OW49
"Why are you up here all alone?"
Madeline, who had stomped and muttered curses as she climbed the stairs, stood in the doorway of my bedroom and groaned.
"Am I no longer allowed a moment of peace?" I sat at my desk and hastily placed all of my letters into the box and closed the lid.
She groaned again. "Oh, my aching bones."
I was beginning to think she'd bothered to climb the stairs merely to incite a bit of sympathy for herself. She irritated me, acting as though I had nothing better to do with my last afternoon as a bachelor than to listen to her aches and pains.
"What is the matter with you?" I snapped.
"My knees. Did I ever tell you I once fell on a wet floor?"
"Yes." Quite extensively, I thought to myself. It had happened when "those fools" in the opera house had mopped but not bothered to leave any indication that the marble floor was wet. She'd run to tell "someone something" and had fallen on her already bad knee. Why it was bad before then she never said. I often wondered if it had happened at all.
"And then I fell in the snow two months before Meg was born."
"Her head is lop-sided," I said under my breath.
She stormed over to me, both of her legs perfectly capable of carrying her across the floor, and pinched my elbow. "Her head is not lop-sided. It's perfectly fine. My joints, on the other hand, have suffered a lifetime of abuse."
"Your knee seems fine as well."
She grunted. "It comes and goes. Now, honestly, why are you up here all alone? Surely Madame Seuratti isn't finishing the last wedding details alone, is she?"
"She's making lunch. Or supper." I had no idea what hour it was but the onset of hunger had made its presence known.
"Where are the children eating tonight?"
"You are better off asking Julia." I twisted around to face her and she looked at me with the most peculiar expression. "I beg your pardon?"
She shook her head and wrung her hands. "Meg asked me if Alex was eating here tonight. She's afraid she'll miss him once he's…gone."
"Ah, I see."
"What should I tell Meg?"
That woman was a terrible liar. Meg may have wondered where Alex and Lisette were eating, but it wasn't in Meg's nature to moan over Alex's absence. He most often badgered her for sweets or prodded her with questions. If anything, she would be happy to have an afternoon of silence—until she had a child of her own.
"Tell her to ask Alex."
Madeline sighed heavily, unwilling to give up her game of nonsense. She exhausted me; pretending she was only concerned for her daughter when it was she who worried about never seeing Alex again.
"Does Meg realize Alex will be one house away?" I questioned.
"Of course she does. She's a bright woman."
"Then tell her if she wishes to have Alex stay here for supper she may ask him to do so and he will listen to his grand-mere."
"Aunt," she corrected. She swallowed hard but gave the slightest hint of a smile. I knew she was satisfied with my answer. Just as I knew her, she knew me.
"His aunt," I replied. I pinched the bridge of my nose. "What else, Madeline?"
"Nothing. Well, not nothing," she rambled. "I merely wanted to see if you needed anything before you returned to Madame Seuratti's home."
"Such as?"
Once again she appeared frustrated. "You are in a surly mood today, aren't you?"
Only Madeline would turn her mood into mine and blame me for it. I turned away from her and stood. "I prefer ornery."
"Stubborn as well."
"Indeed."
She peeked over my shoulder. "What's in the box?"
"Jewelry, from Marie Antoinette's private collection," I answered dryly.
She muffled a growl of dissatisfaction. The woman had absolutely no sense of humor. "If you wish to be alone you need merely express such and I'll return downstairs."
I'd thought a closed door implied the need for privacy but apparently Madeline subscribed to the same rules of privacy as Alex: A locked door begged for a momentary void of interruption, and even then a caller should shout or bang on the door until it was opened.
"I'm sifting through a box of letters I received from my cousin," I explained.
She made herself comfortable as I told her where the letters had come from and how Joshua had given them to me earlier in the day. She appeared pleased and nodded when I opened the lid to show her the box's contents.
"That was kind of him," she remarked.
"It was." I didn't know if she meant Joshua for giving me the letters or his father for writing them.
"It's amazing, isn't it?"
"I beg your pardon?"
She had a gleam in her eye. "This last week, how everything has happened all at once."
I crossed my arms and studied her a moment. "I suppose Meg is quite pleased with these developments?"
She blushed but ignored my words, which I had fully expected. We'd learned over the years that it was sometimes unnecessary to speak. Implications were enough. Anything else was far too much for comfort.
"Will you invite your cousin to the wedding?" she asked.
"We did, yes."
"And?"
"And I believe he will attend."
This particularly seemed to please her. Before her smile widened she squared her shoulders and cleared her voice. "Did you tell Ruby she had another place to set at the table? Or are there two places to set?"
"Two," I replied, deciding it was better to have one place vacant rather than be short a setting for a guest.
"If we have additional guests you and Alex will have to build another table. Ruby and I already put both leafs in and ironed the table cloth." She was almost beside herself with anticipation for the following day's festivities. "Meg is polishing the good silver."
I eyed her, having not the slightest clue what she was speaking of. "What good silver?"
"The good silver," she replied as though it was clear. "I keep it in the cabinet with the good dishes."
"You've spent my money on good dishes and good silverware you keep holed away in a cabinet?"
She bristled. I imagined if she was a hen she would have fluffed up her feathers and clucked—or proceed to peck me to death.
"You know I only spend your funds when absolutely necessary, Monsieur. The good silverware and china are mine from my wedding," she said haughtily. I considered asking if they were now antiques but held my tongue. "The punch bowl, which you've also never seen, is Meg's from her wedding. I gave it to her as a gift."
I grunted. It made no sense to me why anyone would buy expensive silverware and never use it. I couldn't imagine what she was saving it for all these years.
She had the audacity to shake her head at me. "You seem… irritated."
"I'm not irritated. I'm occupied."
She gave a solemn nod. "I'll leave you to your reading."
"Where is Alex?" It wasn't like him to stay away from my room for more than an hour or two. Normally he found an excuse between lessons to run up and explain cloud formations or Mongolian battle tactics, but today he'd been strangely quiet. With the letters in my possession I hadn't bothered to walk downstairs and eavesdrop on his lessons.
"Monsieur Lowry excused him early, so he's helping Meg sew. Charles wanted to finish his speech before it was too late tonight. You should look it over like he asked."
"When did he ask?"
"This morning he asked me to ask you."
"Fine. I'll be downstairs in a moment."
"Shall I send Alex up to see you?"
Before I could answer, Alex yelled for Madeline from the bottom of the stairs and she sighed.
"Yes," I said dryly. "I believe Meg will miss him."
"We will all miss him." Her hand pressed to the middle of my back. "We'll miss both of you."
"What would you do if I moved him to Africa?"
She grunted. "I'd never allow it."
