Carter had hired a nurse to assist with the children at the theater and had his old apartment refurnished to act as a nursery.
With everything that had changed, with her family, with Carter, and at the theater, Elle couldn’t imagine a more satisfying life.
Excepting, of course, when the nurse they hired took the day off and their two little imps escaped their nursery to explore all the nooks and crannies of the theater.
Of which there were far too many for Elle’s peace of mind.
“Where is Eddie, sweetheart?” Elle did her best to sound firm.
“He isn’t not hiding,” Eleanor answered with big eyes. “He’s wiff Daddy.”
“And they are…?”
“In the costume room—chasing ghosts. I don’t like the costume room, Mommy.”
“There are no ghosts down there.” Elle lifted her daughter, who was almost too big to be carried by now, and began walking toward the back of the stage. “Will you be afraid if Mommy goes down with you?” Elle paused so she could watch her daughter’s expression. “I don’t want you to be scared. It’s one of Mommy’s favorite places!”
Little Eleanor chewed her bottom lip before asking, “Why?”
“Well.” Elle resumed walking, shifting her daughter when she slipped a little. “Because of all the beautiful dresses. Our costume room has prettier gowns than the best modistes in all of London!” Elle didn’t think of this as an exaggeration. Because, over the past few years, Drury Lane had become known for not only featuring the very best plays, but the cast wore the most colorful, the most elaborate and stunning costumes in the world.
“Can little girls wear them?”
“Oh, definitely. But you’ll need to come downstairs with me. You’ll need to be brave.” Elle lowered her daughter to the floor and opened the door to the staircase where she heard Carter and Eddie’s voices floating up. “Will you hold my hand?”
Eleanor slipped a tiny and partly sticky hand into Elle’s. It reminded Elle of the time she’d spilled paint on herself and Carter had still allowed her to choose one of the gorgeous gowns.
“Let’s clean you up, little one, and then we’ll see what your brother and Daddy are up to’”
“Don’t tell Eddie, but I ate all the berries.”
Elle laughed, wiping a handkerchief at the red juices covering her daughter’s hand, and blinked away the stinging in the backs of her eyes. The moment was a tiny one, but like millions of other such tiny moments, gratitude nearly overwhelmed her.
Gratitude for this life. Gratitude for this child. And for Little Edmund. And for Carter.
And her plays, which made her happy, but nowhere near as happy as her little family did.
“Ready?”
“Don’t let go of me, Mommy.”
“I won’t,” Elle said in a very solemn tone. “I promise.”
Firmly clasping the hand of this innocent child, Elle descended the uneven steps.
She may have been married for just over five years, and she may have just spent two hours going over another playwright’s scripts with the man, but she always anticipated seeing her husband’s face.
No one else looked at her like he did.
No one cared for her the way he did.
And no one cared for him the way she did, either. He was her person. Her best friend—her lover.
And before she and Eleanor arrived at the landing, his smiling face appeared, his eyes holding hers before glancing at their daughter and back.
“I thought my little Ellie didn’t like it down here.” Bending down, he took Eleanor’s hand and lifted her into his arms. “What a brave little girl you’re being today.”
“I want a costume. I don’t want the ghosts to get them,” Eleanor could be, oh, so serious.
