Dearly Beloved || Edgar & Amelia || November 3, 1979
Edgar was relieved when Amelia followed after him, so relieved in fact, that he chuckled when she offered the man a back-handed compliment. He’d never quite got a hang of that trick himself, but Amelia did a perfect imitation of their mother’s smooth insults.
Rommie did a better job of hiding her amusement, though he wasn’t sure if that was because she was still too peeved to be amused by the situation. Amelia was making the right moves to defuse the bomb that was his wife, however, as she asked whether she’d managed to get food. Rommie perked up, taking the opportunity to escape. “I think I need a drink more than anything,” she grumbled but nodded. “Though, I’m starving so I’m going to find some food. You look after her and prepare to bail me out again if I get trapped. You are not allowed to leave me alone to deal with your family.” With that, she ducked around the crowd that had come together and chased after the waiter.
Edgar didn’t think she’d be bothered. Most of his family didn’t know her very well and it was Antimony who they were all fawning over to begin with. Antimony, who was being summoned by her aunt and rescued from the crowd.
“Te’ya Mela!” she called happily, running over to Amelia and grabbing for her hand.
Edgar offered the disgruntled crowd a smile and a wave. “She needs a bit of a break or — er — she’ll get grumpy,” he lied. Antimony would get grumpy when she was tired, but at the moment she seemed to possess all the energy in the world and was quite enjoying the attention.
“Ya guyal! Ya ‘mel vety!” the little girl explained to her aunt, bouncing along beside them as they moved back to their quiet corner. Once they were safely back in their spot and had stopped moving, Tim toppled backward and sat down on the ground, continuing to babble happily at the adults towering over her.
“Merlin, you are not in the mood for staying upright today, are you?” he asked as he crouched next to her. Glancing over at Amelia he asked, “What’s she on about then?” He couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous of his sister, who had been learning Russian so she could speak to the little girl. Edgar wanted to learn it as well, but even though Igor had finally agreed to help him, he could never find the time to actually set up lessons. One of these days he was simply going to have to convince Rommie to allow the man into the house so he could teach him there.
Amelia was all too happy to take Antimony’s hand and listen to her babble as they retreated back to safety. As rescue missions went, theirs was rather successful. No casualties on either side, so she was going to call that a win. She did a quick sweep of the room before relaxing, checking to be sure Rommie was safely away from any relatives and that the man she’d insulted wasn’t speaking to her mother.
All was well for the moment.
She laughed as the little girl plopped onto the floor, still talking but it seemed she was now talking to herself. Or, the language had devolved enough that Amelia’s limited Russian was no longer sufficient. There were a few things that sounded like they could be words but either Amelia hadn’t learned them yet or they were nonsense words in a similar style to actual Russian. Both seemed entirely possible. Hopefully the little girl would outgrow this phase and start speaking in a language her family -- especially her poor parents -- could understand. Antimony seemed to understand English alright, she just refused to speak it, the little weirdo.
Glancing up at Edgar she answered, “She’s talking about the wedding -- said she walked and... I think she said crushed flowers? But I’m assuming she’s talking about being the flower girl. Only you would have a child that decides to speak in a ridiculous foreign language. I’m certain Lance’s future child will be speaking in nothing but the Queen’s proper English by the time he or she is six months old. And he’ll never cry. Ever. He’ll simply inform his parents that he needs a nappy changed or that he’s hungry. Because crying, even as an infant, is unacceptably rude! One must explain oneself in a logical manner if they expect people to take them seriously.” She smirked; it was quite normal for them to mock their eldest brother’s over-developed sense of propriety and nearly impossible to imagine him sleep deprived trying to change a squalling baby’s diaper. Nearly impossible. The image she did manage to conjure up was hilarious. “I suppose they’ll have a nanny? Or maybe Georgina will stay home. Lance might not have to speak to the munchkin until it’s at least six.”
