Papa winked at me. “Not a crack?”
“Not a crack.”
He grinned and gave Mama a hand up into the phaeton, then followed into the seat beside her. He looked down at me from his high seat above the two tall wheels. “We love you very much. Be good.” Another wink followed his words.
He and Mama waved, and I waved back. Then Papa led the pair of young horses into a quick trot, and I watched the wheels of the phaeton fly past me in a streak of bright yellow. My eyes followed after them down the road until the phaeton was nothing but a dot in the distance.
Charles was shivering now, and I was too, so I took Peter’s hand and together we walked through the dead, dry leaves again, until we entered the house.
The week passed slowly. I hadn’t realized how difficult it would be to keep Peter and his constant movement under control, and to keep careful watch of Charles at the same time. The nursemaid offered to help many times, but I declined, determined to care for them on my own. I had been so confident, but it was much more difficult than I had expected. Finally, I allowed the nursemaid to take her turn, still keeping a careful eye on them.
My arms and back were sore from holding Charles, and I was reaching my wit’s end with chasing Peter around the house. So when sundown came on the final day, I was ready to pass my brothers off to Mama again.
It had rained that afternoon, so we stayed inside. But with Mama and Papa arriving soon, I wanted to be waiting for them when they arrived. I put on my new pink muslin dress, then we stepped outside and walked to the edge of the lawn where the leaves were now wet and soft from the recent rain. Peter scowled down at the wet leaves, stomping his feet on them, disappointed that they no longer made a sound.
As we waited in the chilly autumn air, the sun went down and the moon came out. The longer we waited, the more quiet everything became, as if the wet, soundless leaves had sent a message to the rest of the world to keep silent too. It wasn’t until Peter’s teeth started chattering that we turned back toward the house.
I put my brothers to bed and sat in Papa’s chair by the drawing room window, watching the dark, unoccupied road. I thought I could never sleep, peering out the window every second as I was.But eventually, I did fall asleep, the skirts of my pink dress clutched into tight balls in my hands.
It wasn’t until two days later that we received word of their death.
When one of our servants delivered the news to me, my heart lurched in my chest, threatening to break open with the sudden pain. I shook my head hard, hoping that doing so would make me forget what I had just heard. But it only made it worse, making the words throb in my skull, echo in my ears.They are dead.
Tightness rose to my throat, grasping at it, making my breath come in hard, heavy gasps. Hot tears sprang into my eyes, distorting my vision. I swallowed, then swallowed again. I breathed in shallow gasps. I stood with my fists clenched at my sides.
It was unexpected, a result of carelessness. Returning home from Hampshire, they had traveled dangerously close to the cliffs. Somehow that old phaeton had fallen over the edge. It could have been the horses’ fault, it could have been the phaeton’s fault. But I refused to believe that it was Mama and Papa’s fault. They would never choose to leave us like that.
Papa’s will was found and specifically stated that our guardian was to be Mama’s brother. His wife was a recent widow, and we were inarguably being sent to her tomorrow.
Without listening to another word, I ran to my brothers’ room, pressing my hand against my chest, struggling to somehow hold the broken bits of my heart together inside of me.
Charles lay awake in his bassinet and Peter was asleep in his bed. Wiping tears from my eyes so I could see, I liftedCharles into my arms and pulled Peter up onto my lap as I sat on the edge of his bed. His eyes blinked open, and he stared at my tear-streaked face with a dazed look. I hugged him tightly, never wanting to let go. His mussed dark hair stuck to my cheek where my tears flowed freely.
Peter pulled back to look at my face again. Then, with a look beyond his years with concern, he lifted a small hand and rubbed the tears from my cheeks. He scowled at them, as if he thought they didn’t belong. He raised his hand and wiped my face again. His gentle swipes turned into soft slaps as he scowled at the steady flow of tears that refused to stop. He paused, looking down at his wet fingers, and up at the new tears on my face. And then he started to cry too.
He didn’t know, of course, what had happened. And he surely wouldn’t understand. Charles, apparently sensing the discord around him, burst into tears of his own. His soft whimpers sounded deafening. His tears left tiny droplets clinging to his lashes. Together we sat, all of us crying, but I was the only one who actually knew why. How long we stayed like that, I didn’t know, but eventually the flow of tears lessened a bit, and I could breathe and think a bit clearer.
In that grief-filled moment, looking at Peter’s wobbling chin and round, watering eyes, I realized something very important: My brothers needed me. I couldn’t allow myself to cry, to be weak. They were so young, so innocent, so precious, and dependent. On me. They depended on me now, and me alone. I needed to be strong and unbreakable, so they could be too. My moment of weakness was over.
I grasped Peter’s wrist as he reached up to my face again, stopping his hand. I wiped my own tears from my face and drew a shaky breath. Then I wiped away his. And then I spoke to my heart for the very first time. A tiny voice inside my head told it:You cannot be weak. You have a duty. You shall give allyour love to Peter and Charles. You shall always listen to what I tell you to do. You shall love the boys and care for them all your life. And you shall never make me cry again.
The words granted me some form of unearthly strength, and I knew my heart would obey me. In the deepest coves of my mind I heard it whisper back. It promised.
So I sat there on the edge of Peter’s bed, two little boys in my arms, shaking limbs and unsteady breathing, and no idea of what would become of us. But my eyes were bone dry, and that was what made me strong.
CHAPTER 13
PRESENT DAY
Not a crack.
Mama and Papa hadn’t known just how long they would be away, or just how long I would keep my promise from breaking.
Something sharp poked my finger. I still clutched the pink rose in my hand. I would certainly have to dispose of it. With one last composing breath, I stood from the bench and left the silence of the orangery behind, eager to return to my brothers and their lighthearted spirits.
On my way to the library, I stopped by my bedchamber to pluck a few stray leaves from my gown and hair. I couldn’t have the Everards thinking I had been trudging around in the bushes all morning, even if it was partially true. I called for Lizzie to help improve my hair, and while she was there, I handed her the pink rose. “Will you… dispose of this, please?”
She gave me a puzzled look. “Why dispose of it?”
