Love Forever After
Page 37
He gestured gently toward the young girl. “Come forward, please. We mean no harm. We have only just lost a daughter to smallpox. You resemble Emily so closely . . .” He noted the older woman’s skeptical look and sent her a pleading glance, indicating his wife’s entranced expression with a nod. The shopkeeper’s face softened at the sight of Lady Summerville’s obvious rapture.
“What is your name, child?” John spoke without thinking, his gaze still intent upon the play of silver in the girl’s eyes. His sister-in-law had never possessed eyes like that. But her Irish husband had.
“She don’t speak, sir,” Quigley whispered. “Her name’s Elli. That’s all I’ve learned.”
Elli. My God, this wasn’t possible. His stomach lurched. He was too old for this. But hope had already found a place in his heart. He turned to Dulcie.
“You are her mother?” he demanded, knowing the answer without being told.
Dulcie snorted. “Not me, I ain’t. Nan’s the one you want, but she ain’t been heard from this while back. Claimed the girl was her sister’s, but nobody’s been by looking for her. None but you, leastways.”
The girl Elli now stood before Lady Summerville. Child and woman stared at each other. His wife lifted a frail hand to tuck a strand of hair behind the girl’s ear, and Elli didn’t flinch.
“Does she go by any other name but Elli?” John inquired, striving to hide his excitement.
“Not ’zactly. Nan called her summat like Ellen, but ’round here she’s just called Elli, Nan’s girl.”
Emma seemed to come awake, and her tearful gaze turned to her husband. “Eileen? Could they mean Eileen? John, surely this cannot be. . .She’s dead like Beth.”
But the girl’s eyes had gone wide, and she covered her mouth and backed away.
The baronet gently said the name again. “Eileen? Is that your real name?”
Elli stared at the elegant, pale lady who looked so sad and frightened. She was taller and considerably plumper than herself, but her features were small and delicate, and her hair a faded russet beneath the white cap. Elli tentatively touched her own fiery tresses. She had seen few people with hair like hers.
Swallowing hard, she shifted her gaze from man to wife and back again. She did not know these people, had never seen them in her life, but they spoke a name that echoed in her memory. Nan’s husband had sneered it upon occasion, calling it a popish name, but the memories jarred were older than that. And she was suddenly afraid.
“Emma, I do not want to raise your hopes. We may be over-reacting. I’ll have to send someone out to search for the girl’s parents or this Nan person. But those are Richard’s eyes or I’ll be damned. Too bloody handsome for his own good, your sister’s Irishman was. Could be a by-blow of his, but where would he have found another wench just like your sister?”
Sir John turned toward the woman who appeared to be the child’s guardian. “Would you consider allowing the child to come with us? I know how it is to become attached to a child, but it would be for the girl’s own good, I promise you. You may come with her, if you wish, to see for yourself, but I promise she will be treated better than our own daughter.”
Elli’s hopes lit with a fiery light at these words. The memory had frightened her, but not these people. She knew instinctively that this elegant gentleman offered new worlds to explore. She had glimpsed that world once. She would see more of it. With swift determination, she flew from the room.
Emma gave a cry of dismay. “Oh, John, you’ve frightened her. What will we do now?”
Dulcie sent a sharp glance after the lass. “That one’s frightened of naught. You’d do well to teach her a little fear, if you ask me. I have no hold on her. She comes and goes as she pleases.” She turned a wary eye back to the gentry. “But don’t be expecting to get your lady daughter back. She’s wild as any vixen. Gentle enough most times, but headstrong. She won’t tame easy.”
John smiled faintly. “Emma, she’s just described your sister. Do you think there could be two of them in the world?”
“Only the original and her daughter.” And Emma’s sad lips turned up at the corners in anticipation.
When Elli returned, she bore all her worldly possessions wrapped in an old shawl and carried her sketchpad under her arm. Her gaze danced eagerly from one newcomer to the other. Now life could begin.
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Silver Enchantress by Patricia Rice
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