“Do you think so, Papa? Well, then, I shall send for her.”
“That’s all right, Mamma,” Stephen said. “I will take Mary Katherine up to her. I want to introduce her to Winnie myself.”
“I’ll go along if you don’t mind,” Sophie said. “I’d like to see her too.”
“We’ll join you for dinner as soon as we can.”
Together they climbed the stairs to the attic, as eager as two children on their way to show a beloved grandmother a new prized possession.
They knocked softly and were invited in. “My boy! And Sophie! How delighted I am to see you again.”
“Winnie, may I introduce you to someone?” He turned the bundled child toward his old nurse. “This is Mary Katherine Overtree.”
“Ah! Master Stephen! I always knew you would find your rightful place in the end. And it is working out, all of it, you shall see.”
“I already see. And I am thankful for my many blessings.”
Winnie took the child in her arms, and instead of the added weight hunching her back farther, it seemed to straighten her spine. Eyes on the precious child, she murmured, “A beautiful family. An unexpected inheritance. Blessings meant for another are still blessings.”
Stephen and Sophie shared confused looks at that cryptic remark.
Stephen cleared his throat, and began, “Then, apparently you already know that she isn’t really mi—”
“Of course she is,” Winnie snapped, eyes flashing. “And never let me hear you say otherwise. You’re not too old for my stick!”
For a moment he feared the elderly woman was losing her better sense, but then he saw the glint of humor in her eyes.
He smiled. “I won’t forget. I promise.”
“Now, that’s more like it.”
Dinner was a somewhat awkward affair, everyone on his or her best behavior trying to be polite and friendly, while avoiding potentially awkward subjects like Wesley’s involvement with Sophie, Sophie’s leaving, and Miss Blake’s revelation. Apparently, Wesley had returned to Overtree Hall a few days before, and had gone to Windmere to speak to Miss Blake, but no more was said on the subject.
“Sophie has sold her first two paintings,” Stephen said, to break the strained silence.
Murmurs of approval rippled around the table.
“A Lynmouth landscape and a portrait to Sir Frederick Nevill himself. He declared her work most excellent. I’m no judge, of course, but I have to agree.”
Sophie ducked her head, clearly embarrassed at his praise.
Eager to divert attention, Sophie asked, “What is the news here? And where is Mr. Keith?”
His grandfather replied, “Keith has taken a former officer he met in Brussels to have him fitted for an artificial arm like his.”
Mrs. Overtree’s nose wrinkled. “Not while we’re eating, Papa.”
“Oh, Janet, why not? The man is finally doing something useful.”
“That is good news,” Stephen agreed.
“We don’t see Angela as often since... he left,” Kate added sadly.
But Stephen doubted Mr. Keith’s departure was the reason Angela felt less comfortable visiting Overtree Hall.
“We do see a great deal more of another neighbor though. Don’t we, Kate?” their grandfather teased, eyes twinkling.
Kate blushed, but Stephen saw her dimples appear and knew the topic pleased her.
