Page 56 of The Rogue's Runaway Bride
“The playroom?” Belle repeated. Surely she’d misunderstood. “Not the kitchen?”
Mrs. Gilroy shook her head. “Carrie came to me with the idea that I might make arealpie with her. I suppose the child has tired of romping about in the mud. I did not have time today, so I saw her to her playroom. When I left her, she was playing with one of her dolls. But she returned to the kitchen. She must’ve taken the canister while I was gathering supplies in the pantry. And now, the flour seems to have made its way throughout the house.”
“Well, it cannot bethatbad, now, can it?”
Mrs. Gilroy’s slow shake of her head seemed rather ominous. “Don’t say I did not warn ye, lass.”
Belle took Carrie’s small, flour-dusted hand in hers and led her to the playroom. Along the way, Belle could not miss the trail of white paw prints and child-sized footprints.
She’d reassured herself that she was right. I could not possibly be as bad as the housekeeper’s expression implied.
As she entered the playroom, Belle stilled. She’d been mistaken. It wasthatbad. In truth, it was even worse than she’d imagined.
The floor did indeed look as if it had experienced a dusting of snow. The shelves had also been dusted with the flour, while Carrie’s doll looked as if it were wearing a powdered wig.
Goodness gracious.
“Heathy was playing with the kitty. They ran in here,” Carrie explained. “But he bumped into the flour.” She pulled in a rather dramatic little breath. “And it all wentpoof.” The child gestured with her hands. “Everywhere.”
“A bit of an understatement, I’d say,” Mrs. Gilroy quipped.
“It’s nothing that can’t be tidied up,” Belle said optimistically.
“Tidied up?” Mrs. Gilroy said with a wry chuckle. “That’s one way of putting it.”
Oh, well, there was nothing to be done about it now. Other than to clean the mess.
“Well, I shall simply have to get to work.” Belle forced a pleasant tone into her voice, as if that might convince evenherselfthat the task at hand would not bethatdaunting.
Picturing her ever-energetic grandmother, she imagined what the human dynamo of a woman would say.This is no time to dilly dally, Belle. You’ll get it done. After all, it’s only a bit of grain.
Squaring her shoulders and plastering on a cheerful smile, Belle got to work.
She swept. She dusted. She cleaned. Then she swept and dusted and cleaned again. And again. She repeated the process until the floor gleamed and the surfaces shined. Even though she’d made it clear that she would clean the mess—a task that had turned out to bethat bad, if not even worse—Mrs. Gilroy had insisted on helping. For her part, Carrie joined in the clean-up effort, swishing a feather duster with a child’s natural joy.
Finally, they were finished. Satisfied with their efforts, Belle joined Mrs. Gilroy in the kitchen for tea.
“Mrs. Gilroy, might I use the kitchen table for a little lesson with Carrie?” Eyeing the housekeeper a bit gingerly, Belle broached the subject on her mind. After their efforts to restore the playroom to order and remove all the bits of flour that had been tracked all the way into the sitting room, she didn’t dare try to predict the housekeeper’s response.
Mrs. Gilroy sent her a wary glance. Belle could see that she was worn out, and understandably so. Now, the old woman had stretched out her bad leg with a little groan. How very odd. Hadn’t the housekeeper injured herotherleg in her tangle with Heathy? Somehow, the achy limb seemed to have shifted.
Oh, dear. I am more tired than I’d thought.With a small sigh, she shook off the question of Mrs. Gilroy’s injured limb.
Watching Belle over her cup of tea, Mrs. Gilroy took a sip. “A lesson, is it?” she said with the faintest of smiles. “Ye’re a brave one, aren’t ye?”
“Carrie is feeling a little down, so I thought I might teach her to make ornaments. You do know the kind I’m talking about, don’t you?”
Mrs. Gilroy took another drink of tea. “I cannot say as I do.”
“You’ve never made pretty decorations out of flour and salt?”
“I cannot say as I have,” she said, echoing her previous response.
“Oh, it’s great fun.”
“Is it now?” The housekeeper appeared skeptical.
“My grandmother taught me when I was a little girl. It’s very simple. And not very messy.”
