"Winning isn't about finishing in first place. It isn't about beating the others. It is about overcoming yourself. Overcoming your body, your limitations, and your fears. Winning means surpassing yourself and turning your dreams into reality." Kilian Jornet, Córrer o Morir

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V.

"What have you done to your hair this morning, Perrie?" Cecily asked her eldest granddaughter as she descended the stairs.

Perrie often thought that the only benefit for getting married was being allowed to eat one's breakfast in their nightgown while still in bed.

"I'm not out yet, Grandmamma," Perrie replied as she brushed one of her long curly tendrils off of her shoulder. "I don't have to give myself a hairpin headache every day."

Cecily tsked. "Darling, I have so much to teach you before you debut. Don't you know that a hairpin headache is the pièce de résistance of feminine complaints. If one finds themselves in an extraordinarily dull conversation, or about to be beset upon by a gentleman who resembles a toad, alas! A headache appears. A swoon and a flutter of the fan and you are away and safe. You must practise these things."

Perrie rolled her eyes, though she was thoroughly amused by her grandmother's theatrics.

"What are you teaching my daughter, Mother?" scolded Adam as he and his horrid protégé exited the dining room shortly after Perrie and joined both she and Cecily in the entry foyer before they went up to Adam's study.

"The art of deception through hairdressing I believe, Your Grace," Joe replied with a smirk on his face.

"Grace has never feigned a hairpin headache around me," Adam continued, shaking his head.

"That you know of," Cecily countered with a chuckle, resulting in an alarmed expression crossing Adam's face. "Dear, thankfully I birthed three children without any resemblance to amphibious creatures. Our dear Perrie might not be so lucky come April."

"Would you please stop reminding me of the bloody Season," complained Adam as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "The last thing I want to be imagining at this moment is Perrie dancing with anyone, toads or otherwise. She was this high, Mr Parish," Adam held his hand to his thigh, "and then I blinked."

"And now she's this high," replied Joe, holding his hand to just above Adam's hip.

Perrie's eyes flared at how easily Joe could verbally jab her, and she acted first, as she always did. As her father laughed at Joe's comment, Perrie lunged, arms out extended for Joe's neck.

Adam was quicker, however, and he caught Perrie around her waist, and swung her back away from Joe, still laughing as he set her on the floor steadily. "Settle down," he told her. "We've had a calm breakfast and we will continue being calm today."

"Did you hear what he said, Papa?" Perrie snapped.

"Sadly, Mr Parish is right, dear," Cecily said regretfully. "You inherited your poor mama's stature. If I have it my way, you will have my tongue, however."

With her father and grandmother's eyes on her, Perrie could see that Joe was plainly smirking at her. "Scold him, Papa!" Perrie demanded. "If you don't, I shall marry when I am eighteen and leave you," she threatened.

Adam rolled his eyes, though he was still clearly amused. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of Perrie's forehead. "You cannot marry without my consent when you are not of age." He then shook, a shiver running through him and into Perrie. "Enough of this topic. The very idea of you marrying is enough to turn my stomach."

"Mine too, poor bloke," concurred Joe under his breath.

To which Adam raised a finger in warning. "The same goes for you, young man. I want a harmonious household. Today is going to be yet again another good day. I will finally have all four of my children under one roof."

"Of course, Your Grace." Joe immediately retreated, and it was now Perrie who wore the smug expression.

"What are you going to do with yourself today, Perrie? It is your first proper day of your summer holidays. Will you showcase your needlework skills or play the pianoforte?" Adam suggested the latter with a hint of facetiousness, knowing that Perrie lacked the talent to do either.

Perrie looked directly into Joe's eyes when she replied, "I think Alice, Lily and I will go out into the garden for some archery. I have a sudden, yet strong, desire to stab something."

***

Joe had never fired an arrow in his life. And yet when Perrie had informed her father of her intentions to hold a session of archery that morning, the duke was only too glad to suggest that they both participate.

Archery, he theorised, was a recreational activity for the wealthy. Had Joe been brought up like his elder brother, then he might have been more practised in the pastime. He wondered if Ed had ever learned to fire a bow and arrow while at Eton, Cambridge, or even in his youth while being tutored.

Joe, having only attended the village school, had never had any opportunity to practise, and now he suddenly found himself surrounded by an extremely aristocratic family and a half dozen wooden weapons.

Servants assembled the targets some fifty yards away, while the Beresford family gathered around the three quivers of arrows that had been laid out for them.

The three Beresford daughters were all quickly armed, and they appeared to be quite the experts as they selected their arrows. He couldn't help but watch Perrie as she meticulously examined her arrow, running her fingers delicately over the feathered ends before she lightly tapped her index finger on the pointed end. A small, satisfied smile teased at her lips when she felt how sharp it was.

Joe's only real connection to archery was through some of the adventure novels that he'd managed to get his hands on over the years, and often the archers were warriors.

Perrie, wearing her white day dress, with her dark hair loose at her hips, and blowing ... rather majestically ... in the wind, looked more like a damsel than a warrior.

But then it took one minute for her to line her arrow up on her bow before she released it and send it sailing through the air towards the target. It landed right off centre. Perrie's head whipped around to find him, and she grinned deviously.

Joe was certain that his expression showed exactly how impressed he was, as he had not managed to hide it before she had looked at him.

"The trick, Mr Parish, is to imagine the target as someone really horrid!" she called to him.

Joe sniggered, immediately picturing a dancing little imp in front of the bullseye. He found it very amusing indeed that Perrie was picturing his face as well.

Lily and Alice both aimed at their targets and fired truly, both hitting it with some accuracy. Their parents applauded them heartily, as though they had made the perfect shot from a hundred yards away.

It boggled Joe's mind still to see them so enthusiastically indulging their younger children. It would always pull on him a little to see a mother especially. He watched as the duchess darted over to Alice, who excitedly received her mother.

"Mama, I hit it!" Alice cried excitedly.

"I saw! You did so well. You are very much improved!" the duchess cheered, hugging Alice around her shoulders.

Was that what mothers were like? Is this how it was supposed to be? The duchess, Grace, was so warm and loving. Her eyes shone with pride as she looked upon her children. The duke's eyes shone when he looked at his wife. What would happen to him if he lost her? Would all of this go away? Would he throw it all away?

Joe felt a sudden painful prod in his left arm, and he hissed with pain as he turned to see that Perrie had snuck up beside him. She was staring up at him with a quizzical expression.

"Do not sneak up on me like that," Joe snapped grumpily. "One might think you were a marauder."

"I did not sneak," she retorted. "I said your name three times. You just ignored me. Though I suppose that is not unusual." Perrie thrust her bow into his hands, and Joe stumbled a little when he realised that she had not snuck up on him. "It is your turn."

He was suddenly once again filled with that sense of unease, and he did his best to shake it away. Perrie did not seem to realise his hesitation, and she turned away from him and walked back towards her family. Joe focussed on the movement of her long hair as it swung side to side across her back. In the light of the mid-morning, her hair almost appeared chestnut in colour, and not its usual dark, almost ebony colour.

Taking a deep breath, Joe followed her. How hard could shooting an arrow be? Men had done this for centuries in defence of their country. He did his best to mimic what he had seen in the duke's daughters. He selected an arrow as meticulously as Perrie had, pretending to know what on earth he was doing when he inspected the feathers. He then approached the shooting points and stood as Perrie had done. He lined the arrow up against his bow, and then he pulled back the string. He squinted and aimed, as he did as Perrie had suggested.

He pictured someone horrid. Though it wasn't the dancing imp he had expected. It was a man who looked remarkably like him and his brother. Though Perrie's idea of motivation was unsuccessful. When Joe released the arrow, it did not go very far at all, travelling a mere ten yards before pathetically landing in the lawn. The string, however, ricocheted off of Joe's forearm violently, and he let out a word not fit for the ladies present to hear.

His arm swelled immediately, and the pain reverberated up into his shoulder. He dropped the bow at his feet as the duchess ran to his aid.

"Oh!" she cried sympathetically as her small hands rested on either side of the deep welt. "Oh, your poor thing. We shall have a cold compress sent for immediately."

Her kind attention temporarily took Joe's mind off of the awful sting. He quickly realised that he'd never had someone tenderly care for him after an injury ... not even when he might have been lying on his death bed. Joe was once again hypnotised by the idea of family in this moment, of what it might have been like to have a mother to soothe his scrapes and fevers as a child.

"Really, Your Grace," rebuffed Joe awkwardly, speaking through clenched teeth as he managed the pain. "That's not necessary. I shall be well in a moment."

The duchess' blue eyes were filled with concern. Joe did not think he had ever seen her eyes this close before, and he was startled at how similar they were in hue to Perrie's. Though he knew Perrie would rather choke than convey concern for him.

But seconds later, the younger version of the duchess, Perrie, appeared beside her mother, and she inspected the welt on Joe's arm. But he had been right in his initial prediction of her reaction. "If you needed me to give you a lesson, then you might have asked rather than make a fool of yourself, Mr Parish." Perrie tsked.

"Have some compassion, Perrie," her mother encouraged firmly.

"I am compassionately telling him that he ought to have asked for lessons, Mama!" Perrie countered. But in seeing the look on her mother's face, Perrie sighed, before asking, "Are you very hurt, Mr Parish?"

"Are you very concerned, Lady Perrie?" Joe managed a small, satisfied smile.

Perrie's eyes narrowed. Good Lord, she was easy. Did she not realise how easy she made it for him, even injured as he was?

"I am only concerned that it was not I who caused your injury, and therefore I cannot revel in the triumph of it. Why don't you go and stand in front of the target for me? I'll gladly shoot you and then find an adequate amount of compassion."

Joe laughed as the duchess groaned.

"Are you certain that you require no aid, Mr Parish?" the duchess pressed.

Joe shook his head, but he smiled warmly at her. "Your kindness is warmly received, Your Grace, but it is not necessary."

Grace nodded, before she rubbed Joe's hand and let him go. She turned to Perrie and said, "I did like to hear you so kindly offer Mr Parish a lesson. Perrie. Why don't you show him how to shoot now?" Before she added under her breath, "If you shoot him, so help me, I will ..." But she could not think of a punishment.

And Joe knew that was because neither she nor the duke were the type of parents who imposed serious punishments on their children. Joe knew that Perrie had never known consequences before, but in looking at the family they had created, Joe did believe that there was merit to their method.

"I won't shoot him, Mama," Perrie assured her mother, "today."

The duchess groaned again, before she left them bother, and walked back to stand nearby with her husband.

"Can I shoot you just a little bit?" Perrie asked teasingly, and it was enough to make Joe laugh. "You don't need both of your legs, do you?"

"Do you dare risk your mama's wrath?" Joe's eyebrows rose.

"I think it will be worth it," Perrie replied with a grin as she squatted down to collect the bow at Joe's feet.

Joe sighed, before he rubbed his right thigh. "It has been nice having you with me these twenty years. But I fear I must sacrifice you for the murderous tendencies of an imp."

Perrie sniggered as she went to collect an arrow from one of the quivers. She began to inspect it as she had her other arrow, and Joe decided to ask her the question.

"Why do you concern yourself with the feathers? Are not they all the same?"

Perrie shook her head. "The feathers are fletching. That is their proper name. And no, they are not all the same. As they are made by hand, there is always a possibility for some differences, some imperfections. The more even the fletching, the more stable the arrow when it flies through the air. If you choose an arrow with uneven fletching, you may find it twists differently, or changes direction, and you will not hit your target."

Joe believed that was the longest Perrie had ever spoken to him without wishing him grievous bodily harm. And he found himself quite suddenly bewitched by her lesson.

"This one," Perrie held up an arrow, "is perfect. I approve." She twisted the arrow around between her fingers to show him that the feathers were even. She returned the bow to Joe and boldly placed her hands on his as she positioned them correctly.

"You must stand perpendicular –" before Perrie could finish her sentence, she had travelled around to his left side to position him, and her voice disappeared. Joe tried to turn his head, but it didn't work.

"Stand on this side of me," he ordered rather firmly, gesturing to his right. He had not meant to sound so authoritarian, but he couldn't help it when he felt this frustration.

Perrie frowned. "Why?"

Joe couldn't hear her ask why, but he could see the movement in her lips to know exactly what she said. Of course, she would challenge him. "Please."

When he uttered a word that he had never said to her before, Perrie obliged him, though she was quite evidently shocked and confused. Perrie walked around to his right side, and awkwardly resumed positioning him to fire at the target.

Joe quickly became aware that Perrie's entire family were watching them with amusement. But he endeavoured to concentrate, and he stood as Perrie instructed. She told him how to hold his bow, and how to position his hand on the string as he rose it to fire.

"Now pretend that you are aiming at me," Perrie concluded with a wicked grin.

"You are the only one with murderous inclinations, Little Imp," Joe retorted. "I don't recall ever actually trying to kill you."

"But you thought about it, of course."

"Obviously."

"Release."

Joe released the arrow, and this time the string did not whip him across his forearm. His arrow sailed much farther, though it fell some five yards short of the target and landed in the grass. Still, he heard the cheers and applause from Perrie's parents and sisters behind them.

"That was dreadful. You should be embarrassed." Joe did not need to look at Perrie to know that she was smiling.

But then, he could not help himself. He had never seen her so amused, and she certainly never looked at him that way. She was having fun. Was she aware of how bright her eyes were when she was having fun?

Joe shrugged his shoulders as he returned her smile. "I cannot help it. I had a terrible teacher."

----

And so begins to unfolding of secrets ... but alas, how many do I have? Too many to count! We've barely begun! And y'all know I love my drama hehehehe. I have so many unsettled lawsuits for therapy bills, it's not funny!!!

But I'm loving your theories so far. Keep them coming! Who knows, maybe you could be right? Or maybe you're wrong and nobody has guessed the inner workings of my evil mind muahahahaha

Alright, bedtime, I have to go to the gym and suffer tomorrow morning. Lol I'm actually enjoying it. Reformer pilates is fun! Bloody hard but fun! I actually put on my leggings today and I think, I THINK, I had the beginnings of a butt. You all really wanted to know that so I told you, you're welcome. We have no secrets in this here my corner of the internet hahaha

Night everyone! Vote and comment xxx