Thread: Such A Nonsensical Thing, Little Girls (PocketFullOfPosies)

This house, this estate was still a thing very new to him, its hallways and gardens possessing an in between feel that wasn't quite yet like home. Even had it been, the property was vast enough that one might have grown up there, might have lived there all their life and there could still be a place or three left undiscovered. Combine such a truth with a little girl that didn't want to be found, and she simply wouldn't. Simon knew this. He knew it but that didn't mean he could go without trying, having first the maid, then the cook join in the search, followed by the gardener and anyone else he came across in those hectic hours. They would try. It was all in vain, he knew after the first hour had passed, but they would try. It wasn't until somewhere around suppertime that he personally chose to retire from the search, his meal consisting of a simple hunk of bread and some still somewhat fresh milk, the cook having been too busy searching to actually cook. He was capable of more, of course, or could have asked the woman to prepare something simple before dismissing her and the others for the night, but his mind was too enamored by this, by Lydia, to even care to bother. This was a challenge, this teenager. She had not outsmarted him, she had simply taken advantage, simply gotten the better of him in nothing but a temporary sense. And so he would wait. It was inevitable that she show herself. Cruel the thought might be, but it was a truth, an absolute in that she had no other means to take care of herself other than this home. Food, shelter, she would have to come out if she was in hiding, or come back if she'd run away, unless she was somehow able to make the lengthy trek back to her parents, one that took four days by nonstop carriage and would take far more at a casual walk. So he would wait, and once Simon decided that he would wait it became clear to him as to where. When Lydia revealed herself there were many places that she could go, but few that she actually might. The kitchen was a solid guess, but perhaps too out in the open. It was far more likely she would retreat to her room, seeking the privacy and safety such a thing provided. And in doing so she would find her uncle, her doctor, sitting there in a chair against the wall, quietly reading. stomp. stomp. stomp. Simon blinked. stomp. stomp. The smile etched across his features was not of a cat that had caught the mouse, but of a cat to whom the mouse was coming to of its own choosing, albeit unknowingly. stomp. stomp. Though, that sounded as if it were moving... away? stomp. His book closed, quietly, eyes on the doorway as he rose slowly as to fold the cover closed and place it on the seat. So he had guessed wrong, so she wasn't coming to her room, it seemed. At least not first. As his own light steps approached Lydia's doorway he could hear her voice, inaudible at this distance, though it served to further give her up in case those horrid boots hadn't done the job. Stern-faced, he took to the hallway quietly, but not sneaking, for he would do no such thing in his own home. Palms clasped behind his back, he did everything he could to keep his footsteps light as he progressed along the rug. Turning a corner, he- -stopped. And just sort of stared. Bewildered. Watching her descend. Speaking to herself in riddles? She truly was mad. And that outfit! Simon's lips were fixed together but his eyes went wide. What a... what a... what... Harlot, he spoke, loud enough to be heard. Just short of a yell. Shuffling his steps, moving to the top of the staircase without peeling his eyes from her, Simon called out, Lydia! Deep breaths. Calm, deep breaths. If he became too fierce he would scare her off. ...Lydia. What are you- nevermind. Another breath. Mentally he did what he could to remain in control, but this? Those clothes were more than just some behavioral problem! Come up here, Lydia. Back up the stairs. Please. His palms squeezed hard into one another behind his back. He did everything he could, though, to keep his face calm, to keep it from going red. You caused a very big ruckus today, apparently destroyed what I had given you, and embarrassed and insulted me. I believe we both know that you owe a sincere apology.