“Probably not. But to reiterate, I have no interest in becoming a governess and . . .” Gwendolyn stopped talking when Priscilla took her brother to the ground and began pushing his face into the sand. “This is ridiculous.” She stepped closer to Walter and gave him a nudge. “They’re your children. Do something.”
“Given the large chunk of my arm Priscilla took off earlier when she bit me, I’m convinced I’m not qualified to handle these types of parental situations. If I were to interfere with sibling rivalry, there’s a good chance I’d make the situation worse.”
She rolled her eyes. “She’s a child, Mr. Townsend, although one who seems to enjoy the role of pint-sized dictator. However, since you apparently have no intention of interceding, and your mother, mother-in-law, and two governesses are seemingly oblivious to a sibling maelstrom . . . if you’ll excuse me?” She readjusted her hat, stepped around the pony, and set her sights on the two children now screaming in such a manner that one would have thought they were in imminent danger of killing each other.
“I’ll assist you just as soon as I get the pony on its feet,” Walter called after her.
“Which means I’ll have the situation well in hand before you arrive,” she called back, increasing her pace when she realized Samuel had turned the tables on his sister and was now sitting on her and trying to bury her face with sand he was pouring from a pail.
Reaching the children a second later, and ignoring the incredulous looks from Walter’s mother and mother-in-law, although the two governesses were now looking rather relieved, she leaned over and grabbed the pail from Samuel’s hand—unsurprised when both children ceased their theatrics.
“That will be quite enough,” she said, earning a gulp from Samuel, still sitting on his sister, but a narrowing of the eyes from Priscilla, who was swiping sand from her face.
“Who are you?” Samuel demanded.
“I’m Miss Gwendolyn Brinley, an acquaintance of your father, and you’re Samuel and you’re”—she settled her attention on Walter’s daughter—“Priscilla. With introductions out of the way, I’d now like for the two of you to explain to me why you thought it was appropriate to engage in such unseemly shenanigans.”
Priscilla’s eyes narrowed another fraction. “What are shenani . . . goes?”
“Shenanigans. It means mischief, but not of the becoming sort. More on the lines of the kind that should see the two of you sent to your room for the rest of the day without your dinner.”
“Grandmother Ethel and Grandmother Matilda would never let me go without dinner,” Priscilla shot back, shifting under Samuel’s weight.
“That may be true, but they should consider doing just that because young ladies should never comport themselves in such a disgraceful fashion when they’re out and about, and . . .” Gwendolyn nodded to Samuel. “Young gentlemen in the making should never brawl with a girl.”
Samuel’s nose scrunched up. “She’s my sister.”
“She’s still a girl, and as such, you will from this point forward refrain from engaging in fisticuffs with her.”
“She bit me.”
“Cuz you ruined my castle,” Priscilla argued.
“Cuz you tore the tail off my new kite.”
“Only after you—”
Gwendolyn held up her hand, cutting short what would have certainly been a long list of grievances the twins had enacted upon each other. “It doesn’t matter what started your feud. What matters is that the two of you understand that feuding is not appropriate when you’re out in public. It’s actually never appropriate, but because I have numerous siblings, I know there are times when tempers get the best of people. So if the two of you want to descend into an unseemly brawl while you’re in the privacy of your own home, have at it.”
“You told me I should never brawl with a girl again,” Samuel pointed out, which had Gwendolyn fighting a smile because, clearly, he was unusually astute for his age and . . . had just made an excellent point.
“How encouraging to learn you’re a wonderful listener, Samuel. And yes, you should refrain from physical altercations with your sister.”
Priscilla settled far-too-innocent eyes on Gwendolyn. “Does that mean if I hit him, he can’t hit me back?”
Gwendolyn’s lips twitched. “Technically, yes, but since young ladies are expected to always comport themselves with grace, you will from this point forward behave accordingly. No screaming, crying, or biting is permissible, nor will you punch your brother.”
Priscilla’s little lips thinned as Samuel rolled off her and she sat up. “What about stomping on sandcastles? You should tell Sam he can’t do that if you’re going to tell me I can’t bite him.”
“Stomping is expected when you’re playing in the sand,” Gwendolyn returned. “My siblings always demolished one another’s creations, sometimes pretending they were monsters intent on wiping out a sandcastle town. The fun of it is then rebuilding the castles and clomping on them again.”
“That doesn’t sound like fun,” Priscilla argued as she pushed herself to her feet. She then began shaking sand out of her dress, sending it all over Gwendolyn. After realizing what she was doing, instead of apologizing she sent Gwendolyn a smirk before she kicked sand toward her brother, pivoted on her little heel, snatched up a toy boat lying in the sand, and headed for the sea.
“Oh no you don’t,” Gwendolyn muttered as Samuel took off after his sister, Gwendolyn giving chase a second later.
It quickly became evident the twins were exceedingly fast. By the time Gwendolyn reached the water’s edge, Priscilla had flung the sailboat into the waves, where it immediately swept out with the tide, which sent Samuel flinging himself at his sister.
In a whirlwind of small fists and screams that left Gwendolyn wincing again, the twins tumbled into the shallow surf, but before she could do more than take a step to intervene, a boy charged past her and hurled himself into the waves, calling over his shoulder that he’d rescue Samuel’s boat.
Horror was swift when Gwendolyn took note of the ominous surf created by the storm gathering offshore.
“Come back!” she yelled as she tore off her hat and headed after the boy, who was most certainly Walter’s eldest son, Oscar. As she battled waves crashing against her, and before she dove underneath a wave, she thought she heard Mrs. Parker shouting something but couldn’t hear exactly what before she caught sight of a wave cresting in front of her. Taking a deep breath, she dove under the wave, praying she’d be able to get to Oscar before he was swept out to sea.
Nine
The glimmer of a pale leg caught Gwendolyn’s attention. Changing direction, she swam underwater as fast as she could to what she hoped was Walter’s son. Reaching out, she snagged hold of the leg, kicking upward until she broke the surface, only to be met by an indignant face belonging to the boy she’d been trying to save.
“Let go,” he demanded before he began to struggle, kicking out with his other leg and catching her in the stomach.
She winced but didn’t let go as she wrapped her other hand around his neck, flinching when he bit her. “Stop fighting me, and for heaven’s sake, don’t bite me again. That hurt.”