Read Online Anne O'Brien by The Enigmatic Rake - Free Book Online
Authors: The Enigmatic Rake
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true, given Sarah’s knowledge of this troubled household and the child’s solitary upbringing.
‘Do you miss your mama?’
‘No—not really. She was not often in England. I barely remember her.’
‘Did you not live in Paris?’
‘When I was a baby. I do not remember. I have visited since then—but not for long.’
‘I am sure that your father is very pleased to have you here.’Sarah tried for a reassurance she did not feel. ‘It was his idea that you should join him, after all. And that I should be here to care for you.’
‘Perhaps.’ Celestine made no further reply, as if the truth were clear enough without any clarification from herself.
‘Come and have tea.’ Sarah encouraged the girl through a connecting door into the schoolroom and then on to the door into Sarah’s sitting room, where a table was laid for tea. As Sarah opened the door John burst through it from the outer corridor, hair tousled, eyes shining, cheeks pink with effort.
‘There are even more horses in the stable now, Mama—but not as fine as Lord Faringdon’s. And a coach—’ He slid to a halt, chest heaving.
The two children sized each other up.
‘This is Celestine who has arrived at last. This is my son, John.’
‘Hello.’ John grinned. ‘Why did it take you so long, Cel— Celst…?’ He blushed in some confusion, but was in no way embarrassed. ‘I cannot say it! I do not know anyone called that.’
Sarah chuckled as she reached to draw her son to a halt at her side. ‘I think he finds your name difficult,’ she explained to the formal young lady.
‘It is French.’
‘I know. And very elegant. But John is younger than you and has not met French names before.’
It seemed for a moment as if Celestine might sneer at such childishness, but then said, ‘I have never met a boy your age before. How old are you?’
‘Nearly six.’ John eyed her warily.
‘I have had my eighth birthday. I shall soon be nine.’ The dark eyes watched, weighing up the boy, coming to a decision. ‘I have another name.’
‘And what is that?’ Sarah asked.
‘Elizabeth.’
‘We could call you Elizabeth,’ Sarah ventured, ‘if you did not object.’
Celestine flushed a little, her colourless skin warming to a hint of prettiness. ‘I think I would like to be called Beth. No one has ever called me that. Can you call me Beth, John?’
‘Of course I can! I have been waiting for you for so long, Beth. I have been lonely here with no one to play with. Are you hungry? I am. Mrs Beddows has made a cake for us. Come and see.’
Sarah watched the outcome with interest. Celestine— Beth!—hesitated, but only for a moment. Then stepped out to take John’s hand with all the condescension of her three years’ maturity.
‘Yes. I am hungry. I would like you to show me the cake.’
They sat down at the table, John explaining that after tea he would show Beth his own room and then…
Sarah allowed a silent sigh of relief as she noted the surprisingly tolerant expression on Beth’s face. The way she listened as John prattled on, waving his arms about with typical enthusiasm. The girl took little part in the conversation, but nodded when John looked to her for confirmation of some trivial matter. Well! If Miss Faringdon saw herself in a maternal role toward John, it might just be the means to get this frighteningly composed young lady to settle into the household. As for her relationship with her father—Sarah had no idea. The child felt unloved and unwanted, of which sins Lord Faringdon might very well be guilty for all she knew. One more transgression to lay against his soul if he could be so cruel as to neglect his own child. Yet Sarah found herself hoping that it was not so, for how could she have fallen headlong and ridiculously into love with a man she did not know, one with a contemptuous reputation and who could be so needlessly heartless to his daughter?
But that was a matter for the future, she decided as she allowed
‘Do you miss your mama?’
‘No—not really. She was not often in England. I barely remember her.’
‘Did you not live in Paris?’
‘When I was a baby. I do not remember. I have visited since then—but not for long.’
‘I am sure that your father is very pleased to have you here.’Sarah tried for a reassurance she did not feel. ‘It was his idea that you should join him, after all. And that I should be here to care for you.’
‘Perhaps.’ Celestine made no further reply, as if the truth were clear enough without any clarification from herself.
‘Come and have tea.’ Sarah encouraged the girl through a connecting door into the schoolroom and then on to the door into Sarah’s sitting room, where a table was laid for tea. As Sarah opened the door John burst through it from the outer corridor, hair tousled, eyes shining, cheeks pink with effort.
‘There are even more horses in the stable now, Mama—but not as fine as Lord Faringdon’s. And a coach—’ He slid to a halt, chest heaving.
The two children sized each other up.
‘This is Celestine who has arrived at last. This is my son, John.’
‘Hello.’ John grinned. ‘Why did it take you so long, Cel— Celst…?’ He blushed in some confusion, but was in no way embarrassed. ‘I cannot say it! I do not know anyone called that.’
Sarah chuckled as she reached to draw her son to a halt at her side. ‘I think he finds your name difficult,’ she explained to the formal young lady.
‘It is French.’
‘I know. And very elegant. But John is younger than you and has not met French names before.’
It seemed for a moment as if Celestine might sneer at such childishness, but then said, ‘I have never met a boy your age before. How old are you?’
‘Nearly six.’ John eyed her warily.
‘I have had my eighth birthday. I shall soon be nine.’ The dark eyes watched, weighing up the boy, coming to a decision. ‘I have another name.’
‘And what is that?’ Sarah asked.
‘Elizabeth.’
‘We could call you Elizabeth,’ Sarah ventured, ‘if you did not object.’
Celestine flushed a little, her colourless skin warming to a hint of prettiness. ‘I think I would like to be called Beth. No one has ever called me that. Can you call me Beth, John?’
‘Of course I can! I have been waiting for you for so long, Beth. I have been lonely here with no one to play with. Are you hungry? I am. Mrs Beddows has made a cake for us. Come and see.’
Sarah watched the outcome with interest. Celestine— Beth!—hesitated, but only for a moment. Then stepped out to take John’s hand with all the condescension of her three years’ maturity.
‘Yes. I am hungry. I would like you to show me the cake.’
They sat down at the table, John explaining that after tea he would show Beth his own room and then…
Sarah allowed a silent sigh of relief as she noted the surprisingly tolerant expression on Beth’s face. The way she listened as John prattled on, waving his arms about with typical enthusiasm. The girl took little part in the conversation, but nodded when John looked to her for confirmation of some trivial matter. Well! If Miss Faringdon saw herself in a maternal role toward John, it might just be the means to get this frighteningly composed young lady to settle into the household. As for her relationship with her father—Sarah had no idea. The child felt unloved and unwanted, of which sins Lord Faringdon might very well be guilty for all she knew. One more transgression to lay against his soul if he could be so cruel as to neglect his own child. Yet Sarah found herself hoping that it was not so, for how could she have fallen headlong and ridiculously into love with a man she did not know, one with a contemptuous reputation and who could be so needlessly heartless to his daughter?
But that was a matter for the future, she decided as she allowed
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