Dearest Diary,
Sometimes, I think I must be the worst-spirited individual in the country. I am an ungrateful friend, a poorly-behaved daughter, and the worst pessimist anyone has ever had the misfortune of knowing. I believe I might very well be the human equivalent of a cup of spoiled milk.
Dearest Diary,
I rarely make multiple entries in a day, but reviewing my words from earlier, I could not allow my entry from earlier to stand uncorrected. While I may indeed be a generally unpleasant person, I must have forgotten while writing my first entry that Haymitch exists and, to the best of my knowledge, remains in England.
The taste in her mouth grew sour as the Everdeen's rented house came into view. She longed to tell the coachman to turn around, take her back to Peeta's house, but Katniss knew that could only make her situation worse. Katniss reached down to smooth her dress, but her fingers encountered the rougher cloth of Peeta's tightly-fitted trousers instead. That she was returning home in men's clothing might actually be the easiest element of tonight's adventure to explain. The thought put her situation in a perspective she would rather not have considered.
No reason to put it off any longer. Katniss grabbed the basket that held her wet clothing and let herself out of the carriage the second it rolled to a stop. Freeing, that. Every woman ought to try it at least once. "Thank you!" she shouted towards the driver, and though Edgar must have responded, but she heard nothing as she raced towards the door. The rain had seemed to be letting up when they left, but it had returned with a new vigor. Her second set of clothing for the evening was soaked within steps. Oh, she hoped Mother had left the door unlocked. She would hate to have to stand in the rain as she waited for someone to answer.
As though in response to her prayers, the door swung open as she neared. "Where have you been?" Before she could gauge if those words were spoken out of anger or concern, Mother pulled her inside and into a hug. "We didn't know where you were. I was about ten minutes from going out searching."
"I suppose you don't have to now." She regretted her flippancy the instant the words were gone, but there would be no taking them back. Mother moved just far enough away to glare at her. "I'm sorry."
With one final squeeze, Eileen released her. "You ought to be." She frowned. "Katniss, why..."
"I can explain." No, she really couldn't, at least not in a way that would appease her mother. Or the gossipmongers, for that matter, because it was only a matter of time before this got out.
"You went to his house, didn't you?" She didn't give Katniss time to answer. "You did. Of course you did. I should have known. Middle of the night, no chaperone, no -"
"Katniss is back?" Prim's voice floated from the back of the house, and an instant later, she appeared in her nightgown. "Are you all right? We were terribly worried about you, with the storm and all. Please don't be mad at me, Katniss. I shouldn't have been so cross with you. Wait, why are you wearing men's clothes?"
Katniss shook her head and opened her mouth to speak, but she should have known she wouldn't get a word in. "Go back upstairs, Prim." Mother had always preferred to scold her daughters without the other one present. When they were younger, it had been a godsend. As long as Prim didn't manage to weasel the details out of Mother, her younger sister had nothing to lord over her later. Pity she had never seen the obvious drawback to this arrangement. Katniss would rather like some sympathetic listeners now.
Eileen waited until the she heard the door close behind Prim. She pursed her lips. "Further, please."
Prim groaned, but the footsteps moved further away. Katniss set her basket aside and started to sit down, but Mother's words stopped her. "No, you've already ruined my evening, I'm not going to let you ruin my furniture as well. Stand up." Katniss knew better than to disobey. Instead, Mother sat down in the spot that had almost been hers. "Tell me exactly what happened. I want every detail."
"I went for a walk and ended up near Peeta's house." That much was true, though it left out a few of the particulars. "It started thundering, so I asked to be let inside, and he was kind enough to lend me some dry clothing."
"And that's your story."
"That is the story." Mother's eyes were very blue and her gaze very steady. Katniss swallowed, but the lump in her throat did not budge. Where had this part of Eileen Everdeen been hiding in those trying days after Father's death?
"It seems quite the coincidence that your wanderings took you to his house, doesn't it?"
"Yes." Katniss hadn't the faintest idea what to do with her hands. She tugged her sleeves lower over her wrists, pushed a piece of hair back behind her ear, and got halfway through cleaning out the dirt from under her fingernails before she accepted that Mother wasn't going to be the one who broke down first. "It was entirely innocent, I assure you."
Mother's features relaxed, but only slightly. "Katniss, with you, I've never had to worry about that." Maybe Prim really wasn't listening in. Katniss felt certain her younger sister wouldn't have been able to resist jumping in at that. "Honestly, I'm not certain you'd know where to start with -"
"Mother!" Heat flooded Katniss' cheeks.
"I suppose we can go into that another time," Eileen conceded. One side of her mouth perked up into a smile at her daughter's reaction, but her amusement did not last for long. She sagged back into her seat. "I'm afraid that not everyone knows you as well as I. The gossip will not be kind when it comes out where you've been."
"I can live through it." She wasn't sure of the words until she spoke them, but Katniss could feel the truth there. Yes, words hurt, she knew better than to doubt that, but in a few months, she would be back home at the Seam, never to return to London. With escape so near, she could withstand anything.
"Perhaps. But can Prim?" The thought made her stomach twist. "It's not fair, Katniss, I know that, but your actions reflect on her as well. You might be happy enough to go home at the end of the season with no husband, but I doubt your sister is."
A light came to Prim's face every time she held a baby. She had talked constantly of weddings and children for as long as Katniss could remember. And here she was, ready to ruin all of that for her over nothing more than some poor driving and a dose of curiosity that could kill both the cat and his entire family several times over. Though a puddle had formed beneath her on the wooden floor, Katniss' throat felt terribly dry. Perhaps she really had caught her death earlier tonight. Right now, never having to worry about gossip or manners or propriety ever again didn't seem the worst possible fate. "Maybe nobody saw me." Her voice came out as little more than a whisper.
Mother nodded. "It's possible. I imagine it would be difficult to identify you with the rain."
"And this isn't my usual attire." She felt a flicker of hope, one just bright enough to be dangerous. "Peeta's coach isn't marked. Even if someone saw and didn't think I was a delivery boy, they would have no way of knowing where I'd come from." Nobody saw her at Crane's house – she'd been sure of that – so there was no reason to think anyone knew she had been at Peeta's to start with. In any case, who had the time to stare out their window, waiting for the next scandal to pass by? Surely people had better ways to spend their lives
"And if they did?" It never ceased to amaze her just how little water it took to douse a spark. "What will you do then?"
Katniss looked down at her feet. Seeing that they were indeed right where she had left them, she found she had no excuse not to meet her mother's eyes. "I'll do what I have to for Prim."
Mother nodded, and her face softened. "You may go upstairs, Katniss. Find something dry." Katniss started towards her bedroom, so lost in the dreadful possibilities that lurked over her mind that she nearly missed her mother's next, far quieter words. "And please, don't give me another fright like that."
"I will try," she promised.
Prim sat crouched on her bed, waiting. "Well, what happened?"
Katniss shook her head. Apparently, that wasn't enough of an answer for her younger sister. "What does Mother think? Are you getting married?"
She ignored her sister and collapsed down onto her bed. The mattress was too hard for collapsing to be very comfortable. Hopefully, that would be her final mistake of the day.
"Katniss, tell me. I'm not a child, you know. I can understand what's happening, and it's not fair of you and Mother to leave me in the dark when this impacts me as well." Katniss squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that by some confusion of the senses that would block out Prim's voice. For a second, she almost thought it had worked, but then the mattress dipped under Prim's weight. "Come on, Katniss. I'm not going to leave you alone until you tell me." If she wanted to prove she was an adult, Prim certainly had an unusual way of going about it.
She cracked an eye open to see Prim hovering over her, their faces only an inch or two apart. "Prim!"
"What's happening?" She moved in even closer.
Katniss tried to worm her way out, but there wasn't far she could go in the cramped space. "Go away."
"Tell me if you and Mister Mellark are getting married, and I promise I'll leave you alone."
Katniss had little faith that Prim would honor that promise, but the offer tempted her all the same. "I don't know. It depends if any gossip springs up."
"Oh." Prim moved to lie next to her, and Katniss wrapped an arm around her. They often slept like this as children, and though it had been years since they last did so, it felt natural for Prim to nestle in against her. "How do you feel about that? Mister Mellark isn't horrible, is he?"
"No, he isn't." Perhaps that was part of the problem. She would never have gotten herself into this situation with a less charming man.
Prim kissed her cheek. "I am sorry for earlier."
"Me too." And she was. Prim overreacted, certainly, but one expected that from a girl of seventeen. Katniss had no such excuse.
"I hope you aren't forced into anything."
She gave her sister a gentle squeeze. "Could we please leave it alone?" Katniss felt more than saw Prim's nod.
Mary's deep voice traveled better than Prim's or Mother's through the walls of the townhouse. "She's out this morning." A pause. "No, I don't know when she'll be back. I'll give her your card as soon as she returns." Katniss knew exactly how the conversation would go, had in fact been there when Mother gave Mary her instructions, but the lie still hurt.
Like many awful but well-intentioned decisions, it had been made in perfectly pleasant conditions, in this case, around the table at breakfast. The room smelled like ham, which Katniss normally loved, but today, she couldn't bring herself to eat it. The arguments being put forth made perfect sense. It was likely that no one had seen her, but what if someone had made out a figure in the storm but been unable to put a name to it? Logically, it was best to stay away from Peeta for a week or two, make sure the incident really had blown over before anyone bothered to even speak their names in the same sentence. Katniss stared at her plate and wished it gone, not agreeing with any of the plans being made, but not arguing against them either.
She forced herself not to shout down to him and apologize. Instead, Katniss strained to make out Peeta's reply. "Do you know when or if your mistress will be in tomorrow?" She missed him. The realization hit her squarely in the chest. It had been barely twelve hours since they had last seen each other, but she missed him.
"I'm afraid not, sir."
She moved from her spot on her bed to look out the window. Katniss couldn't see the front door from this angle, but she could see his coach, and she saw the slump in Peeta's shoulders when he climbed inside.
Later, when Mary gave her his visiting card, she put it on her nightstand. She wasn't sure if she was trying to comfort or torment herself.
Katniss' back hurt. Her feet hurt too, but she could handle the pinching around her toes if the soreness in her back would just go away. Worse, while she wanted nothing more than to excuse herself to sit down and give her back a rest, she had to stand there and smile at the main cause of her discomfort.
Not that Hawthorne was particularly difficult to smile at, of course. Nor had he purposefully made her uncomfortable, though his request for a dance had set off a chain reaction that resulted in her entire dance card being filled before she realized what was happening. Everyone, it seemed, wanted to know what about a short, rather plain woman with no money whatsoever could interest one of the richest men in England. And so she suffered through a dozen dances with just as many men whose names and titles and faces all blurred together into a bland and decidedly unappetizing type of memory stew before she ended up dancing another waltz in the arms of Lord Hawthorne.
It was a waste of time on their part. Katniss could have told them what Hawthorne wanted from her: a willing audience for his stories about his younger siblings. Posy was quickly becoming an excellent horsewoman, and not wanting to be rude, Katniss agreed to have her over some afternoon for tea so that the girl could make the company of some well-mannered, accomplished women a few years older than her. It took a minute to register that Gale was referring to her and Prim. Really, she ought to have told him not to waste his sister's time, for he could find someone better, but what was done was done. After that, the conversation moved to his younger brother, Vick, who was a year older than Prim and just starting at Oxford.
She tried to listen to Gale's breakdown of the program at Oxford, truly she did, but she was tired and not entirely certain she wanted to know how one could do mathematics that didn't involve any actual numbers. That Katniss could feel people watching her didn't help matters. Politeness dictated that she should keep her eyes on her partner, but she longed to look over her shoulder and see who was watching them.
"What do you think of it?"
Belatedly, Katniss realized she had no idea what he had been talking about for the past minute. "Pardon?"
"Are you feeling unwell? You seem distracted." Normally, that would constitute a scolding, but she sensed real concern in Hawthorne's voice.
"I am rather tired."
"You should rest a moment, then." Hawthorne guided her away from the dancers and found her a chair. Perhaps this was what the storybooks were referring to when they mentioned knights in shining armor. "Would you care for some lemonade?" Hawthorne had best be careful. He might break the scale if her estimation of him continued to rise.
"Yes, please." He disappeared towards the refreshments, and for the first time this evening, she was alone. Sweet, blessed solitude. Katniss allowed her eyes to drift shut.
"Good evening."
She didn't open her eyes. "Good evening."
Peeta sat down beside her. She wished she wasn't so hyper-aware of his body as to sense that even with her eyes closed. "I like your plan. I hope you won't mind if I use it in the future."
"It is working rather well right now."
"Luckily, I don't know anyone nearly as obnoxious as myself, so I think I would be able to get away with a nap."
"That is very fortunate." Admitting defeat, she opened her eyes to look at him. "How are you tonight?"
"Well. I hear you've been busy these past few days."
"Oh." She should have known something along those lines was coming. She still struggled for something to say. "I suppose I have been."
"I saw you at your window." Unable to explain, she dropped her gaze. Peeta shifted in his seat, and a moment later, he pressed a small bag into her hands. "Your stockings," he explained. "Mrs. Carren noticed them after you left."
"Thank you." She hadn't even noticed they were gone.
His fingers lingered next to hers on the bag, not quite touching. She pushed down the urge to close that gap. Peeta shook his head, and when her eyes moved to his face, she found a small, sad smile there. "Have a nice evening, Katniss." He rose before she had an opportunity to say goodbye.
Katniss lurched up to follow him, but then Hawthorne was there, two glasses of lemonade in hand. "Was he bothering you?"
"No, he's… we were just talking. Thank you." She accepted the glass of lemonade and sagged more than sat back down.
Hawthorne brow furrowed as he moved to sit next to her. "Stockings?" he whispered.
She could do nothing but shake her head.