Winter Is Past

Althea hesitated. “No. The people still need care. But there are others working there. I wasn’t the only one.” She picked up a puzzle piece and tried it with another. It didn’t fit. “I came to you because I felt this is where I should be.”

Rebecca looked at her as if not completely satisfied. “How did you know about me?”

“My brother told me. He and your father used to be very close friends when they were boys.”

“Is that true? How did they meet?”

“At school. They were a little older than you, but they were both far from home and a bit lonely, I suspect. Anyway, from what my brother, Tertius, has told me, they became very good friends.”

“Why haven’t I ever met you, then?”

“Well, my brother went away for many years, so he and your father didn’t see each other for a long, long time. It’s just recently that they met again.”

“And that’s when Abba told you about me!”

“In a way. Your papa and my brother started talking of all the things that had happened to them while they were apart. Your papa told my brother all about you—how smart you were, how lovely, how—” As Althea searched for another adjective, Rebecca finished for her.

“How I had no mama?”

Althea closed her mouth and nodded at Rebecca. The little girl’s tone did not sound sad, merely matter-of-fact. “He said he needed someone to look after you while he was at work.”

Instead of pursuing the subject of her mother, Rebecca’s mind went back to the children. “Didn’t you mind leaving the children to come here?”

“It was difficult for me to leave the children.” She smoothed the coverlet under her hand. “I love them and I know they still need me.” She smiled at Rebecca’s serious expression. “I could never have left them if I didn’t know so certainly that the Lord wanted me to come here for a while, to be with you as long as you need me.”

After a little consideration, Rebecca replied, “I’m sorry you had to leave the children, but I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad I’m here, too. Why don’t you help me find another piece in this puzzle? Look, I think this piece goes here.” Althea handed the girl a piece and indicated the area where she’d been working. Rebecca tried the piece and after a few attempts, got it in.

“It’s part of the lion’s head!” The emerging scene showed a train of jungle animals marching through a forest of palm trees and other foreign-looking vegetation. After her initial excitement, Rebecca lost interest in the puzzle again.

“Have you always lived at this mission?”

Althea glanced at Rebecca, unsurprised at her continued questioning. She’d become accustomed to it in the time she’d spent with the girl and was beginning to understand that her active mind more than made up for the inactivity of her body.

“No, I’ve only lived there, let’s see, almost six years.”

“Where did you live before?”

“I grew up in a big house surrounded by lots of parks and forests,” she said with a smile, picturing the estate in Hertfordshire.

“Is that where you helped Cook with the tarts?”

“Yes,” she said, her smile deepening. “I think I spent more time in the kitchen than with the family. Except in summer, when I was outside every chance I got.”

“Didn’t you have a mama, either?”

Althea glanced at Rebecca, surprised by her perception. “No, my mama died, too, when I was very young. I was probably about the same age as you,” she added, “just a babe, when I lost her. So, I don’t remember her at all.”

“I don’t remember my mama, either. Who took care of you if you had no mama?”

“A nice lady and gentleman. They became my guardians. They were very good to me.”

Rebecca considered for a moment. “Did they become your brother’s guardians, too?”

Althea looked down at her hands, considering how to reply. “No. They were his real parents. I—I just came to consider him as my brother, since we grew up together.” Better that than get into the complicated truth of the actual relationship. “I had another brother, too, but he just recently passed away.”

“That’s too bad,” the girl said softly. “It must be nice to have brothers. I have lots of cousins but no brothers. Mama died too soon.”

Althea was silent.

Rebecca soon brightened again as a new thought occurred to her. “Did this brother know my abba, too?”

Althea smiled. “I daresay not. I believe your papa and Tertius—that is, the younger of my brothers—were only together in school. I don’t remember your papa ever visiting us over holiday.” Now she wondered whether that had had anything to do with Simon’s being Jewish.

Tertius had never spoken of Simon. Althea had not realized what close friends they were until Tertius had pleaded on his friend’s behalf for his daughter.

She gave Rebecca’s hand a squeeze, acknowledging how close she had come to turning down his appeal. “The important thing is that the Lord had us meet now.”

That evening Simon glanced from his sleeping daughter’s bed to the sitting room door. Seeing the light shining through the door Miss Breton always left ajar, he approached it and tapped softly.

Hearing her bid him enter, Simon pushed open the door. He found her sitting by the fire, reading by lamplight. “Good evening, Miss Breton. I don’t wish to disturb you. I just wanted to ask you how Rebecca was today. I didn’t have a chance to see her before I went to the House.”

She marked her place in the black, leather-bound Bible. “Rebecca was fine.” She smiled, adding, “She became quite animated when she found out about the dinner party. I had to describe all the dishes to be served and go over the guest list with her.”

Simon smiled, feeling refreshed by her smile. “May I come in?”

“Certainly.” She stood, but he waved her back. “Please, stay put. I shall only linger a moment.” He sat in a chair before the fire and sighed, feeling ragged after hours of debate. “How are things coming with the arrangements?” he asked perfunctorily, not really interested at that moment in preparations for a dinner party. He wondered if he’d been mad to even contemplate such a thing. “Have you and Mrs. Coates had a chance to sit down together?”

She fingered the edges of the book in her lap. “Yes, we did. I think Mrs. Coates and Cook have things well under control. I believe all the replies have been received. There should be thirteen in attendance aside from yourself.”

He was thankful he’d put her in charge; maybe it wouldn’t be a complete fiasco. Why was it, when he could wield power from his bench in the House, he felt absolute terror at the thought of hosting those same men and their wives in his home for an evening?

Althea spoke again. “That is a good number for a dinner party, particularly if one hasn’t entertained in a while. It is better to start small.”

“Is that a small number?” he asked, doubts assailing him.

“No, not all. It is a good number, as I said, neither too small nor too large a party, so that you will be able to give your attention to each one of your guests.” She added, “Mrs. Coates has drawn up the seating arrangements. She will be seeing you about one or two names that remain in question as to rank.” She hesitated. “There is only one problem, as I see it.”

He looked inquiringly at her, wondering what else he must worry about.

“The gentlemen outnumber the women. We are lacking two females to make the numbers even.”

“Is that an unforgivable social blunder? I confess to having more male acquaintances than female. It comes from working in Parliament and not having had much time up to now to mingle in society.”

She nodded. “That is understandable. There is one other thing. You had expressed to Mrs. Coates the desire to have Lady Stanton-Lewis seated at your right. Since the Duke and Duchess of Belmont have sent their acceptance, I felt obliged to give them prominence. We placed Lord and Lady Stanton-Lewis just below them. Does that meet with your approval?”

He waved a hand, his mind wearied with questions of social etiquette. It had been a momentary whim to ask to be seated beside Lady Eugenia. Now he couldn’t care less. “Do whatever you deem appropriate. You are the expert on these matters.” Realizing Althea was really doing him an enormous favor in undertaking this responsibility, he tried to show some interest in the topic. “Will I be in disgrace for the uneven numbers?”