“And this peppermill,” he said, his voice becoming a little shrill, “is the body of Major Carson’s squadron. They couldn’t have taken the Fal – ”
“And you are forgetting,” there was a sneer in the emphasis, an old accusation about the convenience of this amnesia, “that the spinney was not cleared until the next spring. The pikemen had all the cover they needed, and you know it.”
They were on their feet now, facing off across the narrow table. Mama ushered me quietly out, and once we were well clear I demanded
“But who is right?”
“It doesn’t matter, darling. It was all so long ago. They should forget it.”
“But you reminded them!”
I was scandalised. She winked.
“And so I did. And for another week there is no scrutiny of the household accounts, and we are one week closer to buying you a suitable dress for the ball.”
Written for VisDare, and without strings. I’m rather late this week, so I can say with more certainty than ever that if you follow the link you will find lots of good things.
Alex Brightsmith 