Time & Tide - Original Wattpad Version

Chapter Nineteen: In Which Jessie Makes a Friend

After dinner that night, where I was seated almost as far away from Francis as the table allowed, the menfolk peeled off to their brandy and cigars and billiards, and whatever else they did in a cramped, over-crowded country house like this. Right, okay, so I knew things were over with Francis but, jeeze, I thought the guy would want to at least remain friendly, or something. Whatever, gender separation was weird. As the good ole boys left to go be good ole boys, us women retreated back to the parlor, with sherry and cards, books and embroidery hoops, and in Margaret's case, her writing desk. It had been set up on the little table in the back corner where she'd been hiding most of the day, and I wondered how she planned to get any work done with everyone else chattering. One of the Gale girls whisked the cover off the skinniest piano I'd ever seen - I hadn't even known it was there - and began practicing a truly agonizing lullaby.

My hand luckily precluded me from being pulled into any activity that required deft fingers, and I found myself sitting at another tiny table with the eldest sister of the lot, Rose Goodenough, who was laying out a game of solitaire. We spoke sporadically, and only when Rose asked a question. Otherwise, she concentrated on her cards and I... okay, I was staring at Margaret.

"My sister's preoccupation with the written word may seem odd to you," Rose ventured at length, and I caught myself blushing without realizing it. "But she has great aspirations, and though I'm her sister and inclined to tease, no small amount of talent." She leveled a hard look at me from doe eyes that matched her brothers' that dared me to call her little sister a weirdo.

"I have great respect for any artist working hard at their craft," I said, because first, it was true, and second, if I was going to be employed by these folks in the near future, I wasn't dumb enough to piss off my boss. And it was clear from the way Mrs. Goodenough left all practical planning to her eldest daughter, the way Francis deferred to her opinion in every discussion I'd seen them have, and the way Margaret spent most of her time in pensive observation of the people around her or tied to her pen, Rose was indeed the boss.

Rose blinked at me, clearly not expecting that answer. "Yes, well, good," she said, and dealt out another round of cards for herself. She didn't ask if I wanted to play anything, for which I was glad. I didn't want to have to concentrate on the rules when I'd rather be... god, what are you doing? Stop it, I scolded myself. Stop staring. Stop mooning. Stoppit stoppit stoppit.

I forced my attention back to the cards, and Rose, and our spare conversation. When Rose's sherry glass was empty, I made a point of fetching the decanter and walking around the room, refilling everyone's glass, Margret's last.

"You would make an abysmal spy, Miss Franklin," Margaret murmured as I paused beside her.

"Huh?"

"One is not meant to look directly at the object one is attempting to study surreptitiously. It's rather against the point of being surreptitious."

"Ha ha," I said, deadpan. "So funny. Hilarious. I'm gonna bust a gut."

Margaret squinted up at me. "Curious idiom," she said, that little smirk curling back into the corner of her mouth. "But I take your meaning."

"Right. Yeah, I'm just gonna..." I said and like the stupid bumbling disaster I suddenly always was around her, and hustled back to return the decanter to the credenza.

"Sit with me, Miss Franklin," Margaret said as I was crossing back to resume sitting with Rose. The elder Miss Goodenough waved me off when I checked in with her, so I sat. "Do you have a great curiosity for writing?"

"Not particularly," I said. "I like reading a lot, but, uh, you know, haven't had much time for fiction lately."

"Oh?" Margaret asked, setting aside her pencil and fixing me with her moonstone eyes. "And why is that?"