Letters From the Attic, Book 2:

 LATELY OF ENGLAND

by

Sara V. Olds and Roberta O. Major

"Why must we meet every ship, Glenny?" Tendrils of Iain’s copper hair, having escaped the black riband at the nape of his neck, now blew into his face as the stiff breeze from the sea whipped across the Philadelphia wharf.

Glen Rose Chase looked at her foster brother and allowed herself to smile, lacing it like spices in a pandowdy with both exasperation and affection. "Aunt Catherine’s letter only said that Cousin Richard would be here in April and that, if Mother would take him under her wing until he goes on to Albany, she would be--"

"--very grateful indeed," Iain mimicked. "Mother is ever taking stray children under her wing." The look he slid at her from the corner of his eyes was impudent, but wholly devoid of malice.

"For which Alyssa and I have cause to be grateful," Glen Rose said.

"Indeed you do," Iain said with a self-righteous smirk belied by the mischievous glint in his green eyes.

"As do you," she said, "for how else could you have enjoyed the attentions of charming young ladies of our caliber for all these years if we two had not graciously agreed to play sister to so scapegrace a brother?"

"There are ways," Iain said with a sly smile. "And for more attentions than I get from the two of you."

"I don’t wish to hear the particulars," Glen Rose said, though there was a twinkle in the depths of her brown eyes.

"My particulars," Iain said, "are sure to be more interesting than anything that passes between you and that hulking creature you call husband."

"As Simon has been gone these several months," Glen Rose said with a repressive look, "my particulars are, at present, very little to make mention of anyway, besides being none of your concern."

"Do you care to expound?" Iain asked, his eyes alight with a naughty interest.

"No." Glen Rose turned and her eyes widened. "Look! Isn’t that the Edna Pettigrew?"

Iain followed her gaze, squinted, and then nodded. "I believe it may be. What are we to look for?"

"I suppose Richard won’t be in his regimentals," Glen Rose said, "and we may thank God for that." There was a tightening of her lips that her foster brother didn’t miss.

"I never liked those scarlet coats," he said with studied carelessness. "Too damned flashy. Clash with my hair."

Her chuckle was almost natural. "He is close in age to you and Alyssa, I think. Mother says he and his twin were born exactly between your two birthdays."

"God save us," Iain said, "there are two of them coming?"

Glen Rose shot him a look of amusement. "No, Elene is on her way to school in Italy. Aunt Catherine wrote that this will be their first separation."

"Too bad Aunt Catherine timed it to coincide with Father’s mishap in Charleston."

"Mother thought they’d be back from their trip in plenty of time."

They looked at the Edna Pettigrew, which was now easing alongside the wharf.

"Will he be a pleasant fellow, this English cousin of ours?" Iain asked.

"I hope so. Mother has a great affection for Aunt Catherine, I know, for all they haven’t seen each other in over twenty years."

"He’ll be tall," Iain said with a wry certainty.

Glen Rose looked at her shorter brother and tried, unsuccessfully, to keep the grin from her face. "To you everyone is tall."

There was no doubt in either of their minds, however, when Richard Hollyforth, lately of England, stepped onto the deck of the ship. He was tall and fair, dressed like a gentleman of birth, and, though his jaw was square, there was still much about his face that betrayed his youth.

He was followed by a slim, dark-haired young man, garbed in a more sober fashion, who struggled with an overlarge portmanteau that, at last, Richard Hollyforth took from him.

At this Glen Rose’s eyes narrowed.

When Richard and his companion walked down the gangway at last, Glen Rose moved to greet them, but her welcoming smile faded in a wash of color at the rude way he looked her over and then dismissed her.

"Come, Alain," he said to his smaller companion. "It appears we’ll need to hire a carriage to take us out to Aunt Fraser’s hovel. Though why Mother didn’t trust me to put up at some inn or other--"

Iain, who had gotten very red-faced at the other young man’s manner, stepped forward then.

"Aunt Fraser’s hovel," he said in a tight voice, "is the home of my parents. They, unfortunately, are in Charleston at present, so you’ll have to bear with us." And us with you, his glare added quite plainly.

Richard Hollyforth’s light blue eyes narrowed and then his face lost its supercilious expression. "I beg your pardon," he said with considerable charm. "Are you here to meet me? How kind of you. I had no idea--"

"I’m sure you didn’t," Glen Rose said, keeping her voice pleasant with an effort. "I am Glen Rose Chase, foster daughter to Duncan and Fraser Brown, and this is your cousin Iain