Adeline leaned against the rough bark, letting the breeze cool her flushed skin. For the first time since entering Greystone, she felt something like ease.
How long since I climbed a tree? Since I enjoyed the peace of the air sighing through laden branches. Felt the warmth of green-tinted sunlight.
It had been years. Before the shadow had fallen across her happy little family. Adeline forced her thoughts from the fog of thepast. They sat in companionable silence for a while, the gardens sprawling beneath them.
“So, where is your governess while you are climbing trees?” Adeline asked after a beat.
“I do not have one. Nor will I. They are useless,” Louisa said with the certainty only a child could muster.
“Are they?” Adeline said, “I had an excellent one for a time when I was a girl.”
Louisa’s tone was sharp. “For a time? I have had many governessesfor a time. Did yours leave?”
Adeline frowned, staring through the leaves and seeing something unreachably far away.
“Lady Adeline?” Louisa asked.
Adeline blinked, returning to the present.
“Yes. She left. I forget why. And she was not replaced. But I did miss her.”
Left because she could not bear to remain in my father’s house a second longer.
Adeline did not allow herself to slip into reverie again, not in front of the girl.
“What does your mother think of the absence of a governess?” Adeline asked.
When Louisa spoke, her voice was small and wounded.
“I don’t remember her. Not at all. She died when I was little.”
She hesitated and then firmed her lips, throwing back her shoulders and raising her chin. There was an obvious effort at work there to appear strong.
“So, I do not know what her opinions were on the subject. Or any subject for that matter.”
Adeline nodded thoughtfully. Now that she thought about it clearly, she could not recall the Dowager Duchess ever mentioning her son’s wife. Moreover, she realized that in her explorations of the house, she had seen portraits that she now knew to be Louisa. But none of any woman who might be Louisa’s mother. There were many paintings of women, but all had the look of age, whether the fading of the colors or the fashion on display. She decided that this child, who tried so hard to hide her pain, was not the best person to ask about this omission.
“I would like to know, I think. What she might have thought. Or what she looked like,” Louisa said.
Adeline felt a tug in her chest. She knew too well what it meant to be denied pieces of one’s own past.
“Perhaps your grandmother might tell you,” she offered with a smile.
“Grandmama says Papa wouldn’t like it.” Louisa’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I think she’s afraid of him.”
Adeline stored the thought away, a seed of curiosity she could not ignore. Later, she would ask Cordelia. For now, she reached across and squeezed Louisa’s hand.
Another little girl is afraid of her father. If I were not dependent on his goodwill, I should like to give that brute a piece of my mind.
“You deserve to know who she was,” Adeline said softly.
Louisa’s answering smile was tremulous but real. And then the branch beneath them creaked.
“Uh oh,” Louisa breathed, looking down but not daring to move a muscle.
Before Adeline could shift, the branch gave way. Both yelped as they dropped, thankfully only a few feet, to dangle from a tangle of smaller limbs. Then those young branches gave up, and Adeline and Louisa tumbled onto the mossy ground among the tree’s questing roots.
The breath whooshed from Adeline’s lungs as she landed, skirts tangled around her knees. Beside her, Louisa sat up, grass clinging to her curls. For a heartbeat, they stared at one another in shock. Then both burst into helpless laughter.
