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What a touching domestic scene this all is, Ben thought with a tinge of bitterness. He set his teacup down in preparation for the applause that would surely be required following the performance.
“Aunt Rebecca broke her leg, broke her leg, broke her leg,” the children sang to a melody that sounded eerily similar to the London Bridge song Ben remembered from his childhood. “Aunt Rebecca broke her leg; we’re so sorry.”
“Oh, that’s sweet—” Rebecca began.
“Then a stranger wrapped it up, wrapped it up, wrapped it up,” the children continued, interrupting her.
Ben covered his mouth with his hand to hide his expression as he watched.
“Then a stranger wrapped it up; we’re so grateful!” the children sang, ending the verse.
Ben listened to the additional childish verses until it concluded and the adults offered appropriately enthusiastic applause. He was simultaneously amused and resentful that this idyllic little tableau included an infant who would soon be born, reminding him of the infant back at Winton Court.
An infant named Rose, after his mother.
* * *
Almost immediately after the children finished their little song, Mr. Fortescue rose to his feet. “Well done, children,” he said and then turned to Rebecca. “I’m afraid I must leave you all now, although it has been a rare treat, indeed.”
He was using the presence of Isobel and the children to make a hasty exit without Rebecca being able to say anything about it. Because of course she couldn’t ask him to stay with all of the others in the room. It would make her look like an old spinster begging for attention! She might be injured, but she refused to play the victim, even if she still felt a bit sorry for herself.
“So soon, Mr. Fortescue?” Isobel asked before Rebecca could respond.
“I’m afraid so, Mrs. Jennings,” he replied, gesturing with his head to the window, where the rain could still be seen coming down in torrents.
“That’s a shame, isn’t it, Rebecca?” Isobel said.
“Indeed,” Rebecca replied. “I would have so liked to finish our conversation, Mr. Fortescue.”
“Perhaps tomorrow—weather permitting,” he said. Rebecca could tell by his expression that he would rather Noah float by on his ark than continue their earlier conversation. She wondered why that was.
“Mary, Edmund, our Mr. Fortescue here is the stranger who rescued our dear Rebecca after her accident,” Isobel said.
Mary’s little mouth dropped open, and then she ran over to him and hugged him. He looked rather shocked and confused by her actions.
“Indeed, sir?” Edmund said. “That’s dashing of you! We love our Auntie Rebecca and are so glad you brought her home to us.”
“Yes, well.” Mr. Fortescue cleared his throat; he seemed to be searching for the right words to say. “There’s more to it than that, Master Edmund, but I thank you, nonetheless.”
Edmund beamed.
Mr. Fortescue then bowed over each of their hands, including Mary’s and Wynn’s, and bowed formally to Edmund, who seemed to think it all great fun to be treated as an adult in such a manner, and then he left.
“Come now, children,” Wynn said. “It’s time to return to the nursery and let your aunt Rebecca rest.”
There was a bit of initial whining, but the children gave Rebecca and their mama a hug and kiss, and then Wynn herded them from the room.
When the door shut behind them, Isobel turned to Rebecca and raised an eyebrow.
“What?” Rebecca asked, feeling a bit defensive for some reason.
“Mr. Fortescue?” Isobel replied.
“What about him?” Rebecca said. “He feels a certain responsibility for my injury and has been very solicitous as a result. He has been reading to me each day this past week, and I am exceedingly grateful to him.”
“Ah,” Isobel said. “Mr. Fortescuefeels responsible, and you feel grateful.”
“Yes.” Why Isobel put so much emphasis on the man’s name baffled Rebecca.
