The Heiress Effect (Brothers Sinister #2)(73)

“Oh,” Oliver repeated, shaking his head. “You know, our aunt is the one person who is too stubborn to be bullied by you.”

Free shrugged. “She told me I was an impertinent little baggage, and so I told her that if she could lecture us on how we should be living our lives, I would lecture her on what she was doing. That if she could sniff and say, ‘it’s only for your own good,’ I could do the same.”

Oliver let out a sigh. “Free,” he said quietly, “I don’t really understand what is wrong with Aunt Freddy. But I really don’t think she can go outside. If she could, she would have done it years ago. Spending three decades cloistered in one tiny room is not something someone chooses to do in a fit of pique.”

Free looked even more rebellious. “Maybe she can and maybe she can’t, but she should. And even if you’re right, why can she not just tell me that? Instead, she refuses to talk about it—always by pointing out my flaws. It’s not fair that she can tell me how I need to use lemon juice to get rid of my freckles, and I can’t even tell her to get some fresh air.”

Oliver shook his head as they came to the building where his aunt lived. “You’re right,” he said. “It’s not fair. I suspect it’s even less fair that Freddy can’t go outside. Have a little compassion for your aunt, Free. Since we’re here, maybe this is a good time to apologize to her.”

“Why would I apologize? I’m not wrong.”

Oliver sighed again. “Then you can come up and say absolutely nothing. That will be fun for you both.”

Oliver passed a few pennies to a flower girl on the corner in exchange for a bouquet, and they marched up the stairs of the building. There was a bit of rubbish nestled in the corner of one landing—weeks-old rubbish, by the looks of it. Oliver made a note to talk to the owner once again. If his aunt was going to spend all her time here, it should be as nice as possible.

He knocked on the door and waited.

“Who’s there?” Freddy’s voice sounded a little more quavering than Oliver remembered.

“It’s Oliver.”

The door opened a crack, and he caught a glimpse of his aunt peering at him. “Are you alone?” she said. “Has the city erupted in flame? Are there riots?”

“No,” Oliver said. “The gathering was orderly.”

She opened the door wider. “Then come along in. It’s so good to see you, love.” She began to motion him inside. But as she did, her eyes landed on Free, standing a foot behind Oliver.

For a second, Freddy’s face transformed. Her eyebrows lifted; her eyes lit. She swallowed, and her hand twitched out to Free. But then she seemed to catch herself back, and that transmutation happened in reverse—happiness turned into obstinate denial.

Argued, indeed. They were two of the most stubborn women that he knew—possibly why they cared for each other so much, and certainly why they’d been “arguing” for four years when they clearly loved each other. Oliver shook his head. “Can we come in, Aunt Freddy?”

“Everyone respectful can come in,” Freddy said, her eyes darting to her niece.

“Well, then,” Free said. “That settles it. I suppose I’ll just wait here in the hall while you finish up with her.”

“You can’t—” Freddy’s mouth pinched, and in that moment Oliver realized that his aunt looked awful.

Her skin was sallow and sagging. There was a slight tremor to her hand. And there was something else about her, something that made her seem thin and fragile. She was only a few years older than his mother, and yet anyone seeing them together would have imagined Freddy to be the elder by decades.

Freddy took a deep breath. “Oliver, tell your sister that she can’t wait in the hall. Laborers live above me now, and heaven knows what they would do if they found her here. They’re likely all excited from whatever it was they’ve done today.” She said the word laborer in a low voice, as if it were somehow filthy, and then frowned. “You weren’t at that…thing, were you?” She glanced at Free as she spoke. “Even you would not be so foolhardy.”

Free tossed back her head. “If you hear me screaming, Oliver, I hope you can come to my aid. I know Freddy won’t, as I’ll be out in the hall, and that’s two feet too far for her to bestir herself.”

Freddy’s eyes flashed.

“Maybe,” Free tossed off, “I’ll go outside. There’s a park two streets away. I might sit on a bench. It’s not that dark.”

“Free,” Oliver said, “can you manage to be civil for a few moments?”

Her nose twitched.

“You might as well have her come in,” Freddy muttered. “I can’t have her death on my hands. She’d make the most uncivil shade ever, and I refuse to have her haunting my hallway.”

Free actually smiled at that—as if the thought of being an extremely rude ghost pleased her—and she came in. Freddy closed the door behind them and locked it carefully. Then she did up a second lock. Oliver and Free took seats at her tiny table.

“Oliver,” she said. “It’s good to see you. Would you like some tea?”

“No, thank you.”

“I don’t want to hear ‘no’ for an answer. You’re a—” She paused. “You’re not a growing boy, are you? But other people here might still be growing, and there’s nothing like tea with milk for retaining one’s health.” She glanced over at Free. “Even if some people here don’t care for their own health. And clearly have not been wearing their bonnets, no matter how often they are told of the danger.”