It was just as well that his words remained unspoken. Constance would have given him an acerbic reminder that he had their roles reversed. She was not standing here asking anything of him.
But his last words struck her. Olive turned to face him again and she couldn’t hide the startled look in her eyes. She didn’t say anything, only watched him in an ashen silence. She might have been studying him for sincerity, but – though she looked for a moment as if she might say something – nothing came.
”Let me sleep on it, Erwin” she finally said, quiet and almost demure. She regarded him still, concern creeping onto her face. ”I – “ she started, but her mouth closed suddenly. She stood there, tense and uncertain for another moment or two, then turned without so much as a ‘good night’ and walked down the ramparts. Once she’d turned the corner, Erwin would hear her footsteps change from a quick controlled walk to nearly a run.
Poor Kipper, confused by the tension, just looked up at Erwin with a quizzical whimper.
It had taken Olive, buried under her covers, ages to fall asleep. And even once she had, she woke up in a start, wondering if she’d just had some surreal dream, or if it had all really happened. By the time the sun came up, she finally settled into an uneasy slumber when – WHOOOSH! the comforter was torn in one swift movement aside, leaving Olive exposed to the cold draft from the window. But before she could make sense of what was going on – thwack! – something clipped her on the back of the head.
Olive scrambled upright, ready to defend herself, onto to find Grace towering over her bed with a face like thunder. ”You didn’t give the duke an answer!?” Thwack! whatever Grace was wielding smacked down on the back of her head again. Only when Olive lurched backwards did she see what it was: the measuring stick her tutor used to threaten her with. But he’d never actually hit her!
”Ouch! What? Where did you get that?” Thwack! The measuring stick snapped against her ear. ”Did you go find that just to hit me with?!” Olive demanded in disbelief. Was she still dreaming? But the stink of the measuring stick was very real.
”Constance Olivia Carwick! You impudent child! What on earth were you thinking?! The best chance you have to fulfill your parents’ wishes and keep yourself safe and to serve your people and –“
“I just asked if I could sleep on it!” Olive pleaded, feeling very much like an impudent child, being treated like this, and managing to defend another swat from the measuring stick with her forearm. ”Grace, calm down! It’s – it’s a big decision!”
But Grace would not calm down, and it was written all over her face, though she at least ceased her physical assault of Olive and put her hands angrily on her hips. ”When I think what your mother would say. ‘Oh, it’s a big decision,’” Grace mocked, in an impression of Olive that was good enough to sting. ”What decision?! What on earth else are you going to do! Do you think – do you think you can just run away with the stable hand – Don’t think I don’t know about that!” she cut across when Olive opened her mouth in protest. ”You stupid, selfish girl. I suppose you haven’t even thought of what an unkindness it is to him, hm? Letting that poor boy hope when you’re a noble lady and it is PAST time that you acted like it! And when a DUKE has asked for your hand in marriage! Do you honestly think you can deny him? I know you have had a hard time, Constance, and don’t think it doesn’t keep me up at night, thinking of all those years you were gone. But you’re home now and you have a chance now to do right by all your parents’ hopes and to do right by your duchy. And you didn’t even say goodnight to him!”
How did Grace know that part?! Olive always marveled by how many eyes and ears servants had around a house. Olive’s mouth opened and closed, not unlike a fish, not able to get a word in edgewise as Grace’s reprimands continued for at least the next ten minutes. Recounting every heartache and worry she’d ever inflicted on her mother, reiterating how much every single member of this household wanted the best for her, reminding her over and over of her responsibility as Harlow Carwick’s only child.
When she finally started losing her wind, Olive stumbled out of bed, pulling at whatever clothes she’d been wearing the previous night. ”Okay, fine, fine, I’m going,” she retorted, sounding much more like the surly teenager who’d used to fight with her mother than she liked. ”I’ll go talk to him now, just…. Stop, please.”
Olive tried to walk past Grace, but felt a sharp snag at her collar. ”Oh, not like that you’re not! Sit down.” And the old lady’s maid, with strength that frankly surprised her young ward, sat Olive down on a chair and started brushing out her slept-on hair, muttering darkly about what a bad job Olive did at keeping it tidy, but thanking the stars again that at least it’d grown back out and she had something to work with.
It was more than an hour later that there came a sharp knock at the door of the Duke’s study. As soon as he’d answered, the door opened and Olive nearly stumbled in. Almost as though she’d been pushed. The hissing sound of urgent whispered instructions – ’stand up straight’, ‘don’t get fresh’, ‘and act like a lady, for Angsar’s sake!’ – confirmed as much. Olive glared balefully at the door.
It wasn’t until it closed that she seemed to remember where she was and turned to face Erwin, the disgruntled expression wiped from her face and replaced with a wide-eyed, nervous awkwardness. It would not escape Erwin’s notice that Olive was considerably better groomed than she normally was, in a pretty light blue dress and her dark, honey blonde hair freshly plaited into a braided knot at the nape of her neck. She actually started a little when the door latch clunked as the door closed.
”Um. Good morning.”
