Affairs of Entailment
CHAPTER THREE
MISTER FLOWERS was a servant of the most peculiar variety. There was nothing unusual about his appearance—he was a white-haired old widow of about seventy or eighty years with a smug, impish smile, a stout, solid figure, and had probably been quite handsome in his day. His skin was tanned and leathery, but nonetheless healthy, and he had small pale blue eyes and a straight, pointed nose on which rested a pair of half-moon spectacles. He liked to read and kept himself very tidy.
Often times Eleanor found him sitting by the fireplace in the living room, with a cup of tea by his side and a good book in his lap, dressed smartly in a nice, fitted waistcoat and breeches or a lovely house robe. That was, in fact, where she found him when she emerged from the kitchen that morning, she clad in a simple cream-coloured night dress and with her hair pulled up and he one of his aforementioned robes.
"I've no breakfast, Mister Flowers. Pray tell why?" she asked him from the doorway.
"A little late for breakfast now, isn't it?"
"If you were as cunning with a frying pan as you are with your evasiveness, perhaps it would not be."
"How often the skill of evasiveness makes up for such shortcomings," he replied, having yet to look up from his novel.
"Abdication is hardly a supplement," Eleanor argued.
"I beg to differ in reference to my culinary competence," retorted Mister Flowers, "for you would not think it so, were I to incinerate your kitchen."
"But do I think it so in the absence of breakfast."
"And would you also think it so in the absence of your kitchen?" he persisted with raised eyebrows.
Eleanor pursed her eyes and set her hands to her hips. "Must you be so difficult?"
"Must you be so relentless?"
"I would certainly be at liberty to be so after three days of being forced to eat every meal abroad due to the fact that my servant is lacking in incentive to actually serve!"
"Incentive is no problem of mine, Miss Barnett, but of yours."
MAY BARNETT bolted from Knocturn Abbey the moment her nieces had expressed their deficiency of finery to their fathers, who, eager to rid themselves of their daughters for the moment and, perhaps, more permanently, were inclined to acquiesce a request of the carriages for a trip to Frogmorton. At the thought of having to chaperone such an event, May Barnett had paled. She snuck out as discretely and quickly as possible and, unable to deprive the stables of the ponies needed for aforementioned excursion, ran with her skirts balled up in her fists as quickly as she could to The Hollow.
"Miss May, whatever has happened to you?" Ruby exclaimed when she found the flushed lady panting on her doorstep.
"Ruby!" May cried. "We must make haste! Have you a carriage or a pony?"
Ruby frowned. "Why, father and papa have just taken both to town. You just missed them," she said apologetically, pointing down the road where a black dot could be seen disappearing beyond a far hill. "Whatever is the matter?" she pressed again.
"I fear your cousin is about to encounter a few unexpected guests!" said May, all in a tizzy and yet to catch her breath. "Ruby, we must warn her!"
But Ruby was of no inclination to do so. "Do you mean those two lads who've just arrived in Dwaling? Misters Jackley and Underhill?" she asked. "Was Lee not expecting them?"
"Not at all!" May cried. "Their invitation to Lancaster was Lydia's doing!" she informed bitterly. "Only this morning they appeared at Knocturn Abbey. My nieces have already arranged for a trip to Frogmorton to procure fineries in preparation for the dinner they are expecting to be invited to tonight at Lancaster!"
"Well I'm sure they'd hardly be of any inconvenience to Eleanor… She is always welcoming of visitors and is not short of any space in which to house them. I'm afraid I don't understand your distress…" But in reality, she was afraid of losing the convenience of having Mister Jackley at her cousin's smial.
"Ruby, how blind you are! You mustn't know your cousin at all! Lee detests such courtesies of the social variety. And she is without warning!"
Begrudgingly, Ruby inclined herself to agree—for even she would not suffer her cousin to such measures of discomfort.
"But how are we to get there in time? The lads left near half an hour ago and are sure to have arrived by now."
"Then we must hope they had intended to make other acquaintances before resigning themselves to Lancaster! Now be quick!"
Ruby only had time to call to her mother that she would be accompanying Miss Barnett on a visit to dear cousin Eleanor, before May grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her into the lane, by which they made all haste to Lancaster.
"THEN DO YOU INTEND to remain on temporary leave from my service quite indefinitely?" Eleanor inquired incredulously. "While still residing in my smial?"
Mister Flowers made no move to respond.
"You forget yourself, Mister Flowers," she said with a sigh, falling to the sofa.
"I am old and set in my ways," he stated firmly, raising his chin a bit.
"Not to mention your chair," Eleanor muttered with contempt of the lackadaisical variety.
"And I do not think I will be forgetting that soon," the elder hobbit continued.
"Then to what extent do I have you at my disposal?" she inquired.
"I am here anytime you need me," he told her reassuringly.
"As long as it does not require taking leave of your chair or your books," added Eleanor with an air of dejection. "And pray tell what service might come under that jurisdiction?"
"One of moral support and good advice."
Eleanor laughed and shook her head. "I should hardly be tempted to seek good advice from a 'witticist' such as yourself, Mister Flowers."
"Then that is also not my problem."
BY THIS TIME, May and Ruby were making steady but exhausting progress. They had already hurried themselves in as ladylike a manner as they could manage—their skirts hitched, their hair matted, their foreheads sweaty, and with the indignity that haste-making in public generally called for—and were nearly within shouting-range of Lancaster when a carriage appeared from around the bend.
"That's them," Ruby affirmed glumly. "We cannot possibly arrive in time, Miss May, yet alone unnoticed."
"No, Ruby," said her companion firmly, "we mustn't give up! We shall enter through the back entrance."
Ruby, however, did not take a liking to this notion. "But I'll ruin my dress!" she complained, stopping in the middle of the lane.
"Well, if you are quick enough you may return to Knocturn Abbey in time to accompany Lidu to Frogmorton and buy a new one!"
"I still do not see how this will solve our time problem."
"Lee'll have a time of persuading Mister Flowers to even get up to fetch the door. We must trust that such obstinacy will provide a sufficient delay."
MISTER FLOWERS' LAST COMMENT was quite the end of the conversation, for Mister Flowers was disinclined to continue it, and Miss Barnett, of an obviously contrary inclination, was interrupted by a knock at the door. She closed her mouth and set her butler with a look.
"It is very impolite to stare, Miss Barnett," was all he said.
"It is also very impolite to keep guests waiting," reminded Eleanor pointedly, defiantly taking a seat on the sofa, for she had stood in protest only moments before.
"Then I suggest that as the Lady of the house, you should let them in. Do not bother an old man with such trivial courtesies. Suffer his old bones to rest, or he shall suffer for them."
"Worry me not with such guilt, sir, for it is of the doctor's opinion, and therefore of mine, that you are not wrought with such ailments as those of which you speak."
"Sickness may not plague me," Mister Flowers conceded, "but fatigue has taken its toll. You are yet young and full of life which I may only envy—waste not such talents on idle delegations. Leave me to my peace!"
"Your peace will not last long, be it one of my cousins at the door with no one to send her away. For if I answer, she will scarcely believe me when I say I am not at home; even Lidu is not so naïve."
Mister Flowers lay down his book and removed his glasses from his face. He whipped his forehead on his sleeve and announced, "How clever you are, Lee, for you have persuaded me to get the door indeed, should I otherwise fear the relentless prattle of your idiotic relatives."
Eleanor smirked and settled herself more comfortably into the cushions, folding her arms in satisfaction. "I am very learned in the art of persuasion, Mister Flowers."
"No, my dear," he argued, removing himself from the armchair. "You are very learned in the art of coercion, which I suppose is oftentimes of more convenience."
She watched him exit the room before turning to peer out the window, where to her immediate surprise sat a handsome carriage drawn by a pair of handsome ponies. Eleanor frowned—since when had the Barnetts the pecuniary advantage to travel in such prestige?
Mister Flowers confirmed her suspicions when he reentered the room, an impish grin spread in a most unnerving manner across his face. "A pair of lads awaits your presence just outside the foyer, Miss Barnett," he informed her, settling himself once more into his armchair. He placed his glasses on his nose and picked up his book. "I was not aware that you were expecting such company."
"What can they possibly want with me?" Eleanor muttered tersely, brow furrowed, crossing her arms but making no move to get up.
"Perhaps you should inquire such reasons from your company instead of me, however, consider this quickly, for I do not imagine they are inclined to wait much longer."
With a roll of her eyes, Eleanor removed herself from the sofa and stomped out of the living room and into the hallway, where she turned left and marched into the foyer. Without even looking out the window to first familiarize herself with the faces of her guests, she reached for the doorknob when suddenly her backdoor swung open.
"LEE—DON'T!"
But it was too late. Standing before Eleanor Barnett on her front doorstep, oblivious once again to the commotion going on inside, were—
"Wilcomb Jackley and Finn Underhill."
Pleased to make her acquaintance.