Chapter 16 #2
“That was my attempt at drawing an iris,” Letitia admitted, scrunching her nose adorably at her own lack of artistic accomplishment. “I am afraid I never had much in the way of a drawing education, and I am not very good. At all, really.”
“I can see a petal here… maybe,” Ezra ventured, trying to be kind.
“That was the stem,” she replied primly, while Iris clapped both hands over her mouth, as if she could shove the laughter back in by force.
Letitia made a great show of being offended, then winked at the little girl to show that she wasn’t serious, which set Iris off on another great burst of laughter.
Ezra sat at his spot at the head of the table. It was agony, really, how easily he could see how things could be. If Letitia only stayed, she could help Iris continue to blossom and grow. There would be laughter, and Iris would thrive, and Letty would smile like she was now, and Ezra would—
He would what? His good humor vanished in a flash, replaced by a sharp bolt of self-directed anger.
Would he take Letitia as his mistress? No, such a thing would dishonor her, and he would have to marry eventually, and what would he do then?
Keeping her in his employ while he brought his wife into the house would be hideous of him, and sending her away because he married was just as wretched.
No, the only choice was to never allow something to start between them…
and he knew, deep down, that if she stayed, he would never be able to resist her.
So maybe she was right. Maybe leaving was the right option.
But it didn’t feel right.
The staff began bringing out the first course of the meal, and Letitia quickly cleared away the paper and writing implements, her voice low and gentle as she coached Iris on proper table manners.
Ezra was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he didn’t even notice Hermes at Iris’ feet until the dog, in a flash that was almost too quick to register, poked her head above the edge of the table, used her paws to hoist herself up a little, and snatched at a leg of roast chicken, knocking an entire platter of peas in butter onto the floor.
It was so sudden that, for a moment, no one made a sound, not even a surprise exclamation. Then Iris quietly said, “Oh, dear. That was naughty.”
Ezra knew he should not laugh. He was supposed to set a good example, after all, and laughing at these sorts of antics was not a good example.
Still, he had to press his knee against the side of his chair until it hurt in order to keep himself from showing his mirth.
From the way that Letty was staring at the wall like it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen, she was having a similar experience.
“Iris,” he said, when he felt that he could control his voice properly. “We shall need to put Hermes outside when we are having supper.”
Iris’ eyes got big and bright. Her chin quivered, though she was clearly fighting it.
“But I need her,” she said, shrinking in on herself as if the admission had taken every ounce of her courage, including what was required to sit upright.
Ezra might have been able to remain resolute, if not for the way that Iris ducked her head as she swiped at her eyes with one clumsy arm, as if she did not wish to be seen crying.
If there was a man alive who could resist the child’s attempt at courage, Ezra hoped never to meet him. A person would have to be utterly heartless.
He sighed.
“Very well,” he said. Iris peeked up at him, her gaze full of half-formed hope.
“I shall send one of the footmen to get a cushion for Hermes. We can put it at the back of the room. And if she can remain on the cushion—but she must remain, Iris, because we can’t have a dog stealing the food right from our mouths—if she can do that, she may remain. ”
“Really?” Iris asked with shy happiness.
“Really,” he said. “But she must stay on the cushion.”
Iris was nodding so hard that her head was going to fall right off if she didn’t let up soon.
“She will,” Iris promised with an optimism that Ezra did not feel. “She’s a very good dog.”
And perhaps Hermes didn’t want to let her young mistress down, because she did remain on the cushion throughout the rest of the meal, even if the dog did give the table the occasional longing look.
Ezra suspected that his control over his household was slipping day by day, if this incident was any sign. Soon enough, Iris would be the one commanding the troops, so to speak.
He found that the idea bothered him less than perhaps it should have.
“I will confess, Iris,” Ezra commented when they’d made it to pudding without further incident, “I am rather impressed with how well Hermes has done. After you finish your meal, you can take her down to the kitchen to see if Cook has any scraps for her.”
Iris beamed, but she paused to lick the last traces of sweet cream from her spoon before she answered. Such were the priorities of four-year-old girls, he supposed.
“Of course Hermes is good,” Iris said when there was no hint of her dessert remaining. “She is named after the messenger to the gods. That makes her very good at listening.”
Iris delivered this information with the same nonchalance with which she often said things that were powerfully interesting to Ezra. He looked up at Letty to find her already staring back at him, just as wide-eyed as he felt.
He paused long enough to feel a pang of preemptive loss. Even if he found the second most wonderful governess in England, there was no chance he would find someone with whom he felt so connected—both in terms of Iris’ care and otherwise.
“You really are so very clever about the myths, Iris,” Letitia said casually, her eyes not leaving Ezra’s. Her face looked far from casual, but Iris was too absorbed in her dessert to notice.
Iris nodded. “My mama taught me.” Then she looked up, her brow furrowed. “Hermes is the messenger… He can go between the place where we are and heaven, where dead people are. Do you think that means that my Hermes can do the same thing? Do you think… Do you think she saw Mama?”
Ezra felt a flash of worry that he would somehow respond incorrectly to what was clearly a sensitive question. Letitia gave him a reassuring nod.
“What do you think?” she asked, the question carefully lacking weight. “You’re the one who knows so much about the old gods.”
Iris frowned thoughtfully.
“I think so,” she said after a moment. “After all, Hermes knows Mama’s name.”
Ezra felt like he was about to vibrate right out of his skin.
“Oh, yes? What name is that?”
“Artemis Johns, a Lightholder,” she said, nodding on each word. It was clear that this name was less affecting to her than when she referenced ‘mama,’ but Ezra felt nearly the opposite.
Artemis Johns. That was a name. He could work with a name.
“That’s very interesting,” he said politely, feeling bolstered when Letitia gave him an approving nod from behind Iris’ head. “Did any other Lightholders come to visit you?”
Iris’ confused expression told him instantly that he was not likely to get a helpful response.
“Mama was a Lightholder,” she repeated, as if he had not understood. “That was her name. Artemis Johns, a Lightholder.”
“Do you know what a Lightholder is?” Letitia probed lightly.
Iris was starting to grow frustrated. “I just said!” she insisted. Her tone suggested that, had she been standing, she would have been stamping her foot. “It’s Mama. Artemis Johns, a Lightholder!”
Letitia gave her a conciliatory smile. “I see. I am sorry, Iris, I didn’t understand.”
Iris looked partially mollified, though Ezra could tell that they could not push her much further on this issue. Clearly, the child didn’t understand that ‘Lightholder’ was a family name.
Still, though. It wasn’t a dead end. It was real, workable information.
“Was there anyone else in your family?” Letitia asked, sliding half of her remaining dessert onto Iris’ plate to distract the girl from the question—or perhaps just out of straightforward bribery. Ezra didn’t pretend to have nearly as much knowledge in child-wrangling as Letty.
Also, bribery worked.
Iris shoveled a large bite of trifle into her mouth before shaking her head.
“I had a papa,” she said, showing no sign of the emotion that she experienced when speaking about her mother. “But he was no good, Mama said. He went away.”
Went away. Not died.
Ezra could not imagine the kind of man who could abandon this sweet girl… except for all the ways that he could imagine it, if only because he knew the ways of the world.
“My father went away, too,” Letitia said quietly, reaching out to touch Iris’ shoulder lightly. “It isn’t because of you.”
“I know,” Iris said. “He was no good. That’s what Mama said.”
Ezra’s head was practically reeling with information—about Iris, predominantly, but about Letitia, too.
And about how bloody common no-good men were. That part wasn’t so much a revelation as a reminder.
“It’s not bad, though,” Iris said brightly. She could really bounce between emotions in a way only children could. “Because now I have you and Uncle Ezra and Sarah and Hermes.”
Letitia’s smile didn’t vanish, but it did go very still and grew very brittle.
“Do you remember what I told you?” she asked carefully. “That you are going to have a new governess soon?”
Just like that, Iris’ good humor disappeared again.
“Oh, right,” she said sullenly. “I remember.”
“But,” Ezra interjected, “you will always, always have me. And Hermes. And Sarah is staying, too, did you know that?”
Iris glanced at Letitia, seeking reassurance. “But you and Sarah came together,” she said. “You have been friends for a long, long, long time—Sarah said!”
“That’s true,” Letitia said. “And we will still be friends. Always. And I will come visit you, too, sweetheart—just like I promised. I will just live at my own house for now.”
“I think you should stay,” Iris said stubbornly.
Ezra could not help but think that the child was onto something.
“I know,” Letty said soothingly. “But this is the best thing.”
Iris looked at Ezra with a frown, and he nodded in support of the governess… even if, in truth, it was her charge who had the right of things.