“Why did you come here?”
“I needed work.”
“Do you like it here?” Arthur asked.
Eliza paused, considering. “I do. It’s very beautiful. And everyone has been kind.”
“Uncle Morgan’s nice,” Philip offered. “But he doesn’t know how to play very well.”
Arthur nodded seriously. “He’s trying, though. Yesterday he played with us for almost fifteen minutes before he got distracted.”
“Fifteen whole minutes,” Eliza said, her lips twitching.
“That’s not very long,” Philip explained. “It was probably ten, actually.”
“No, I suppose it isn’t terribly long, then.”
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Arthur asked, sitting cross-legged on the floor as though settling in for a long conversation.
“I don’t,” Eliza said. “It was just me and my mother…” she added, careful to continue the story she had told His Grace.
“And your parents?” the boy asked.
Eliza shook her head, “They’re, um… not with me anymore.”
“We don’t have a mama or papa anymore,” Philip said matter-of-factly.
“They died,” Arthur finished.
Eliza’s chest tightened, even though she knew it. It was a different thing altogether to hear the words.
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” she said solemnly.
“It’s all right,” Arthur said, though his voice had gone quieter. “We have Uncle Ambrose and Aunt Imogen now. They’re on their honeymoon.”
“That sounds lovely.”
“We wanted to go too, but Uncle Morgan said we’d just get in the way of romance.” Philip wrinkled his nose. “What’s romance?”
“It’s when people are very fond of each other,” Eliza said carefully, though her tone grew light at such a question.
“Like how Arthur and I are fond of each other?”
“Similar, but different.”
“Well, that doesn’t make sense,” Arthur said.
“You’ll understand when you’re older.”
“That’s what everyone says,” Arthur grumbled.
“Arthur! Philip!” A familiar woman’s voice called from down the corridor. “Where have you gotten to?” The boys exchanged guilty looks.
“That’s Miss Winslow,” Philip whispered.
“We should probably go,” Arthur added.
But before they could move, Miss Winslow appeared around the corner. She took in the scene—the overturned bucket, the puddle, the two soaking wet boys sitting on the floor, and sighed.
