Work Text:
It wasn't long after the new year that Jonathan questioned his sister's sanity. Surely, anyone who wanted to invite Great Aunt Myrtle to dinner of one's own free will had to be insane.
He lounged in the parlor, determinedly not dressing for dinner—or really any other part of the day, considering he still wore his robe and slippers—when Evy sprang up out of the shadows with feather duster in hand, looking appropriately frazzled.
"Jonathan, you're not dressed!" She exclaimed, shaking the duster at him. He fought the urge to sneeze. "Why aren't you dressed? They'll arrive in less than an hour!"
Jonathan would have sniffed haughtily, if not for all the dust. "I refuse to dress for someone I don't even like."
Evy squinted at him. "Well, if you like me, you'll get dressed."
Jonathan's resolve weakened. Slightly. "I just don't see why we have to invite her."
"Because, I want to see cousin Horace," Evy told him, something she had repeated many times after planning the whole debacle a few weeks before, "and we couldn't really invite him for dinner without inviting her."
"Yes we could," Jonathan interjected.
Evy gave him a look and continued undeterred. "And if we don't appease Great Aunt Myrtle with small visits like this once in a while, she's apt to invite herself for a whole week—again. Do you want that, Jonathan?"
"Of course not!" Jonathan said passionately. "I'm not completely out of my mind."
Evy raised an eyebrow. "Well then. We'll have a short dinner, and then we won't have to see her again for a good long while."
Jonathan sighed, or groaned. It was difficult to tell which. "I suppose I see your point."
"And I want to see you down here dressed for company," Evy said, squinting again. "Or else."
++
Jonathan really did half expect the ceiling to cave in when, after dinner, cousin Horace announced his engagement to a woman named Ann.
"I say!" Jonathan exclaimed, not actually sure what he was saying.
"Oh Horace, that's wonderful!" Evy exclaimed, while Rick advanced on the man and began to enthusiastically try to shake his arm off. Horace didn't seem to mind, just grinned and bore it like the lovesick chap he was.
"You should have brought her along," Evy was saying, while Jonathan debated if pulling out the good stuff was a good idea in the presence of Great Aunt Myrtle, the temperance queen. "We'd love to meet her."
"Well, she's in France at the moment, visiting family." Horace's grin grew wider, if that was possible. It was very nearly smug. "She was born in France, you know."
Jonathan didn't miss the odd, pinched look that seized Great Aunt Myrtle's face. He bit back laughter, and silently congratulated Horace on not only getting engaged, but to someone that Great Aunt Myrtle disapproved of. Not that it was difficult. She disapproved of nearly everyone.
"Oh, how lovely," Evy said, her eyes flicking to Jonathan. He knew they were thinking the same thing.
Rick heartily clapped Horace on the back, and Jonathan wondered how his beanpole of a cousin didn't collapse on the spot.
Evy asked Horace how he and Ann met, and Horace eagerly launched into a tale of rain, faulty automobiles, and a bad sense of direction (and several scathing remarks from Great Aunt Myrtle, of course).
But, despite himself, Jonathan could hardly pay attention. Now that the initial shock had worn off, he couldn't help shrinking into himself. Even poor, awkward cousin Horace could find happiness and settle down, and here Jonathan was, with no signs of marital or romantic bliss anywhere on the horizon. And while it wasn't difficult to be happy for Horace—the old boy deserved something good, after years of living under Aunt Myrtle's thumb—it was difficult to not be just a tad bitter. It was selfish, Jonathan knew it, but he couldn't help stewing. Just for a moment.
Great Aunt Myrtle, apparently growing disinterested in Horace's romantic tale (mostly because her remarks were being ignored), turned to Jonathan, who put on his best poker face and hoped she wouldn't ask him when he was going to tie the proverbial knot.
"Tell me, nephew," she said briskly, "whatever happened to that Archibald fellow? That friend of yours from Egypt?"
"Oh for God's sake, Aunt Myrtle," Jonathan rushed out, exasperated, "his name is Ardeth."
The very idea of Ardeth being called anything other than Ardeth—especially Archibald—was enough to keep him from blushing or otherwise feeling a fool at the mere mention of the man. By now, Horace's story had drawn to a happy close, and Evy's ears perked at the mention of Ardeth.
"Well, whatever his name may be," Aunt Myrtle sniffed, "I quite liked him. I assume he isn't here?"
"No." Jonathan couldn't keep the sullenness out of his voice. "He has more important things to do."
"Yes, all that 'fighting evil' he was going on about." Myrtle paused for a moment to take a sip of tea. "You know, I never would've taken him for the missionary sort."
Jonathan nearly choked. "What?"
"But, the Lord does work in mysterious ways, after all."
Rick snorted and Jonathan fought the urge to bury his face in his hands. This was getting downright absurd.
"Did he say he was Catholic or Protestant?" Myrtle asked, her eyes drilling into Jonathan, demanding an immediate answer as if those were the only two options.
"Oh bloody h—uh, er," Jonathan groaned, tugging at his tie. The last thing they needed was Great Aunt Myrtle getting into that subject.
"Would you like more tea, Aunt Myrtle?" Evy asked, sounding a bit desperate.
"No, I wouldn't." Myrtle didn't so much as blink in Evy's direction. "So, as I was asking, is—"
"Oh, Jonathan!" Evy exclaimed, missing subtlety by a country mile, "What was that funny story you were going to tell me earlier?"
"What?" Jonathan sputtered. Confound Evy and her blasted, uncanny ability to blindside a fellow. "What story?"
"You know," she prodded, as if he did, in fact, know. "The one about, um, about the...about that party—"
"Party?" Myrtle grasped this new subject in her tiny yet iron fist. "A party? Really, nephew, you ought to be more thoughtful with how you spend your time, and with whom, because...."
She launched into some tirade about unsavory company, being a role model, time well spent, work ethic, and blah, blah. Jonathan let her rattle on, nodding when he deemed it appropriate, grateful she'd at least moved on from the whole 'missionary' fiasco.
+++
Ardeth sat by the window in his aunt's house, warm sunlight spilling across the letter in his hands. He didn't even care that Fadia was giving him a very noticeable sideways glance from her place on the sofa as he tore open the envelope. She could raise her eyebrow all she liked. At the moment, all that mattered to him was this new word from Jonathan.
January 1931
Dear Ardeth,
I've recently been subjected to the unpleasantness of my Great Aunt Myrtle once again. Evy invited her round for dinner, which really has me questioning my sister's mind if she's inviting the old bird here intentionally. Evy said we have to invite her over once in a while just so she won't invite herself again. There's sense in that, I suppose, but it doesn't make me dislike such visits any less.
Also, if I have to listen to her go on about how children 'should be seen and not heard' one more time, I'll force her to listen while Alex lectures about something. I honestly can't stand the woman. Evy says I ought not talk badly about her, but I'm just being honest. Rick doesn't like her any more than I do, which is really saying something because usually he likes most people. Well, when they deserve it.
However, it was nice to see our cousin Horace again, and he's doing well. Unfortunately we can't really see him without seeing Aunt Myrtle, too. Somehow he's managed to keep her from getting him down, and he's actually engaged! Miracles abound.
He's invited us to the wedding, which is sometime in the summer. Evy knows the exact date. I'm not good with remembering such things. I'm not much for weddings, myself, but seeing the old boy get a happy ending might make the scene worth braving.
How are you lot doing? I suppose I ought to have asked that earlier, but Great Aunt Myrtle has a way of making me forget my manners, even on the page. I hope you're all doing well. And your cousin, Masud, how is he getting along? Swimmingly, I hope. And I do hope you and yours aren't getting into any more scrapes. I suppose they're unavoidable to an extent but I still can't keep from wishing otherwise.
Well, let me know how things fare in the land of sun and sand, and I'll be sure to respond quickly and efficiently with decidedly dull updates of my own. However, I can't complain, since I much prefer boredom over certain sorts of excitement. I'm sure you can agree. All right, well, that's all for now.
Cheerio,
Jonathan
Ardeth smiled, recalling his own encounters with the outspoken Great Aunt Myrtle. Somewhere to the side of him, Fadia harrumphed. He tuned her out in favor of reaching for the writing implements with which his own great aunt had supplied him, and quickly began drafting a reply.
February 1931
My Dear Friend,
It is good to hear that, at least besides the unpleasantness of your aunt, you are doing well. I offer my earnest congratulations to your cousin on his betrothal. Love is a wonderful gift, one that, I think, we will all have the opportunity to receive and cherish, in our own way in our own time.
It brings me great joy to say that Masud is adjusting well to his duties, and is a credit to us all. His difficult entry into our ranks was, blessedly, a singular event, and overall things have been uneventful in that regard lately. Hopefully my saying so will not cause something to happen.
I am in Cairo at the moment, with Fadia. As a matter of fact, she is trying to get a look over my shoulder at what I write. I am certain you know the feeling—
"Well, you could at least say something important," Fadia told him, not the least bit remorseful at being caught snooping.
"I am," Ardeth replied.
Fadia harrumphed again and rolled her eyes. "You and I have very different definitions of 'important', but suit yourself, I guess."
She turned to leave, then stopped. Ardeth withheld a sigh. Of course she wasn't going to let him off that easily.
"Oh, you should ask him to come visit," she said deviously. "As a test."
"A test?" Ardeth frowned, glancing over his shoulder at her. "Fadia, what—?"
"You know," she said as if it were obvious, "to see if he's avoiding you."
"I am not going to do 'tests' on Jonathan. Just because he may not wish to travel does not mean he is passing or failing a 'test'."
"If he did not come, he'd fail. Go on, ask him."
"I will not."
"You're impossible and I'm very cross with you."
"My apologies. Go be cross somewhere else."
With an angry, impatient huff, Fadia marched away. Ardeth shook his head, partly fond and partly exasperated, and turned back to his important letter.