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Chapter Four

"I believe I have two of the silliest girls!" Mr. Overland exclaimed as he studied the flurry of remarks on soldiers twirling around the living room after a visit to town.

"Mr. Overland," his wife admonished.

Sarah ducked her head shyly while Mary jutted her chin forward, a challenging glint flickering across her bright eyes.

"If Mary spent at least half the energy she does on soldiers on reading instead, she might be a well-learned woman soon."

"Perhaps I would not spend so much time with soldiers, Papa, if you let learn to fight."

"You know I cannot allow that, Mary," he sighed.

"Which is precisely why I must speak with soldiers. They appear to be the only ones who care about what I want," she huffed as she stood and rushed from the room.

Sarah bit her lip as she stood up and quietly excused herself to follow after Mary in hopes of calming her. Jackson sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. Sometimes he wondered how she was able to put up with his youngest sister.

"Mr. Overland," the old woman complained, "you shouldn't expect young girls to have the same sense as those older. When I was her age, dare I say, I thought of officers more than she did; I used to like a red coat myself—and, sometimes in my heart I still do. If a young colonel would desire one of my girls, I would not deny him."

Her husband sighed as he closed the book in his hands and rested it on his lap. "Perhaps, but you did not wish to be one. And if any young man approaches who is capable and willing to handle Mary, by God, I will not begrudge him the privilege."

Mrs. Overland opened her mouth to reply but was thankfully prevented from doing so by the entrance of a footman. All eyes watched carefully as he presented a note to the eldest Ms. Overland and awaited a reply. The young woman's mother could not wait patiently and was soon calling out to know who had sent it and what it said.

Emma's eyes glanced over the parchment before stating simply, "It is from Ms. Vickson."

At the urging from her mother and a nod of encouragement from her brother, she swallowed and read it aloud:

"My dear Friend,

If you are not compassionate enough to dine with my sister and myself tonight, I fear we shall be in danger of hating each other the rest of our lives. A whole day between two women can never end well and without quarrel. Come as soon as you receive this. My cousin and the gentlemen are to dine out tonight.

Yours ever,

Abigail Vickson"

"Dining out," her mother remarked sullenly, "that is very unlucky."

"Can I have the carriage, Mama?" Emma asked as she folded the letter and rested it on her lap.

The woman paused and looked at her curiously before responding, "No, dear. You had better go on horseback."

"But it's going to rain, Mother!" Jackson exclaimed in shock of his mother's antics.

"Precisely," she snapped. "Your sister will have to stay the night."

"They can offer her a ride home," he said with a smirk.

"Oh," she sighed, "The gentlemen will have the coach."

"I would much rather going in the coach," Emma piped up quietly, not wishing for her brother and mother to fall into argument.

"But, my dear, your father cannot spare the horses," the old woman explained in a no-nonsense tone. "They are wanted in the farm, are they not, Mr. Overland?"

"They are wanted more often than I can get them," he responded dully as he picked his book back up.

"But are they engaged?" Jackson demanded from his father a little harsher than he had intended.

"Yes," he father answered simply, ignorant of the crestfallen look that had fallen across his son's face and the one of rapturous joy that painted his wife's.

The young man sat in the seat near the window, his head resting in his palm as his long fingers entwined around the brown strands of hair. He flinched as a loud drum roll of thunder grew in crescendo until it cut off with an earsplitting blast. The soft pattered of rain drove against the window without rest; the consistency began to drive him mad as he struggled to see what lay outside through the onslaught of water.

His mother bustled into the room humming quite happily. His eyes flickered to her with a glare. Emma had not been gone long before the rain had started, and she was perfectly at ease with the predicament she had placed her daughter in. The eldest Overland daughter would not be returning to her house that night.

"This was a good struck of genius," Mrs. Overland exclaimed for the umpteenth time as she walked to the window and pushed back a lace curtain to peer out into the indiscernible darkness.

Jackson swallowed the worry gnawing at his stomach and stood, exiting the room to leave his mother to her happy praises.

The family sat in a silent breakfast—well, as silent as the lady of the house would allow it. Her husband had a book propped up in his hand as he ate. Her youngest daughter was still fuming over the incident the other day and Sarah was quiet as always. Her son was brewing with fury and worry—a dangerous combination. She, however, could not contain her pride of her brilliancy.

As she prattled away, a servant entered with a letter for Jackson. He took it and quickly opened it to read what was written inside:

"My dear Jack,

I fear that I find myself ill this morning. I suppose having one's clothes drenched thoroughly will do that. My friends will not hear of me returning until I am well. They also insist on calling for a doctor. Therefore, do not be alarmed; I am in good hands. Except for a sore throat and headache I am fine.

Yours,

Emma"

"What's that you've got there, Jackson?" his mother asked.

He begrudgingly obliged by reading it aloud.

His father sighed and shut his book. "Well, my dear," he announced, "if your daughter should die of illness, it will be a comfort to know it was all in the pursuit of Mr. Liely, and under your orders," he finished bitterly as he stood from his seat and stalked from the room.

"I'm not afraid of her dying!" she called after him. "People do not die of a cold. She will be taken care of."

The young Mr. Overland felt the parchment crinkle under his fingers as his mother turned back to her children as stated, "As long as she stays there, all will be well. "

His worry had increased tenfold by the words of the letter. He could not see her so knowing full well that he could have been firmer on her not going. If she were to die—no, that would not happen. His resolution secured, he stood from the table, abandoning his food and declared he was going to see her.

"Don't be foolish!" his mother cried after him. "In all this mud you will hardly be presentable when you arrive. She will be fine, Jackson."

"I will be presentable to Emma," he hollered over his shoulder. "Which is all I care for," he murmured to himself as he snatched a cape from the entry and left his house, the fresh mud clinging desperately to his boots.

The door slammed shut behind him and he turned to see his two sisters rushing down the lane after him. "What are you doing?" he asked once they were closer.

"We'll go as far as town with you," Mary said simply as she continued to walk. "If we make haste, we can see the regime before they leave."

Jackson rolled his eyes, but accepted their company. One more visit would not hurt his sister, but he couldn't say he would be sad to see the soldiers leave soon.

Once he had parted with his sisters, the young Mr. Overland increased his pace, his brown cape fluttering around his body in the chilled breeze. He quickly abandoned the road and elected to cut across the fields in hopes of reaching Dreki Vollr sooner. Leaping over puddles with impatience he raced faster, his heart hammering against his ribcage. When the house finally appeared over the ridge of a dull green hill, he allowed his pace to slow. He bent over, his hands clasping his knees, and struggled to regain his breath. Jackson huffed as he pushed himself up and down the hill and up the drive.

The door was answered by a man whose face screwed up at his disheveled sight. Paying no attention to the look, he pushed his way inside with a quick explanation of who he was. He was escorted inside to a small parlor where all were present except his sister. His appearance caused a great deal of surprise amongst the ladies and gentlemen gathered there.

"I'm sorry to impose," he said as flatly as he could through panting breaths, "but I was informed by Emma that she was ill. I came immediately."

He was greeted by a flurry of compliments from the ladies, remarking on his health and his kindness as a brother.

Mr. Liely stood up and walked to him, a worried smile on his face. "I am glad you came. You are very dear to your sister, and I'm sure your presence will speed her recovery."

The young man nodded and eagerly followed him from the room, leaving before the two other gentlemen in the room could break their silence. ForMr. Snoutley, his mouth releasing his thoughts would not have proved stimulating as the only thing on his mind was his breakfast. Mr. Haddock, on the other hand, would have presented an interesting discussion if he had accidentally remarked on how he doubted the occasion called for such exertion.

Emma was delighted by the sight of her brother's arrival, and the man of the house soon left them to their own devices. Jackson smiled at his sister who lay pale and weak underneath the covers of the bed. Her brow was covered by a thin layer of sweat and dark puddles pooled underneath her now dull eyes.

He removed his cape and tossed onto the foot of the bed. Grabbing a chair, he pulled it to his sister's side where he was in easy reach of the water basin and pitcher.

"Mother should not have let you come out," he said sullenly as his eyes gazed upon her pathetic form.

"She meant well," his sister croaked.

"That still does not excuse her," he rebutted as he poured the chilled water into the basin and picked up a cloth that was lying idly on the table. He dipped it into the water and rang the excess out before pressing the damp material to his sister's brow.

"That does not mean you should not forgive her, Jack," Emma said in a hushed voice.

He only grunted in response before he smirked, ready to put the serious discussion behind them. "At least Mr. Liely is concerned for you."

"He and his cousins have been kind," she gave him tentatively.

"No, Emma, you know of what I speak. They are only kind to you because of him. He is completely besotted by you and has most likely not stopped worrying over your health since you fell ill. You saw those circles under his eyes," he teased. "He must not have slept last night; his worry was tormenting his soul too much."

"Jack," Emma tried to admonish around her shy smile.

He only laughed and removed the warmed cloth to dip it back into the water. "I have to admit, the response I received when I appeared before everyone was quite frightful. They must not have known what to do with me. And the look Mr. Haddock gave me—if he had believed me lacking a brain before, I am certain he is more resolute in his opinion now."

"You're too harsh on him, Jack."

"I am exactly what I need to be in response to how he acts."

A sad smile crept across his sister's face and he forced a chuckle. "Let's move on from this dull chatter. I came to help you get better, and laughter is the best medicine."

"Jack, are you going—"

"Yes," he responded, his smile widening as he jumped from his seat and dashed to the large windows, shutting the curtains.

"Don't you dare," she warned.

"You used to enjoy it when we were younger," he whined with a pout as he turned up the oil lamp and pulled the table it was on further from the wall, removing all other objects from its surface.

"When we were younger, Jack. Such activities should not take up the time of a gentleman."

"You used to enjoy my shadows."

"I still do."

"Then there is no problem," he responded with a smirk as he clamped his hands together and placed them in front of the lamp.

Meanwhile, in the drawing room downstairs, the other occupants of the house sat in conference.

"Can you believe his appearance?" Mrs. Snoutley exclaimed. "He appeared to be a wild man. Dare I say I was scared for my life when he barged into the parlor with his eyes blazing."

"Indeed," her sister agreed. "I could hardly keep my composure. And, at any rate, it was completely nonsensical to come at all. His sister's illness did not warrant such exertion. She is perfectly fine here."

"Yes, and did you see the mud on his boots? It had even splashed onto his trousers. No concern for his appearance at all."

"That may be how he appeared," Mr. Liely said, "but I hardly took it in. I thought he appeared to be the picture of a concerned brother—nothing more or less. The mud on his boots escaped my notice."

"You noticed didn't you, Mr. Haddock? If you had been ill, would you suffer your sister to have made such an appearance?"

"Certainly not," he stated. "But if she were the one ill, I can say I would not have acted any different than Mr. Overland."

Ms. Vickson huffed in a fluster at his unexpected answer. Taking a deep breath, she changed the subject. "I regard Emma Overland as a very sweet girl, and I wish with all my heart that she settles well. But with such a father and mother, and her low connections, I'm afraid there is no chance of it."

"Did you not say their uncle is an attorney?" her sister asked.

"Yes, and they have another who lives in Cheapside," she exclaimed in disgust, happy to move the conversation to an easier topic.

"That is capital!" her sister laughed.

"If they had uncles to fill Cheapside," interrupted Mr. Liely, "it would not make them any less agreeable."

"Oh yes, and it certainly increases their opportunity to marry anyone of consideration in this world," his friend muttered sarcastically.

To his remark, he had no reply, but his cousins agreed readily and continued to indulge themselves in idle chatter about their friend's pathetic relations.