Chapter 1 : Butte (2)

"Boys! Boys!" Madame clapped her hands together for the three brothers' attention. “Your Mama and Papa are coming to see you today. Surely you can be more studious than this?” Her rising tone made what should have been an admonishing statement into a question.

Heath looked up from his position on the scoured stone floor, where he'd pinned his younger brother, Polder. A young man of boundless energy, he exuded cheer and health. His tunic pulled tight across broad shoulders and his golden hair fell only just past his ears, earning him admiring glances from women, both young and old, of the town. He grinned in good humor and let Polder up. His first-younger brother, by contrast, was thin and lanky, hardly stretching his clothes at all. There was more of an air of fierce intelligence about him than one of heartiness. His brown hair was longer, but tied neatly back, so not a strand fell onto his pale face. Polder pushed Heath away, scowling – hardly even causing him to sway – and scrambled to his feet, straightening his clothes.

"If Master Groth were here, we would have cause to be studious. However, there is only Master Tellims, who can teach us nothing we don't already know." Polder snapped, crossing his arms and giving Madame a disapproving look, as if she were the pupil, and a slow one, at that.

Madame refused to be intimidated. Though a woman of sharp tongue and strict dress, she looked no more formidable than she actually was. Nevertheless, as the only constant disciplinarian to the sons of Sir and Lady Chersonese, she persisted in trying to curb the various enthusiasms of her charges. She looked around the classroom for the youngest brother and spotted him curled up beside the hearth, a book in his lap.

"Butte! Whatever are you doing! Your Mama and Papa are to arrive at any moment, and you are sitting - slouching - among the ashes!" Whenever Madame addressed Butte, she seemed to make every sentence an exclamation. To look at the youngest Chersonese, there was much to exclaim over. His clothes, sturdy yet fine, were smudged with soot from the fireplace, as was his hair and face, for he had leaned against the fireplace, unmindful of the effects upon his state of appearance.

Heath leaned back on his elbows and continued to grin as the plump, matronly governess fussed about his younger brother. Butte allowed himself to be stood up and dusted off with his usual quiet patience, but he clung steadfastly to his book. Madame knew better than to try and take it from him, but she scowled and fussed all the more for that reason.

Even Polder smiled at the bemused and dreamy expression on his little brother's face. Give Butte a book and a moment's peace, and he was lost to the world, he reflected. Though all three brothers were of drastically different temperaments, there was no loss of affection among them. The younger brothers submitted to the eldest’s enthusiasm for competitions testing strength and endurance, the eldest and youngest accepted lectures and challenges of mental exertion, and the two elder exercised as much patience as they could muster for the youngest’s apparent inattentiveness.

Madame was still fussing over Butte, Heath was still lolling on the floor, and Polder was still trying to reclaim his dignity, in order to haughtily oversee the proceedings, when a tall, nervous-looking man peered around the door. Dressed in a style corresponding to Madame’s, in quality, his clothes managed to look rumpled and dingy, though they were as freshly laundered (if not as thoroughly starched) as her own. He blinked at the scene, his forehead creased with worry, and ran a bony hand through his thinning brown hair as he cleared his throat.

Madame's head snapped up at the sound.

"Master Tellims! Thank the sweet Provider you're here! The Sir and Lady will be here at any moment!" She patted at her hair and smoothed the skirt of her dress, anxiously, while frowning at her recalcitrant charges.

"Ah ... Well, the fact is ...," Master Tellims began unhappily. The door was pushed open completely in a forceful manner and Master Tellims stepped to one side, embarrassed.

"The fact is that we are already here," Lady Terrene Chersonese finished for the flustered tutor. Sir Agrar Chersonese stood at her side, looking about the room in mild disapproval. Heath hastily stood up, drawing himself practically to attention, while Madame surreptitiously pushed Butte towards Polder, who, stepping forward, caught his arm and pulled him into line beside him. Butte hid his book behind his back.