It was her only chance to escape her horrid dance master, his scalding glare, and his nasal repetition of, ‘one, two, two, one, left foot, right foot, right foot, left.’
“If I only get an hour or two to myself,” she huffed.
Dashing in further, ducking into the forest, ignoring the rough twigs, roots, and rocks under her thin kid soles, she approached the tall oak she had climbed many times.
Hiking up her prim muslin day dress, she hoisted herself up to a limb and clambered up, the rough tree bark scratched her palms as she climbed far enough that she could see the rooftops of the nearby houses.
Nestling back into a nook, she perched on a limb with her skirts pinned beneath her, her bared legs swinging idly. “All these lessons, eating, dancing, walking, riding side-saddle, elocution lesson, French lessons, Spanish lessons, violin lessons, pianoforte lessons….” She gazed into the distance. “How difficult is it to eat properly?”
“I have to sit right, eat in tiny portions, enunciate my syllables, roll my r’s in French, practice my minuet and waltz from the moment I wake to the minute I go to bed.” She blew an errant auburn curl from her eyes. “Why can I not be ten years old and simply play?”
A stiff wind whistled through the trees, and she let her head rest on the rough bark and winced as the pins bit into her scalp. Plucking them out, she idly tugged at her tresses and carded her fingers through them—when the crunch of twigs under the tree startled her.
Glancing down, she did not see anything or anyone—especially Signor Agostini and his scowl.
It was probably a critter.
Sitting back, her lips formed a moue. “Harriet and all the other young girls are playing with dolls and reading fairy tales. Why cannot I do the sa—”
A snap of twigs that seemed directly under her had her startling as her head snapped to the left, hard enough that she unseated herself and her words ended in a shriek as she lost her balance, tumbling, her arms flailing.
In split seconds, she braced herself to crack her head on the hard ground when the contact… did not come.
Instead, she found herself cradled in two arms. Heart pounding, she peeled an eye open and saw a young boy, with a shock of ash blond hair, peering down at her with honey-grey eyes.
Her lips parted in shock. “I-I—I...” she swallowed. “Thank you.”
He didn’t say a word and only let her slip from his arms to the ground. Promptly, Ellie sat on the ground as her legs had the consistency of rubber. Not caring much that her skirts and petticoat would be stained and dirtied, she wrapped her arms about her legs.
Gazing up at the tree above her, her vision split in two as the dizzying height of the branches she’d been on hovered over her.
Turning back to the mysterious boy, she realized he was tall and older, possibly four or five years her senior. His partiallyuntucked shirt flapped in the breeze, the lower fastenings on his faded breeches unbuckled under his knees. He must have a soft foot, as if it were not for the twigs crunching, she would not have heard him.
His tousled hair caught shards of light and shimmered with a titanium sheen while he gazed at her with a curious look; it made her feel like he was looking at a strange creature, as if she had suddenly turned into a bird with two heads.
Squirming a little, she said, “I am Evelina Frampton. What’s your name?”
He didn’t speak, only stared.
“Do you live around here?” She tried again.
Again, not a word slipped from his lips.
Was he… was he mute?
“How old are you?” Ellie asked again, cocking her head. “Are you six-and-ten, or five-and-ten?”
When he did not speak, she decided internally that he was mute. Sympathy warmed her heart, and she asked, “Will you sit with me?”
Again, he waited a long moment before he finally nodded. He fell to the ground beside her, and she rested her head on his shoulder. “Thank you again for saving me. I know my aunt will not be happy that I am here instead of being inside with my dancing master, who is a big ogre of a man.
“I feel like I am doing nothing else but being shuffled from one lesson to another lesson,” she sighed. “I wish I could ride for more than one hour, or stay in my room and read all day, but no, I must be kept busy. Are you busy as well?”
She shot a look at the adolescent, who stayed stoic. “I suppose you do. You probably have a whole host of lessons yourself. I, well, I don’t know what boy’s study, I have a girl cousin, you see, but do you ever ask yourself why they demand so much of us?”
Ellie rambled on, chattering on about anything and everything that came to her mind, oddly pleased about her silent company, until shouts broke through the foliage.
“Evelina Rosalind Frampton!” Aunt Constance’s shrill voice had her wincing. “Where are you, girl?”
