"She's my ma."
Henry had only to look into Belle's eyes to know it was as simple as that.
"Plus…" Belle continued. "She’s all ah have now."
"Now?"
For a moment, sorrow flooded Belle's face. Her eyes misted over with a nostalgic pain.
"My brother. Elliott. We lost him last year. He was a soldier."
“I am sorry.”
He meant it too. With only his sister left in his own family, Henry could imagine the toll the loss of a sibling would take. He could read it on her face, too, the pain as plain as day.
For a moment, he considered telling Belle about Laura. About how his parents had died. About how he could relate to having half your family taken without rhyme or reason. The words were on the tip of his tongue before he brought them back.
He had never discussed his family with his pupils before. To do so now would only encourage this connection he felt. This personal thread that was growing between them.
"I knew that you must care deeply for your mother when you changed your mind about staying here and learning to be a lady of the Henderson house," he said, attempting to turn the conversation back to happier thoughts. "You did not seem interested in your inheritance until you realized it could help your mother as well as you."
This time, Belle failed to catch the shrug. Her slim shoulders jerked up to her ears and back.
"Ah didn't see much fun in it," she admitted. Suddenly, her eyes were wide, and she was correcting herself. "Not yer lessons, Henry. They're very interesting. But..." She frowned, as if unsure how to put her complaints into words. "There are a lot of rules for being a lady, and ah don't much like rules."
He had noticed.
"Whatdoyou like?"
As the girl thought, their meals were set before them. Finally, after a sip of warm soup, did she come up with her answer.
"Rabbits."
Henry had been about to correct Belle's choice of spoon when her answer entirely stupefied him.
"Excuse me?"
"Ah like rabbits!" she laughed. "Have ye not seen a rabbit?"
He had. Most commonly tied to a hunter's saddle by the feet, but he suspected that wasn't what she meant.
"Why do you like rabbits?"
"Well, when ye see them in the meadows, they look all cute and delicate, yes? With little wriggling noses and floppy ears?"
Henry was entranced as she placed her hands on either side of her head and jiffled her nose up and down. There was no shame in the girl. Just pure joy.
"But then, if there's danger, they completely change. They're up on their back legs, looking for the attack. And then they're off so fast!"
There was a clatter, and a crash, and Belle's goblet went flying from the table. She had become so animated that she had knocked it with the back of her hand, sending it tumbling over the table edge. It hit the arm of her chair on the way down before being propelled under the table. Wine flew in every direction over their feet, and a smashing sound rang out from the depths of the table's undercarriage.
"Oh, no!" Embarrassed, the girl dived to the floor, but there was little to save.
"Be careful!"
The goblet had been of spun glass, and Henry now spied a thick and crooked shard dancing across the rug.
"Don't touch it!" Henry ordered, following Belle beneath the table. If she wasn't careful, she was going to—
