The Smiths were a large family. Except for Frances mother every relative had more than five children and some out did themselves by producing in double digits.
The Smiths' family estate was one of Frances favourite places. She knew every nooks and crannies. As long as Frances could remember, they gathered there each year. It has become a family tradition.
That evening, they arrived at the Smiths' Estate. Mr and Mrs. Smith was waiting in the drive to welcome them all.
Marcus helped Frances down and offered his hand as they climbed the stairs to meet the rest. A gaggle of young children came running, shouting 'Aunt Franny!.'
Marcus felt ambushed as he was pushed aside. Marcus lost his footing and fell down.
Antony was unable to control himself and laughed out loud. He bent down and helped Marcus up, murmuring 'Serves you right, what a delightful week this is going to be.'
'Yes, I am sure I will enjoy every bit of it,' replied Marcus sarcastically.
Mrs.Smith repeatedly apologised, Marcus reassured he wasn't even a bit angry.
Marcus was assigned a separate room, while Antony was to share a room with one of the Smiths cousins.
Guests were still arriving, so the dinner was informal and served in a small ballroom. Marcus helped himself bread, toast, cheese and lemon tart from the side table and sat down with Antony to eat. He kept looking around for Frances, but she was nowhere to be seen.
Marcus spotted Miss. Anne and waved as she made her way to them.
'Where is Miss.Hill?' he asked her.
'I am Miss.Hill' she replied.
'The other Miss.Hill,' he said, rolling his eyes.
'Frances! She is taking her dinner at the nursery with the kids,' she said as though she was not one.
Marcus thought Anne must be thirteen or fourteen and just out of nursery herself. Antony couldn't hide his glee.
Anne sat in the vacant chair and started talking. 'Mama never allowed Frances to eat food in the nursery. She hates it, and thinks it's hard to hide her problem, I mean Frances but she likes to play. Everyone likes her. Cook makes the best chocolate biscuits and she is her favourite too. I like butter biscuits.'
Marcus couldn't follow a thing, she seems to be talking about ten different things at the same time. Antony looked like he might explode with laughter at Marcus' predicament.
Marcus went to bed that night, his head aching. He decided if he had to endure Anne's speech one more time he was going to pack his things and head right back to London, damn Frances for all he cared.
The following morning Marcus woke up and got ready glumly. If he didn't see Frances, he bloody well was going to march to the nursery and drag her out himself he decided.
When he opened his door, two boys, no more than eight, were standing waiting for him.
'Are you Lord Marcus?' one of them asked.
'Yes!' replied Marcus apprehensively.
'He might be lying, how do we know it's him?' asked the other.
'I am Marcus and what do you need?' asked Marcus.
Antony joined them.
'Do you know Lord Marcus?' the boys asked Antony.
'Yes this is Lord Marcus,' Antony replied pointing to Marcus.
The boys believed Antony more quickly and said to Marcus. 'Aunt Franny wants to meet you after breakfast in the garden.' Their message conveyed, they scrambled away.
When Marcus found Frances in the garden, she was once again surrounded by a gaggle of children. She smiled warmly when she saw him. And to his annoyance, Antony was there too.
Antony smiled deviously at him and said, 'So good of you to join us, we thought we might have a picnic, why don't you head back to the kitchen and request a picnic basket.'
Marcus knew Antony and thought the two could play the game. 'What's the fun in that, we are in a garden, why don't we collect fruits for the picnic.'
The children looked delighted at his suggestion. He proceeded splitting them into groups and assigning them each a task, to collect apples, oranges, strawberries, gooseberries, cucumber, tomatoes, bread, cheese and blankets. It was a more tedious process than he thought. Despite his best effort he still couldn't divest three kids and Antony tagging along.
Despite what he thought, Marcus had a thoroughly enjoyable morning climbing trees, collecting fruits. They challenged each other; who climbed the highest; who picked more fruits. And he smiled vindictively when Antony got himself pricked by a particularly large thorn from an orange tree.
Antony and Marcus, followed by Frances, climbed an old gooseberry tree, with many gooseberries sticking from its trunk.
They heard Lady Smith scream, 'Frances! What are you doing?'
Mrs. Smith shrieked like a banshee clutching her heart as Frances jumped off the tree.
'You have twigs in your hair and you look filthy, you should remember the London rules,' scolded Lady Smith.
'Aunt Mary, but we are not in London,' replied Frances.
'You should follow it everywhere, You are a lady now; a proper lady will never climb trees. What will Mr. Bennet or Lord Marcus think if they see you like this!' scolded Lady Smith.
Right on cue, Antony and Marcus jumped one after another looking as dirty as Frances. Lady Smith almost fainted. Not knowing what to do, she mumbled an apology and positively fled.
'I got off easily, I was sure she was going to drag me back,' said Frances happily as they made it back to the picnic spot they agreed.
'What are the "London rules"?' Antony enquired.
'It's the rule George came up with for me so people wouldn't get to know my problem,' she replied.
Marcus frowned at the mention of George; he didn't know who this George was, but this George person was getting on his nerves. Frances has mentioned him no less than eight times today. Nine adding this. Was he counting? Why was he counting?
'Your problem?' Antony asked in confusion.
'I don't know what the problem is, only that my mother refers to it as Frances' problem,' replied Frances.
Marcus felt anger with Mrs.Hill. She termed Frances' innocence as Frances' problem.
'And, the rules are - ' prompted Antony.
Frances ticked her finger as she said,
'One, never talk to anyone unless spoken to.'
'Two, Always comment about the weather if spoken to.'
'Three, Before talking count to ten; if you are happy count to twenty; if excited count to fifty.'
'Four, Never do anything with your legs except walking slowly and dancing.'
'Five, friends are an exception to these rules.'
Antony thought that this unknown George's idea was brilliant, this would depict her aloof, add her good looks. No wonder she is considered the season's diamond.
Antony said, 'I think Mr. George's idea is brilliant.'
Frances said 'I wish George was here, I miss him dearly.'
At this Marcus felt so angry, he was squashing the orange he was holding, into a pulp. Antony smirked at Marcus' reaction.
Now she has mentioned George's name tenth time, he was putting up with climbing trees and meddlesome children for her and there she was, missing George, Marcus thought vehemently. He wanted to punch something badly, Antony's face seemed a good place to start.
'But he couldn't come, his wife Sanah is 8 months pregnant,' Frances added.
Marcus suddenly felt relieved and amiable. 'My felicitation to him.'
They set up their picnic. An elderly kitchen staff arrived with a picnic basket. Frances pulled her to their circle with a, 'You should join us Mrs. Mecredy.'
She added to Marcus and Antony, 'Mrs. Mecredy cooks the most delicious chocolate cake in all of England.'
Mrs.Mecredy produced a large cake, a large slab of cheese and a flagon of lemonade from her basket. She sliced the cake and handed each of them a piece. Marcus took a bite and chewed, Frances wasn't wrong this was the best chocolate cake he had tasted. Before he could swallow, 'Don't eat it, spit it out, it has strawberries!' Frances said, knocking the cake off his hand.
She asked with concern, 'Are you alright? You didn't eat anything, did you?'
Mrs.Mecredy watched them with interest. She said to Frances,'I brought your favourite curry mix, his Lordship may like it,' as she took some Gooseberry and dusted it with the curry mix, handing them both some.
'It's spicy,' warned Frances.
'As a member of the Oriental club, I have had my fair share of Indian curries,' he said.
Her eyes widened as she exclaimed, 'You are! I thought only royal family members were allowed.'
'I am eighteenth in line to the throne, I am a royal,' he said.
'Ho! I forgot,' replied Frances.
It was so like her to forget, thought Marcus as he chuckled.
The curried gooseberry was assault to his taste buds as he popped it in his mouth. The sourness of gooseberry went well with the spice and salt. He had no words to describe it. He simply enjoyed it, as he popped more and more gooseberries.
** Curried gooseberry: Try adding salt and paprika / chilli powder to gooseberry. You can enjoy it immediately or let it sit for an hour or so. You can also replace gooseberry with raw mango, which is one of my favourite, Yum!
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