"Yes, please," Alethea nodded, though still unsure of what that would entail.
"Well then," the duke intoned, "Let us start with you, ghostly Duchess. What tragedy befell you that you haunt these grounds? Why does your spirit linger at Redhaven?"
"I…" Alethea was not sure how to respond.
"Tell us your story," Oliver said, encouragingly.
Alethea's mind went blank for a moment. She had never made up a story on command, certainly not with all eyes upon her in expectation.
Through the irregular hole Oliver had ripped, she saw four faces watching her eagerly. She cleared her throat.
"How about the rest of you go first?" she said, shyly. "I shall save my story till after."
"I can start," Eleanor grinned, eagerly and puffed out her chest. "Mine is an adventure of high chivalry. I am Sir Ellie, a noble knight errant from a kingdom far beyond the seas. I journeyed here after slaying a dreadful dragon that threatened my homeland. The beast's fiery breath singed off my eyebrows," she wiped an arm across her brow, "But I emerged victorious!"
Alethea nodded, amused by how seriously this little exercise was being taken.
"But I had to return, alas," Eleanor said in mock defeat. "For my work was not yet done. Rumor spoke of a haunted manor in England inhabited by all manner of curious souls. I came to investigate, to offer my sword in service."
"Bravo, bravo," Oliver broke out in applause. Alethea found it heartwarming how encouraging he was to his sister, who was now smiling gleefully.
It had to be said that the girl's creativity and confidence were infectious; Alethea felt an affectionate warmth toward her.
"Now it is my turn," Clara's eager voice chimed in. The little girl had crawled to the center of the circle on her hands and kneesand sat back on her haunches, panting playfully. "I will tell you how I came here."
"Go ahead," Alethea nodded, trying to show the same level of encouragement that Oliver had.
Clara barked enthusiastically, and Alethea had to stop herself from chuckling at the sight.
"I was born a puppy in the finest house in the next town over. But I chasedsomany cats that my owners said ‘enough!' and sent me away."
"I wandered and wandered, eating scraps and sleeping under hedges, until one day I smelled something delicious on the wind. I followed it all the way to this house."
"What was it you smelled, little dog?" Eleanor interjected with a grin.
Clara wrinkled her nose, considering.
"It was cherry tarts! The cook had left cherry tarts cooling by the window. I snuck into the kitchen and gobbled five whole tarts before anyone could stop me," Clara continued on, making everyone around her erupt in gleeful laughter.
"When I was finally found, my belly was so big and round from all the tarts I could barely run!" She made a big circle over her stomach with her small hands. "And then Master Oliver wasmerciful to me. Instead of throwing me back out into the cold, he asked me to stay."
Once again, Alethea felt herself grow warm at the story. It was these little things that made it clear what sort of relationship Oliver had with his siblings.
Oliver bent and scooped Clara up into his arms, fur scraps and all. "And I stand by it," he said, kissing her cheek loudly as she giggled. "We did need a good dog. The very best dog, in fact."
The others clapped in appreciation for Clara's story. Alethea applauded as well.
It struck Alethea again how much Oliver had filled the void for his siblings after their parents' untimely deaths. He had only been a teenager when he took on the role of guardianHe raised them,Alethea thought with wonder. No wonder they adored him enough to enact these playful rituals together.
"And what of you, Your Grace?" Theodore shifted the conversation over to his brother. "Tell us your story."
"The Duchess may go before me," Oliver said, glancing at Alethea teasingly.
"You first," Alethea insisted, still not quite ready yet.
"In my homeland," Oliver began, "everything isquitebackwards, as I mentioned. We wear our clothes inside-out, walk on ourhands instead of our feet, and address each other not by name but by our most embarrassing quality."
"So if you were from there, I'd have to call you Duke—hmm—Duke Pumpkinfeet, perhaps?" Eleanor suggested.
