“Clever of you to guess the silver might be disappearing.”
“Someone has interfered with your family papers, diddled with your saddle, extorted money, and God knows what else. It seemed likely,” she replied. “Again. No proof. Certain people have been poking around in all the public rooms and most of the ones in the family wing. Fillmore ought to check those, too.”
“Feel better. We’ll focus on the ledgers for now.”
Her eyes flew wide open. “I am supposed to meet with Marshall at three.”
“He’ll manage for a day without you. I’ll warn him you are under the weather.”
“And I want to scan the journals I spied on the upper shelves in the family archives,” she replied, feeling more energized by the moment.
“Good idea, but for today, take care of yourself and get ready to meet the children.”
*
Marshall’s lack ofsurprise over Mia feeling poorly reminded Gideon forcefully that they had no privacy. As long as they stayed at Woodglen, their most intimate business would be public knowledge. He needed to get his family home, but for now he would make the best of it.
He spent the afternoon with his children in the sunlit but dismally bare nursery. There had been no children at Woodglen since Phillip and no other for two generations before. Their wise governess had brought a good supply of books, Daniel’s tin soldiers, paints, kites, and stuffed bears. The girls, of course, each brought a doll.
Helen, at nine, had too much dignity to jostle for his attention. He took Jessica, who was seven, in his lap and let her tell him all the news from home, mentioning each of the servants and neighbors who came to call while Daniel hopped from foot to foot, waiting his turn. He crawled into Gideon’s lap as soon as Jessica stepped down, eager to tell his father news about his pony; their dog, Hero; and the den of foxes in the near woods.
When Daniel wound down and ran off to unpack his soldiers, Gideon beckoned Helen. She came to his side and accepted a side hug but didn’t climb into his lap.My oldest is growing up!
“What news do you have for me, Helen?”
“The biggest news is that my father has gotten married. When will we meet her?” Helen asked.
“She would be here now, but she isn’t feeling well,” he said.
“Is she one of those fragile ladies who takes to her bed all the time, like Esther Caddell’s mother?” she asked.
He remembered Mrs. Caddell, a miserably unhappy woman who succumbed to a bout of nerves at the slightest provocation. “Not even close,” he replied. “She’s strong, healthy, and bright as a new penny. You’ll like her.”
His daughter appeared skeptical. “But when will we meet her?”
“Perhaps for tea. We’ll see.”
“‘We’ll see’ is what adults say when they don’t want to say no or give unpleasant news.”
“Are you unhappy with me?” he asked.
Helen furrowed her brow. “You’ve been gone a long time. And now you married without us even being there.” For a moment, he feared tears, but Helen was made of sterner stuff. “I can see why you like living in all this luxury, but you can’t expect us to enjoy being pushed aside for it.”
His heart sank. “Is that what you believe I did?”
She met his gaze steadily.
“I’m sorry, Helen. Nothing is or ever will be more important to me than you are,” he said.
“Not even this new wife?”
He’d walked into a trap.What do I say now?He swallowed and made an attempt. “We are not so paltry a family that we cannot welcome Mia in.”
“Mia? What am I to call her? She isn’t my mother,” Helen said.
“I’ll let you discuss that with her,” he said, feeling like a coward.
He didn’t feel much better in late afternoon when he escorted them downstairs for tea. The younger two were wide-eyed at the opulence of Woodglen. Helen, by contrast, was withdrawn.
