Tea, Lycanthropy and Other Virtues

Chapter Three

"Simon, how would you feel if I stayed up at Bunsall Abbey for a few days?" Constance said, twisting a daisy stem around her finger.

Simon was shimmying up a tree growing out over the river. The branch was sprouting some kind of fungus streaked with purple bands. He had his sketchbook and pencil clenched in his teeth. He grunted a noncommittal answer.

"Be careful," Constance said, sitting up straighter from her spot on the bank. "The river is full right now, way over either of our heads."

He settled in on his stomach, carefully opening his sketchbook on the branch.

The rushing water drowned out the sounds of workmen on their roof. Simon had seemed more agitated than usual the last few days. Constance knew the extra people and noise were too much for him. It's why she'd suggested they travel further into the woods in search of his mushrooms. She shouldn't even be asking about Bunsall Abbey with the new disruptions making him so jittery, but Gran hadn't let up about it. And if she were being perfectly honest, she wanted to go. The idea of sleeping in and eating fine meals had wormed its way into her imagination. She couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to have a friend her age—still, the wardrobe was a problem. She'd gone back over their accounts thinking she could scrape enough for a couple of Spencer jackets to make her one dress act like two, but Simon desperately needed a new shirt and there wasn't even enough for that.

She studied her brother's face. His eyebrows pulled together as he sketched. He still seemed so young, even though she knew he was nearing manhood, his arms too long for his shirt, his pale skinny wrists out for the world to see.

"Gran said I couldn't tell you I don't want you to go," Simon said without looking up.

Constance sighed. Maybe once they finished the roof and things went back to normal.

She closed her eyes and tipped her face into the sun, the sound of the river lulling her into a daze. She shouldn't be sitting here. There was work to be done, but she wasn't going to leave Simon laying out over a rushing river, and he needed to be away from the chaos. She did too. Most of the workmen she knew from the village and it had gotten tiring trying to be polite to so many of them.

She opened her eyes and studied her brother again. What was going to become of him? The sun glinted on something peeking out of his vest pocket.

"Simon, your watch!"

Too late, it slipped from his pocket. He made a strangled noise as he grabbed for it, nearly unseating himself. The watch fell into the water.

Constance was on her feet, kicking her shoes off before she'd formed a coherent thought. She dived into the river close to where she'd seen it go under. Ice cold water hit her like a thousand knives. She gasped water into her lungs. She barely had time to register what a stupid idea it had been to jump in before the current dragged her under.

She broke the surface, choking. Already, Simon looked small in the distance. Her shoulder hit a boulder as she careened past. She scrabbled to hold on, but the water pulled her away.

Her sodden skirts wrapped around her legs, making it more and more impossible for her to use them to help her stay afloat or find purchase on the riverbed.

Her mouth and nose were continually being filled with water. She slipped below the surface again. You're going to leave Gran and Simon all alone, she thought, her heart crashing in her chest. Who will take care of them?

She fought against the current, but it was impossible to even tell which direction was up as water pressed her on all sides.

A thought she'd been careful to keep hidden bubbled up. You were always so lonely. Her mind was growing hazy, her lungs screaming.