The last time she met the twins was on the day of their baptism, when they were only babies. But she knew more than enough about them thanks to Lydia’s letters. It was enough to give her the confidence she needed at that moment.
“Oh, my precious children.” She hurried over to their side at once.
The twins had grown so much since she had seen them last. Tears pricked her eyes, but she held them back, not wanting to cry in front of everyone.
Ernest and Edwin blinked at her, not recognizing her.
“Well then, are you not going to do anything?” Christopher walked up behind her, his hands on his hips. “They haven’t been eating at all. What do we do in a situation like this?”
Frances’s eyes darted to the plate of food lying on the table nearby. She went over to examine it, holding it up to her nose to take a quick whiff.
“Boiled mutton.” She pressed her lips together in a tight line. “That’s it.”
“Yes, it’s what growing children like them need,” Christopher countered, looking at her with a mix of curiosity and confusion. “Is there something wrong with that?”
Lydia had mentioned that the twins had an aversion to the dish. It had made them vomit whenever she had tried to feed it to them, and the sight alone was enough to make them retch.
“This is not suitable for their diet.” Frances put back the plate on the tray and then folded her arms over her chest. “Have you been feeding them this the whole time? It is no wonder then that they are not eating.”
“I occasionally bring them some porridge as well,” the maid said. “But they have the same reaction.”
Frances was horrified. Ernest and Edwin were picky eaters and disliked all of the things that were mentioned.
“Something wrong with that, too?” Christopher asked, seeming irked. “I will have you know that we are ensuring that they get the best nutrition for their age.”
Frances ignored him and turned to the maid. “Would you fetch me a plate of cut pears?”Their favorite.
The maid looked at the Duke for confirmation, and he nodded. “I’ll bring it up straight away.”
“You have to eat if you want to grow up to be strong,” Frances cooed to the twins. “Even if it’s a little, you must.”
The twins simply shrugged their shoulders.
Frances hurriedly glanced around the room—it was no doubt that it did not belong to children. The bed was entirely too large, and there were hardly any toys present. She spotted a blank sheet of paper on the desk and went over to grab it.
“Here,” she said, folding the paper in half, “why don’t we try and play a little game while we wait?”
“Trust me, I have tried my best to keep them entertained,” Christopher quipped from behind her. “They never seem interested.”
Frances shot him a look to quieten him. His pessimism was hardly helping.
On the paper, she began to draw a series of dots arranged in a square formation. Then, she drew a line by connecting two of the dots.
“There, now your turn.” She passed the sheet and quill to the twins.
Without hesitating, they both took turns to draw lines of their own.
“What?Howdid you manage to do that?” Christopher was baffled.
She looked up at him with a satisfied smile. “Dots and boxes. Have you never played before?”
It had been Lydia’s favorite way to pass the time. Knowing her friend, there was no doubt in Frances’s mind that she taught her children the game as well.
“In my childhood, I suppose,” Christopher conceded. “I am surprised that you knew that they would like it, though. It would have never occurred to me.”
Frances wanted to tell him that she was no reader of minds—it was only because of Lydia that she knew. But admitting that would require her giving a lengthy backstory, which she did not deem appropriate in front of the children.
They exchanged paper back and forth, and the twins were slowly beginning to ease up, even though they had scarcely uttered a single word. Frances understood then that to make them comfortable, she had to provide them with experiences that they were already familiar with and enjoyed.
