A Game of Hearts

Chapter five

When Alexander woke up, eyes still heavy from too little sleep, it sounded like a whole regiment of screaming children had marched into the hall and set up camp. In reality, he knew that it was only three: His nieces Eliza, of age eight, and Sophia and Georgiana of age five. Penelope and the children had already arrived, and that meant that Alexander had severely overslept.

Groaning, he dragged himself out of bed and got dressed. The clock in the corner showed almost half past one, and Alexander swore under his breath. He'd have missed breakfast, and quite possibly also the midday meal. Damn it, he thought. In Turkey, his insomnia wasn't usually as bad, and he'd forgotten how much it changed for the worse when he was back in England.

Still fighting with an unruly tie around his neck for some semblance of control, Alexander walked down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairwell, he met Matilda, who looked less than pleased at the sight of him. She was wearing the blue evening dress again, and it seemed like she had hesitated to turn right and open the doors to the small dining room beyond. Whatever lay beyond the oak doors must've been a frightening prospect to make the unabashed Matilda Waters hesitate, Alexander thought.

"You look tired," she noted with a hint of schadenfreude as if he deserved it, but nevertheless waited for him at the bottom of the staircase. Her hands rested atop each other on the white stone of the bannister.

"Thank you for the kind words," Alexander said dryly, his tone not in the least expressing gratitude. He was sure that she was right, even so. "What did I miss?"

"Nothing important, just the arrival of Penelope and her brood, and the reunion of two loving sisters, separated for ten years by fate and misfortune. We took tea in one of the parlours. It was a jolly good time." Matilda said with an air of sarcasm and glanced at the closed door leading to the dining room. From within the wood panels, loud shrieking noises of ill-behaved children could be heard.

"Lovely," Alexander dryly answered. Penelope had telegrammed the Ritz in Paris that she'd travel to London to receive them when they'd arrived, and Alexander would be a liar if he'd claim he had not been curious as to how the reunion of the two sisters would go down. After all, Alexander had known Penelope for close to twelve years, and she had never as much as mentioned the existence of her sister. Impressive for a woman, whose main leisure activity was to be the centre of attention, Alexander thought. Had Penelope and her sister been close, she'd concealed it both masterfully and very uncharacteristically.

"Will you send for my things today?" Matilda asked, rolling onto the heel of her feet and back down again like a bored child. She looked at Alexander, who was still fidgeting with that blasted tie like it was entertaining to see him frustrated. Alexander sends her a stern glare.

"I already told you I would."

"Just making sure," she said but didn't move away from the bannister. She made no move as to join her sister and nieces in the dining room behind the oak door. It seemed to Alexander, that for Matilda, he'd become the lesser of two evils since the arrival of Penelope and the children. In a way, he sympathised with her.

"Shall we?" He asked, just as the tie gave up its ardent fight of resistance, and nodded towards the door to the dining room. The noise of the children had not stilled, but it seemed it wouldn't, no matter how long they waited.

Matilda nodded and followed Alexander.

"Good morning," Alexander said, as the door opened to the informal dining room, a light parlour with a long table in the middle and a console with heaps of food on it at the furthest wall: Kippers with egg, minced meat pies, cold cuts, Yorkshire pudding and steaming boiled potatoes with butter and fresh chives.