"Amelia, I'd like to have a word with you, dear."

Having previously sitting contently reading one of the numerous books that lined the shelves in Arthur's room, Amelia suddenly sat up at attention. With a cautious smile she studied the figure of the intimidating woman standing in the doorway. She didn't seem mad, in fact, her features gave away more of a curiosity than a look of displeasure. Knowingly, the girl put down her book, slid off the bed, and strode over to stand just a short distance away.

"Of course, Mrs. Kirkland…Did you want to talk here?"

"Here, there, any where's fine really," came her stark reply, moving a few paces forward before shutting the door quietly behind her. Although Amelia knew that she had nothing to fear from this generous soul, she couldn't help the anxious prickles that shivered down her spine as the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. The closing of the door was never a good sign.

"Come back over to the bed, darling." Molly motioned with a wave of her hand and Amelia reluctantly returned. Once they were settled, Arthur's mother took a long, linger look at Amelia. Her eyes swept over every detail, starting from the tip of her (insufferable) cowlick to her donut-print socks. The girl did her best not to fidget in response, but the stare she was receiving was so intense, she felt the sudden urge to speak up about it…just in time for Mrs. Kirkland to restart the conversation.

"Arthur, his father and I went for a walk this morning, "she began, as if this information was on a need-to-know basis (which most definitely Amelia needed to know and had known about since last night), "and we had quite a good, long talk about his life in New York. Since he's moved things haven't really been the same around the homestead." Her pause was an artificial one as she continued without missing a beat, "In this discussion, a few topics came up concerning the future of our little boy and how it relates to his current living arrangements across the pond."

Amelia gulped; Molly noticed.

"Just as a precautionary measure, I have a few questions I'd like to ask you in hopes that you'll have the right answer I'm looking for."

Amelia redoubled her efforts to look focused and determined when in reality her stomach was doing gymnastics. "I'll answer them to the best of my ability." she answered as calmly as possible.

Molly's eyes locked with the young lady's own and she offered her a delighted-if not somewhat devious-smile.

"Let's get started then, shall we?"

Arthur's mother pulled herself up higher on her son's bed until her head was level with that of Amelia's, never breaking the hold she had on the girl.

"Favourite tea."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me, love: what is his favourite tea?"

Amelia sat unblinking on the bed opposite Molly, raising a slight brow at the inquiry. It was plain to see that, whatever ploy Arthur's mother was getting at, she wasn't about to back down. Amelia felt she had been pushed up against a wall in front of the firing squad for how the woman was eyeing her. Gathering her wits about her, Amelia took in a deep breath and set about proving she couldn't be bested so easily.

"English Breakfast."

Molly scoffed, preparing to retaliate when Amelia interrupted,

"With TWO sugars and a dash of cream."

That certainly made her back down. Amelia had little time to revel in her victory as her announcer sprung another quiz on her.

"Favourite time of day?"

"Mid-morning or early afternoon. I don't think I've ever seen him wake up before nine am before, so he prefers to start his day as if he were getting up at the 'normal' time."

"Program?"

"Well when he was younger he watched a lot of Winnie the Pooh, but he's into…oh gosh what was it," Amelia panicked, her mind drawing a blank as she watched a confident smirk spread across her combatant's face, "Doctor Who!" It was a large frown now.

"What about his books?"

"I know he likes to read books concerning Arthurs or written by Arthurs…."

"And his own writing? I'm certain that you've read the book he published here in the UK. You must have a favorite poem from there."

Amelia remained silent, gritting her teeth. It was a well-known fact that Arthur didn't delve in too deeply into his past, in fact, he barely brought it up at all.

"I-I haven't read it actually."

Molly wore a knowing expression, placing her hand beneath her chin.

"And most beloved animals? What about his food preferences?"

"He…He likes cats. We actually have a cat back home he—"

"Dear, don't change the subject. He's told me all about Christopher in the emails he's sent me. I do believe you ever answered the second portion of that question."

Amelia had reached an impasse. Although it pained her to say it, some of even the simplest of questions she couldn't find the answer to. Yet her resolve remained absolute and, with as much sincerity as she could muster, she captured Molly's full attention.

"It's true. It's true that I don't know every little thing about Arthur. I don't know his preference for take-out, I don't know his favorite classical musician, I have never read much of his older work. But what's also true is how much I care about him. These things I may not know now, but I'm more than willing to learn if I've given the chance…I want to know those things; things that make him happy! Because someone close to you, someone you love deserves to be happy in every way, and if there's something I can do to make that happen, I'll do it. I know that you're afraid of losing your son, Mrs. Kirkland, but I give you my word," she staggered in her speech just long enough to take Molly's hands in her own, pulling them closer until the woman's hands were just below her chin. "My word that I'll do everything in my power to protect him and learn a little something new about him every day."

Molly seemed to be in a state of awe at Amelia's words, Amelia herself unaware of the gravity of the words she'd just spoken. It was a good number of seconds before she had devised what she wanted to say.

"I see…Well, then I guess there's nothing left that I can do."

Amelia couldn't help but tilt her head to the curious-if not foreboding-insinuation. She instinctively flinched as the woman drew near, surprised to instead feel the weight of her arm draped over her shoulder.

"Pardon-?"

"If anyone's going to teach you how to be a proper English wife, we'd best start now, eh?"

Caught off guard, Amelia sat with her mouth agape before the woman's melodic laughter brought her out of it. She couldn't help but blush at the thought of Molly's intentions and did her best to hide the bashful smile that followed.

"Don't think that I've given him up to you yet, love. Pray that you're a quick learner because I don't have time to repeat myself."

Amelia felt as if a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders, a mounting uncertainty had been cleared away with great prospects for the future. She was so enthralled with this revelation that she nearly missed the beginning of what she knew was to be one in a long series of lectures and scrambled about, looking for a pen.