Free The Mirk and Midnight Hour by Jane Nickerson

her eyes.
    Once I was satisfied that my bonnet was outlandish enough, I put it on and sat down at my harp. I sang, “Begone, dull care! I prithee begone from me.” Laney warbled along, rich and full-throated.Sunny hummed, slightly flat. A little smile played about Miss Elsa’s lips. “Angelsss.” She let out her breath with a sigh. I glanced at my stepmother lying there peacefully. I was beginning to see what had attracted my father to her.
    Life at Scuppernong was more interesting with my stepfamily, I had to admit. Miss Elsa was kind and sweet in her own wistful way, and a far cry from a cruel stepmother. And, yes, Sunny was too pretty, too flirtatious, and too vain, and not the most clever girl in the world, but if I could accept her as she was and expect nothing more, I might actually enjoy her company.

That evening the world was permeated with a weird beauty. Filmy white moths flitted across the front lawn like tiny ghosts, and the sunset behind the black trees was an odd pinky-purple. For some reason I thought of the VanZeldts, with their unearthly looks. Their silhouettes would suit such a setting. I was idly swinging a fussy Cubby in our grapevine swing beneath the live oak while Laney made supper.
    When someone caught the ropes from behind, I jerked and nearly fell out of the swing.
    “My dear cousin,” drawled a voice. “I didn’t mean to startle you that much. I only meant to startle you a little.”
    I jumped down and whipped around. A fashionable young man with a merry, laughing face held the ropes. He wore a long buff-colored duster and subtly striped trousers. He tipped his straw hat with a flourish.
    “Cousin … Dorian?”
    “In the flesh.”
    “You haven’t hardly changed at all since I last saw you.”
    His eyes were still so blue I couldn’t quite get over the shock of them, and he had the same engaging smile and bright hair. My mother had called him “the golden boy.”
    “Can’t say the same for you, Cousin Violet. You were a little girl in pigtails that summer I stayed here, back when Seeley made his debut into the world. Somehow I expected you to remain the same. Instead you have turned into a very pretty young lady. With a baby.”
    “Oh, this is Cubby. He belongs to Laney, if you remember her.”
    He laughed. “Well, I didn’t really think he was yours.”
    Of course, now that I looked closer, there were changes. “You’ve got a mustache,” I said, thinking out loud and immediately wishing I had kept my mouth shut. Silly. He was good-looking, and good-looking men made me nervous. “I guess we both grew up.”
    “I do indeed have a mustache. Thank you for being so perceptive; I’m awfully proud of it. Of course you wouldn’t remember, but like many sixteen-year-old boys, I was trying to sprout a beard last time I saw you. To my sorrow, even after weeks of putting all my efforts into it, no one could tell at all.”
    “Aunt Lovina’s letter never mentioned you coming. Are you here—what exactly are you doing here?”
    “You might well ask since I’m showing up uninvited but, I hope, not unwelcome.”
    “Oh no! You’re very welcome.”
    “I’m glad. You see, I was accompanying Seeley and Co., but I rode on ahead to give you fair warning of our arrival. I took the liberty of putting my horse in the barn just now, by the way.”
    “Good. I hope you gave him oats too. But I thought you’d betoo busy to come. The letter said Cousin Seeley was traveling with another household.”
    “He is, and the whole Tingle entourage will arrive shortly. I came along with the poor little fellow so he’d have a familiar face here at first.”
    Something in me that had been holding back warmed to Cousin Dorian. “How nice of you! That should help Cousin Seeley feel at home.”
    “I’m afraid I can’t stay more than a couple weeks, though. Duty calls.”
    “Yes. Pa told me you were—um—running the blockade.”
    “Me, as well as a big, fast ship and lots of other, far more