Page 116 of The Captive
And why, despite all his importuning Gilly to talk with him, had Christian grown in some way, once again, silent?
“How is my scholar doing today?” Christian asked.
Lucy held up her copybook for him to inspect.
“You have the prettiest hand,” he said. “You get that from me. Your dear mama’s scribbling was nigh incomprehensible, but she told the best stories over tea and had a marvelous sense of fun.”
Lucy pantomimed shooting with a gun by cocking her thumb and forefinger.
“Yes, we were shooting, the countess and I. When you are twelve, I will show you how to shoot as well, if you like. You may start with the bow and arrow when you are ten, if you’d enjoy that?”
She nodded vigorously, and Gilly was struck as she often was by how badly Lucy must want to communicate with her father. Christian had the knack of carrying on conversations with the child better than the nurse, the governess, or even Gilly herself. His skill with the child was gratifying and maddening, both.
“I must beg your company at tea today,” he said, “because I’m off for a few days to Town. I have business the stewards cannot resolve.”
Whatbusiness?
Lucy put her forefingers to her temples and trotted in a little circle.
“No, I will not take Chessie. I’ll make better time with the curricle. You can take Chessie out for me in my absence, can’t you? At least bring him some treats so the old fellow won’t mope.”
Lucy grinned and swung her father’s hand.
“I’ll miss you too, princess, and I will miss our countess, and Chessie, but I will not miss those two.” He nodded at the puppies—already showing the promise of great size—slumbering on a rug. “They will be as big as ponies ere I return, but with only half the wit. I am glad horses do not bark, else we’d have no stables.”
He nattered on, about how interested he’d be to see Lucy’s drawings when he returned, and he might stop by the shops while he was in Town to pick up some pretty hair ribbons for his pretty daughter. Gilly went to a window seat and watched while father and daughter charmed each other.
“You won’t have time to miss me,” Christian said, “and Cousin Marcus will come stay at Severn while I’m gone. I’m sure it has been an age since he’s seen you, and he’ll be very impressed with how much you’ve grown.”
The transformation in the child was so swift and radical, Gilly would not have known it was the same little girl. Lucy drew back, crossed her arms over her chest, and shook her head vigorously side to side. Her expression was a small thundercloud as she glared up at her father.
“You don’t want me to go,” Christian said. “I’m sorry, dear heart, but go I must, though not for long.”
She seized his hand, and the shake of her head became frantic.
No, no, no,no.
Her mouth worked, and Gilly prayed this tantrum might be a backhanded means of compelling the child to speak, but Lucy merely formed the word “No” silently, repeatedly. Then, “Stay. Please, stay.”
“Lucy…” Christian knelt at eye level with the girl. “Enough of this. I am not off to war. I am merely trotting up to Town, and I have provided for company in my absence. The countess will visit you daily, at least. You have promised to look in on Chessie for me, and I will not indulge the antics of a toddler in my grown-up girl.”
He ran his hand down the side of her face, just as Lucy’s tears began to fall in awful, wrenching silence.
Something was wrong; something was more wrong with the child than usual. Christian picked Lucy up and settled her in his lap while he took a rocking chair near the window.
“Don’t cry, child. I’ll be back, and all will be well, you’ll see.”
Tellhim, Gilly thought as her throat constricted.Tellhimwhat’s wrong, and he will bend his whole being to repairing it, but you have to tell him. You must tell him what you want, in words he can hear and understand.
She left them their privacy but did not know if she admonished the child or herself.
***
“You think to leave me.” Christian waited until he had Gilly in bed to make his accusation. “Why, Gilly?”
Though he knew why. In some intuitive, female corner of her soul, Gillian apparently suspected her favorite duke was plotting a murder, the first of several, and calling it pressing business.
Why else would he leave his distraught and teary daughter in the nursery with a sanctimonious lecture about growing up and making Papa proud?
