The tour ended in front of a small table, where they were expected to gather for supper in two hours’ time.
“I am sure you are both exhausted. It was such a long journey, after all,” Hyacinth said. “ Do get some rest, and we will assemble for supper later on. After so many years of absence, we have so much to learn about one another. It pains me to think I am practically a stranger!”
“ You are a stranger ,” a masculine voice interrupted from behind. “ As am I .”
Simultaneously curious and startled, the two sisters spun around to greet the speaker. The young man moving toward them was assisted by two walking sticks, tightly gripped in both of his hands. His toes pointed inwardly as he walked, and his posture was hindered by an obvious slouch. His face was stuck somewhere between boyhood and manhood, and he was more pretty than handsome. Horrendously disheveled, his messy brown hair appeared as though it had not been brushed in ages.
“And you are Frank, I presume?” Cordelia spoke up. “Frank Boswell, Hyacinth’s son?”
Shaking his head slightly, Frank said, “Son by marriage.”
“My word!” Hyacinth squealed. “You were so quick to correct her, one might think you were ashamed to be called my son! Have I not been your mother for your entire life? Could you not be a bit more grateful?”
“My apologies… Hyacinth,” Frank answered softly, and a crooked smile appeared on his lips. It was a somewhat mischievous smile, which made Hester think the young man took pleasure in distressing their poor aunt.
“Hyacinth… Hyacinth ! You would think, after all this time, the boy would learn to address me as his mother! Ungrateful… so very ungrateful! His father died when the boy was still very young… seven years old, I believe it was. My husband was much older than me, you see, and even when we got married, his health was rather poor. A silent apoplexy took him in the night. It was fatal, and quick, and I prefer to believe he did not suffer greatly.”
“Frank Boswell…” Cordelia repeated the boy’s name. “You are our cousin, in a sense. Would it be more appropriate to address you as Frank, or to call you Mr. Boswell?”
“You may call me whatever you wish. As for the two of you, I suppose I shall call you Miss Waverly and Miss Waverly. Let us hope that does not get too confusing.” Though his voice was tinged with disinterest, Frank’s gaze lingered on Cordelia, as gentlemens’ gazes often did. With her vibrant smile, chestnut hair, and the adorable smattering of freckles across her nose, Cordelia tended to attract attention.
“Frank might be a bit… taciturn… but he really is a nice young man,” Hyacinth defended him—perhaps unnecessarily. “And doesn’t he have one of the most beautiful faces you have ever beheld?”
“Hyacinth…” Frank groaned, and his head dipped between his shoulders in shame. “ Please …”
“Why do you complain? I am only saying what I am sure they are already thinking. You’re such a pretty boy, Frank. I’ve always said so. And I’ve often said his face is almost a bit… feminine. Would you not agree?”
Frank groaned again. Without another word to any of the women, he turned around and hobbled away as quickly as he possibly could.
“Ah, I’m afraid I’ve embarrassed him. I tend to do that. When it starts wagging, my tongue has no restraint.” Hyacinth leaned toward Cordelia and whispered, “But he is pretty, is he not?”
“Indeed,” Cordelia replied. Frank was hardly an unattractive young man, but Hyacinth was so insistent, Cordelia felt obligated to agree.
“Do you think I embarrassed him when I said his face was feminine? Perhaps I should not have said that, but I only speak the truth. The boy is still young, and he may yet grow out of it. Now, my dears, do get some rest. As I said, I am sure you are exhausted by your travels. We will meet for supper shortly.”
“Thank you, Aunt Hyacinth,” Hester said. She bobbed
“I am sure you are both exhausted. It was such a long journey, after all,” Hyacinth said. “ Do get some rest, and we will assemble for supper later on. After so many years of absence, we have so much to learn about one another. It pains me to think I am practically a stranger!”
“ You are a stranger ,” a masculine voice interrupted from behind. “ As am I .”
Simultaneously curious and startled, the two sisters spun around to greet the speaker. The young man moving toward them was assisted by two walking sticks, tightly gripped in both of his hands. His toes pointed inwardly as he walked, and his posture was hindered by an obvious slouch. His face was stuck somewhere between boyhood and manhood, and he was more pretty than handsome. Horrendously disheveled, his messy brown hair appeared as though it had not been brushed in ages.
“And you are Frank, I presume?” Cordelia spoke up. “Frank Boswell, Hyacinth’s son?”
Shaking his head slightly, Frank said, “Son by marriage.”
“My word!” Hyacinth squealed. “You were so quick to correct her, one might think you were ashamed to be called my son! Have I not been your mother for your entire life? Could you not be a bit more grateful?”
“My apologies… Hyacinth,” Frank answered softly, and a crooked smile appeared on his lips. It was a somewhat mischievous smile, which made Hester think the young man took pleasure in distressing their poor aunt.
“Hyacinth… Hyacinth ! You would think, after all this time, the boy would learn to address me as his mother! Ungrateful… so very ungrateful! His father died when the boy was still very young… seven years old, I believe it was. My husband was much older than me, you see, and even when we got married, his health was rather poor. A silent apoplexy took him in the night. It was fatal, and quick, and I prefer to believe he did not suffer greatly.”
“Frank Boswell…” Cordelia repeated the boy’s name. “You are our cousin, in a sense. Would it be more appropriate to address you as Frank, or to call you Mr. Boswell?”
“You may call me whatever you wish. As for the two of you, I suppose I shall call you Miss Waverly and Miss Waverly. Let us hope that does not get too confusing.” Though his voice was tinged with disinterest, Frank’s gaze lingered on Cordelia, as gentlemens’ gazes often did. With her vibrant smile, chestnut hair, and the adorable smattering of freckles across her nose, Cordelia tended to attract attention.
“Frank might be a bit… taciturn… but he really is a nice young man,” Hyacinth defended him—perhaps unnecessarily. “And doesn’t he have one of the most beautiful faces you have ever beheld?”
“Hyacinth…” Frank groaned, and his head dipped between his shoulders in shame. “ Please …”
“Why do you complain? I am only saying what I am sure they are already thinking. You’re such a pretty boy, Frank. I’ve always said so. And I’ve often said his face is almost a bit… feminine. Would you not agree?”
Frank groaned again. Without another word to any of the women, he turned around and hobbled away as quickly as he possibly could.
“Ah, I’m afraid I’ve embarrassed him. I tend to do that. When it starts wagging, my tongue has no restraint.” Hyacinth leaned toward Cordelia and whispered, “But he is pretty, is he not?”
“Indeed,” Cordelia replied. Frank was hardly an unattractive young man, but Hyacinth was so insistent, Cordelia felt obligated to agree.
“Do you think I embarrassed him when I said his face was feminine? Perhaps I should not have said that, but I only speak the truth. The boy is still young, and he may yet grow out of it. Now, my dears, do get some rest. As I said, I am sure you are exhausted by your travels. We will meet for supper shortly.”
“Thank you, Aunt Hyacinth,” Hester said. She bobbed
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