and to Lark and Rosethorn who were talking quietly
to the three of them.
That was too much for Sandry! It was one thing for Wilbur to look down his
nose at her, but if he thought he could get away with openly insulting the
only people, (besides her uncle,) who had accepted her for her, well then,
he had another thing coming!
And so, Sandrilene fa Toren did what any other "proper lady" in her
position would do.
She punched him.
