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She nodded slightly.
He continued his walk to the young blonde and held out his hand. “Forgive me for taking so long to see you.”
She clasped his hand, doubt writ in her brow and eyes.
“How good it is to see you,” he said.
“And y-you.”
He drew nearer, folding her into a hug unlike that which he would offer his fellow officers. “You are the very picture of your mother,” he murmured in her ear.
“Uncle, I …”
He felt a shuddering, then she was weeping on his shoulder, soaking through his coat with her tears. His throat grew tight, and he gently stroked her hair. Another glance stolen at Miss Stapleton revealed her talking quietly with the older woman and her grandfather, as if encouraging them to leave. He cast Miss Stapleton a look of entreaty. He appreciated her thoughtfulness but would prefer instead to have guidance as to what to do with a weeping girl. His experience of such things was naught.
“Rebecca?” he said softly. “Please, do not cry. Clara is with the Lord now, and we must take comfort that those of us who believe in God, as she did, will see her in heaven one day.”
“Come, Becky,” Miss Stapleton murmured, drawing near, rubbing the girl’s upper arm. “You do not want to give your uncle the idea that you are a watering pot, do you? He wishes to get to know you, but you will give him a very odd sense of who you are if all he hears are your tears.”
These words, hard as they appeared, seemed to have the desired effect, as the tears subsided into a series of juddering sighs. Rebecca pulled away, wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“There is nothing to be sorry for,” he said. “Not on your part, anyway. I wish I had opportunity to come sooner. I imagine the past few years have been very difficult.”
“Oh, yes. But dear Theo has been so very kind.”
“Theo?”
“Miss Stapleton, I mean. She cared for Mama after poor Father’s passing, then when Mama sickened, she nursed her every day. I could not have coped if it had not been for her.”
He glanced up, saw Miss Stapleton had now also left the room. “It appears we continue to be in her debt.”
“Oh, she is everything good, but not so good that it makes one feel small and worthless, if you know what I mean.”
“Indeed. There can be something rather nauseating about the overly virtuous.”
She laughed, a sound that seemed strangled by tears, then studied him shyly. “You do not seem like what I imagined, but so Theo said.”
“Miss Stapleton said what?”
“She said you were sure to be different from what I remembered as a young girl, that Father had been perhaps a little unjust in his reckonings with you.”
He smiled. “Surely I did not feature as some kind of ogre in your memories?”
“It does not matter now. You are here.” She bit her bottom lip.
“What is it?” His words were gentle.
“I suppose you want to take me away.”
“It was what I had thought best.” But to where he still did not know. Was she too old for boarding school or a seminary somewhere?
“Oh, please, Uncle, if you don’t mind, I would so much prefer to remain here! Miss Stapleton would not think it a bother, for she often says how much she wishes for my company and will mourn the day of my departure.”
“Were you not but a minute ago outlining all the services she has already rendered you? We cannot intrude further on her good nature, nor that of the other inhabitants of this house. I’m afraid I shall need to take you back to London with me as soon as I have closed up the house.”
“Mannering House is to be closed?”
“Yes.” From his brief visit earlier, the place seemed hardly habitable for mice, let alone his only niece. It would most likely need to be sold, but this he couldn’t admit. Too many shocks would not be wise on one day.
