Lavinia rose too, careful not to tip the table. “Best to approach with caution. Cats are known for their craftiness.”
Sophia crept forward, step by step, until she reached the mass of overgrown rosebushes that shielded the edge of the terrace from the rest of the lawn. She parted the canes with her hands, peering into the dark hollow within.
“There it is,” she breathed, and knelt at once.
Lavinia followed, and as she bent down, she saw curled among the dead leaves and petals a small gray kitten with white paws. Its fur was thin, its ribs visible, its eyes as wide and blue as Sophia’s own.
“Oh!” Sophia reached in with her hands trembling. The kitten drew back, then, after a moment, allowed itself to be scooped up.
She cradled it, her whole body vibrating with the effort not to squeeze too tight. “It’s a kitten,” she said. “It’s shaking.”
Lavinia touched the kitten’s head with one finger. “It’s a very hungry kitten, by the look of it.”
Sophia clutched it to her chest, rocking back and forth. “What do we do?” She looked up expectantly at Lavinia.
“Do you wish to keep it?” Lavinia asked, not needing to. The answer was written in every line of the girl’s posture.
“Yes,” Sophia said at once, then her face fell. “But—Father doesn’t like animals in the house. He says they’re messy and undignified.”
Lavinia considered. “Your father is not the final authority on everything that enters the estate. He may have strong opinions, but he cannot be everywhere at once.”
Sophia looked up, hope beginning to glow behind the worry. “Do you think… I mean, would it be… Could we hide it?”
Lavinia straightened. “I am not generally in favor of hiding things. It complicates life and makes one’s conscience itch. But I am willing to make an exception in the case of animals that tremble and have nowhere else to go.”
Sophia’s smile threatened to split her face in half.
“Come,” Lavinia beckoned her forward. “Let us find a place that is warm and quiet, and then we shall consider how best to proceed.”
They returned to the table, where Sophia immediately wrapped the kitten in her own shawl, humming under her breath as if to lull it. Lavinia cleared away the paints and paper, then surveyed the garden.
“We cannot keep it here,” she mused. “There are too many eyes, and the weather is capricious. What about the stables?”
Sophia shook her head. “The grooms hate rats. If they see a cat, they will feed it until it’s too fat to move. Father would notice.”
“Then we require a more inventive solution.” Lavinia set her hands on her hips and surveyed the grounds.
It did not take long to find the answer: an abandoned gardener’s shed, mostly collapsed and tucked behind a trellis of climbing roses at the far end of the kitchen garden. The door hung askew, but inside it was dry and smelled of old wood and crushed mint.
Sophia carried the kitten, swaddled and quiet, while Lavinia led the way. “We must be careful,” Sophia whispered.
Lavinia opened the door, then kneeled to inspect the contents. A pile of sacks, a scatter of empty pots, and an old basket missing its handle.
“This will do,” she said, and, dusting out the basket, lined it with her own shawl.
Sophia laid the kitten inside, then knelt to stroke its head. “There. Safe now.”
They crouched together in the dim shed, the only light a fractured beam through the cracked window. The kitten curledinto a ball and, for the first time, purred a faint, uncertain vibration that sent Sophia into near rapture.
“I shall bring it milk,” she said. “And scraps from the kitchen. Do you think that’s enough?”
“For now,” Lavinia replied, “but it will need more soon. A name, for instance.”
Sophia turned this over, then said, “Whisper.”
Lavinia smiled. “An excellent name, if you wish it to remain a secret.”
They sat, side by side, and Sophia kept her hands gently curved around the basket, as if the smallest movement might shatter the spell. The girl’s whole being had softened; she seemed to expand, to fill the small space with her hope.
