Required Assistance
A Mirror, Mirror Fanfiction
~1919~
"What can we do?" Louisa sounded despondent. Sir Ivor's car had vanished in a puff of smoke and dust as they'd rounded the corner of the house.
Jo was amazed her friend even had to ask such a silly question. "Go after them!"
Pulling on her coat, Louisa gaped. "But it's miles to the wharfs."
"So?" scoffed Jo. "We'll think of something on the way. Catch a bus or something." What was it with kids in this time period acting so pathetic and helpless? First Nick when they'd – at great peril to their own backsides – climbed up to his window-ledge to rescue him, demurring something about a stolen ring, and now Louisa was behaving as if she had about as much autonomy as one of her porcelain dolls back in her bedroom! "Do you wanna help your dad or don't you? Come on!" She started forward herself, marching determinedly. "Before it's too late!"
Louisa adjusted her tartan lapel and followed. Nicholas – looking after them with worried blue eyes – tried to do the same, then stumbled. He staggered to regain his balance as both girls turned around to face him at once.
Jo looked annoyed at the interruption, Louisa simply confused.
A simultaneous glance downward revealed why he had tripped. Nicholas's bootlaces were undone, some not even in the correct holes.
Jo blinked. "Aren't ya going to tie them?" She waited, staring at his increasingly strained face until they were both uncomfortable and beginning to redden about their cheeks in the growing dark. She hadn't meant to embarrass him, but it never occurred to her a sixteen-year-old wouldn't know how to tie his own shoelaces.
Nicholas swallowed hard. There were a lot of things he knew how to do other children didn't. After all, he'd told Jo about speaking seven languages fluently, before Sir Ivor's warning glare warned him off saying too much if he ever wanted to host another tea party again (which, he realised now, Ivor'd never intended to permit). He knew the right place to seat a prime minster at dinner to avoid an international incident; he knew how to drive a horse and carriage; and if Louisa or Jo (please God, no) were shot out here for trespassing and needed an operation to remove the bullet, he was exactly the right person for holding the bowl under the wound during the procedure (just so, to catch the pus and suchlike), passing the right instruments, or skilfully wrapping gauze (he'd learned all this from his two eldest sisters, who were nurses). But he'd never had to attend to his own boots before. Mama, bless her, had some notion bending over too long to do so, even simply to learn to do so for himself, was going to start one of his nosebleeds and kill him – it was absurd, of course, but arguing the point with her hadn't done any good and one had to have the good sense to know which hills were not constructed for dying upon.
Anyway, people were supposed to do little things like that for him. So he might focus on more important business.
In early childhood, there had always been a maid to see to it, and when he was a bit bigger, he had good, trustworthy Nagorny, who never would have let his precious charge leave his playroom or schoolroom or anywhere else with his shoes not on correctly.
Once or twice, on the rare occasion Nagorny wasn't there, Gilliard had had to do it, and Nicholas had thought nothing of the substitution then.
Campbell had been the one assisting him with his boots since Sir Ivor took him in and never had Nicholas felt the least bit of shame regarding this need for assistance. He'd even smirked and preened about it a couple of times, just to irk Sir Ivor, when the balance of power between them seemed to be shifting uncomfortably and he felt it best to remind his guardian of their difference in rank.
So why, faced with Jo's slack-faced scrutiny, did he wish for the ground to swallow him up?
It was Louisa who was merciful and took charge. She crouched down in a hasty whoosh of coat and pinafore and began to lace up one of his boots with a slow rhythm. It was not quite expertise, but it was efficient.
A half second later, Jo'd knelt in the gravel and started on the other boot. They were in a frightful hurry... Louisa's dad being in danger and all...
Nicholas was too well brought up to say anything but a very gracious "Thank you," to them both, but he did not quite meet Jo's eye as she pulled herself back up and brushed off. They both felt inexplicably silly and had a far more urgent mission to accomplish than blushing dumbly at one another.
"Righto, that's done," she said, coughing dismissively and motioning at Louisa with her chin. "Let's go save your dad."