Chapter Seven
It was bloody cold, thought Perry, as he stepped outside and his nostrils began to freeze in the icy air.
Wrapped up as best he could, he missed his own personal fur-lined cap he’d become attached to over the years. It was large enough to pull down either side of his face, thus covering not only the tips of his ears, but the rest of them as well.
However, a solid snowball landing dead centre of his back distracted him, and within moments he was engaged in an exhilarating battle.
The children had managed to build a sort of fortification and were surprisingly organised. The youngest made the artillery, the older lads fired it off.
Which left Mr. Muir and Perry to return fire, which they did with enthusiasm, if not accuracy.
The entire process involved a lot of laughing, running, squawking, yelling and occasionally tripping over something and falling flat on ones’ face.
That was just the two grown-ups.
The children were having even more fun, making Perry wonder where their energy came from. He watched little Elizabeth, who showed no signs of flagging in her determined pursuit of more snow for snowballs.
He paused for a moment beside their father. “I’m guessing this lot will sleep deeply tonight.” He ducked, managing to avoid a well-aimed shot from Jonathan behind his wall.
“I think you may be right.” Muir returned fire. “I probably will too,” he grinned.
Opening his mouth to answer, the back of Perry’s head took a direct hit from a smirking Anthony, who had crept around to outflank the enemy.
“Why you…” Perry shook the worst of the snow out from his collar, grabbed some of his own supply of snowballs and took off, throwing missiles after the retreating lad. None of which connected, but did give him a certain amount of satisfaction that the attack had not gone unanswered.
The friendly war continued for some time until the skies darkened. It was December, and daylight was in short supply.
“Time’s up, warriors. Surrender and leave in peace.” Perry bellowed over the now heavily rutted lawn.
There were some boos and one weak cheer from the opposing team, but obediently they appeared, red of cheek and damp of foot.
“I’m cold,” said Margaret with a shiver.
“It was a lot of fun, Papa, Sir Perry,” added Jonathan with a grin. “But my feet are getting cold too.”
“Then we have declared an end just in time,” answered his father, with a quick brush of his hands through his son’s hair. “Good fight, my children. Well played.”
“Of course we won,” added Perry, curious to see what sort of response he’d elicit with that provocative comment.
The noise lasted until they reached the French windows and continued as they made their way back into the ballroom.
“Right then,” Mrs. Godfrey awaited them. “Coats here, gloves here and boots off. Now.” She gestured to chairs and her voice brooked no disagreement.
For a second, Perry wondered if she meant him as well.
“I thinkwecan leave our boots on, Sir Perry.” Mr. Muir shot him a quick grin.
“Glad you said that. I wasn’t sure, to be honest. My entire childhood just flashed before my eyes.”
“She’s an absolute blessing.” Mr. Muir watched the nurse marshal all five children into order. “But she scares the life out of me sometimes.”
“A good nurse should always have that power,” replied Perry. “And since we are allowed to keep our boots on, perhaps it would behoove us to head out to the hall and hang up our garments.”
“Right behind you.”
Together the gentlemen strode down the length of the house to the front hall where they were met by Mrs. Muir and Grace who had apparently just come downstairs.
“Excellent timing,” smiled Perry.
