Conversations with both brothers Barnabus brushed the soot off his coat and walked through into the parlor. It was Sunday night, and the three older children were expected home for family dinner. Francesca was curled on the sofa, newspaper in her lap, marker in another.
“Job hunting?” Barnabus asked, settling down beside her and looking over her shoulder. He noticed with a puzzled frown that she was mostly ringing entry level jobs and tutoring opportunities, some of which desired a French speaker.
“For a… friend.”
“Who?”
“Delphine Arbon.”
“I didn’t know you were acquainted.”
“Briefly. I know her sister reasonably well, as you’re well-aware,” the irritation of having to tolerate Effie within her social circle was a frequent gripe of Francesca’s. “Her sister asked for my help in finding a job.”
“And you’re obliging?” he asked, curious. Francesca barely tolerated the help she was often obliged to give Effie with her charity events. He couldn’t imagine what had moved her to help the girl’s sister.
“She’s less irritating, somehow. And who am I to put a woman off the world of work?”
“How much less irritating?” he asked, glancing again at the selection of adverts that had been ringed for Miss Arbon’s perusal.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I noticed you circled a few adverts for French tutors. Is she fluent? And how much less irritating is she than her dear sister? Do you think, for example, that I could withstand daily contact with her? My firm needs a new French-speaking secretary. Why don’t you invite her out with us for dinner next week?”
Francesca was spared rating Delphine Arbon’s lesser qualities on a ten-point scale by their mother appearing.
“Dinner’s ready. Isn’t your brother here yet?” she asked the eldest two. It wasn’t like Theodore to be late.
*
It wasn’t like anything was ruined, thanks to the plate warming charms, but there was a definite sense of reproof over the fact he had been unpunctual. He had told them that he had got caught up in his studying, a lie which at least made tardiness somewhat admirable and justified, even if not entirely forgiven. Theodore speared a roast potato, trying to focus on the conversation at hand and not have mental flashbacks to what he’d really been doing. He had scrubbed as hard as he could in the shower afterwards, and he still felt dirty sitting here, with the fine china and normal people. He’d been wrong in his assumption that Freddie had merely enjoyed the chance to make him late. He would be enjoying the thought of him sitting here squirming now.
Except, now that he’d made his excuses, the conversation had turned away from him. No one was staring. No one could see the guilt written large across his features. There had been an awkward moment, when he’d explained where he’d been, and Francesca had given him a rather penetrating stare, but she hadn’t said anything. It really wasn’t as bad as it should have been. He could quite easily pretend everything was normal, and then everything was. As the meal continued on without the Earth spinning off its axis, or the sky falling in, he began to wonder… Did he actually feel guilty, or was he just afraid of getting caught?
*
“Who is she?”
They were preparing to leave, and Francesca had found an opportune moment to corner him. It wasn’t hard to feign that he had no idea what she was talking about when she had actually missed the mark.
“Pardon?” Theodore asked politely.
“I know your study habits. You’re good at planning your time. I thought maybe you’d found something else distracting.”
“You’re mistaken,” Theodore addressed the floor. Francesca tried not to bristle. Theodore didn’t usually lie to her and it rankled with her. She was quite sure he was lying - his whole manner reeked of guilt. And that far away look he’d had in his eyes at the table… She was sure she’d glazed over like that from time to time, and it definitely wasn’t her books that she was thinking about.
“I’m not judging,” she added, wondering whether that was why he was being so cagey. Society, after all, taught them that they were supposed to be good little boys and girls until they got married. She tried to think of a sibling appropriate way to explain that, whilst there was love and other reasons, there was rapidly becoming a more all-consuming reason that she wished Jay would - in the very apt phrasing of the sentiment - take her as his wife and that, whilst she wasn’t stupid enough to do anything that would get her pregnant, she was pretty much willing to treat any other rules with as large a degree of flexibility as her somewhat more risk-averse boyfriend was willing to tolerate. “I think it’s natural to want…” she trailed off.
Theodore, however, seemed determined to just keep shrugging her off, responding with little more than an annoyed hunch of his shoulders. Tact and understanding having failed, Francesca decided to go for the direct route.
“Theodore, look me in the eye, and tell me you weren’t with a girl.”
Oh, that he could do. Theodore tried not to smile, not to laugh at the private joke she had just provided him with. He looked his sister straight in the face.
“I wasn’t with a girl,” he informed her, keeping his tone measured, no accidental stress falling on the final word.