Page 23 of His Lordship's True Lady
The poor, bereaved child, rather.
* * *
“Mama said if ever I’m in trouble, and she or Papa couldn’t come to me, I was to write to the Earl of Grampion and he’d help me.”
Daisy tucked a pink tulip into her boat. The boat was paper, so it could carry only one blossom at a time around the fountain.
Bronwyn waited for the boat to bob across to her side. “My papa would help me, and so would my mama. Then would come Grandpapa and Grandmama and the uncles and aunties. The earl seems nice.”
Daisy was nice too, even though she was an orphan without a pony, puppy, or cat.
“I knew the earl before,” Daisy said, watching the little boat. “At home, we’re neighbors. Mama sometimes went to visit him, and I came along.”
“You miss your mama,” Bronwyn said as the boat came closer. The tulip weighed it down, and in another few passes, the little boat would sink. “Do you miss your papa too?” Daisy never mentioned her papa.
“My papa was old. He liked my brothers a lot, even though he said they made too much noise. Papa wasn’t mean. He smelled like his pipe.”
The boat arrived at Bronwyn’s side of the fountain. “Why did you choose a pink tulip?”
“They were my mama’s favorite.”
Making friends with somebody who was sad was hard, because if she was your friend, you felt sad too.
Bronwyn sent the boat back toward Daisy. “What is your favorite flower?”
“A daisy, of course. What’s yours?”
“I don’t know. I like delphiniums because Grandmama says they are the color of Grandpapa’s eyes. I like honeysuckle because it’s sweet.”
“I thought it only smelled good.”
The boat was sinking lower and lower. “We should make our next boat out of sticks. Paper boats don’t work very well. When the honeysuckle blooms, I’ll show you how to get the nectar from it. We can pretend we’re bees.”
The tulip now floated on the surface of the water without benefit of a boat. “By the time the honeysuckle blooms, I might be sent away.”
What was the point of making a new friend if she was just going to be sent away? “Have you been bad?”
“Yes, but the earl says I’m making progress.”
Bronwyn rose and dusted off her pinafore. “If you’re making progress, he shouldn’t send you away. That’s not fair.”
Daisy popped to her feet. “I’ll tell you what’s not fair, making us wear white pinafores then sending us outside to play. A brown pinafore would be better for the garden.”
“Or green. Have you climbed that tree yet?” A big maple grew next to the garden wall, and a bench sat beneath it. “We could climb from the bench to the wall to the tree.”
“Is it bad to climb on things like that?”
“Daisy, we’re supposed to be playing. Climbing a tree is playing, and then we can pretend the tree is our pirate ship, or our long boat, or our royal barge.”
“One of the nursery maids is named Sykes. She says if I’m bad, I’ll be sent away.”
“I didn’t have a nursery maid until Mama married Papa. Heavers is jolly and stout and loves me and my sister the best.”
Bronwyn climbed the bench and scrambled onto the wall and into the tree while Daisy stood below, casting glances at the house.
“Comeon, Daisy. Unless you want to be in charge of the hold on the royal barge. Even a royal barge probably has rats in the hold. You could be the Royal Ratter and use a great stick to beat all the imaginary rats.”
Daisy stood on the bench. “I don’t understand something. If your papa wasn’t your papa from the day you were born, then how is he your papa?”
