Chapter 24
Stephen wanted to call out to Vera as he watched her go, but he was struck momentarily dumb by the depth of his feelings. Had he thought he knew what love was before? Compared to the monsoon racing through him now, what he’d felt previously was a shallow puddle.
For a moment there, with her in his arms, he’d half imagined that she felt as he did. But no—she’d pulled away, an embarrassed flush on her features. Embarrassment for him, Stephen had no doubt. He never should have hugged her, but at the sight of her tears, he couldn’t help himself.
Surely she knew now how he felt, what he’d been poorly concealing these past weeks. It could be that he’d ruined everything by pulling her into his arms. Stephen ran a hand through his dark hair and cursed beneath his breath.
Miss Beets trotted into the room and over to him.
She sat her furry bulk upon his foot, as if she knew what he was thinking and sought to distract him from it.
He bent and rubbed one of her silken ears between his fingers.
Down the hall, a flicker of motion caught his eye.
Clarence the fox curled beneath the sideboard, staring at them.
“I live in a madhouse,” he muttered.
“What was that?” his mother asked, coming down the stairs.
“Nothing.”
“Are you quite well?” She stood before him and peered up at his face.
He nodded. “Is Anne all right?”
Her eyes flicked toward the second story. “Of course. She’s been fed and bathed, and now Edna and Miriam are showing her the toys in the nursery.”
“Apologies for throwing the house into an uproar.”
“Nonsense. It’s your house.”
Stephen lifted a shoulder. Though technically true, this had always been his mother’s and father’s house. Title or no, he still deferred to his mother.
“The poor dear. I assume you mean to keep her?”
He frowned. He had been thinking along those lines, but how had his mother sussed that out, before he even realized he’d come to a decision? “What makes you say that?”
“Because you had Vera bring her here. Because both of you care deeply for the girl.” She smiled. “I’ve been listening when you speak, you know. You’ve spoken of Anne nearly as much as you’ve spoken of all your other patients combined.”
“I don’t know if I’m the best guardian for a small child.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Stephen. At her age, you’ll be her father, not her guardian. Guardians are for children who’ve already had parents; this girl hasn’t.”
“That’s a much taller order.”
“I’ve no doubt you’re up to the task, but certainly don’t take it on if you’re not going to commit to it. To her.”
Stephen ran a hand through his dark hair. “I need to think about it.”
“Of course you do. This is hardly a decision that should be made quickly. Only, don’t wait too long. That poor little girl deserves to be settled after all she’s gone through.”
That night, after a hectic dinner that almost made the markets of Calcutta look tame and quiet, Anne sat tucked into Vera’s side on the sofa in the library.
“Ah,” Vera said patiently, for perhaps the thirtieth time. She angled the book just out of reach. “Remember, don’t touch the pages. Only look.”
The girl frowned but retracted her hand.
Only then did Vera keep reading the children’s book aloud.
Benjamin had long given up listening to the story in favor of half snuggling, half playing with Miss Beets in the armchair closest to the fire.
Now, he dangled a thread in front of the puppy’s face.
She half-heartedly snapped at it before collapsing into a sleepy puddle on the boy’s lap.
“I’m taking her upstairs,” Vera announced, swooping the blinking girl into her arms. “Say good night to everyone, Anne.”
Anne simply yawned and stared blearily at them as Stephen and Benjamin offered their good nights.
After they left, Stephen turned to his brother. “Benjamin, I need to ask you something.”
“About Anne?” He sounded resigned, his lips twisted to the side.
Stephen nodded. “About Anne. What would you think about her living with us?”
He frowned and plucked at his pajamas. “I guess that’s fine.”
“You don’t sound very sincere.”
“I just… Does this mean that I have to leave right away?”
“Leave?” Stephen frowned. “Where would you go?”
“To school. Reginald Stuart’s parents sent him away to school when his sister was born.”
“Reginald Stuart was ill-behaved at seven, and he must now be thirteen. Tell me—did time improve him at all, in my absence?”
“Last year he trampled all the washing into the mud when he didn’t get a new horse for his birthday.” The boy’s eyes went wide with the shock of it.
Stephen smiled. “You see? I bet his parents were counting down the days until Eton would take him off their hands. Besides, you’ll go to school when you’re ready, and not a moment before. Aren’t you looking forward to school, someday?”
He shrugged. “Not really. I won’t know anyone there.”
“What about Arthur? Certainly he’ll go, when he’s old enough. You’re nearly the same age—perhaps you’ll go together.”
Benjamin’s eyebrows rose. “Do you think so?”
“Yes, but that’s still years off, yet. Tell me—what do you think of having Anne join our family?”
“She would be my sister?”
If Stephen adopted Anne, she’d actually be the boy’s niece, but Stephen thought it best to keep things as simple as possible for the sake of this conversation.
“For all intents and purposes, yes. She would live here, be raised alongside you.”
Benjamin thought for a moment. “I suppose that would be fine. I won’t have to share too much with her, because she’s a girl.”
“Probably not. But you will have to watch over her sometimes, and teach her things, because she’s younger than you.”
“I can teach her how to ride a horse.”
He nodded. “When she’s old enough.”
“And Mrs. Portence will bake her a special cake for her birthday, too.”
Stephen frowned. He didn’t even know the girl’s birthday. Mr. Douglas hadn’t known it, either. Just another thing he’d have to rectify.
“I’ll tell you what, Benjamin. Since we don’t know when Anne’s birthday is, I’ll let you choose it.”
“Really?” His eyes were round with the magnitude of the responsibility.
“When do you think it should be?”
Benjamin stared into the fire, stroking Miss Beet’s fur distractedly. The puppy had long since fallen asleep, her little jowls quivering with her dreams.
“How about in three days?” he finally said. “That’s enough time for us to get her presents. We can look forward to it and plan a party, but it’s not too long to wait.”
“I think that’s a great idea. What kind of cake do you think Anne will like?”
His brother gave a sly smile. “I think she’d like a vanilla sponge cake with chocolate frosting.”
Stephen laughed. “Same as you? I suppose great minds think alike. Very well—you may tell Mrs. Portence in the morning.”
Three days later, their household gathered for an afternoon party to celebrate Anne’s birthday.
There were presents—chiefly toys that the nursery lacked and an entire new wardrobe from the baroness—but the guest of honor was supremely uninterested in them, choosing instead to focus on the refreshments.
Benjamin had been correct when he chose the cake.
Stephen thought that the girl couldn’t have shown any more enthusiasm for her slice.
Though she grasped a fork in one hand, she chiefly used her other to shove bites of cake into her chocolate-smeared mouth.
Every time she did, she looked surprised at the experience—her eyebrows raised, she blinked.
Stephen wondered if the girl ever had a proper cake before.
“You chose her nursery maid well,” Vera murmured.
“Between Hortense and Miss Beets, Anne will be very safe, indeed.”
“I’m not sure that the dog is any help at the moment, but perhaps she’ll grow into the role.” Vera smiled over at Miss Beets, who’d fallen asleep amongst some of the discarded wrapping paper.
“Undoubtedly.”
Vera chuckled and shook her head.
He studied her face. “What is it?”
“Nothing. I’m simply surprised at how much can change in such a short amount of time. It wasn’t that long ago that I was swinging a fire poker at your head.”
“It’s been months since that happened.” He shifted and frowned. “Months is plenty of time to truly get to know someone.”
“Indeed. But in that moment, I never would have thought I’d be delighted to see that man adopt a child. I wouldn’t have trusted a stray dog to that man’s care.”
“Pardon me, but I am the same man,” Stephen said in mock outrage.
“Oh, I know. I’m only speaking of who I thought you were. Upon that point, you cannot take umbrage, for you were vastly mistaken about who I truly was, as well.”
He shook his head. “Vera, there’s a part of me that wishes you’d succeeded with the fire poker in that moment. For what I did next…”
“That is well behind us. So far, in fact, that I can laugh at it now.”
“Truly?” His eyebrows raised.
Vera shot him a questioning glance. “Of course. It was a comedy of errors. Granted, at the time it felt like a very dark comedy. But that’s in the past. Things have so markedly changed that I now consider you one of my dearest friends.”
Stephen smiled, though his mouth threatened to twist. Dearest friend. Though he hadn’t spoken the word, it still managed to leave a sour taste in his mouth.
He said, slowly, “You are mine, as well.”
Vera’s answering smile made him feel as if he’d been sipping warm amber whisky instead of tea and cream. Then Anne made some discordant cry, and Vera and Hortense instinctively converged to sort the girl’s distress.
Stephen watched Vera go and thought about the words he’d spoken to her. He hadn’t been lying. Vera was one of his dearest friends. The very dearest.
He also had meant the words another way. You are mine, as well.
Vera was his, in his heart, and he was most certainly hers. Now he just had to find a way to make it so in reality.