Index > Ongoing Stories > The Sharrington Siblings Share a Moment
The Sharrington Siblings Share a Moment
((A short scene taking place after the scene In Which Miss Sharrington Calls on Mr. Bullen at Home))
Patience had been right about Thomas. He had not gotten home until late the night before, as she had wagered he’d been drunk. From her room, she could hear him retching up gin, or rum, or whatever it was he may have imbibed in that night. Then he had left quite early in the morning, likely to walk the Devil’s head away.
She is glad for the time alone. It gives her a moment to sort her head, to try to forget the things she had said so callously to James--to Mr. Bullen. It was only right of her to do so, she believes. He deserves better than her. She cannot allow herself to give the affection he deserves, not as broken as she is. And she hates that he was right about so many things, about guarding her heart, about not saying what she means--her facade.
She only hopes that he has the sense to stay away from her. She cannot promise she has the sense to do the same, not after how attentive, how kind he was. It scares her all the more knowing that she regrets her actions, no matter how right they were. She would simply hurt him. How could she not?
However, she does not have much time to finish her thoughts as Thomas barges into their sitting room, pulls her book from her hands and tosses it to the ground. “What are you doing?” she yells at him, scowling, and getting to her feet. She is not ready for a fight. She cannot win a fight today.
“Me? What am I doing? Do you know the stories I have heard about you here in town?” He moves towards her, his finger up accusing, dangerous. His eyes are flashing with rage. “Not three weeks, Pay, and you are already the subject of gossip. You are already making a name for yourself.”
Her eyes widen, and she wonders, terrified, if someone might have seen her steal into Mr. Bullen’s home last night. She could not live with the guilt of bringing him about in rumors and gossip. She could not do that to him.
But Thomas continues. “I hear from a man that you went with him to seek out residences with people I have never heard of. Then I learn that you are off hiding in bushes with gentlemen?” His face is red, his voice loud. “What do you have to say for yourself. Do you think this is a joke? I should cast you out, let you fend for yourself if this is how you are to act.”
Tears prickle at her eyes--why is it she is suddenly crying so often? She is glad to know Mr. Bullen’s name has not been called into question, but she still feels wretched. She has felt wretched since she said all those things to him. “You are wrong of what happened, Tom.” She sniffles, trying to keep herself composed. She does not cry in front of her brother. It is her own private rule. But she cannot hold it together.
“I do not care if you were helping them tend their bloody garden, dammit. You have been this close to ruin, and word travels quickly. I cannot afford to clean up after you.” He is still yelling, but his face turns into a frown at the glistening in her eyes. “Are you crying?” His eyes widen, and he takes a step back. “What?”
The mention of her tears bring them more quickly, and Patience finds herself choking on a sob. She feels so awful. This is the reason she cannot see Mr. Bullen. He is too kind, and Thomas would be furious. She would ruin him, she would--she lifts her hand to her mouth to quiet her sobbing. Her mind swims with thoughts of how lonely she is, how tired she is. There is no one in this bloody town she can talk to. She wants to go home. She wants to be anywhere but here.
Thomas looks beyond alarmed by the state his sister is in. “What are you doing?” he asks harshly. “What are you crying for?” It is not as if he does not yell at her on a daily basis. She usually takes it upon herself to scream back at him.
“Can we go home? Please? I cannot be here anymore. I have not a friend. I--” she sobs, cutting herself off. Before she can help it, she is reaching for him, tucking her hands around his middle so she can cry into his chest.
He stiffens at her touch and pats her back after a moment of utter confusion. He allows her to sob into his shirt for a second as he wonders why she may be crying, and if tears will stain his waistcoat. “You--are not with child are you?”
Patience pulls back, her eyes wide at the accusation. “No!” she screeches at him, her tears momentarily forgotten as she hits him. “How dare you. I am homesick.” It is the truth. Or, most of the truth. She is not sure what the rest of the truth may be.
The relief on his face is palpable, but he shakes his head. “Unfortunately, you have made it impossible for us to return home, not yet. And you would do well not to start rumors here, lest we need to transplant ourselves once more.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handkerchief and offers it to her. “Now, stop snivelling, it does not become you.” His voice is almost gentle, or as close as it ever might be for Thomas.
She takes the bit of cloth and dries her eyes, though her chin is still dimpled with emotion. “And it does not become you to throw my things and accuse me of actions that may not be completely true. Do not allow yourself to think you know what it is I do with my day, Thomas.” She lifts her head and stomps from the room. She is quietly thankful for her uncontrolled tears, at the very least, they took her brother by surprise and allowed her the upper hand.
|Posted 3 weeks ago|
|kendrafortune||((It wasn't the huggiest of hugs! Poor Pay! :-( ))|
|Posted 3 weeks ago|