“I believe you. But your father doesn’t know Whiskers the way you do. All he knows is that there was a serpent loose in his house, and his daughter might be at risk.”
Leah was quiet for a moment, processing this. “He still shouldn’t have destroyed my collection. Those specimens took me months to collect.”
“You’re right. The way he handled it was rather harsh.” Sybil tucked a loose strand of hair behind Leah’s ear. “But perhaps there might be a way to pursue your interests without frightening the household staff.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, what is it about these creatures that fascinates you so much?”
Leah’s face lit up despite her tears. “Everything! The way spiders weave their webs, the patterns on snake scales and how they survive in different conditions. Did you know that some spiders can live for many years? And that snakes shed their entire skin as they grow?”
There’s the spark. There’s the passionate young woman hiding beneath all that hurt.
“That is fascinating,” Sybil agreed. “Have you read much about these creatures? Perhaps in your father’s library?”
“Every book that mentions them. But it’s not the same as observing them myself.”
“No, I imagine it wouldn’t be. But there might be other ways to observe them safely.”
“What do you mean?”
Sybil considered carefully. “Well, I’ve heard there are places in London—private collections, exhibitions—where such creatures are kept properly. Perhaps, once you’ve shown your father that you can be trusted to follow household rules, we might arrange a visit. You could observe all the creatures you like and do so without terrifying the housemaids.”
“You would do that? Take me to see them?”
“I would be delighted to. But…” Sybil held up a warning finger. “… only if you promise no more secret collections in your bedchamber. Your father has enough concerns without wondering what creatures might be lurking in his house.”
Leah considered this. “Could I still read about them? And make drawings?”
“As much as you like. In fact, I think your father would be impressed by detailed drawings. Many learned gentlemen make such illustrations.”
“Truly?”
“Truly.” Sybil stood and offered her hand. “Now, shall we go find your father? I think he’s feeling rather guilty about shouting at you.”
Leah took her hand, her tears finally stopping. “Do you really think he’ll listen?”
“I think your father loves you more than you realize. And I think he’ll do almost anything to see you happy, as long as he knows you’re safe.”
Including listening to his new wife’s counsel about his daughters if I present it carefully enough.
Hugo stood at his study window, watching the gardeners search the rose bushes for Whiskers, when a soft knock interrupted his brooding.
“Enter.”
Sybil appeared in the doorway carrying a tea tray, her expression carefully composed. “I thought you might like some refreshment.”
She’s come to lecture me about my handling of Leah. Wonderful.
“I’m not particularly thirsty,” he said without turning around.
“No, I don’t suppose you are.” She set the tray on a side table and began preparing cups with practiced efficiency. “You’re too busy berating yourself for being a harsh father.”
The accuracy of her observation made him turn around. “I beg your pardon?”
“You’re standing there thinking about how badly you managed the situation with Leah. About how you should have been calmer, more patient.” She handed him a cup of tea. “Am I wrong?”
Perceptive woman.
