“Miss. Blake?” Madeline suddenly spoke up, walking over to her bed, as Cecilia skipped to hers.
“Yes, Madeline?”
“Do you think that ladies have pillow fights?” Her question was so innocent and so sweet that Rosalie couldn’t do anything but chuckle out loud.
“Well, there is only one way to find out!” Rosalie burst out laughing, as the girls surrounded her, gently slamming the pillows over her head. “No, no! It’s not fair! I am defenseless!” Rosalie pretended to shout helplessly, while in fact, she could simply move away from the rainfall of pillows.
Unexpectedly, the door burst open, and Edmund showed his face. It revealed shock at the sight before him. His lips were slightly parted, as if he had started to say something, but forgot what it was halfway through.
The girls dropped their pillows to the ground. The smiles on their faces faded. Rosalie instinctively folded her hands over her lap.
“My Lord.” She curtsied quickly.
“As I was passing by, I heard commotion,” Edmund started. “I thought the girls were still in their room playing, while they should be having their lessons.”
“If you’d let me explain, My Lord,” Rosalie tried, still a little confused at his sudden entrance and the way he caught them in a pillow fight. “I was teaching the girls proper table manners.”
“How does a pillow fight constitute proper table manners?” he asked, looking even more puzzled at her explanation.
At the same time, Rosalie could also see that this wasn’t what he expected their lessons to look like. Certainly not so much fun.
“It doesn’t,” Rosalie admitted.
“Then, why aren’t you teaching where you are supposed to be teaching, Miss. Blake, in the study room?” he inquired gravely.
“I am trying to show the girls that lessons can be taught anywhere,” Rosalie replied, trying to sound confident, but it was hard to give off such an impression.
“I see,” he said in a low voice, arms next to his side. “All right then. You may continue with your lessons.”
He turned around and left the room quickly, closing the door behind him. Rosalie wasn’t smiling anymore, and neither were the girls. The magic of the moment was gone, like a burst bubble. Still, Rosalie tried a smile, her lips pressed together.
“Perhaps we should listen to your uncle,” Rosalie suggested, “and have our lessons in the study room.”
“And outside?” Madeline added.
“When the weather permits, yes,” Rosalie agreed.
Her gaze found Cecilia. She was seated on one of the chairs, her doll in her lap. Cecilia was gently caressing the doll’s head.
“Is everything all right, Cecilia?” Rosalie walked over to the girl, knelt down next to her, and rested her willowy hand on Cecilia’s shoulder.
The girls sighed in reply. “Uncle only comes into our room to scold us.”
“Oh, I’m sure that is not true.” Rosalie shook her head, choosing her words very cautiously when the conversation revolved around their uncle.
“It is so,” Madeline confirmed. “He never plays with us.”
“But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you,” Rosalie reminded them. “Because he does. He simply has a lot on his mind and playing simply isn’t a priority.”
“I wish it was…” Cecilia whispered more to her doll than to Rosalie and Madeline, but they both heard her.
Rosalie gently patted Cecilia’s shoulder, not knowing what else to say. There was nothing else to say. At least, not to them. She could never convince them that their uncle cared about them deeply. Not with words, anyway. The girls needed to see that on their own. But that was something only Edmund himself could show them.
She wondered if a wounded soldier, who had seen the horrors of war, had much gentleness left in him. For the sake of the girls, she hoped it was so.
Chapter 11
Afew days had passed, and Edmund found himself focused on much work. He had spent two days of the week in question traveling for business, so the evening of his return was reserved for something peaceful. He was sitting in his armchair in the library, one leg crossed over the other. The book in his hand was the one that had eluded his attention for far too long, and he finally found himself able to focus on it.
