been talk of sisterly devotion and bridging the terrible chasm in their relationship. I should have known better.
“What did you say?”
Realizing from Daphne’s tone that she’d spoken the last thought aloud, Percy hastily corrected, “I will try to do better.”
Daphne sniffed and raised her chin. “You must. If we have to hire a governess, sister or no, Persephone, we will have to…” the now familiar dramatic pause stretched out and then with a flourish, her sister finished in a tone of scandalized horror, “Economize.”
That threat hung in the air between them, as it did on an almost daily basis. Of course, given the constant indignities inherent to subsisting on her sister’s very meager charity, its power was waning. Really, how much worse could it be to live on the streets, destitute and disgraced? In fact, the longer Persephone was around her nieces and nephews, disgrace and poverty were seeming less and less terrible. Coupled with Daphne’s constant threats to withdraw every grudging shred of generosity she’d shown on the pretext of being poor—which, given her extravagant expenditures for herself, she certainly was not—it was positively soul crushing. The rookeries might be terrifying and infested with all manner of criminals and vermin, but honestly, given the state of her sister’s children, Mayfair was just as full of fledgling criminals. A glance at Stephen, the youngest boy, showed some creature attempting to wriggle from his pocket. Mayfair had vermin, too! He took his hand, smashed it against his pocket, and the wriggling stopped altogether. Percy looked away, terrified of what she might see next.
Daphne sighed. “If only you had married. I know your opportunities were limited due to your unfortunately bookish nature—a trait Father should never have indulged, mind you—but surely there was someone? Vicar Tromble, perhaps? A man of the cloth would certainly be willing to overlook the flaws in your appearance!”
“He’s nearly seventy and practically bedridden with gout,” Percy protested. Not to mention he was as round as he was tall and, vicar or no, he’d taken to pinching ladies bottoms in a way that indicated he might not be entirely sound of mind.
Daphne blinked rapidly, as if she simply didn’t understand why that was problematic. “Squire Headley?” she suggested.
Persephone felt her temper boiling beneath her skin, threatening to erupt. Clenching her jaws until they ached and digging her nails into her palms, she replied in as even a tone as she could manage, “He died four years ago, Daphne.”
“Well, beggars can hardly be choosers, Persephone. You will be eight and twenty at your next birthday! And I don’t need to remind you that while men may be…” Daphne trailed off, looked around the room at her hell-spawned brood, and then whispered, “ fruitful until they are of advanced years, women are not! Like spring flowers, we must be plucked while still in bloom. You are wilting, my dear sister… Like a week old hothouse rose.”
That insult might have stung, but honestly, at least she was being compared to the rose and not the manure used to fertilize it. It was actually a step in the right direction. “Why don’t you go and have a lie down, Daphne? Rest after this very trying day! I’ll take the children upstairs and read them a book.” Or perhaps bind and gag them.
“Yes… yes, I think I will. It’s just too much, Persephone. All these disappointments are taking a toll on my health, you know?” Daphne sighed dramatically, as if she were the most put upon woman on the face of the earth. Then she looked at her children, all six of the little demons, “Children, come give your mother a kiss… except for you, Elizabeth. You look… well, sticky.”
The children all dutifully lined up, except for Elizabeth who walked over to stand beside Percy’s chair and then, with a malicious gleam in her eyes, placed her very sticky hands directly on the skirt of Percy’s best day dress. Whatever the child had been eating left dark splotches on the pink muslin in the perfect shape of little handprints.
Daphne let out a little trilling laugh. “Oh, my sweet darling! You wanted to kiss Mama ,too, so you wiped your little hands. Come here, my angel!”
Elisabeth’s smile was both triumphant and challenging as she turned and lined up with her other siblings for a rare showing of Daphne’s fickle regard.
After kissing each of the children on the forehead and sending them along, Daphne cocked her head to one side. “On second thought, don’t take