“Ah, Fred,” Lord Melcombe said as he entered the room.
Winifred giggled.
“Did you hit your head hard enough that you are back to wanting to be called Fred?”
Althea hadn’t even been aware the child had a nickname at one time.
She just shrugged and smiled.
Lord Melcombe settled on the side of the bed and brushed the hair from her face, then lifted the lamp, holding it close to her eyes.
He was checking the pupils, sometimes the only symptom of a head injury.
“Uncle Preston?” Winifred complained and squinted her eyes shut.
“I’m just assuring myself of your health, despite your injury.”
Althea glanced up and searched his features.
“Your eyes are fine, little one.”
“I know. I can see,” Winifred said.
“Is there anything that I can get you, Winifred, or are you ready to go to sleep?” Althea asked.
“Read to me?Tales of Mother Goose.”
Lord Melcombe frowned. “Mother Goose?”
“A collection of tales by Charles Perrault entitledTales and Stories of the Past with Morals, subtitledTales of Mother Goose.”
“The Fairies,”Winifred said.
“Very well,” Althea opened the book and began to read, but only got to the third page before Winifred was sound asleep. Althea went to close the book, but Melcombe held out his hand as if he wanted it.
“You’ve not read Perrault?”
“I have, and if I recall correctly, some portions in the stories are rather gruesome.”
“I promise that I skip over what I find unpleasant and inappropriate for a child of five. In this story, I would have ended it with the nasty sister having frogs and serpents come out of her mouth because she wasn’t nice to the fairy, and not the part about the prince wanting to marry the nice sister only because of her beauty and that every time she spoke, she produced a diamond or pearl.”
“She’s only five, and that’s not very disturbing. Not like cutting off toes to fit into slippers.”
Althea winced at how far the step-sisters went so that they could fit into the glass slipper. “I think it’s important not to encourage marriage for shallow reasons,” Althea said. “The prince wanted the nice daughter only because of beauty and wealth while knowing nothing about her. Much like London society.”
“I see your point,” Melcombe chuckled. “I hope that each of my nieces is just as discerning when it comes time for them to wed.” Then he sobered and looked down on Winifred. “Yet, how well can one come to know another with such limited courtship?” He asked quietly, almost in a contemplative tone.
“It can be difficult,” Althea admitted. Turns about a room, walks in a park with a maid always present, a dance, and an afternoon call of limited duration did make it difficult to truly come to know someone. Yet, Althea had been certain that she’d been falling in love with Lord Melcombe after they’d walked in Hyde Park. “I suppose one must also rely on instinct.”
“My father told me that a soul will recognize their mate long before the head and heart decide,” Melcombe whispered as he brushed Winifred’s hair away from her bandaged forehead.
“I do believe there is truth to that statement. The happier couples of my acquaintance are those who, as they put it, just knew. The unhappy couples are the ones who believed connections to be far more important than the heart.” She couldn’t believe they were whispering this discussion over a sleeping five-year-old.
“Have you yet met that person that you, as others have said,just knew?”
They’d not had a serious conversation on this subject before and Althea wished that he’d look at her instead of Winifred. She also desperately wanted to answer,you, but didn’t dare. She still had no idea of his feelings toward her other than a desire to kiss her. Nor could she lie to him. “I prefer not to answer the question.”
Did she dare ask him? Did she want to know? If he said no, then she’d know her place. It would be for the best, but she wasn’t prepared for the disappointment. If he said yes, then she’d want to know who.
