The Misplaced

C h a p t e r ° 8

Emma's heart was beating wildly in her chest and her breathing came out short, sharp and rapid when she ventured into the cavernous breakfast room. Four pairs of eyes immediately and predatorily nested on her as she tacticfully stepped towards the long rosewood table lavished with enticingly, mouthwatering delicacy.

Mr. Dickens was sitting at the head of the table, armed with a copy of THE TIMES, and was abstractedly perusing through each column. Mrs. Dickens sat at his right hand side, looking radiant and blithe in the morning sunlight.

A young girl that seemed to be around her age was sitting spine-straight and demurely opposite Mrs. Dickens and on the left hand side of Mr. Dickens. An extremely attractive girl, fine-boned, pale as white as sheet, tall, with a gleaming coppery-bronze hair that was artfully half pinned to her head whilst the rest fell like a running brook down to her waist, and an hypnotizing shade of teal-hued eyes.

The woman that sat beside the girl, was tall as well, older looking, about her late forties, greying black hair that was scraped into a tight bun, a pinched grim face, dark eyes, a bulbous nose and a taut posture.

"Ah, Emma, you've finally woken,' Mr. Dickens said jovially, breaking the wee silence as he rustlingly folded up the papers and settled it beside his china cup of steaming tea.

"Aye,' Emma said, bobbing a terrific curtsy that caused the beautiful girl to snicker a laugh behind her alabaster palm. Emma's empty stomach swooped and heat of embarrassment suffused her cheeks.

" Table manners,' chided the grim-faced lady, reproachfully glaring at the girl.

The girl threw Emma a sass-filled look before she stiffly cleared her throat and focused back on her plate.

" Come, come and join us. Do not mind my daughter's rudeness, she never act as such.' Mrs. Dickens said contritely, fixing an apprehensive look at the girl sitting across her.

Emma tried to curtsy again before striding obligatorily towards the marching oak chair beside Mrs. Dickens. She almost stepped on a black furred cat with a mysterious grey orbs that simply bared it's teeth up at her and cat-walked jauntily beneath the table and hopped onto the beautiful girl's laps.

" Haven't I already rebuked the audience of that animal in this room?,' Mr. Dickens sternly said, wagging a finger at the girl.

" But she came on her own, papa,' the girl whined, a heart melting pout on her plump lips.

Mr. Dickens sighed resignedly as Emma unladylikely slumped into the chair beside Mrs. Dickens. " Emma, this is my daughter, Victoria, and Victoria, this is my niece, Emma Barnes.' he dutifully introduced.

" It's a pleasure to meet you,' Emma said politely, offering her best, genuine smile.

"The pleasure is mine,' said Victoria disingenuously, her face stoic as she slowly and deftly sliced through a chunk of bacon, before popping the cut-out piece into her mouth.

" And this is Ms. Lindsay, Victoria's governess, she'll be in charge of your lessons and etiquettes.' said Mr. Dickens.

Ms. Lindsay threw a stiff nod at her and Emma returned it with a sweet smile.

With the introduction quite over, they all busied themselves in scraping thier culinary against their plates as they stuffed thier bellies. After awhile, Mr. Dickens cleared his throat, and dropped his fork on the tablecloth beside his half-finished plate.

" I'll be up in my study with my solicitor. In case you need anything, you know where to find me.' he said, bobbing his mouth with a napkin, and then tossed the discarded thing onto his plate. " Have a lovely day, ladies,' he added as he pushed back his chair, heaved to his feet and swaggered out of the room.

" Emma, you'll be joining Victoria with her lessons in the drawing room right after breakfast.' Mrs. Dickens announced, dropping her own fork. ' We spend teatime everyday in the sewing room, so after your morning lessons, you opt to be with us.'

Emma nodded languidly as she processed the whole revelation. " Aye, ma'am.'

And when Mrs. Dickens had sashayed out of the room, Ms. Lindsay addressed the girls.

" Hurry up, girls, we've quite a lot on our sleeves for the day.' she said, her words lethal before turning to shoot a condensing glare at Emma. ' 'specially with a newbie in our hands.'

#

EMMA WAS BUSHED BEFORE the end of her morning lesson with Ms. Lindsay. It wasn't as though she loathed learning, in fact it was the contrary. She loved her subjects, although she performed quite poorly, Ms. Lindsay unflagging encouragements, made her adamant to learn more.

Victoria was extremely smart and boffin. She excelled outrightly in all her subjects. But however, she was a lost course with art. Aye, art. Ms. Lindsay taught them art as well.

Emma loved art.

She loved the concept of skitting and the artistry of stroking a brush with a daub of colour across an easel. It was fascinating, and Emma loved the creativity.

However, after an half day huddled in a room with a strict governess, and with a belligerent cousin, Emma was elated when Ms. Lindsay announced the closure of their lesson.

"We shall continue from here by morrow,' she said, gathering up her teaching materials.

" Yes, Ms. Lindsay,' Emma said brashly to the infuriation of Victoria at her side who snorted unladylikely.

" Teatime with my mother would surely wipe the smug off your face,' she said with disdain, raising off her chair and brushing a non-existent specks of winkles from her skirt.

Emma blanched.

~~~
Oh boy, sounds like our dear Mrs. Dickens is such a bore.😂

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