Chapter 10
“Ido not think it is appropriate to call your aunt an old crow, Alexander,” Madeline said patiently. “For one thing, I am not nearly that old. For another, old crows are rather dignified creatures, and I am not certain you meant it as a compliment.”
Alexander considered this. “I did not.”
“I suspected as much.”
In fact, her head was throbbing. She had been in the nursery for precisely forty minutes and had already been called an old crow, witnessed a near collision between Alexander and Emily’s dollhouse, and been subjected to a dramatic reenactment of Malcolm’s drinking habits that was, she had to admit, alarmingly accurate.
She was wearing her light-orange dress, the one that always made her feel cheerful and capable. It was doing neither of those things at present.
The nursery itself was not helping. It was a large, faded room that seemed to have given up on itself, much like its wallpaper.
The toys looked as though they had not been played with properly in years, the rocking horse staring at her with its glassy, mournful eyes, as if pleading for rescue.
The Persian rug had seen better days and better liquids.
Why was she thinking this way?
No. She would not have it. Instead of thinking of the nursery as something cold and hollow, she should think of how easy it would be for the children to play all sorts of games there.
“Oh, I know,” she said, with her most encouraging smile. “What if we played a game? I was thinking we could act out some of the stories from your history books. Alexander, you could be a great general leading his troops into battle. And Emily could be a princess or a queen.”
Alexander’s dark curls bounced as he spun around to face her, suddenly very alert. For one hopeful moment, Madeline thought she had him.
“I have a better idea,” he said.
And then he began to stagger across the floor in what he clearly felt was a very convincing drunken gait, his arms swinging loosely at his sides, his eyes half closed.
It would have been humorous if it were not an obvious mimicry of his own father.
Madeline flinched when the boy nearly sent a globe spinning off its stand and onto the floor. She caught it just in time.
“S’all gone!” the boy slurred, accurately mimicking his father’s raspy voice after a night of drinking and whoring. The latter part Madeline had only found out about. It made her wonder if the brothers were both fond of such habits, remembering the comment about choking.
I should not be thinking about that.
It still made her blush.
“What is all gone?” Emily asked, with a grin, her hands on her hips.
“Another bottle’s gone, I say! Damn all the Duke’s rules to hell! I am not afraid to meet the devil himself!”
Oh, dear heavens.
Alexander collapsed onto the floor with an alarmingly loud thud for such a young boy.
He sprawled on it, copying his father’s usual stance on the sofa.
Then, he let out a loud snore with his mouth gaping open.
His tongue lolled on one side for extra effect.
His snores filled the room as Madeline and Emily watched him.
“I believe that is quite enough, Alexander,” Madeline declared.
She knew it was the young boy’s plea for help, but she also could not allow him to continue acting and speaking in such a manner.
“Is he not doing it accurately, though, Aunt Maddy?” Emily asked, wide-eyed.
Madeline looked at Alexander, who had now added a dramatic stumble into the wall for extra effect. She could not, in all honesty, deny it.
“Alarmingly so,” she admitted. “However, it is unbecoming. Alexander.” She waited until the boy paused his performance to look at her.
“You are a Spruce and the nephew of a duke. You are also eight years old, which means you are quite old enough to know that behaving like a character from a tavern ballad is not acceptable. And you are certainly too old to be throwing yourself on the floor like that.”
“Uncle Kenneth told Papa that I am quite spirited,” Alexander said, jutting his lower lip forward. “He said I should be taught to sit still and hold my tongue, or else I will grow up to be someone who cannot be trusted to manage the estate.”
“Your uncle is right,” Madeline confirmed. “It is not right for you to be mimicking your father. It is not proper to set out to break all the rules. You can still be yourself while being well-behaved.”
“Why not?” Emily asked.
Madeline turned to the girl, desperate to get at least her to listen.
“Emily,” Madeline said, turning to the girl.
“You are the older of the two. I would have thought you might try to stop your brother rather than watch him perform.” She paused, then added more gently, “If you will not help me with him, then at least fetch your French books. I believe Mademoiselle Tissot expects you to conjugate several verbs today.”
Emily looked back at her. Her icy blue eyes reminded Madeline of her uncle.
They were not the bright, joyful eyes of a carefree child.
No, they were hard, flinty, and defiant.
She might not have her brother’s chaos, but she had something deadlier.
She watched with silent judgment and was harder to sway.
“You cannot tell us what to do,” Emily spat, even though she had not raised her voice. She sounded more like her uncle, then. She spoke with a deadly calm that belied an anger simmering within her. “You are not our mother.”
The words made Madeline physically stagger back.
She could feel their impact like a tremor in her chest. Her breathing became laborious as she reminded herself that it was the pain talking and not Emily.
The girl did not intend to hurt her with her words.
She took a long, deep breath before replying to Emily.
“I never claimed to be your mother, Emily. I have just arrived at your home, and it still does not feel like it is mine. My dear girl, nobody would be able to take the place of your mother in there,” Madeline reassured Emily, pointing at the little girl’s heart.
“However, I am also trying to fulfill the role I had been brought here for. Your uncle has entrusted me with your care. It means that I am responsible for preparing you for the real world. Some days, we are expected to be part of society. Therefore, we need to know how to navigate beyond the shadows of Huntington House. When you are older, you will realize the importance of knowledge.”
“Our uncle bought you,” Emily hissed, her lips curling into a sneer.
This time, she displayed cruelty that was even beyond that of the Duke’s.
She straightened herself, a heavy book falling from her clutches and onto the floor.
“He certainly did not marry you for love, or we would have met you earlier. We would have seen your courtship. I do not even see you spending time together. Therefore, he did not marry you for companionship, either.”
The girl was certainly determined to make Madeline feel terrible. She had to keep reminding herself that she was conversing with a young girl, one who was hurting and unheard.
“Emily, that is a truly unkind thing to say,” Madeline whispered, even though she knew the truth in those words. She was most certainly almost bought. Her grandmother had placed her in a marriage that might be financially advantageous for the family, and socially promising for Portia and Selina.
“Is it?” Emily asked, her small voice trembling. “Please do not waste your breath on us. On finding out what we like to eat or do. You will be leaving us in a month, anyway. Perhaps in two months!”
“Emily! What are you saying? Why would I leave?”
“All our governesses left us. As soon as they realized what we were like, they fled so quickly without turning back. Even being paid to do their job did not work well for all of us. Nobody wants us. Even our own mother left us. Why should you be any different?”
“I am not leaving you,” Madeline promised, even though a little bit of anxiety spread through her chest. What if she were to fail the children? She reached out for Emily’s shoulder, but the girl flinched and moved away before she could touch her.
“Emily, please, listen to me. I promised your uncle that I would be performing my duties. I am now promising you, too, but not merely out of duty. I want to see more of you and Alexander. I want to get to know you. This is my home now, just as much as it is yours. We need to make life here happier. More cheerful.”
Emily looked at Madeline from head to toe, as if trying to memorize every detail of her cheerful dress.
The lace, satin, and flowers. The orange with hints of yellow.
The little girl narrowed her eyes at it all.
Then, she turned around, her small arms folded across her chest. She seemed to be watching the gray sky through the tall windows.
“But that is what they all say, too, before they leave. Alexander and I are merely trying to rid Huntington of its silence.”
And there was certainly silence in the house. As soon as both of them quieted down, and Alexander looked like he had fallen asleep on the floor, Madeline could hear the wind howling.
“I will do my best to help you and Alexander, Emily,” she said softly. “Remember the first time you met me? I did not know you then, but I tried to help you even though I needed help myself.”
Emily turned around to face her. Her little face remained impassive, but Madeline took it as a hopeful sign, no matter how small, that the little girl was at least looking at her.
Their fragile connection was broken by an earsplitting wail.
Alexander, no longer the center of attention, had woken up from his sleep and started flailing again.
This time, he was no longer just playing the part of his drunken father.
There was more energy now, as if he had been bitten by a rabid animal.
He was shaking as if he were having a seizure, shouting, “Look at me! I am a lost cause!”
“Malcolm should not have let the children hear him talk,” Madeline mumbled, shaking her head, while Emily watched her with her head tilted to one side.
“Look at me, Aunt Maddy! We painted a boar on Papa’s face, but I am the boar! I am strong and fierce! My bloody paws can fell the strongest men.”
“There we are again with the rude words, Alexander,” Madeline scolded.
She was about to pick him up from the floor when he suddenly flung himself upward, causing her to shriek in surprise.
Then, he ran.
At this moment, he was running faster, creating circles around Emily and Madeline.
He knocked over a chair and even almost tripped over the corner of a rug.
With his arm, he swiped his wooden soldiers off the table.
Each toppled like a fallen member of the militia, for which they were. Even Emily started shrieking.
“Alexander!” Madeline cried, trying her best to sound firm without being frightening. It was not an easy task. “Alex! Stop it this instant!”
The boy was too busy screaming to listen. Emily had stopped shouting but seemed frozen like a statue by the window. Madeline decided to see if she could catch Alexander, but he always slipped through her fingers. With each of her attempts, he also got louder and louder.
Then, the door swung open suddenly. It was flung so forcefully that it slammed against the wall. Everything fell silent. Even Alexander froze in place. He had turned very pale, and his chest was heaving as he stood amid the chaos he had created.
The duke examined the scene in front of him silently.
He did not speak. His presence had already soothed the chaos in the nursery.
His eyes swept over everything with swift precision.
Madeline was sure he had seen everything—from the ink stain to the fallen chair and scattered soldiers.
Finally, his gaze settled on Madeline. She shivered as the heat of his look moved across her face and body this time. His jaw tightened.
Yes, he looked disappointed. The blue eyes turned cold as he studied her failure.
“Is there a tangible reason for all this shouting?” he asked.
Madeline expected him to lash out in anger. Therefore, the maddeningly calm tone he used was a shock. Every fiber of her being froze as if getting ready for something—anything. Kenneth yelling? Making a rampage after his nephew did?
“They were... merely expressing themselves,” Madeline murmured.
“They were being insufferable. Make sure they keep quiet,” Kenneth corrected, but he still did not seem ready to yell or make a fuss. There was merely a tic in his jaw and disapproval in his eyes. Then, he left.
Madeline stared at the closed door, the anger rising hot and swift within her. She wanted to go after him. She wanted to tell him that those two children had spent the last forty minutes screaming for attention in the only language they knew, and that his indifference was only making things worse.
How could he not see that?
“See? Even Uncle Kenneth does not even bother,” Emily whispered, her voice almost a sob. “It is almost like we are not even worth the effort of being scolded.”
The girl was right, and the truth of it broke her heart a little. The children wanted to be noticed. They would go to whatever lengths for their uncle to see that they were in pain. His silence felt like a dismissal, and dismissal was like abandonment.
These children have been abandoned too many times already.