Chapter 22
“Ido not think the neighbors are particularly pleased about the fact that the children have spent the last three afternoons here in the garden,” Edith whispered to Marjorie, as they watched the children frolic around the garden in question. Happy squeals spread about louder than any other sound. Marjorie personally did not mind it one bit.
Marjorie’s neighbors on the other hand, were older people, who preferred peace and quiet, which truth be told had been demanded of her upon her moving in. But that was before she knew that she would have this once in lifetime opportunity to help these dear children by keeping them off the streets. Allowing them to play in her garden was a small price to pay for that happiness.
“Oh, I really do not wish to be bothered by them,” Marjorie waved her hand dismissively. “If my landlord, Mr. Jenkins mentions anything, I shall have a word with him and explain the situation. As for Mr. and Mrs. Copleton, they need to remember what it was like to have children. Theirs are all grown up, so I suppose they had forgotten the childhood period of loud joy.”
Edith chuckled. “I would not want to have you as my neighbor then.”
“Fortunately, you are not my neighbor,” Marjorie smiled. “You practically live with me, dear Edith, which is far worse.”
“That is absolutely– “
“Miss. Marjorie?” Annie interrupted them with her appearance, sudden and somehow quite out of breath, as if she had been running. “I apologize for interrupting you.”
“What is the matter, dear girl?” Marjorie’s eyes widened in shock. “Is the house on fire?”
“No, goodness no,” Annie shook her head, glancing back at the house, as if to assure herself that no such thing was even remotely possible. “He is here to see you.”
“Who is here?” Marjorie turned pale.
She knew that she was rude in keeping Percival waiting for her reply. He had already proven himself kind and courteous by allowing her time to consider his offer, which after all, was what the three of them had been preparing for. So, why did she not say yes? That question remained without an answer still, even two days later.
“The Earl of Trowbridge,” Annie finally announced, and immediately, Marjorie felt as if a huge burden had been lifted off her chest. She would not need to explain herself. Not yet, at least.
“Alexander?” Marjorie could not stifle her lips from saying his name out loud.
He is here.But why? He had not written about visiting. They had no previous engagement that was set up. Yet, she felt as if she had been expecting him. Every time he visited her heart reminded her how much he meant to her. Only she could not show it.
“Do send him in,” Marjorie urged, clearing her voice a little, then adjusting herself in the chair. Her hand flew to her gown, to straighten an invisible wrinkle. Often, emotions came to the surface as they pleased, revealing themselves before an unsuspecting audience. This was one of those times.
“You look fine,” Edith chuckled again, teasing her friend, which immediately made Marjorie blush. Her friend knew of her emotions. It was impossible to hide them.
“Is it that obvious?” Marjorie was aghast.
“Only to me because I know you so well, my dear,” Edith explained. “Men tend to be blind with such things. They would not know that a lady fancies them, even if a carriage with that sign ran that over.”
“Well, that is a rather bleak simile, Edith,” Marjorie said, but she was still smiling.
“What is?” Alexander’s sudden appearance made Marjorie flinch. “I am quite fond of black similes,” he grinned, and her heart clenched at the sight of him. She could swear that with every passing day of them growing more and more apart, he seemed more handsome, more charming.
“Oh, Edith and her comments,” Marjorie rolled her eyes playfully at her friend. “Do not pay any attention to her, Alexander. But do tell us to what do we owe the pleasant surprise of your visit?”
He did not reply immediately. Instead, he glanced at the children who were all too busy to even notice that a guest had arrived. That was what she always loved about children, their ability to forget the world around them, and just focus on the moment, on that precious moment which was all too fleeting and would disappear in one blink of an eye.
“I went to the inn,” Alexander started to explain, his attention back on her and Edith, as they sat at the garden table, with their tea half drunk and all the sandwiches and scones already eaten up by hungry little mouths. “They informed me that you were spending your afternoons with the children here.”
Marjorie looked at the nearest tree. Two children were running around it, one trying to catch the other, both giggling.
“Children can’t stay locked up inside all day long,” she said. “Especially not during such lovely, sunny days such as these. I did not want them to loiter in the streets, so I brought them here.”
“I could expedite the works on the orphanage,” he suggested. “They could hire more people, so the work would be done twice as fast.”
“You are already doing so much,” Marjorie shook her head. “I could not possibly ask that of you.”
“Actually, I’ve been considering it already,” he smiled. “Why prolong it needlessly when the means are there?”
“Well…” She could barely speak from the joy she was feeling. A part of her was still convinced that this was just a dream. It had to be. Reality had never been this much of a fairy tale for any of them. "Thank you for that. I honestly do not know how to thank you.”
