LUCIEN
The following morning, Lucien and Henry sat at the breakfast table as Henry smacked his silver spoon onto his egg, cracking it far more forcefully than was proper.
“What did I teach you?” Lucien asked.
“Gentle,” Henry replied.
“That’s right. Here, take mine. Try it again.”
The little boy took the spoon and tapped it against the egg so softly that it did not even make a single crack.
“A little bit more,” Lucian said, this time wrapping his hand around Henry’s own, showing him the right amount of pressure to use.
“When I was a child, my governess used to roll the egg in a piece of cloth and crack the entire shell all at once,” Marianne said as she stood behind them.
Lucien turned, surprised to see her standing there. Usually, she took her breakfast long before he did. A habit from the time at the convent, he assumed.
“Marianne. Pray tell, did the land of nod keep you captive for longer than usual?”
She slipped into the seat on the other side next to Henry. “No. Not at all. In fact, I woke three hours ago. Juliet and I took a walk around the estate. It is beautiful.”
“I apologize once more for not having taken you myself.”
“Pray, do not concern yourself,” she said.
“Have you seen the maze?” Henry asked.
“I saw it, but I have not gone in,” Marianne said.
“Oh, you should,” Henry said with a laugh. “It is so exciting! You get lost, and it is scary.”
She smiled, and Lucien saw a new lightness in her eyes. He wasn’t sure if it was her friend’s arrival or something else, but she looked more at ease.
“Henry and I are going out riding later. Perhaps you would like to join us. I know you said you are not the most avid rider, but we are only going to be riding within the paddock. It looks like it may rain, and I should not wish to be caught out in the weather with him.”
She nodded. “Perhaps I could try a few rounds myself.”
“I should like that very much,” he said with a smile.
Perhaps she was coming out of her shell. Perhaps she was even beginning to like living with them. He knew this was only temporary, but he wanted her to be comfortable. He wanted her to be comfortable with Henry. It would not be good for Henry if she were stiff and reserved the entire time, essentially marking time and counting down the hours until she could finally leave.
She had tried last night, something he hadn’t expected at all. When he had gone to kiss Henry goodnight, he’d been shocked to see her there. Of course, she could have continued to read him the story in a monotonous voice usually reserved for reading sermons, but she had tried. And Henry appreciated that.
What made her even more relatable was that she understood she had not done a very good job of reading the story. It was clear in her reaction afterwards.
But he didn’t mind. He hadn’t been good at reading bedtime stories either when he first started.
“May I roll my egg?” Henry asked, though he had already taken it out of the little cup.
“I do not know that this is a very good...” Lucien started, but Henry had already placed the egg inside his napkin and was rolling it. It cracked and cracked, and Marianne looked on with a smile. Lucien tipped his head to one side, suppressing his anticipation because he already knew what was going to happen. Henry unrolled the cloth and gasped. The egg—soft-boiled—was split, and his hands pushed down so hard that the yolk shot out the front and stained the entire napkin.
“Oh, yellow!” he said and dabbed his fingers directly into the yolk, licking them.
“No, Henry,” Lucien said. “Wipe those off.”
“Why?” he said. “I can paint with this. Yellow!”
“We do not paint with our food,” Lucien said and handed him a napkin. “Now clean yourself.”
