"Niall, for the last time, this is not Rounders. Keep the shuttlecock within distance."
"Oh, don't be such a pansy, Talwin. God wouldn't of given you twigs for legs if he didn't intend for you to excel at fetch."
"Yes, and God wouldn't of given you a mouth if he didn't want you to cage your tongue."
"Mmm, I'm going to have to deny that hypothesis in favor that the opening be too large."
Talwin made many attempts to conjure a reply. All of which only managed to display many unique inarticulate-gestures of scorn and frustration. The only success he obtained was to send his racket unceremoniously colliding with the grassy ground. Only to immediately be retrieved by its abuser to be examined for any trace of evidence of said abuse. The overshot-birdie continued to go neglected while Talwin placed priorities in identifying the owner and presenting a personal apology. Those priorities were rearranged by the present game-members' impatience of having their game further-delayed.
"Claremont," Eudora began once the merchant had finally returned to the track for the game-piece, "For the sake of this game's completion--let alone Peter's wits--might you practice a bit more effort in your aim?"
Niall feigned innocence, while struggling to balance the racket on his index finger, "I cannot help that I was not equipped with the same skillset as the rest of you."
Eudora shook her head, but chose to enter a conversation with the other company present while they wait for Talwin's return.
Yes, aside from Niall's aim, the charity picnic was a success. Despite it catering more to feeding the entitled than aiding the...consumption-research fund? War-relief drive? One or the other. Or neither. But, regardless, something had inspired the primped ladies--and relatives up to their distant, second step-aunts--to take leave of their jeweled balls and spend an evening loitering in one of the city's lavish parks.
Fortunately, there were plenty of members of parliament in attendance with the intent of having their presence acknowledged by the public. So, Niall's interest in the vanity—charity picnic need not raise any inquiries. And given that most of his colleagues were more interested in the events and food than further aiding the charity of interest, Niall could stifle any guilt of enjoying a rousing game of Talwin's temper.
And, as if summoned by the thought of his name, he returned from disturbing the bushes. All the while swiping at clinging twigs that dare disturb the flow of his incroyable-esque attire. Presenting the shuttlecock to one of the opposing teams, he returned to Niall's side. Though continued to pluck any greenery in sight.
"Phoebe, dearest. This conversation can't be the least bit interesting for you."
Phoebe whipped her head back to her Nana, intending to correct her conjecture, but instead came to realize she had not the faintest idea what the mature women were conversing over. The small group were situated at a table in one of the park's pavilions, enjoying finger sandwiches and tea from a safe distance from the chaos of the game of jeu de volant.
Nana continued, "Why don't you run along and join them?"
The granddaughter shook her head. "I'm quite content with my tea. Unless you have matters you wish to discuss in my absence, then I can leave."
The grandmother smiled gently beside her. "I need discuss nothing in your absence. But, simply wish to assure you that you are at liberty to leave if we disinterest you."
Phoebe nodded while the ladies returned to what seemed to be a conversation of...carpeting? Wallpaper? Something to do with the color chartreuse. But, again, could not quite fully invest in the details. However, rather than distraction occurring from the devil that tormented her intended. Instead, she could not escape the sorrow inspired by the last of her grandmother's statements.
Because it was quite clear there was one matter that was discussed in Phoebe's absence.
Again, the American girl did not entirely blame the possible reason she could find for the deception. But was this the fullest extent of such a deception? Were even the smiles, and gifts, and kind words a product as well? Before her decision to accept the grandmother's offer, Phoebe had been fearful that the elder relation may find her unfavorable. But she would have preferred to hear that outright than to know those thoughts resonated behind every gesture of kindness.
"Confounded, Niall! You retrieve it from now on!"
The feathered cork-piece was a leap and two steps away from her.
Phoebe's eyes returned to their previous position just in time to observe Niall's preferred method of turning: using practically his torso and allowing his legs to stumble in its attempt to leisurely follow. What loose curls remained from the genocide of his follicles displayed minor twitches of life. The nearnest of her Nana never more apparent. Phoebe's breathing impossible to control.
The wise decision was to have left the shuttlecock on the ground. However, in her hand, she earned a coatless Niall standing before her. And a lattice-panel-of-redwood railing regrettably stationed between them. The feathers on the game piece tickled her palm as the wind passing beneath was more readily acceptable to touching the offering than Niall seemed to be.
To add insult to injury, Niall nodded to the women behind her. "Ladies."
And Phoebe could honestly say she never thought she would find herself jealous of women with grandchildren.
At least, that was before the wind was outbid for the territory of her palm by Niall's fingertips. Although they were poorly maintained nubs compared to hers, the nails of the longer phalanges trailed the underside of her own. Before making their final departure with the claimed shuttlecock, the knuckles of the distal phalanx also took their turn to slide along the terrain. And Phoebe earnestly almost applauded him for his ability to do so without looking at the hand once.
Only to turn around and be reminded of the sort of women he had to practice on.
Upon reclaiming her seat, she was forced to look at the first finger sandwich she acquired that still remained stationed on her plate. Glancing at the cup of tea that was undoubtedly chilled by now, she began to reach for it to aid for her parched throat. Only to stop as a thought occurred to her.
"You're not still feeling ill, are you?" Nana inquired. Having seemed to have privilege to this thought. And hopefully this thought alone.
"Oh," one of the ladies present replied in Phoebe's stead, "Is your ward not feeling well? Shall we relocate to a less windy table?"
"No need," Nana waved the offer away. "I merely made the folly of offering my granddaughter some diuretics to...aid her in the number of events she was expected at. She's slowly recovering finely."
Phoebe's eyes had widened at her Nana's reveal of such horrifically embarrassing a subject.
They were practically a family.
"Ah," another woman present supplied, "My granddaughter encountered some difficulties with them as well."
"If it'll assure you otherwise," Phoebe rose from her seat and declared despite doubting the group was still concerned with her welfare for a subject of conversation, "then perhaps I shall join them."
"Enjoy yourself, dear," The grandmother said from her tea.
Leaving the pavilion, Phoebe began to accept the challenge of the unfavorable-degree of slope to the ground she need conquer to join the others. Grabbing her skirts, she hoped it may prevent any further slips by her feet. In the end, she settled with sitting on the heels on her feet. But, not without first checking that they be clean enough for such usage.
Upon spotting the American girl, Eudora addressed her despite the game in progress, "Should you wish to play, Phoebe? We can send for another racket."
Now having her presence acknowledged, and the seating already beginning to make her legs ache, Phoebe decided to endure the remainer of the slope and move toward the arrangement of wild birches to the other side of the group. "No need. I'm quite content with watching in the shade."
"Ah, yes, that's right. Your illness. Well, then keep your eyes on the birdie for I cannot promise Claremont may be able to avoid you."
"Only if she's quick on her feet," Niall defended.
And Phoebe was genuinely concerned how serious he might be.
"Phoebe!" Eudora cried, and Phoebe instinctively ducked as if she might already need to defend her skull, "You're wearing the ribbon!"
"Uh," Phoebe began while claiming a bench by one of the birches, "Yes? You asked me to?"
Eudora frowned because God-forbid Phoebe could go without insinuating some manner of insult. "You mean you don't like it?"
"I do. Of course. But you asked me to." God let one of those statements remove that frown.
Instead, the shuttlecock was sent hurling through the wooden terrain.
"Honestly, Niall!?" Peter exclaimed, with a tight grip on his racket, "Now how are we to find it?"
Spoiled by the earlier gesture, Phoebe had alighted to her feet.
"Oh, Phoebe, don't trouble yourself. A servant will fetch it."
"N-no. Earnestly. I insist."
And Phoebe was already passing by the posing of members to the Betulacea's family before she allowed herself to hear any further protest. She had managed to become relatively hidden, by the over-laying merger of catkins, when she encountered another undesirable slope. One that was neglected of the friction of grass that was provided on the earlier slope. Instead, this one was comprised primarily of dirt.
Glancing back, Phoebe made extra certain that she hadn't miss the location of the shuttlecock in a more favorable position. Then proceeded to place an additional amount of caution to ensuring that no one could see her through the slots between the catkins that may give away what scandalous thought she would indulge in.
Lifting her skirts and securing them at a height to prevent them from ruin, she complied to the task of descending the slope.
However, a misstep, slippery terrain, or some deity's poorly timed humor, sent her foot farther than intended and her calf was betrayed by a frayed extension of a segregated bough. And succeeding to graze through stocking and skin. Immediately, she checked to see the extent of the damage done and determine if keeping her skirts lower will keep the attack a secret.
There was red. And it was hers.
Biting her inner cheek, she glanced in helpless contemplation at the heinous slope. Even if she wanted to return, there was no promise she may not encounter anymore damage. And, if she did, she would be without a shuttlecock. The players could easily send a servant to succeed where she failed. But, then she wouldn't have privilege of personally returning the piece to Niall.
An epiphany turned Phoebe's head.
Perhaps this was the moment. Perhaps all of his torturing of poor Peter—and now her--was for providing an opportune moment for another lesson. Away from the others, whose attention lay in enjoying their break from the game. Niall could protrude from one of the shrubberies any minute now. He would finally seek her out, and apologize for what harm had come to her and inform her that he had possession of the best remedy for her condition.
As she continued to pursue the strayed shuttlecock, her head was on rotation duty to make certain she didn't miss any movement from the greenery. Just the simple wisp of a hair curl. A familiar rasp of laughter made at someone's expense. Any simple trace that Niall was possibly inches from ambushing her in a similar manner as to what had occurred under the Allington roof.
She had been extensively occupied with not receiving a Niall, that she had to double back to find the shuttlecock. And a Niall.
After extending the retrieval as lengthily as possible, she stood with the game piece. And still, there was no sign of the infernal man. Should she wait? Had he been trapped by some passing branches? Had he under-anticipated the distance the shuttlecock would travel? Had the slope maimed him to a point of immobility? Or was he currently watching her from afar and earning his amusement from Phoebe's incapability to understand his tactics?
"Well, Phoebe, you certainly kept your time about retrieving that shuttlecock," Eudora stated upon her return without any further scraping.
And Phoebe was free to avoid observing Niall, for she knew all too well he must have a grin to his ears with arrogant knowledge of what she had truly been attempting to retrieve. No, doubt he overshot that shuttlecock, knowing she would make such a blundering assumption, and had his truest desire in seeing her squirm from the consequence. Intended to see the quickest completion of this abuse, she immediately made a path toward the cause of many of her recent torments.
Phoebe stood before Niall. Birdie in sacrificial offering. Waiting for him to claim it for further torture.
Niall didn't even have the decency to make the statement to her face. "Eudora's team is the one to start."
Any success of her lessons, by her short-termed English-governess, were obliterated as the ghastliest inhale erupted from her chest like a horde of birds fleeing from an encroaching hurricane. If the shuttlecock was made of anything more robust, it would no doubt have left a dent in his chest with the amount of force she threw it at. She all but screeched, "Then send it to them yourself!"
The group of game-participants were taken with laughter as Phoebe returned to the seating of the pavilion.
"Congratulations, Niall," Chimed Eudora from the scene of wreckage. "You've succeeded to take the most genteel of creatures--it has ever been my pleasure to encounter--and find what little trace of a dragon they possessed."
There was a hand at her elbow. And when Phoebe turned, she couldn't believe that she was still foolish enough to wish it was Niall standing before her, rather than Peter. Despite out of breath from chiding his friend and the physical exertions encouraged by said friend, he managed a semblance of a genteel smile, "You needn't spend your time with the adults. Might I steal your attention? There are blankets set over by the hill we might be able to claim."
Although of no interest to make the climb to a potentially unavailable blanket—and possibly exert her injury--she agreed for the opportunity to be out of sight of Niall. And away from further encouragement by fatuous thoughts that endeavored to place her in these risible situations. Taking Peter's arm, the two ascended the hill. And were fortunate to find a few available options. After making their selection, Peter offered his hand to aid her in her seat. Once her weight had been comfortably situated on the decorative weaving, she reclaimed her hand. Which, aided by the height, gave her view of a rouge fissure.
"Your hand!" She gasped, partially due to the continued adjustment after the climb.
"Ah, I thought I felt something earlier," Peter examined the injury in question, while joining her on the blanket. "Must've been from when I retrieved the shuttlecock from the bushes. I thought I might've seen some thorns on a few of them. No doubt Niall intentionally sent the device over there. I do believe I recall him examining the area earlier."
Her hand grazed over the fissure, as if it would possibly bring her closer to Niall in the process.
Peter immediately retracted his hand. Quickly reminding Phoebe of the extent of impropriety the gesture exuded. "Sorry."
"N-no. Of course you need not apologize. My hand is practically your hand now."
Despite the permission, he seemed quite reluctant to give her another audience with the appendage. And thus denying her further opportunity to examine Niall's momento.
"Ah!" Peter proclamation disturbed the silence, "Have you eaten?"
"Uh," Phoebe hesitated to give her time to adjust to the change in conversation, "No?"
"Ah, how convenient! I could use a plate myself. Wait here."
So long as she needn't climb any more hills, slopes, or what-have-you, Phoebe was content to allow Peter to take to the errand. Fitting the urge to scratch and/or examine her calf, she placed her attention to keeping her hands upon her knees. Only for her eyes to curiously flitter down to the location and determine whether the rouge color had shown through her skirts. It was upon one flittering of her eyes that she found Peter to be returning with more than just a plate for her. And himself.
Eudora took to sharing Phoebe's blanket while the gentlemen of the group—not excluding Niall—chose to stand. The remaining girls went to fetch some of the available blankets. Or joined the gentlemen that offered to fetch them for the ladies.
"I hope you didn't move this way merely for me," Phoebe partially whispered to Eudora.
The receiver of the inquiring did not utilize the same amount of control to her decibels. "No. But I did. And everyone agreed there was not enough of a game to stay where we were."
Peter handed Phoebe a plate, from where he stood at her side. And in case it wasn't difficult enough to eat in general—as of late—it was especially so in the current case that she and Peter were the only ones. Well, aside from Eudora reaching to steal a slice of meat from her plate. To which, Phoebe slowly extended the plate in offering to Eudora in the hope it might somehow expand their friendship. And clean her plate.
"No, no," Eudora replied once catching Phoebe in the act, "We can't have a repeat of the other night. Let alone you falling ill again."
Phoebe sulkily pulled the plate back into her lap. Shrugging her lip, she began to contemplate what contents residing there would nauseate her less. Slowly unwarping her utensils, she continued to examine them further. All the while, at least grateful that the joining members and those present were beginning to occupy themselves in conversation rather than observe her questionable eating habit. Inspired by the interests by Eudora, Phoebe began to extend her fork to the sliced meat.
"I wouldn't, if I were you," Came from Niall at the back of the group. That--had he not been brazenly looking in her direction--she may not had understood the address to be toward her.
"What are you on about, Niall?" Said Peter when Phoebe could only reply by sending her eyes to her lap. Even if the view meant continued-viewing of the undesirable plate.
"Merely thought you may wish to know I've heard accounts that dogs from the maker's neighborhood have recently gone missing."
The proclamation received remarks of disbelief and continued dark humor. But the words were enough to keep both Eudora and Peter from indulging further on the meat. And liberated Phoebe from having to proceed with the meal.
"Well," Eudora broke through the questionable source of the group's mirth, "with another subject ruined by Claremont's input, shall we determine if third time be the charm? Miss Sempill, might you steal your betrothed's hat and begin collecting names. Also, I believe Miss Audley was to bring the pamphlets for the scavenger hunt?"
"Really?" Came abruptly from Niall, "A scavenger hunt?"
Why suddenly Niall intended to be more unbearable than usual was beyond her comprehension. But, more importantly, Phoebe was consumed with confusion over how such unamiable behavior could not stifle her infatuation for him. If anything, it inspired concern that this development of his behavior and treatment of her were the result of his distaste with having his foot assaulted the other night. It wasn't as if it had been her first time.
Or perhaps Niall had a threshold.
"Pardon," Peter began for the group, "But are you not the same individual who suggested we play a game of sardines the other night?"
"That was before parliament began further bankrupting me of sleep. If my limited free time is to be wasted, I should like to have a voice in the matter."
Peter legitimately rolled his eyes. "You are aware that your attendance is not required."
"B-but," pipped the girl holding the velvet hat of names, "we would have an odd number if he left. Someone else would have to leave the g--."
"I can sit the game out," Phoebe excitedly offered. Clearly unable to learn her lesson from earlier. But a foolish Phoebe was allowed to hope she may eventually receive another lesson. And that Niall's sour persona of late was not simply out of unwant of her.
But her sacrifice was rendered moot by the stern declaration, "No!"
The party, at present, were silenced by the once-feeble Peter's stentorian outcry. In addition, the merchant had risen to his boot-cladded feet and his average height now towered over the seated audience. His hand pointed out the target of his next declaration, but the tone and words were enough to know the intent was for Niall, "I've had enough of your target—no, intended—ugh, you've been an absolute thorn—pain—nuisance. All day. I'll tolerate it. But don't you for one instant think I'll allow you to do the same to Phoe—Miss Barrettmore."
Niall blinked. "I don't recall asking Miss Barrettmore to sit out."
"You know how I mean."
"So, you think I denied playing solely to inspire Miss Barrettmore to do the same?"
"All I know is that it has, and I shan't tolerate it!"
Niall tucked his grin in at the spectacle Talwin was making of himself. "Well, my apologies for giving such an impression. Then, for the sake of preventing further attack to Miss Barrettmore, I'll play on the condition that I may call the names."
"Why? What else have you up those sleeves?"
"Oh for God's sake, Peter," Eudora exclaimed. "He's playing. Phoebe's playing. The sooner we have our teams; the sooner we need no longer tolerate him."
Peter sulkily complied by lowering to his seat while the hat was passed on to Niall.
Fortunately, once Niall had received his ransom, no further incident occurred. The names were read from the torn-parchments retrieved from the hat and they were properly informed of the person they were to work with. Phoebe was in the midst of mulling over the previously called names, before Niall announced, "And, lastly, Miss Barrettmore shall be with me."
The groups began to acquaint themselves as pamphlets--with the game's instructions—were passed to each successfully forged group. Phoebe was awaiting to accept her group's pamphlet when, instead of the distributor or her assigned partner, standing before her was a Peter Talwin. Seeming to invoke anarchy toward acquainting himself with his own partner. The rebellion stirred a sudden fear that he had come to realize that it was not merely God's will that Niall should pull her name.
"Miss Barrettmore," He began in moderately-hushed tones, "You need simply give me the word and I'll have you assigned to a new partner. You needn't endure his torment alone."
Though, she acknowledged that she hadn't been exposed to nearly the same level of torment his friend had bestowed upon him, she did feel she encountered enough to understand his concern. And was flattered to see him trouble over her welfare. Then again, he was also unaware of her enlightenment of the cohort between their guardians and was more than likely more concerned about how her distaste may affect her favor for him. When they would eventually reveal the matter themselves. If they ever would.
Phoebe presented a closed smile. "I'll be al—I'll manage. Thank you, though."
Peter still refused to leave her side and it was suddenly a repeat of the debut-night of Eudora's laugh. Phoebe opened her lips to assure him that the smile was also present behind the flesh.
Although still visibly frowning, and allowing the shifting of grass around them to speak in their silence, he eventually replied, "Alright. But if you would wish for me to change places, I—uh..."
Phoebe had to swallow a laugh at his incompletion of the offer. Now very assured that the concern was not remotely genuine. Her smile more natural, she assured him, "I will manage in knowing that I might alleviate you of his torment."
At first, he could only provide blinks for a reply. But, eventually, he succumbed to his truest nature by beaming a: "Thank you!"
He went to turn, but then stopped in his tracks. Before Phoebe could consider questioning the hesitation, her gloved hand was in his and a chaste kiss was placed on the outer quadrant of her hand. In fact, he almost altogether missed given he was more focused on the ground than her hand. With no care to see how she took to the gesture, he quickly sought after his partner and obtained as much distance as possible. As if Phoebe might retract on her offer after some time to acquire her wits.
Speaking of failure to acquire one's wits.
It appeared she and Niall were doing quite poorly as they were the only two not yet started on the hunt.