Chapter 11
“Go on, Georgie,” Caroline coaxed tenderly, “I believe in you.”
Caroline gave the boy a warm smile and an eager nod, hoping to give him the courage and sense of safety to come out of his shell just a little more.
A sheepish smile played on the little one’s lips as his cherubic cheeks turned pink.
For a moment, he just stood by his table and chair, swaying in slight discomfort on his feet.
Then he pulled his tiny hands from behind his back and unfurled them, revealing the miniature paper dolls he had made.
“Oh my days,” Caroline said quietly, her tone laced with marvel as she looked at the tiny creations.
She leaned forward, slowly so as not to scare the child, and her smile grew as she met his big brown eyes. There was still a glint of uncertainty in his gaze, but now, there was also a look of eagerness, and maybe even pride.
“May I?” Caroline asked politely.
George nodded his little head vigorously, and though he had not worked up the courage to allow Caroline to hold him yet, and though he still did not speak much, he took a bold step forward and offered the doll in his left hand.
Caroline picked it up with great care and brought it close to her face to inspect it.
The boy truly had a gift for the craft, she realized as she slowly turned the doll in her fingers.
It was made of paper, yes, but he had somehow molded it into a human figure, a little man, and had taken great care to paint on a pair of trousers, suspenders, a white dress shirt, and black shoes.
What Caroline marveled at most, though, was the doll’s face.
For as young as he was, the doll’s features were all so very realistic.
“What a talent you possess, Georgie,” Caroline marveled, carefully placing the doll back in his hand.
The pink in George’s cheeks bloomed into a deep crimson, but with it also came a bolder smile.
“Th-th-th-thank y-you,” he stuttered out in a whisper.
“Would you please tell me about them? Did you give them a story?” Caroline asked.
It had been four days since she married Damien in the estate’s parlor, and since then, Caroline had mostly spent her time with the little boy.
Despite their initial meeting—during which Damien had either praised or insulted her, she could not yet decide—George remained hesitant around Caroline.
If she moved too quickly, he would flinch.
One day, when she stubbed her toe on her chair and snapped at the sudden pain, he dropped to the floor and curled into a tight ball.
All signs indicated that the boy had been scared for far too much of his short life.
Yet despite that, they were making progress. Both of them. George would listen intently as Caroline read him stories, and he had taken to eating all his meals with her. In turn, Caroline learned what made George feel safe and what made him start to grow anxious.
Presently, such an anxious look took over George’s face as she asked him to talk, which only confirmed Caroline’s suspicions that he had been poorly treated for his stutter.
“You have nothing to fear from me,” Caroline gently urged. “You do not have to speak quickly, or even properly. I just want to hear the story you have made for them.”
When he still looked unsure, Caroline had a thought.
“If you will allow me to know their story, then I shall take you to the toymaker, and we will have him make you a large house for any of the dolls you might make, so that they may all live together. You could even draw out what you want it to look like, so it matches the idea you have in your mind,” she proposed.
George’s dark brown eyes lit up at the suggestion, and he eagerly nodded his head. Happy that they were making progress, Caroline gently returned the paper doll to his hand and sat back in her chair.
“Go on then, little love, tell me their story,” she encouraged.
As George began speaking, his stutter slowed him down significantly.
It took several minutes to get out the names of the dolls, Sir Reginald and Lord Percy, he called them, and where they came from.
However, as he continued, George’s little voice grew stronger, he stumbled over fewer words, and while his pace remained slow, by the end of the two-doll tale of a search for a dragon who kidnapped a princess, he was speaking smoothly and calmly.
Caroline clapped her hands with joy as he finished, and let out a pure laugh of joy as another sheepish smile formed on his lips.
“Well done, Georgie! So very well done!” she praised, keeping her voice soft yet encouraging. “And what a lovely story! Did you think of that all on your own?”
“Yes,” George breathed, his little chest puffing out with pride.
“You have a wonderfully sharp mind, little Georgie,” Caroline praised, “I am so looking forward to seeing how much you will learn.”
“Thank you,” George whispered, speaking without his stutter.
“No, Georgie, thank you,” Caroline countered, “for trusting me with your wonderful story.”
She was beaming down at him with warm pride when the door opened, and as the nurse stepped in, Caroline watched with great dismay how quickly the just-bright little boy dimmed his light and shrank in on himself.
“Still trying to teach him, are you, Your Grace?” the nurse quipped.
Caroline’s brows furrowed as she observed the woman.
She appeared to be a lovely woman in her late forties, with soft, pale blue eyes and ashy blond hair styled in a tight bun.
Her slate gray dress nearly matched the maids’ uniforms, but it featured a much higher collar that reached her sharp chin.
However, Caroline suspected that she had a rather unpleasant heart inside.
She could see it in the way her blue eyes brightened every time she delivered a slight to the boy, or how hard she would set down a tray on the table, as if she enjoyed watching the little one jump and tense at the loud sound.
“We will start lessons soon enough,” Caroline answered, watching the woman closely as she walked into the room. “And I have every faith that our young master here is capable of learning a great many things.”
The nurse snickered.
“Master? He is no master of anything. Look at him,” she replied, pointing with her chin toward George as she set the tray down in front of him with a loud thump.
Something vicious and protective rose up within Caroline as George paled and jumped in his seat, and, with a quickness, she was out of her chair, delivering a warning glare to the woman.
“Now that I am here, I do not believe your services are required,” Caroline stated, doing her best to keep her voice soft and cool so as not to scare George further. “Please be so kind as to go to His Grace and procure your last payment. You are leaving today. Right now, in fact.”
From the corner of her eye, Caroline could see George’s little body sink into his chair with evident relief, but straight on, she was met with a startled look from the nurse.
That startled look quickly shifted into an icy defiance, however, and the nurse straightened her shoulders and raised her chin.
“With all due respect, Your Grace, you have no idea how much of your time would be taken up by taking care of such a… tender child all on your own. They are hard work and require far more attention than you can spare,” the nurse said.
“Furthermore, it was His Grace who hired me, and it must be His Grace who dismisses me.”
It was obvious to Caroline that the woman was straining to be polite, which only confirmed her decision to release her.
“Well, respectfully, you have no idea what I am capable of. Nor this wonderful little boy, for that matter. He and I will be fine on our own, and even if we are not, he is no longer your concern. As for His Grace, he has given the full responsibility of this boy’s care over to me.
So if I say you are not required, then he will acquiesce to my request. However, if you need to hear it from him, I am sure that he will agree when you go to collect your last payment. ”
A coolness seemed to settle into the air as the nurse stood stark still for a long moment, refusing to blink or look away from Caroline.
Caroline, however, was used to such ice.
So even though she felt the phantom fear she once felt when Agatha looked at her in such a way, she settled into her posture of power and waited.
“What is this?”
Caroline heard Damien’s deep voice break the silence, and despite how they had left things on their wedding day, she felt a shimmer of relief pass through her rigid body at the sound of it.
At once, the nurse bowed her head and stepped to the side, making way for Damien as his powerful strides carried him silently into the room.
George let out a stuttered breath as he saw him, and once more, his body went stock still in his little chair.
Caroline did her best to give the boy a calming smile before turning to Damien, but as she did so, she felt her heart begin to race.
Though they had lived in the same house for four days, it was the first time she had seen him since their wedding day, and the tense discussion about her future and George. The same careful, intense gaze, sizzling with rage, met her now, and she was unsure if it was directed at her or the nurse.
It does not matter if it is for me, she told herself, willing her shaking to stop. He put me in charge of this boy’s care, and that is what I will do. Care for him.
“Your Grace, after spending these last few delightful days with Georgie, I have decided that the nurse’s assistance is no longer necessary,” Caroline stated, her calm tone surprising even herself.
“I see,” Damien said after a quiet moment.
He tucked his large hands into his pockets and turned his intense gaze to the nurse.
“And you are questioning this decision?” he asked her.
A visible shudder passed through the nurse as her eyes widened.