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“My dear,” Mama said, as the general’s silent cogitations continued, “do you think we should make over those drapes in dear Rebecca’s room? I’m afraid it must seem so outdated for her, poor pet. It has been so long since we’ve had a young girl in the place,” she added with a wistful sigh.
Becky Mannering might, at sixteen, be considered more a young lady than a girl, but she was far more youthful than Theo’s own advanced age of one and thirty.
“Perhaps we should wait until we know what her uncle wishes to do.” And what the general—and their meagre household allowance—would permit. “But I agree, it would be good to do what we can to make her feel as comfortable as possible.”
“Speaking of visitors, do you think Seraphina might be persuaded to a visit?”
She might if her sister’s nipcheese solicitor husband wanted to prove solicitous to his wife’s family for once. Theo kept such thoughts behind her teeth and murmured a noncommittal “Perhaps.”
“I simply long to see her.” Mama sighed plaintively. “It has been such an age, and—”
“Are you sure it wasn’t Captain Daniel Balfour?” Grandfather interrupted. “Did something heroic. His decisiveness saved a hundred men or some such deed.”
Theo’s lips tweaked in rueful apology as she shifted attention to her grandfather. She had been too filled with cares and responsibilities to remember every whispered word that Clara had uttered. “I think that was his name, but I’m afraid I cannot recall his exploits.”
“You cannot recall?” he asked incredulously, as if he himself had not struggled to do so these past minutes. “You cannot remember that it was his quick wits that shielded his men from enemy fire while on the Peninsular?”
“There are so many stories of heroic exploits—”
“None like his!” the general insisted. “I can never understand why you don’t pay attention to what truly matters,” he said gruffly. But from the way his moustache lifted, a smile lurked beneath his beard, hinting of the fondness she had always known behind his oft-brusque exterior.
She swallowed a wry smile—open emotion was never welcomed at the table—and said carefully, “I think what truly matters is that Becky’s uncle is informed about his sister’s death as soon as possible.”
“You will write?”
“Yes. He will be too late for the funeral, of course, but I’ll write to him again tonight.” Clara’s whispered request had led Theo to write, informing him of his sister’s illness not so long ago. Her heart sorrowed. How much harder would it be to pen—and read—the newest state of affairs.
“I’ll see it gets franked and sent off tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
The general shook his head. “A bad business, this.”
“Poor little mite. Two parents gone in a matter of months. It is so sad, so very, very sad.” Mama’s voice wavered again.
“We must do all we can to make her time here as easy and pleasant as possible.” Theo eyed her grandfather. “Even if she is inclined at times to be weepy.”
“That’s enough sauce from you, little puss.”
A smile escaped—“little” she had not been these past eighteen years—and she turned her attention to her meal while her heart continued to pray for the poor girl upstairs who had wept herself to sleep.
Dear Lord, send Your comfort to poor Becky. Be with her uncle. Lord, be with us all.
Becky’s tears of the first week eased into a general melancholy, something Theo attempted to alleviate by offering the girl distractions. But the delights of puppies and spring lambs and what tired treasures Wooler’s small shops offered only boosted Becky’s spirits for a short while before the sadness settled again.
As for herself, Theo was at a loss as to know what to do. Until Captain Balfour replied, she was responsible for Becky’s welfare, and it seemed society in general was at once torn between astonishment at her grandfather’s willingness for Theo to assume such a role and relief that they need not assume the task themselves.
“But my dear!” Lady Bellingham exclaimed during one of her near-daily visits to Stapleton. “I understand you were close to the girl’s mother, and of course, here at Stapleton you are Mannering’s nearest neighbors, but how can one expect a young lady of one and thirty to know how to care for a young girl?”
Theo smiled, shrugging off the sting of the thinly veiled advice from the squire’s wife. “I may not be the best qualified, but I was young once myself.”
“Oh, I know you were—I mean, are! Oh, you cannot try to pretend to not understand what I mean, passing yourself off as if in your decline, wearing the cap like you’re an old maid, when every young man in the village would pick up the handkerchief should one be thrown.”
Theo’s smile grew wry, and she resisted the temptation to touch her marred cheek. “Please spare my blushes, Lady Bellingham.”
“Blushes, indeed. You know it is so. AndIknow it is most commendable for you to wish to care for the child. But what does it mean for your future?”
“I do not see this as a burden, nor as something I will do forever. Captain Balfour will return one day, and then we shall know what to do.”
