Sara stared down into her tea. How could she explain it to them when she barely understood herself why she reacted the way she did? Even this conversation, despite knowing that Louisa had the best of intentions, made her throat prickle; the sensation was not unlike feeling ants crawling over her skin, but internalized.
She had always been this way, much to the exasperation of her mother.
Claire took her hand and pulled her up. “Come here,” she said, leading Sara to the manikin. “Allow me to introduce you. Sara, this is Mrs. Glendoe.”
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Glendoe,” Sara said to the manikin, curtseying properly.
Louisa joined them and curtseyed as well. “Good afternoon, you miserable old bat.” She said it with a smile pasted on her face.
“Louisa!” Sara gasped.
Claire curtseyed this time. “Mrs. Glendoe, how horrid you look with that scowl on your face. I certainly regret we weren’t better at avoiding you.”
Sara stared at her friends. Had they gone mad? Didn’t they know they weren’t supposed to speak of someone in such a manner? What if Mrs. Glendoe were to find out what they had done?
Louisa smirked and continued. “I must say, that scowl does give us an appalling view of your rotting teeth. Tell me, do you sharpen those fangs yourself, or is there someone who does it for you?”
Claire laughed. “And your eyes. Did it take much practice for them to glare daggers at someone?”
Sara couldn’t hold back a giggle. Horrified, she clamped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide as she looked at her friends. Both ladies looked at her with knowing smiles and Louisa pulled the hand away.
Claire winked at Sara. “Mrs. Glendoe, tell me, what is it like to eat your young?”
Louisa chimed in again. “What if they don’t taste good? Is there a jam or sauce you can put on them?”
“You both are awful,” Sara whispered, but she couldn’t stop the smile from tugging at her lips.
“And how do you moisturize your scales?” Louisa asked, batting her lashes innocently at the manikin.
Claire nudged Sara and nodded toward the manikin. “Your turn. Do you have something to say to Mrs. Glendoe?”
Sara shook her head. “I can’t.” If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all. Her mother’s command echoed in her head.
“Go on,” Claire encouraged.
Louisa went again. “I am surprised you have yet to set fire to your home, you old dragon.” She nudged Sara.
She shook her head again. The ants were back in her throat. Treat others the way you want to be treated.
“Just say something,” Louisa said.
“Say what?” The deep voice saved Sara from answering Louisa. Claire smiled as Jacob entered the sitting room. “Oh, I see we have a guest,” he said, approaching the group around the manikin. He sketched a courtly bow. “To whom do I have the honor?”
“Mrs. Glendoe,” Claire informed him with a smile. “We were just asking the harpy some questions.”
“Ah, I wish I could say it is lovely to see you, but I value honesty.” He took the cue from Claire, grinning.
Sara pursed her lips. She didn’t understand how her friends could even think such things. Even if it was difficult to not laugh, they shouldn’t be so insulting. You are the daughter of the vicar. You must set an example.
Jacob continued, circling the manikin. “Yes, I do believe you are the most vicious form of the black widow species mankind has ever encountered. Tell me, did Mr. Glendoe go down more easily with a glass of port?”
Laughing, Louisa nudged Sara again. “Give it a go.”
Sara shook her head again. “I can’t.” If I hear of you being disrespectful, you will regret ever opening your mouth.
“Yes you can. Look.”
Jacob had taken Mrs. Glendoe’s head and placed it on his shoulder. “Be honest. Does this head make me look fat?”
Claire laughed. “Not only that, but it’s improved her looks and disposition in return.”
Louisa pushed Sara toward the manikin. “Your turn and no getting out of it this time.”
Sara just stared at the headless manikin, unable to form any words of insult. The ants were becoming more active in her throat and she knew it was just a matter of time before the noose appeared.