“Only she can decide that,” she said.
But he could hear Lizzie’s returning footsteps on the stairs.
“…forty…forty-one…forty-two…” he said loudly.
“Here I am!” she shrieked from outside the door, and then she appeared in the doorway, flushed and excited, eyelids fluttering while the dog rushed past her. “And here is my bonnet.” She waved it from one hand.
“Oh, bravo, Lizzie,” Miss Martin said.
Love tightened in Joseph’s chest almost like pain.
They spent an hour in the garden before Mrs. Smart brought out the tea tray. Lizzie engaged in one of her favorite games, bending over flowers and feeling them and smelling them before identifying them. Sometimes she clasped her hands behind her and played the game from the sense of smell alone. Miss Martin tried it too, her eyes closed, but she made as many errors as correct identifications and Lizzie laughed with glee. She also listened attentively as Miss Martin gave her a lesson in botany, pointing out parts and qualities of each plant while Lizzie felt to see what she was talking about.
Joseph sat watching. He almost never had the leisure simply to observe his daughter. Usually when he visited he was the whole focus of her world. Today she had Miss Martin and the dog, and while she frequently called to him to be sure that he had noticed something, she was clearly reveling in their company.
Is this what family life might have been like, he wondered, if he had been free to marry as a younger man—when he met and fell in love with Barbara? Would he have delighted in his wife and children as he was delighting in Miss Martin and Lizzie? Would there have been this contentment, this happiness?
Their heads were touching as they bent over a pansy. Miss Martin set one arm loosely about Lizzie’s waist, and Lizzie set her arm about Miss Martin’s shoulders. The dog woofed around them before racing off to chase a butterfly.
Good Lord, Joseph thought suddenly. Dash it all, this line of thought just would not do. This was exactly what he had resolved not to do this afternoon.
He would have his family life. The wife and mother would not be either Barbara or Miss Martin, and none of the children would be Lizzie. But hewouldhave it. He would begin wooing Portia Hunt in full earnest this evening. He would call upon Balderston tomorrow and then make her a formal offer. Surely she would relax more once they were officially betrothed. Surely she must want some affection, some warmth, some family closeness, out of her marriage too.Of courseshe must.
The tea tray arrived to interrupt his thoughts, and the ladies came to sit down. Miss Martin poured the tea.
“Lizzie,” she said after handing about the cups and the pastries, “I would like to see you get more fresh air during the summer. You enjoyed the afternoon in Richmond Park, did you not? I would like to see you walk and run and skip again and find more flowers and plants than you yet know. I would like you to come into the country with me for a few weeks.”
Lizzie, who was sitting beside Joseph, felt for him with the hand that was not holding her plate. He took it in a firm grasp.
“I do not want to go to school, Papa,” she said.
“This is not school,” Miss Martin explained. “One of my teachers, Miss Thompson, is going to take ten of the girls from the school to Lindsey Hall in Hampshire for a few weeks. It is a large mansion in the country with a huge park around it. They are going there for a holiday, and I am going too. Some of my girls, you see, do not have parents or homes and so must stay with us during holiday times. We try to give them a good time with lots of activities and lots of fun. I thought you might like to come with me.”
“Are you going too, Papa?” Lizzie asked.
“I will be going for a while to a house nearby,” he said. “I will be able to come and see you.”
“And who will take me?” Lizzie asked.
“I will,” Miss Martin said.
He looked closely at Lizzie. All the faint color the hour outdoors had brought into her cheeks had faded.
“I am afraid,” she whispered.
He squeezed her hand more tightly. “You do not have to go,” he said. “You do not have to go anywhere. I will find someone else to come and live here and be your companion, someone you will like, someone who will be kind to you.”
Perhaps Miss Martin would disagree with him. Perhaps she would think that he should insist that his daughter find her wings, that he should push her out of the nest, so to speak. But she said nothing. And actually she had said just the opposite, had she not? She had told him that Lizzie must decide for herself.
“Those girls would hate me,” Lizzie said.
“Why would they?” Miss Martin asked.
“Because I have a home and a papa,” Lizzie said.
“I do not believe they will hate you,” Miss Martin said.
“I would not say anything about having a papa,” Lizzie said, brightening. “I would pretend to be just like them.”
