“That is nice of you to say, John, but you haven’t been around enough in recent
years to see just how very precarious my health really is. Why, I coughed just
this morning. It wasn’t even seven-thirty in the morning yet, and there came
this cough, very deep into my chest, perhaps just a bit on the liquid side. I
immediately feared a congestion of the lung. I’ll tell you that Amelia was right
on it. Poured a potion right down my throat and wrapped a hot towel around my
neck. Because of my careful darling, I have escaped something that could have
put a period to my existence. Yes, it could have been a close thing. I say, Andy,
that dog wants John very badly.”
“Each day that God allots to Thomas is a gift to be treasured,” Lawrence said to
no one in particular, no expression at all on his face. Did I scent a hint of
sarcasm? Just a bit of loving contempt? I couldn’t be sure. Like John, Lawrence
seemed to keep his thoughts close to his shirt pockets. “Yes, John, move away or
take the wretched dog. He is creating a scene.”
I looked beyond Thomas to John and held tightly to George. He had still not come
forward, but now his eyes met his uncle’s. I began humming softly to George, one
of his favorite tunes, the one about the dog catching the rabbit and chewing on
its ear.
“Well, John, I am glad to see you. You’re home to stay this time?”
“I had believed so,” John said slowly, looking at me now, or at George, I couldn’t
be sure.
“What, you’re changing your mind again? You wish to be in peacetime Paris?”
“No, that isn’t it at all.”
“Dinner is served, my lord.”
“Ah, Brantley, your timing is perfect. My dear, would you like to do something
with George?”
“Let me carry him upstairs to Milly. She will take a tray in her chamber, you
know. Did she already ask you, Brantley?”
“Yes, indeed, my lady. Mrs. Redbreast, our housekeeper, is taking fine care of
your Miss Crislock. She simply told me to inform you that she would be delighted
to meet everyone in the morning, when she is rested. Shall I remove the dog, my
lady?”
I looked at George. “Would you trust a man who looks like Moses to take you to
Miss Crislock?”
George leaned toward Brantley and sniffed at those long white fingers of his.
I’ll say this about Brantley. He might look like a Biblical figure ready to hurl
tablets to the ground, but he had a sense of humor and a good deal of kindness.
He slowly eased his hand in George’s little face and let George sniff for all
his worth. Finally, George wuffed.
“Excellent,” I said, and handed him over. “Thank you, Brantley.”
“Now, my dear,” Lawrence said, “let’s see to your stomach.”
We ate in the large formal dining room, the four of us seated around a table
that could easily seat sixteen. I was gently placed in the chair at the foot of
the table, or the bottom of the table, as my grandfather referred to as the lady’s
place, by a footman Brantley called Jasper.
John sat in the middle of the table, between his uncle and me. Thomas and Amelia
sat on the other side opposite John. It was in that moment that I got my first
really good look at Thomas. He was surrounded by candlelight.
I think I probably gasped out loud. Oh, goodness, I tried not to stare, but it
was very difficult not to. Thomas was the most beautiful man I had ever seen in
my life. He was rather slight of build, fair?unlike his Spanish mother or his
brother?and his features were so perfectly formed, going together so flawlessly,
that surely Michelangelo would have been mad to sculpt him. While his older
brother, John, looked dark, dangerous, hard, and meaner than a mad hound, Thomas
looked like an angel. He had thick waving blond hair and summer-blue eyes,
nearly the same shade as mine.
He was simply beautiful, no other way to say it. Finally I saw something that