A pain made itself known behind Finch’s left eye, and he took in a breath. He would survive. He would. Economy and prudence were old friends of his, and he had ample savings to keep his situation from veering into dire straits in the interim. Yet he doubted he could continue balancing his family’s demands and his pocketbook’s. How much longer until his father required something that landed him in debtor’s prison? Would his family claim their connection then?
Not a sound announced his assailants before they launched themselves at Finch, coming at him with a coordinated attack that did credit to the finest soldiers he’d known. One latched onto his leg, bringing Finch to a halt, and when he bent over to look at the mass of golden curls, the other used an obliging ledge to leap upon his back, her arms wrapped around his neck.
“Uncle Lewis!” Though he could not see which of his rascally nieces clung to his back, that distinct cadence belonged solely to the youngest of his brother’s daughters.
“Are you causing mischief, Ginny?” asked Finch, shifting the child’s hold so she did not strangle him.
“Don’t be silly,” she laughed, parroting a phrase that was so often applied to her.
Leaning forward, Finch looked at the leech wrapped around his shin. Barbara looked up at him with the angelic features she shared with her twin, though there was far more truth to the sweetness and innocence in Barbara’s case than Ginny’s.
“Mama said you were leaving today,” said Barbara, loosening her grip enough to meet her uncle’s smile.
Finch lifted his foot, giving its passenger a great swing forward. Barbara squealed and tightened her hold once more, while her sister nudged Finch’s side with her heels, spurring him to move faster. With a shuffling step, he galloped down the hall as the sounds of squealing laughs echoed behind them. The pair were growing at a rapid clip, and Finch struggled to move their combined weight. A tinge of sorrow colored the joyful moment as he realized the dear girls were rapidly leaving childhood.
And sadly enough, they were some of the only family left who referred to him by his given name. Even the other children called him Uncle Jack, but this sweet pair had yet to adopt that moniker.
Those thoughts (and Ginny’s incessant nudges) made him move faster, allowing him to push aside fatigue to steal a few more minutes as their horse.
“Girls!”
That one word, spoken with all the frustration a mother can muster, had Finch halting in his tracks while Ginny ducked behind his back and Barbara hid her face in his shin. Annette marched down the hallway with scorching steps that left the rugs beneath her feet smoldering. Her gaze did not waver from her children, though they refused to meet it.
“Miss Tuck has worked herself into a dither while searching the grounds for you,” she said, coming to stand before them with her hands on her hips as though to punctuate an already clear point. “Girls, look at me.”
With slow movements, the pair met their mother’s eyes. Ginny released her hold on Finch, dropping to the floor before he had a chance to soften her fall. Coming around as Barbara rose to her feet, Ginny took her sister’s hand and the two stood before their mother with heads hung low.
“It is unkind of you to treat her so,” said Annette. “Miss Tuck is here to help you become the young ladies I know you can be, but you spend more time wriggling out of your lessons than learning. You know you are not allowed in the garden until after luncheon, and yet you blatantly ignore that rule. That is wicked of you.”
Ginny's gaze darted upwards. “We didn’t go into the garden.”
Barbara nodded, her head bobbing up and down in quick movements. “We only left the door to the garden open. That is all.”
Annette’s brows drew together as she studied the children while a chuckle tickled Finch’s chest, threatening to burst out as the implications quickly made themselves known. As understanding grew, Annette’s eyes closed, her hand reaching up to massage her temple.
“Did you not think that Miss Tuck might be worried when she saw the door open but did not find you outside?” asked Annette.
Barbara glanced at her sister, and Ginny shrugged. “But we did not put one toe out of doors, Mama.”
“How else were we to say goodbye to Uncle Lewis?” added Barbara. “He is leaving today and Miss Tuck would not allow us to see him off. We only wanted a few moments.”
Ginny nodded. “She gave us no choice.”
Though there was a hint of humor sparking in Annette’s gaze, she gave her child a stern shake of the head at that pronouncement. “Do not shift your naughtiness onto someone else’s shoulders. You still had a choice.”
Ginny and Barbara moved in unison, stepping to Finch and cuddling close, their eyes gazing up at their mother with a sadness and pleading that would melt the devil’s heart.
Annette sighed, her shoulders dropping. “Now that you have disrupted your lessons, you might as well give him a proper farewell.”
Spinning, they latched onto him, and Finch crouched down. Their arms shifted to wrap around his neck, and the girls strangled him amongst pleas for him to return quickly. Their eyes glistened, and Finch tried to assuage their sadness, but their sentiments echoed his. Though anxious to see Simon and be free of Dewbourne, he would miss these dear girls as he always did.
With a clap, Annette drew their attention, hurrying the girls back to their lesson, adding, “Do not stray one step from your course, girls, or there shall be consequences.”
Standing side by side, Annette and Finch watched as the pair walked hand-in-hand towards the nursery.
“I am not equipped to handle children who have the cunning and strategy of Admiral Nelson. What is a mother to do with such daughters?” asked Annette.
“Hope they do not defect to the French.”
