The Ruin and Restoration of Harrison Fredrick | ONC 2021 |

Chapter Two

Candlelight flickered in the hall, casting unnerving shadows against the paintings of serious-looking rich people I passed as I followed Lissa to the dining room for dinner. I searched their faces for any resemblance to Mother, but I couldn't imagine her being related to any of them. She was tall and graceful, and always seemed more balanced than the other women back home, but her skin was tanned by long days in the sun and her hands were chapped and rough. She was a queen in Papa's eyes, but I never actually imagined she was really royalty, or nobility, or whatever she was.

The next painting stuck my feet to the floor, nearly making me lose my balance. I heard Lissa stop and turn, but I couldn't tear my eyes away. "Are you all right?" she asked.

It was a portrait of a woman sitting in a blue chair, with a piano and a table stacked with books behind her. Dark brown hair fell in curls around her pale face, pinned back with a white rose and feathers. Her dark red dress was all ruffles and embroidered with white flowers. Pearls hung from her ears and around her neck, and there was a jewel on her ring that might have been a diamond, but I'd never seen one up close to tell for sure. A small white dog sat on her lap, looking out at me, and so did she—with familiar, brilliant green eyes.

I tried to swallow but the saliva stuck in my throat. "Who's that?"

Lissa followed my gaze. "That's Lady Allston, when she was young. She was beautiful, wasn't she?"

"She looks like my mother."

"I would expect so, as mothers and daughters usually resemble each other."

Though I'd known about her for over a month, I never really connected this Lady Allston with my mother until now. The only feature of Mother's I possessed was her rich, chestnut-brown hair that refused to lay straight no matter the effort she put into it. The rest of me looked like my father: brown eyes, freckles, slightly off-kilter nose.

"Pardon me, Mr. Fredrick, but Lady Allston doesn't appreciate tardiness."

I tore my eyes from the painting. "Sorry."

"No need, Mr. Fredrick." We continued down the hall. "I'm sure your mother was a remarkable woman."

I watched her face for insincerity but found none. Whatever happened between Mother and her noble English family, she ended up living on a farm in Tennessee, working tirelessly from sunrise to nightfall. No fancy dresses or porcelain or furs. But Lissa talked about her as if she was as fine a lady as my grandmother. Her warmth made me smile back at her. "She was."

Lissa came up on a pair of broad doors and knocked before opening one. She curtsied with her head bowed to someone inside. "Your grandson, my lady."

The room was as richly furnished and grand as the rest of the manor, but in that moment all I could focus on was the woman seated at the head of the table. She wasn't at all how I imagined her, even after seeing her portrait: thin but robust, wrinkled but sitting tall and straight. Sharp green eyes watched me over a pair of spectacles. Her ivory dress was without any imperfection or stain, and I wondered if it was new or if she was too proper to even think about spilling food or tea on herself. Probably the latter.

I bowed deeply and managed not to make a fool of myself this time. "Good evening, Lady Allston."

Lady Allston raised her left eyebrow and I nearly did make a fool of myself then, because in that moment she looked exactly like my mother, down to the tilt of her head and the all-knowing glint of her eye. She would give Papa and I that look whenever we were being mischievous, so she did it a lot. But then Lady Allston lifted her chin in a very un-Mother-like way and the memory went up in smoke. "You will call me Grandmother," she said. Her accent was different than Patrick's and Lissa's, more quick and lofty. "If you are to be my heir you must act and speak like it."