Page 58 of Summer of Sacrifice

“Go.” Seleste gestured toward the main house. “I’ll keep the girls occupied while you take care of what you need to do.” She smiled kindly at the au pair and glanced at Elsie and Emeline. “We’ll be fine. If you’re not back by teatime, I’ll take them up myself.”

“Thank you, thank you.” And Becky rushed off toward the main house.

Seleste bid the girls to stay where they were, letting butterflies land on them, while she looked around the garden. “Aha.” Seleste looked back and waved Elsie and Emeline over. “Ladies, come over here, would you?”

They both bounded over with no fuss, something that sent a little sense of accomplishment into her heart. “What is it, Mademoiselle Seleste?” Emeline asked politely.

“This plant right here.” She bent and pointed to a specific one. “Pull one of those up for me, would you, Lady Emeline?”

The little girl’s eyes widened. “I really can?”

It hadn’t occurred to Seleste that there might be a rule against anyone but her ladyship or the cooks plucking plants from the garden but…every once in a while, rules needed to be broken in order to help someone else. “Yes.”

Emeline squealed, bouncing to pull the bulb loose from the rather dry soil. “What is it?” She held it up.

“Ginger!” Elsie answered first.

“Very good, Lady Elsie!” Seleste praised her. “We are going to use this and one of Cook’s cinnamon sticks to prepare a nice tea for Mademoiselle Becky’s upset belly. Would you like to do that?”

Both girls jumped at the opportunity and ran for the kitchen. They prattled on without ceasing for the entirety of their time in the kitchen, to the point Seleste wondered when it was they took a breath. The phrase ‘talking someone’s ears off’ suddenly made immense sense, but Seleste couldn’t bring herself to be perturbed by it, even if her too-in-tune senses were aching.

Their job complete, they left the tea to steep in a ray of sun slanting in through the window and made their way back outside. The kitchen—the entire house—seemed too small for these little spitfires.

“I have an idea, while we wait for Mademoiselle Becky.” She grinned at the girls and took off running toward where she’d left her muffin basket and lemonade—long since warmed in the sun. Emeline and Elsie sprinted after her, skirts hiked up in their fists and raucous giggling erupting from them. When Seleste reached the lush grass near the garden, she collapsed on her back, arms out wide, and the girls did the same with exaggerated oomphs and uncontrollable laughter.

The three of them stared up at the sky. “What do you see?” she asked them. “In the clouds. I used to play this game with my Sisters and my mother when I was a little girl.” A little wild witchling.

“Hmmm,” Elsie thought aloud, her face scrunched up. “I see a lion with a big mane.”

“I see a sheep!” Emeline chimed in, then looked over at Seleste. “What do you see?”

“I see a palm tree. It has three coconuts on it.” She paused as the girls’ eyes wandered around the sky looking for the palm. “And I see rain.”

Elsie snorted. “But it’s sunny!”

“Ah, yes, but—” Seleste pointed to the Ouest and their attention followed. “Do you see those clouds over there? The big fluffy ones?”

“Mmhmm,” Emeline hummed.

Someone had approached. Seleste could sense it. But the intruder stayed out of sight, remaining quiet. They’d come from the direction of the châlet and— Yes, that was the scent of ink, parchment, and tea on the wind. Cal. Her heart did a little flip.

“What about them, Mademoiselle Seleste?”

“Well,” she continued, wondering how long Cal would observe them while assuming his presence was unknown, “they are extra fluffy on top, like pulled cotton or whipped icing.” She nudged Emeline with her elbow and she giggled. “But, there at the bottom, you can see they are flat and grey. That means they are full of rain and soon won’t be able to hold it any longer. They’re also headed in this direction. Notice how they seem to be getting bigger? It’s because they’re getting closer. If they pass over Whitehall, we will most certainly get a good dousing of refreshing Summer rain.”

“How do clouds get rain, Mademoiselle Seleste?” This from Elsie, her blonde eyebrows bunched in the middle.

“Well, you see, water goes through a cycle. When it is on the ground in a lake, a stream, or even a puddle, or morning dew, it turns into vapour as the sun heats it. A vapour is…” She considered how to explain it to children. “In between a liquid and a solid. Like steam from a teapot.”

“Oh! Oh!” Emeline interjected. “Or the steam from my bath when it’s chilly out!”

“Yes! Exactly that. That vapour lifts into the sky and stays there, but it cools off because the sky is actually rather chilly way up there. Like the difference between your hot bath and the cold air. Then, the vapour turns back into droplets of water that gather together to form clouds. Eventually, so many have gathered that the cloud has to fall—as rain. And the process begins again.”

“Over and over?” Elsie asked.

“Mmhmm.”

“Since forever?”

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