sleep.”
Martin woke him for lunch, and then Louis called and asked them
to come cycling just as they were finishing their meal. Henry readily agreed,
and they quickly dressed and rode to the Briggs house.
Waiting in the hall for Louis and Peter to come downstairs,
Henry hoped for a glimpse of the new Mrs. Briggs, but she was not in evidence,
and neither was James, though all the younger Briggses were on view and making
noise. Instead of hiding, this time Alice stood and stared, solemn and creepy,
and it made Henry blush and cringe self-consciously. She would be a very pretty
girl someday—like all the Briggs children except for Louis, she had their
mother’s honeyed coloring—and Louis was quite correct that she was the right
age to be a possible wife for Henry, but she was still only a child, and she
would definitely remain female no matter how old she got.
“Did you know, Henry? I’m 10 now,” she said, breaking her
long silence. “I had a birthday last week. I’m growing up.” She made it sound
ominous, as though she were gaining on him with each advance in age, and was
poised to bring him down when she finally turned 16.
Henry started at the sound of her voice. “Good for you!” he
said with false cheer. He could hear Martin struggling not to laugh behind him
and frowned, annoyed. Martin shouldn’t find this so funny.
At last, Louis and Peter descended the staircase, pushing
past the obnoxious little brothers, and Henry was able to escape from beneath
Alice’s humorless scrutiny.
As they rode through the park, Henry said, “Guess what? My
mother wants to have a birthday party for me this year.”
Louis was dumbfounded. “Wait—whose mother wants to do this?”
Henry laughed. “Mine.”
“Excuse me for saying so, Henry, but since when does your
mother want to do anything?”
“Since Christmas. Since my Uncle Reggie came back.”
“I thought he was in Italy.”
“But he’ll be back again. She’s just really happy that he’s
coming home. I barely recognize her. She’s like a whole different person. This
is who Reggie expects her to be, and she’s trying to live up to his
expectations. It’s pretty obvious that Reggie would want her to have parties
for her children, so she’s going to do that, I guess.”
“Well…that’s great. I’m happy for you, really, Henry.” Louis
thought a moment, then grinned. “If James is good for nothing else, at least he
can get us some liquor for the party. You like gin, don’t you?”
Henry immediately thought of getting sick on gin sangaree.
“Let’s not talk about liquor until we get closer to my birthday, all right?” It
seemed like a bad idea, but he wouldn’t worry about it now. He chanced a glance
back at Martin, who gave him an enchanting smile that made him blush. To Louis
he said, “Martin’s birthday is really close to mine, did you know?”
“Maybe you told me, but I didn’t remember.”
“He’s four days older.”
Louis snorted, amused. “You’re practically twins, then.
Peter’s almost a year older than me.” Peter had already turned 17 in late
September, shortly after Louis had brought him home; if there had been any
fanfare, Henry didn’t remember it, and there probably hadn’t been. After all,
people who behaved properly didn’t have parties for their slaves, not even
their companions.
They pedaled around the reservoir and headed for home.
“How is the new Mrs. Briggs doing?”
Louis grimaced. “Oh, she’s all right, I guess. Dad’s still
trying to find her a proper slave, someone the right age, you know? He wanted
to get one from Hestia since all our other girls are from there, but they don’t
have any old ones lying around, so he’s going to have to look at other Houses.”
“Demeter is good,” Henry said, loyal to his beloved Nurse
and all the rest of the Blackwell women.
“Dad will check there, I’m sure. He’ll be checking them
all.”
“Do you still like her all right?”
“Oh, sure.
Martin woke him for lunch, and then Louis called and asked them
to come cycling just as they were finishing their meal. Henry readily agreed,
and they quickly dressed and rode to the Briggs house.
Waiting in the hall for Louis and Peter to come downstairs,
Henry hoped for a glimpse of the new Mrs. Briggs, but she was not in evidence,
and neither was James, though all the younger Briggses were on view and making
noise. Instead of hiding, this time Alice stood and stared, solemn and creepy,
and it made Henry blush and cringe self-consciously. She would be a very pretty
girl someday—like all the Briggs children except for Louis, she had their
mother’s honeyed coloring—and Louis was quite correct that she was the right
age to be a possible wife for Henry, but she was still only a child, and she
would definitely remain female no matter how old she got.
“Did you know, Henry? I’m 10 now,” she said, breaking her
long silence. “I had a birthday last week. I’m growing up.” She made it sound
ominous, as though she were gaining on him with each advance in age, and was
poised to bring him down when she finally turned 16.
Henry started at the sound of her voice. “Good for you!” he
said with false cheer. He could hear Martin struggling not to laugh behind him
and frowned, annoyed. Martin shouldn’t find this so funny.
At last, Louis and Peter descended the staircase, pushing
past the obnoxious little brothers, and Henry was able to escape from beneath
Alice’s humorless scrutiny.
As they rode through the park, Henry said, “Guess what? My
mother wants to have a birthday party for me this year.”
Louis was dumbfounded. “Wait—whose mother wants to do this?”
Henry laughed. “Mine.”
“Excuse me for saying so, Henry, but since when does your
mother want to do anything?”
“Since Christmas. Since my Uncle Reggie came back.”
“I thought he was in Italy.”
“But he’ll be back again. She’s just really happy that he’s
coming home. I barely recognize her. She’s like a whole different person. This
is who Reggie expects her to be, and she’s trying to live up to his
expectations. It’s pretty obvious that Reggie would want her to have parties
for her children, so she’s going to do that, I guess.”
“Well…that’s great. I’m happy for you, really, Henry.” Louis
thought a moment, then grinned. “If James is good for nothing else, at least he
can get us some liquor for the party. You like gin, don’t you?”
Henry immediately thought of getting sick on gin sangaree.
“Let’s not talk about liquor until we get closer to my birthday, all right?” It
seemed like a bad idea, but he wouldn’t worry about it now. He chanced a glance
back at Martin, who gave him an enchanting smile that made him blush. To Louis
he said, “Martin’s birthday is really close to mine, did you know?”
“Maybe you told me, but I didn’t remember.”
“He’s four days older.”
Louis snorted, amused. “You’re practically twins, then.
Peter’s almost a year older than me.” Peter had already turned 17 in late
September, shortly after Louis had brought him home; if there had been any
fanfare, Henry didn’t remember it, and there probably hadn’t been. After all,
people who behaved properly didn’t have parties for their slaves, not even
their companions.
They pedaled around the reservoir and headed for home.
“How is the new Mrs. Briggs doing?”
Louis grimaced. “Oh, she’s all right, I guess. Dad’s still
trying to find her a proper slave, someone the right age, you know? He wanted
to get one from Hestia since all our other girls are from there, but they don’t
have any old ones lying around, so he’s going to have to look at other Houses.”
“Demeter is good,” Henry said, loyal to his beloved Nurse
and all the rest of the Blackwell women.
“Dad will check there, I’m sure. He’ll be checking them
all.”
“Do you still like her all right?”
“Oh, sure.
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