Caroline picked it up with great care and brought it close to her face to inspect it. The boy truly had a gift for the craft, she realized as she slowly turned the doll in her fingers. It was made of paper, yes, but he had somehow molded it into a human figure, a little man, and had taken great care to paint on a pair of trousers, suspenders, a white dress shirt, and black shoes. What Caroline marveled at most, though, was the doll’s face. For as young as he was, the doll’s features were all so very realistic.
“What a talent you possess, Georgie,” Caroline marveled, carefully placing the doll back in his hand.
The pink in George’s cheeks bloomed into a deep crimson, but with it also came a bolder smile.
“Th-th-th-thank y-you,” he stuttered out in a whisper.
“Would you please tell me about them? Did you give them a story?” Caroline asked.
It had been four days since she married Damien in the estate’s parlor, and since then, Caroline had mostly spent her time with the little boy. Despite their initial meeting—during which Damien had either praised or insulted her, she could not yet decide—George remained hesitant around Caroline. If she moved too quickly, he would flinch. One day, when she stubbed her toe on her chair and snapped at the sudden pain, he dropped to the floor and curled into a tight ball. All signs indicated that the boy had been scared for far too much of his short life.
Yet despite that, they were making progress. Both of them. George would listen intently as Caroline read him stories, and he had taken to eating all his meals with her. In turn, Carolinelearned what made George feel safe and what made him start to grow anxious.
Presently, such an anxious look took over George’s face as she asked him to talk, which only confirmed Caroline’s suspicions that he had been poorly treated for his stutter.
“You have nothing to fear from me,” Caroline gently urged. “You do not have to speak quickly, or even properly. I just want to hear the story you have made for them.”
When he still looked unsure, Caroline had a thought.
“If you will allow me to know their story, then I shall take you to the toymaker, and we will have him make you a large house for any of the dolls you might make, so that they may all live together. You could even draw out what you want it to look like, so it matches the idea you have in your mind,” she proposed.
George’s dark brown eyes lit up at the suggestion, and he eagerly nodded his head. Happy that they were making progress, Caroline gently returned the paper doll to his hand and sat back in her chair.
“Go on then, little love, tell me their story,” she encouraged.
As George began speaking, his stutter slowed him down significantly. It took several minutes to get out the names of the dolls, Sir Reginald and Lord Percy, he called them, and where they came from. However, as he continued, George’s little voice grew stronger, he stumbled over fewer words, and while his pace remained slow, by the end of the two-doll tale of a search for a dragon who kidnapped a princess, he was speaking smoothly and calmly.
Caroline clapped her hands with joy as he finished, and let out a pure laugh of joy as another sheepish smile formed on his lips.
“Well done, Georgie! So very well done!” she praised, keeping her voice soft yet encouraging. “And what a lovely story! Did you think of that all on your own?”
“Yes,” George breathed, his little chest puffing out with pride.
“You have a wonderfully sharp mind, little Georgie,” Caroline praised, “I am so looking forward to seeing how much you will learn.”
“Thank you,” George whispered, speaking without his stutter.
“No, Georgie, thank you,” Caroline countered, “for trusting me with your wonderful story.”
She was beaming down at him with warm pride when the door opened, and as the nurse stepped in, Caroline watched with great dismay how quickly the just-bright little boy dimmed his light and shrank in on himself.
“Still trying to teach him, are you, Your Grace?” the nurse quipped.
Caroline’s brows furrowed as she observed the woman. She appeared to be a lovely woman in her late forties, with soft, pale blue eyes and ashy blond hair styled in a tight bun. Her slate gray dress nearly matched the maids’ uniforms, but it featured a much higher collar that reached her sharp chin. However, Caroline suspected that she had a rather unpleasant heart inside.
She could see it in the way her blue eyes brightened every time she delivered a slight to the boy, or how hard she would set down a tray on the table, as if she enjoyed watching the little one jumpand tense at the loud sound.
“We will start lessons soon enough,” Caroline answered, watching the woman closely as she walked into the room. “And I have every faith that our young master here is capable of learning a great many things.”
The nurse snickered.
“Master? He is no master of anything. Look at him,” she replied, pointing with her chin toward George as she set the tray down in front of him with a loudthump.
Something vicious and protective rose up within Caroline as George paled and jumped in his seat, and, with a quickness, she was out of her chair, delivering a warning glare to the woman.
“Now that I am here, I do not believe your services are required,” Caroline stated, doing her best to keep her voice soft and cool so as not to scare George further. “Please be so kind as to go to His Grace and procure your last payment. You are leaving today. Right now, in fact.”
From the corner of her eye, Caroline could see George’s little body sink into his chair with evident relief, but straight on, she was met with a startled look from the nurse. That startled look quickly shifted into an icy defiance, however, and the nurse straightened her shoulders and raised her chin.
