"I am a child, not a sink for your frustrations." Vineet Raj Kapoor

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VII.

15 June 1825

Dear Ed,

You will have returned from Cambridge by now, and I imagine you are home with Father. I hope you are not too clever or else your head will not fit into any of your fabulous hats this summer.

I have missed you. I have been thinking about what you said to me the day before I went away, that it really is impossible for us to forget the other, but I find myself struggling a little.

I apologise. I should not write such things when I know they will only worry you. I know you have been worried about me for a long time. Be rest assured, I am well.

Being around this family affects me. Half the time I am driven mad by a wretched imp, and the other half I am in awe and envy. Do you ever wonder about Mother?

Joe stopped himself and re-read over what he had written thus far. What on earth was he saying? Why was he so bloody forlorn? It had to be Perrie's fault. This would undoubtably all come down to her. Joe was certain that he could find some way to blame her.

She had returned. That was it. That was the reason. Had she stayed away, Joe could have carried on his merry way in trying to forge some sort of life for himself from the shambles that it had been not that long ago.

Joe promptly tore his half-written letter into pieces and pulled out a fresh piece of parchment to start afresh.

Dear Ed,

I hope your journey home from Cambridge was smooth and you are resting well at home with Father.

I look forward to seeing you at your earliest convenience. I have forgotten what you look like, it has been so long. In my head I see an enormous nose, freckles, and knee length red hair. Is that right?

Please pass on my regards to Father. I am doing well in my tutelage at Ashwood, and I hope he is pleased with my progress.

Joe contemplated detailing his renewed battles with Perrie. Ed had once heard all about Perrie when they had both been at home during the summer holidays and at Christmas. Of course, Joe had never gendered Perrie. Perhaps it had been his youthful pride as a boy, but he had never admitted to his brother that he had been bested on many an occasion by a girl, and a girl the size of an imp no less. Luckily for him, Peregrine was a boy's name. Ed had assumed and Joe had allowed it.

As that thought crossed Joe's mind, he was struck by the very first time he had ever teased Perrie. It had, indeed, been over her name.

It suited her, though. Joe leaned back in his chair, his quill still in his hand, as he thought about little Peregrine, Perrie. Her name was hers. It was uniquely hers. He had never come across another Perrie. Perrie was uniquely Perrie.

She was spirited and energetic and stubborn, but Joe could see that she did have a big heart for her family. Perhaps Perrie Beresford was not all bad.

Joe signed the brief, edited letter, and then sealed it. He quickly addressed it to his brother and would pass it on to a servant that morning at breakfast so that it could be posted.

He hurried across his bedroom to collect his pocket watch from the bedside table. He opened it to check the time and saw that it was nearly nine o'clock. The family would be gathering shortly for breakfast. As he always did when he opened his watch, he flipped over the face of his watch to touch the little keepsake he kept behind it, before he placed it back down to get dressed. He hurried into his shirt and breeches, before throwing his coat around his shoulders.

He sat down on the edge of his bed to pull on his boots, and as he did, he felt his foot submerge into a horribly warm, wet substance that could only be described as the feeling one had when walking on the bed of a pond. Joe cried out in disgust as he pulled off his boot and saw that his socked foot was covered in a yellow, buttery mess.

Joe saw red as the consequence of thinking well of Perrie Beresford lay in front of him. When had she managed to get to his boots? Had she snuck inside while he was sleeping?

There was nothing redeeming about Perrie Beresford. She was a wretched, little imp and Joe could not have loathed her more in that moment. He tossed his boots as far as he could, and they landed over near the fireplace. He did not own another pair of boots. Unlike Princess Perrie, Joe was the poor second son, and his life did not revolve around buying ribbons and dancing with suitors and being covered with praise by loving parents.

Joe's only other pair of shoes that he had brought with him were his buckled court shoes which he usually only wore to church in order to keep them nice. Joe opened the armoire and then realised that Perrie might have trashed those as well.

"I will kill her if she ..." Joe picked up his court shoes and inspected them and was relieved to see that they were clean.

When he was thinking logically, Joe knew that it was his turn for some sort of retaliation. That was how it worked between them. But he wasn't thinking logically. He was furious, and the tampering of his few possessions brought him considerable ire, perhaps more that it normally would have done had he not just been writing such a letter.

Joe attached his pocket watch to his waistcoat and stepped into his court shoes. He grabbed his letter and then made his way out of his bedroom.

"Morning, Mr Parish!" chirped Charlie Beresford, who was dressed for the day and about to descend the stairs as Joe approached the landing. The thirteen-year-old double of his father wore a cheerful smile, as any child would have had they been welcomed home by their loving parents. "What's the matter with you?" Charlie frowned upon seeing the obvious state of Joe.

"Why is your sister the way that she is?" Joe asked exasperatedly, and without thinking.

"Which one?" Charlie asked. "I've got lots of them."

"Which do you think is the most maddening?" Joe snapped.

"Lily says you and Perrie are like gladiators fighting because we get to watch." Charlie grinned. "Don't worry. Grandmamma says Perrie will get married next year. I think that means she will live with her husband."

Next year could not come soon enough in Joe's opinion. The sooner she was married and someone else's problem, the better. Poor sod of a man had no idea that Hurricane Perrie was coming his way.

"Maybe when she gets married, she can just visit her husband at the school holidays," Charlie continued. "I hope that's what happens. I don't want Perrie to leave. She makes me laugh."

"She is promptly sending me into insanity, Charlie," Joe muttered through clenched teeth.

"Mr Parish!"

His name was exclaimed with a sense of exasperation, and it was coupled with a tug on his right arm. By the tone, Joe got the impression that that whoever was calling him had done so a few times and he had not heard them.

He looked down upon young Alice, her eyes wide with amusement as she stifled a giggle. Joe then noticed that both Perrie and Lily had joined them on the landing, the Beresford daughters all dressed for the day as well. Joe glared at Perrie immediately. If one could kill with a look, Joe was sending it Perrie's way.

She did not appear affronted at all. The imp found this whole situation utterly hilarious.

"Mr Parish!" Alice cried again, tugging on his arm.

"What?" Joe exclaimed abrasively, in far too harsh a tone, and one that he never usually would have used with an eleven-year-old child.

"Rats have eaten your breeches!"

Alice squealed with laughter as Joe stared down at her dumbfounded. What on earth was she talking about? But as soon as Alice started, Perrie burst into a fit of giggles as well, and Joe knew that she had done something. The butter in his boots wasn't enough. Joe quickly inspected his breeches but couldn't find anything amiss. He twisted his torso and spun around, and as he did so, Charlie caught sight of whatever it was, and he began laughing as well.

Joe reached his hands around to his buttocks, and there he could feel gaping holes in the rear of his breeches, exposing the fabric of his under things to the four Beresfords.

Joe screamed. He let out an almighty cry of rage and he charged at Perrie. She laughed at him, and turned quickly on her heel as she ran in the opposite direction from whence she had come.

For a little imp, Perrie was quick. Joe had no idea of what he was going to do when he caught her, he just wanted to catch her. He wanted her to see what she had done. He wanted her to feel it. He wanted her to understand. He needed her to understand.

"You really ought to practise better hygiene, Mr Parish!" Perrie shouted over her shoulder as she ran.

Joe was not thinking coherently enough to come up with anything clever to shout back at her. He was not thinking coherently at all. It was then that he suddenly realised he was chasing a woman, a young woman, through the halls of her house. No matter how maddening she was ... what sort of ogre chased a woman?

Joe slowed down, and the moment he did, his knees buckled beneath him. Up ahead, he saw Perrie pull open a concealed door, one that he had not noticed before. It must have led to the concealed passageways the servants used. She looked back at him before she entered, and when Perrie saw him on the ground, she paused.

His mind was racing. Joe didn't understand why, but all he could focus on in that moment was the first moment he had seen Perrie. Lady Peregrine as the vicar had introduced her. A lady, the first, the rich, the precious, the first, the loved, the treasured, the first ...

"You have everything!"

For a moment, Joe was usure of who had spoken those words. But ahead, Perrie slowly closed the door that she had opened, before she carefully walked back towards him.

"Mr Parish?" Perrie spoke carefully. "You are not well," she surmised, and there might have been a hint of worry in her voice.

In seconds, Perrie was kneeling in front of Joe, and she placed her face in his line of sight on purpose. Joe was forced to look into her big, blue eyes, and indeed, they were filled with concern. What must he had looked like?

"Breathe," she instructed tenderly. "Copy me. Match my breaths."

Perrie squared her shoulders and rested her hands on her thighs. She closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath, before she let it out slowly. Joe could subtly feel the warm breeze from her. But he listened to her. He needed to. He had never been as overwhelmed as he had done that morning, and he had never behaved or reacted with such rage before. Perrie had pulled worse pranks before. She had done worse things than this. Joe still thought that she was a loathsome little imp, but his anger was not entirely directed at her.

Joe breathed deeply, and with every passing breath, he felt his heartbeat slow to a steadier pace. His mind slowed, and his coherent thoughts returned. And when he was thinking coherently, he could not believe that Perrie was kneeling before him, helping to calm him down.

Perrie was loathsome. That was her fault.

But Perrie's parents loving her, them both being alive, and her belonging to a wonderful family was not her fault. She deserved it because everyone deserved that.

"Chasing you like that was unforgivable," Joe remarked quietly. "That was utterly beastly of me and I will never do it again. I am sorry, my lady."

"No 'Little Imp'?" Perrie asked quietly.

"Not when I have behaved thusly." Joe shook his head. "I have had a trying time of late, and I was not thinking clearly. I reacted abominably."

"Are you alright, Mr Parish?" Perrie's right hand shifted slightly, as though she wanted to reach out to him, but had thought better of it.

Joe took another deep breath. It had been a confronting few days. Being a spectator to this family had been challenging in a way that Joe had never experienced before. He had never seen anything like this firsthand.

Of course, he had seen preferential treatment before. He had seen what it was for a father to have one child he loved, and another he did not. But in watching the duke with all of his children, Joe was convinced that he had never seen real love in his own home.

Joe had seen a mother love her children fervently. He had also seen what it was for a child to make a mistake and be loved still.

Joe wondered if Perrie understood her fortune. But Joe couldn't ask her that. He didn't want to speak of this. He couldn't believe that he was on his knees in front of Perrie, of all people, in such a state.

"Will you tell your father about this?"

Perrie could make a mistake. Joe could not. And Joe had made far too many already.

"Why would I tell him about this when I am equal in guilt this morning? It looks as though rats have eaten your breeches, remember?" Perrie meant to propose a quid pro quo, a deal in which they would both maintain their innocence. However, Joe could see in Perrie's eyes she was offering him sympathy and assistance.

Good Lord, this was a frighteningly unstable dynamic between them.

Joe cleared his throat, righted his posture, and then climbed to his feet. "You are entirely equal in guilt, Little Imp."

Perrie followed suit, quickly standing up and smoothing out the skirt of her dress. "I might have to try and drown you again if you insist on calling me that," she warned, but in an encouraging tone.

"You could try, and you would fail. Imps are terrible swimmers. Everyone knows that. Their little legs just flop and flounder. It's entirely embarrassing."

"Shall we go down the pond and experiment?" Perrie's eyebrows rose. "You can go underwater, and I will count to three hundred and sixty."

"That's an awfully big number, Little Imp. Are you certain you can count that high?"

Perrie grinned wickedly. "As I said, I am happy to prove it down at the pond."

They settled immediately into their usual sparring routine. But it would not change the fact that Perrie now knew that there was something hidden beneath the surface of what people saw in Joe Parish.

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Hope you enjoyed it!!

I soooo want to do a big info dump .. but that's not how books work :P so I just have to enjoy the fact that I know everything while I read your theories hehehe

Now, would you guys be interested in me putting up photos of who I imagine as all my characters? I would do it on my Instagram stories and I'd make it a Story Highlight. I don't think I've told you this, but I basically just make a super basic PicCollage or who I picture as each of my characters before I write each book, and I keep it just for me. I've got one for nearly every book I've written. I went on my PicCollage last night and I've got a page for each one of the Ashwood books, The Stowaway, The Piano Man, I SWEAR I made one for The Secret Attachment but it's not there. Anyways!

I've not included pictures in my books for yearssss because I always thought people liked to picture their own people. But would you be interested in seeing who I imagine? Let me know!

Alright, bed time. Vote and comment xxx