The Art of Imagination

Chapter 5

With the final clank of metal against ceramic, Ingrid was prepared to flee the dining room when Tabitha spoke.

“So, Beatrice tells me you discussed imagination with Harry.” Tabitha rested her chin atop her intertwined fingers, plate half-finished and a gleam to her brown eyes. “Is this true?”

“Yes.” Ingrid kept her tone calm and level, eyes darting to the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. It was already half-past six in the evening and Matilda still hadn’t shown up. Ingrid was growing impatient by the minute. “Is there something wrong, mother?”

“No, no, just an interesting topic is all,” Tabitha replied nonchalantly, a slight frown bowing at the corners of her lips. “Anything else?”

“Actually, he was quite interested in the topic of imagination as well,” Ingrid told her mother in an honest tone.

“Well, I’d like to call him, just to follow you up on that.” Rising to her feet, the chair scraped back. In alarm, Ingrid darted to the doors, standing before them quite protectively.

“That was a private conversation and you should not have been intruding with spies, mother!” she growled, arms spread out. “I’d appreciate it if you respected my privacy.”

Tabitha frowned fully this time, disapproval creasing her brow. “Don’t be so childish, Ingrid.” She’d reached her daughter by now, waiting patiently for her to move. “Now, if you please –”

She was cut short by the familiar echo of a single note throughout the manor. It rang in Ingrid’s ears, causing her heart to soar. The two women fell silent, straining their ears in an effort to find out who on earth was at their door at this hour, though Ingrid had quite a good idea of who.

The dining room entrance opened from behind Ingrid. She stepped out of the way as one of the maids scuttled in, curtseying respectfully.

“Miss, Madam Matilda has arrived.”

“Matilda?” Tabitha repeated in surprise. “Why?”

“She didn’t mention a reason, just that she requested an audience with you and Miss Ingrid.” The maid kept her head bowed, gaze glued to the floor.

“Escort her to my office. I will be up in five minutes.”

“Yes, Miss.” The maid made her exit, closing the doors behind her.

Tabitha then turned to her daughter, a suspicious look on her face. “Did you know she was coming? Did she call while you were on the phone?”

“Something like that,” Ingrid muttered, trying not to give away the anticipation in her expression. “We should go see her.”

“Ingrid Charles, do not –”

A single thought flashed through the front of Ingrid’s mind and the door burst back open but nobody had touched it. Ingrid turned, her scalp tingling with excitement and ran. She picked up her skirts and bounded up the stairs two steps at a time, forgetting her lifetime of etiquette lessons for a moment. Once she arrived at her mother’s study, Ingrid burst through the doors with an eager grin on her face.

“Great Aunt Matilda –” She stopped short, noticing the look on the woman’s face and composed herself. Ducking her head impatiently, she bounced back up with an infectious grin. “You really came!”

“Yes – where’s Tabitha?”

“Auntie, what are you doing here?” Ingrid’s mother appeared rather flustered in the doorway to her study. She closed it behind her and hurried to her place behind the desk, trying to compose herself. “Madam?”