The Game of Love

Ch.6

The following midday, Malcolm arrived on time for our lesson.
"Good day, Miss Avondale," he smiles lightly, bowing his head.
"Hello, sir."
He flinches at my response. Whatever has come upon him? For so long I have felt as though I knew more of him than he knew of me but these past few days he has shown to me that I am almost completely oblivious to his very nature, while he seems to know the depths of my soul like the palm of his own hand.
We find our usual spots in the drawing room and he clears his throat.
"I want to begin today's lesson where we left off," he averts my eyes, "you will demonstrate to me what tactic you would use if a man were to make advances to you. There is no need to stand," he corrects when he sees me move, " you will verbally demonstrate it and if I judge it to be correct, you may follow through actively when I say."
My cheeks warm. How stupid was my show the day before? Had I messed up and not known it? He said I hadn't so what was it that changed in him?
"Alright, well, I would tell him I cannot follow through with his actions while still acting as though I would like to if I had the choice."
He nods, writing something on his paper. What was the purpose of that? Had he also decided to chart my progress now? I ignore it and continue.
"And... if he does not regress, I should be firm and tell him not to advance on me without courtesy."
He nods, still looking at his notes and scribbling down some more, "and then what would the correct action be if the advances were welcome?"
I look from him to the paper once more, caught off guard by how curt he was, "er— well, I suppose I would allow it then—"
He looks up suddenly, "no, you would not. You would politely decline and give yourself time to think over exactly what the correct procedure would be when given the opportunity again."
I nod.
"Now, tell me what you might do if he does not listen either, yet you still find yourself to be fond of him."
"I do not believe I would be so fond of him if he were to ignore my decline. I would stamp his foot and run off."
He smirks, "that would be correct," he takes a breath and continues in a small tone, "and tell me, is there a man with whom you have found fondness in?"
I nod.
"I see, and what is it that you find so great in him?"
"Er—" I am not so sure how to answer his question as I am sure he is trying to tease me for the feelings he must know I have, "why are you asking me this? Does this have to do with our lesson, sir?"
He rolls his eyes, "for heavens sake, Lucy, just call me by the name I have told you to, and why should it matter whether it is part of the lesson? Can I not ask a question out of my own curiosity?"
My hands shake and I grasp them tightly together, "I do not know. Why should you be curious of something like that? I have nothing of interest to you."
He folds his arms, "What makes you think that? You believe yourself to be boring?"
"Not necessarily, only I do not bear the most interesting characteristics to most."
He offers a simpering smirk, "How on earth did you come to that conclusion?"
"I do not know," my brows furrow, "I just assumed that because no person has ever shown much interest in me that there must be a reason for it."
He stands from his chair to sit next to me on the couch.
"I find you very interesting, Lucy." His mouth forms into a lopsided grin and I can't help myself from giggling, "whats so funny, dear?" It's barely a whisper but it still sends shivers down my spine.
"Nothing, Malcolm."
He breaks into a full grin and I notice then how doughy his eyes are in the light of the sun peaking from the window. His brown hair falls slightly over his brow and I find it almost impossible to look away.
"Thank you, my dear."
"For what?" I give him a quizzical smile.
"Never mind that," he looks away, "you never answered my question from before about the boy who holds your heart."
I chew my lip, "oh, I didn't, did I?"
"No," he chides.
"He is very much disconnected from me. He does not notice me the way I notice him yet for some reason I still care so deeply for him."
"He sounds very stupid," he blurts out.
I giggle at the irony of his statement, "I don't think so, he has some wonderful things about him too."

Malcolm

"Does he?" My shoulders fall.
"Yes, he does, and I find it very difficult to dislike him even when he acts so oblivious."
I hear the beginning of rain poor tapping against a window.
"That is an interesting thing."
She wrinkles her nose slightly and it makes me chuckle.
"It isn't all that interesting," her eyes squint at me and she looks as though she might be searching my face for something, "have you never been in love, Malcolm?"
It catches me off guard for a moment, but I shut my slightly gaping mouth, "I have, yes."
She blinks rapidly, "oh, have you? And what was she like? Would I know of her?"
I chuckle at her rambling questions, "Yes, I have and you mustn't find need to ask many questions for long since she and I are meant to announce our engagement very soon."
She is silent at this, giving me a blank incoherent stare.
"But, please, do not tell anyone about it now— it is meant to be a secret until her parents ball at the grand hall. Could you keep quiet about it until then?"
Her mouth opens only slightly but she closes it in an instant, "er— yes, of course."
Her eyes show nothing in them to suggest she might be dishonest so I allow my shoulders to relax. I had not thought before saying so and only was caught with the realization once I told her my sudden news.
"Do you know miss Elliot?" I ask.
She looks to the pouring rain through the glass of the window, "Yes, I know of her. I was not aware of the courtship between the both of you."
My forehead creases, "oh, yes— well, we had made a point for it not to be public. You see, her parents always liked for their lives to be quite private to avoid any scandals that might arise."
She offers a small nod, still staring blankly at the window, and hums in understanding.
"I am sorry for burdening you with this secret, I understand that it might be difficult not to tell your sister or anyone—"
She looks at me then, "No, do not apologize, sir. You can trust that I will have no trouble in remaining loyal in my promise to you. Will this be the end of our lesson today?"
She stands from her seat and I feel obliged to do the same, thrown by her sudden change.
I grab my coat, "It can be, if you like—"
"I would. Will I expect you at the sane time tomorrow then?"
I nod, distractedly, "yes."
"Good day, sir."