Chapter 16
Afew days passed by, and Edmund found himself immersed in work. Several business trips had presented themselves in the near future, and he was surprised at his own unwillingness to part with his home, and everyone in it. Namely, a single person had taken much of his interest, and his focus was, as a result, greatly lacking.
That morning, he was busy with his correspondence, when all of a sudden, the door burst open. It was Madeline. Her little cheeks were flushed, probably from having run all the way here, her entire appearance akin to that of a miniature hurricane. Her little hand was squeezing a piece of paper. She had a satisfied little smirk on her face.
His heart felt a strange pang of remembrance, pain intertwined with pleasure. Never had he been more reminded of his dear late brother than at that very moment. This was exactly what prevented him from scolding her for not knocking before entering his study, something he insisted on.
“Uncle,” she spoke first, catching her breath, “I apologize for disturbing you. But I need to give you this.”
Her little feet tiptoed across the room, all the way over to him. Standing with her back straight, she formally handed him what she had in her hand.
“What is this?” He smiled, a little baffled, but mostly amused by this sudden interruption.
“It is a note from Miss. Blake,” Madeline announced importantly.
“From Miss. Blake?” Edmund repeated, feeling his ears burn with unexplained heat. “Why didn’t she simply come up here to say what she had to say, instead of sending a note?”
Madeline simply shrugged, her hair falling over her cheeks, hiding yet another smirk.
“Is that all?” he asked, glancing at the folded piece of paper in his hands, which still hid its contents from him.
“Yes, Uncle,” she nodded, looking as if she was trying to suppress a giggle.
Edmund found all this most peculiar, but he attributed this to some unknown girlish behavior, which he as a man without any children of his own could not possibly understand.
“Do I need to reply to this note?” he suddenly asked, feeling a strange desire to partake in this game for a little while longer.
“No, what you should do is -” she started, then stopped, blushing from the tip of her nose, all the way to her ears, as if she had been caught doing something she oughtn’t have done. “I mean, I don’t know. I haven’t read the note. I do not know what it says, so I do not know what you should do.”
He chuckled. “Is that so?”
Things were becoming a little clearer, but at the same time, he still didn’t understand the point of this game. He opened the note, but before he could read a single word of it, Madeline suddenly turned around and rushed out of his study.
Still with a smile of confusion and amusement on his face, he went over the note.
Dear Edmund,
Please, meet me in the garden, by the big oak tree, now if you can. There is something I wish to tell you.
Cordially,
Rosalie
The penmanship was indeed lovely, but it was betrayed by a few hesitant strokes of the quill pen. He hadn’t seen Rosalie’s handwriting before, so he had no reason to doubt she indeed wrote this note. Nonetheless, something in Madeline’s behavior told him the girl had either read the note or wrote it herself.
Once more, he found himself intrigued, curiously willing to take part in this little game the girls had obviously concocted. So, he got up from his writing desk, and headed straight out into the garden. On the way there, he passed by the girls’ study room. The door was slightly ajar, and he couldn’t resist the urge to peek through it.
As quietly as he could, he gazed into the room. He was surprised to see both girls seated at their desk, heavily immersed in writing. They were the epitome of good behavior and manners. Their faces were bent down. Cecilia’s little lips pursed as her pen danced over the paper. He smiled to himself, then silently walked down the corridor, and out into the garden.
He reached the oak tree but stopped a little before. Rosalie had already arrived. She was standing underneath it, shaded by its branches and bushels of leaves. Her hair was tied in a bun this time. He had preferred it in a braid. He liked to admire its pristine whiteness, as it spilled down her back.
A moment later, she turned to him, and her face lit up. She waved, her lips revealing a smile of joy. Together, they walked towards each other, and Edmund found it difficult not to spread out his arms and wrap them around her. He wanted to feel her willowy softness in his arms, to feel her beating heart against his.
“Good morning.” She beamed, like a lighthouse on a dark, stormy night, exactly like the one he had found her in. He remembered how not even mud and dirt could hide her brilliance.
“Good morning,” he repeated, equally glad to see her.
“You wanted to see me?” They spoke at the same time, an action which prompted them both to burst out into loud laughter.
