Volanta

Oliver loved his parents to death, but at times, they were a little bit trying to be around. His father had grown up with Dr. Glasswell, and they’d been education by the same private tutor, but had gone completely different routes as adults. While Dr. Glasswell went on to appreciate history, Harry Lambert went into law. He was proudly the best lawyer in Highgate, or any of the surrounding towns. Oliver knew that while Harry said he was very proud of his son, he’d always wished Oliver continued in his footsteps to go into law, or politics. There was no chance of Elliot getting that far, after all. However, Oliver could never imagine himself to be so stiff and serious all the time.

Colette Lambert was a sweet, timid woman who stayed at home. While there were an abundance of servants to do work around the house, she alway insisted on raising her children on her own, and helping with the cooking and cleaning. She panicked when she had absolutely nothing to do, but not as much as she panicked when Elliot or Oliver suggest that they’ll be leaving her nest. Elliot didn’t have much of an interest in living on his own until he was married and had a wife to take care of him, but Oliver had tried on multiple occasions to get a home of his own, completely by himself. The very thought of Oliver living anywhere by himself, even if it was just across the street, made Colette well up with tears in such a way that Oliver couldn’t even bear to bring the topic up.

So, he was still living at home, lounging on a plush couch by the fire and reading over Nigel’s book on the Nthuri again. He was still trying to make sense of it all, and though his eyes were sore from the strain, he looked over his notes once more. He barely noticed as a maid came over to dust off the furniture. She didn’t seem to notice him, either, squeaking in surprise when she accidentally brushed the feather duster over his face and he sneezed.

“Oh, Master Oliver, I apologize,” she said with a light laugh. “You blended in with the pillows there.”

“I’ve been sitting here so long, I’m not surprised that I’m part of the furniture,” he sniffed, sitting upright. “Sorry to be in your way, Annette.”

“Quite alright, my dear,” she said, teasingly dusting him again as he stood. “I imagine you should be getting ready soon, too. The rest of your family is.”

“Getting ready for what?” Oliver frowned.

“You have guests tonight,” she told him. “Didn’t you know?”

“Guests? Who?”

“Dr. Glasswell, and Miss Pippa,” she said. “Master Elliot invited them both for dinner tonight. Surely, he told you?”

“Elliot is the one who invited them?” Oliver gaped. “Why would he-? Oh. Pippa.”

Oliver let out a deep sigh, running a hand over his face. Annette laughed gently, shaking her head.

“You look so much like your father when you’re upset,” she said. “I wouldn’t worry. I doubt Pippa would ever choose Elliot over you. But don’t tell him I said that.”

“What? No, it’s nothing like that!”

But Annette had already left. Oliver shuffled up the stairs towards his room, running into his mother on the way. Collette was putting on her earrings, and looked just about ready. She looked disappointed when she saw Oliver, arms falling limply at her sides.

“Oliver, you should be ready by now,” she said.

“No one told me we were having guests, Mother,” he huffed. “I don’t want to sit down there with guests. I’m comfortable in these clothes. I don’t want to sit there while Elliot harasses Pippa. I have plans with Derek.”

“Elliot won’t be harassing anyone,” Colette assured him.

“His mere existence is harassment to the entire universe,” Oliver protested.

“Oliver, please?” Colette begged. “If your plans with Derek are so important, then you can invite him, too.”

“He wants to be here just as much as I do.”

“Go get ready, Oliver. Not another word out of you, until you have something nice to say.”

Oliver reluctantly did as she asked, swapping out his old shirt and comfortable slacks for a nicer, crisper suit. He took a few moments in front of the mirror to comb back his dark hair, which was getting a little too long and messy looking while he was distracted with his work. They always said he had his mother’s blue eyes, but his eyes were turning a bright red from all the strain he was putting them through. He washed his face once more before going downstairs, just as Pippa and her father arrived.

“Nigel!” Harry Lambert greeted with a grin. “Lovely to see you again, old friend.”

“Watch it, Lambert,” Nigel warned. “I'm not that old yet.”

Oliver lingered around the back, shaking Dr. Glasswell’s hand and giving a slight nod to Pippa. She returned it briefly before Elliot forcibly grabbed her attention, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

“You look ravishing tonight, Miss Pippa,” he told her with his famous easy, charming grin. “Green looks wonderful on you.”

“If you like it, it's probably time to stop wearing it,” she mumbled, pulling her hand away.

“You wound me,” Elliot chuckled. “Why must the room suddenly feel ten times colder, Pippa?”

“I've known you a long time, Elliot,” she said sweetly, checking to make sure the parents were already gone and out of earshot. “I know every one of your lines and tricks. I also never forget a person who was mean to me, no matter how nice they're being now. I'd stop wasting my time and let it go, Elliot.”

Oliver couldn't help but laugh at his brother, who had the sort of look on his face that suggested his plan for the night was going down in flames. Elliot shot a glare at Oliver, and he held up his hands in surrender with an amused grin.

“I didn't do anything,” he said defensively.

Pippa rolled her eyes and walked right through them, to the parlor where everyone was sitting. Oliver and Elliot followed behind her, both a little reluctant.

“I'll have you both know early on that I'm only here because your parents are wonderful people and I enjoy their company,” she announced. “I'm not sure how such good people could raise children to be as bratty as you two, but I suppose not everyone can be perfect.”

Oliver shook his head, taking a seat by Nigel and his father. He barely spoke that entire night, mostly smiling, nodding, sipping wine, and playing with his food. Elliot tried advancing towards Pippa several other times that night, but she stuck close to Colette, knowing that Elliot couldn't be a brat in front of his own mother. She escaped him for a couple of minutes when she went to help clean up the dirty dishes, but the maids quickly took control of it, telling her to go enjoy the dinner party. She sighed and sheepishly returned to the parlor, taking a seat by Oliver just so she'd be away from Eliott.

“He'll stop soon,” Oliver told her.

“Who, Elliot?” she frowned.

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “He’s a bit of a quitter. It took a long time before he decided to dedicate himself to rugby. He tried a lot of other sports before that, but he quit them all because he wasn't a star in it. Once he found he was a fantastic rugby player, he stuck to it. The same goes for women. He’ll give up once he realizes there is no chance. Save himself the embarrassment.”

“Men are so fragile,” she mumbled. “What about you?”

“What about me?” he asked.

“How do you pursue a woman? Or are you just hopelessly devoted to Derek?”

“I don't pursue women,” he shrugged. “There's more important things on my mind. Marriage is at the bottom of my list of priorities. Besides, I hate the idea of pursuing a woman. It makes me feel like some kind of hunter.”

She rolled her eyes, glancing once more at Elliot as he got caught in some boring conversation with Nigel and Harry. He flashed her a smile and she scowled, leaning back in her chair. Oliver pretended not to notice, but an amused smile creeped onto his face, which he hid behind his glass of bourbon.

“I read the Barty Brave books,” she said suddenly, surprising Oliver. “They were alright, I suppose.”

“Just alright? You're such a liar.”

“Fine, they were good,” she laughed.

For a moment they were both laughing, and for a split second it felt that maybe they were the slightest of friends. But that moment was interrupted when Elliot poked his huge head into the conversation.

“Are you two talking about Barty Brave?” he smirked. “Oh, please. Pippa, don't tell me you're hopping onto Oliver’s crazy train.”

“What?” she said, brow furrowing in confusion.

“Shut up, Elliot,” Oliver grumbled, but his warning was ignored.

“Oliver's dumb theory,” Elliot said. “It's about as stupid as he is. I thought you'd be a little smarter than that.”

Pippa looked at Oliver curiously, tilting her head to the side. “What theory?”

“My glass is empty,” Oliver said suddenly, pouring what was left of his drink into a plant beside him. “I'll go get another one. Hey, Elliot, have you told Pippa about that brilliant game of rugby that you absolutely starred in? She loves sports. You should tell her.”

Elliot took Oliver's seat as soon as Oliver stood up, leaving Pippa with a mix of shock and disgust on her face. Elliot didn't hesitate to start his brilliant story, showing off his skills as best he could. Oliver had heard the story ten too many times to stick around.