The sitting room was larger and cheerier than Sophie would have expected. And through an open door, she spied an adjoining chamber with a single bed. More than twenty years of memorabilia decorated the walls: finger-painted flowers and childish drawings. A jar of daffodils and hand-lettered sentiments sat propped on her side table. One caught her eye:To Winnie. Get better soon. Love, Stephen.
The captain introduced her, and Sophie said, “How do you do, Miss Whitney. Captain Overtree speaks very highly of you.”
The woman clucked her tongue, a twinkle in her eye. “So formal. I am Winnie, and he, as you very well know, is Stephen. Of course I realize many married women insist on calling their husbands by their surnames, but if one is to share a life and a bed and children I think one might justifiably use one’s Christian name, don’t you agree?”
“I... shall have to give that some thought.”
Miss Whitney remained standing with her back to the wardrobe. From inside came the sound of muffled mewing.
She said, “I... was afraid it was your mother come to call. I know how she feels about...” She pressed her lips together and darted a glance at Sophie. Another meow of protest came from the cupboard. “And how does the new Mrs. Overtree feel about... pets in general?”
Sophie bit back a grin. “I have never had one. But I’ve always thought cats must be charming.”
Miss Whitney expelled a sigh of relief and turned to open the cupboard door. An orange tabby immediately emerged, miffed and indignant, and quickly trotted over to investigate Captain Overtree’s boots.
“Cats are delightful, indeed,” Miss Whitney agreed. She sat gracefully on a worn but pretty chaise longue that reminded Sophie of the one in Mavis Thrupton’s spare room. Sophie noticed an open magazine, spectacles, teacup, and plate of biscuits close at hand.
Sophie had imagined a staid old woman sitting bent over her knitting. But Stephen’s former nurse was not a frail octogenarian, but rather a woman in her early sixties. She was slight but apparently spry. Captain Overtree had mentioned something about her health, but Sophie noticed no obvious ailment. She wondered what was wrong with her.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, my dear,” the woman said earnestly. “Master Stephen is the first of my ‘children,’ as I think of them, to marry. Happy thought indeed.”
Sophie smiled. But the woman did not return the gesture. Instead she studied Sophie’s face with concern, a wrinkle between her brows. Voice low and gentle, she asked the captain, “What is she afraid of...?”
Captain Overtree pulled a face. “Me, I guess.”
“Can’t blame her for that,” Miss Whitney teased, then sobered again, looking at Sophie closely. “Poor girl....” she murmured.
“Whatever do you mean?” Sophie asked, feeling discomfited under the woman’s scrutiny.
“I see... sadness in your eyes. Heartache. You miss someone.”
“I...” Sophie felt rattled. Awkward. Who did the woman mean? How did she know? “I miss my family, of course. But that is only natural.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed in thought. “Your mother, I think, most of all.”
Sophie blinked in surprise. “Yes. But my mother is—”
“Passed on, yes. Poor child.”
“How did you know that?” Sophie turned to Stephen. “You must have mentioned it to her.”
“Not that I recall, though I may have done.” The captain shrugged. “Winnie has always had a way of knowing things.”
“Or perhaps Miss Katherine mentioned it,” Winnie suggested. “She was just up to see me yesterday. Brought me these lovely daffodils.”
She patted the empty spot next to her on the chaise, and Sophie dutifully sat down. The orange tabby leapt onto Winnie’s lap. “Oh, Gulliver.” Winnie shook her head and scratched the cat between the ears.
“As inGulliver’s Travels?” Sophie asked.
“Why, of course! Master Stephen’s favorite book as a boy. Every night, he begged me to read one more chapter.”
The captain crossed his arms and said fondly, “Most of the time, she gave in.”
Sophie smiled, trying to imagine Captain Overtree as a little boy, eager for an adventure story.
Winnie shifted the purring cat and grinned at Sophie with girlish dimples. “And what have they told you about me? That I am off in my attic? A danger to myself and others?” Shetsked her tongue and shook her head. “The mistress would have put me out long before now, but thanks to Master Stephen here, I have a roof over my head.”
“It is the least I could do, Winnie.”
