Charming Miss Atherton

Twenty

"Sometimes the most effective way to weather a storm is to keep to the indoors." -Henry Atherton to his sister Bridget in response to learning of Mr. Briggs' return to Town.

Bridget stood at the window that overlooked Hyde Park from the Carrington House library. Steam curled from the ivory and ice-blue tea cup that she held firmly in her hand. Bridget peered at the gold filigree rose art etched near the brim, running her finger across the rim, lifting it now and again to take a sip and returning it with a light scuttle on top of its matching saucer. Bridget looked down at the cheerful couples strolling along the alley of tall, branchy trees that lined one of the several dirt paths that wound its way through Hyde Park. Young ladies dressed in white gowns with fashionably cut Spencer jackets bobbed their heads merrily to the conversation their companions afforded.

Bridget stared longingly at the endless grassy field, wishing she was outside enjoying the sunshine. But alas, she had no one to accompany her. Henry had disappeared directly after breakfast with some half-wit excuse of visiting the local engravers for some personalized stationery, which was ironic since he had a large stack of personal stationery on top of his escritoire, Bridget thought wryly. Her mother had stepped in to assist Lady Charvil with Helen's wedding arrangements for the day - given Helen's delicate condition.

As Bridget predicted, Helen had bruised her bottom from the riding accident the day before and was currently being held hostage in her bed chamber. Helen's lady maid, Sally, was otherwise occupied ensuring Helen's comfort so that left Bridget alone for a greater part of the day. Bridget did not mind the quiet. She was able to walk the grounds of Carrington House unnoticed. Her reflective disposition eventually led her to the library, where Bridget spent several hours in the comfort of a good book.

It was high noon when Bridget finally tired of her solitude and sought Helen for company. She could hear Helen's animated chatter muffled through the bedchamber door and knocked softly.

Sally cracked the door open and met her inquisitive gaze. She frowned the moment she saw it was Bridget.

Puzzled, Bridget stepped back to open the distance between them. Sally's expression was somewhat hostile.

"I would like to visit Lady Helen," Bridget said in a steady voice. Steadier than she felt. Sally nodded, deliberately avoiding eye contact as she pushed the door open wide enough for Bridget to pass. Bridget regarded her appearance quizzically. Nothing seemed amiss or out of place. As she stepped into Helen's room , Bridget wondered what she might have done to offend Sally. She did not like being on discordant terms with any servant. It was not good to be at odds with those in residence for any household.

Helen's eyes brightened immediately. "Oh Bridget! Can you believe this? I am quite embarrassed!"

Bridget grinned widely, exposing all of her teeth. Helen was laying on her stomach in the middle of a valley of sateen silver pillows. She would not have looked so ridiculous if an ornate feathered pillow had not been placed directly atop her cleft cheeks.

"Are you in any pain?" Bridget asked with an air of concern.

"Not really - unless of course, I flip unto my backside," Helen replied with great spirit, pointing to the injury with her index finger.

Bridget giggled.

"Why do you laugh?" Helen asked a little defensively.

"Does the little feather pillow serve for comfort?" Bridget pointed to the down-filled object on top of her bottom.

Helen strained her neck and chuckled. "Oh - that. It looks ridiculous does it not?"

"Quite ridiculous. Why ever did you position the pillow exactly there? What good could it possibly do?" Bridget asked between chuckles.