Chapter Nine

They were at loggerheads. The little girl was more stubborn than Myfanwy thought. The following morning over breakfast, she tried everything. She was sweet. She was kind. She was fussy. She was funny (at least, she thought she was funny). But it was to no avail. The child would not speak to her. She wouldn’t do more than nibble on her toast and smile at the maid whenever Gertie ventured into the dining room to deliver more milk.

“Such a sweet thing,” Gertie cooed, filling up yet another glass. She caressed the little wisps of hair off the girl’s face. Myfanwy frowned, trying not to feel too left out. Gertie had been the one to help the child to sleep the night before. Clearly, that was where the camaraderie had bloomed. But Myfanwy couldn’t help the uncomfortableness pricking at her skin. She’d heard children could sense the good in others. Did that mean they could also sense the bad? Had the girl already found her wanting?

Gertie had pegged the girl to be around three years of age, which meant that she should be talking. She kept silent at the table; however, Myfanwy got the distinct impression she’d spoken to Gertie before. What was wrong with her? Didn’t the girl recognize Myfanwy’s hair color? Couldn’t she sense a familial bond?

Although, in the light of day, the hair seemed to be the only feature the two had in common. Whereas Myfanwy’s nose and chin took after her mother’s and were pointy and pronounced, the little girl had a round face covered in freckles that swallowed her eyes so much that Myfanwy couldn’t tell what color they were. Despite the current predicament, the girl had obviously been well taken care of. Her dress was of a good quality, and the fullness in her cheeks showed that she wasn’t missing any meals. Plump and pretty, she didn’t seem at all unaccustomed to her fine surroundings.

“Oh, good. You’re here,” Samuel said, striding into the room. “I’d hoped to speak with you before I left.”

Myfanwy had never seen her guardian this early in the morning and was shocked to find him turned out so well. Wearing a fitted, dark jacket with gray trousers, he was dressed in what her father would have called his “Sunday best,” though Myfanwy had her doubts that Samuel was on his way to any sacred ground on this day of rest.

He stood at the head of the table and nodded to the girl, though he directed his question to Myfanwy. “How have you been getting on this morning?”

She played with her spoon, tracing it over the white tablecloth. “Oh, fine,” she answered breezily. For some reason, it killed her to let him know of her shortcomings regarding the child. All women were maternal, weren’t they? Somewhere in their bones was the information on how to deal with children. Perhaps Myfanwy just hadn’t located the secret yet. She straightened her spine. “We’re just getting to know one another.”

Samuel nodded once more before addressing the girl. “And you, Annabelle? Did you have a nice sleep?”

“Annabelle?” Myfanwy squeaked. “How did you know that was her name?”

Samuel frowned. “She told me last night.”

Incredulous, Myfanwy threw up her hands, flopping them on the table with a thud. “Has she talked to everyone but me?”

Annabelle smiled into her toast, but naturally, said nothing.

Samuel’s sigh regained Myfanwy’s attention. “I’ll be gone for most of the day. I spoke to Tim Nevil at the tavern, and he’s agreed to send his eldest daughter over this morning to take care of Annabelle. You won’t need to watch her for long.”

Myfanwy flinched. “Watch her? Me? What about Gertie?”

Samuel leveled her with a weighted look. “Gertie has to do the shopping this morning, along with everything else she does in the house. It will only be for an hour at most. You can handle it.”

That rankled her. “Of course I can handle it, but…but I had plans.”

He lifted an imperious eyebrow. “Plans?”

“Yes, I am to go to Jennifer’s for tea. She’s expecting me.” Her words fell off at the end. Even Myfanwy knew how pathetic her excuse was. Was she actually scared to be alone with her own sister? In her defense, she’d never spent any time around children before; she hadn’t the faintest idea how to occupy them. Myfanwy desperately wanted to get to know Annabelle, but that was a double-edged sword. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for the girl to make any early, premature assumptions about her.

“Invite Jennifer here. Introduce her to Annabelle. I trust her to be prudent,” Samuel replied easily. “I’m sure the child will love meeting her. Jennifer seems like she’d be wonderful with children.”

Maybe Myfanwy was just being sensitive, but she thought Samuel put a little too much emphasis on his last sentence. What was he trying to imply? That Jennifer would be better with children than her? Well…obviously! She had three younger sisters!

“Please, Myfanwy. I’m begging you,” Samuel said. “We all need to do our part until we fix this…situation. There are a lot of questions to be asked, information to be gained, and we need to do it as discreetly as possible. Then we’ll be able to make the best decision for Annabelle.”

“Where are you going to be?”

Samuel backed away from the table. “I have a meeting,” he stated firmly.

On a Sunday? But then it dawned on her. Samuel was never home on Sundays, and he didn’t spend them at the tavern either, because she’d gone there looking for him once before and was told as such. It seemed that her father wasn’t the only man in her life good at keeping secrets. However, that mystery would have to wait for another day. A woman could only take so much.

Samuel attempted to leave again, and Myfanwy clawed at the edge of the table. “But what do you want me to do with her?”

Samuel stopped, tearing a hand through his hair. “How in the world should I know? She’s a girl. You were once a girl. Surely you know about girl things.”

Suddenly this conversation was immensely entertaining. Myfanwy rested her head in her palm, drumming her fingers on the side of her chin. “Please tell me. What are girl things?”

Samuel’s shoulders hiked to his ears. “How am I supposed to know? Dolls! Talk about dolls!”

Myfanwy rolled her eyes. “You don’t talk about dolls; you play with dolls.”

“Then play with damn dolls!”

“I don’t have any damn dolls. I’m twenty years old. Besides, I never had dolls to play with.”

“What the hell did you play, then?”

“What the hell did you think? Cricket!”

Samuel turned to leave. “I don’t have time for this,” he muttered irritably. Thinking better of it, he twirled back around. “Play cricket with her, then. She’s your sister. Do whatever makes you both happy.”

Myfanwy frowned. She hadn’t considered that. And it wasn’t every day that someone told her to do what actually made her happy. What an idea! Someone to play cricket with all the time. Was this what it felt like to have a sibling? Such adventure!

She awarded Annabelle with a mighty grin, but the child ignored her for the toast. Myfanwy decided not to blame her. Toast was mighty important in the morning. One couldn’t play cricket on an empty stomach, after all.

*

“She looks exactlylike you,” Jennifer remarked thoughtfully, sitting next to Myfanwy on the garden bench. After receiving Myfanwy’s note, she’d wasted no time hurrying over to the house, even with her mother’s various objections.

Myfanwy regarded Annabelle with the stolid objectivity of a physician. “Do you really think so? Besides the hair, we have absolutely nothing in common.”

The earlier positivity of the morning had quickly evaporated after Samuel left. To say Myfanwy’s plans had not gone as well as she’d hoped would be an understatement.

Jennifer smiled at the little one as Annabelle sat near a rosebush, picking off the blooms that had managed to stay alive despite Myfanwy’s best bowling efforts. “What does having anything in common have to do with it?” she asked with a laugh. “My mother says that she and I are practically twins, and you know that we have very different constitutions.”

Myfanwy snorted. Jennifer’s mother loved to say the two looked alike, and no one ever had the heart—or courage—to counter that notion, recognizing that it was mostly wishful thinking on the older woman’s part. Jennifer was beautiful. Her mother was handsome, at best.

Myfanwy cringed as Annabelle threw a handful of petals in the air and clapped as they rained down on her. She needed those roses for practice. “I just thought…she would enjoy me more…since we are sisters.”

Jennifer sniffed. “Clearly, you’ve never had sisters. Most of the time, there is very little to enjoy. In fact, I’ve come to believe their entire goal is to burrow under your skin and scratch until you can’t take it anymore.”

“Yes,” Myfanwy said softly. “Yes, I can see that now.”

“Myfanwy!” Jennifer exclaimed. “I wasn’t speaking about Annabelle. She’s only three, correct? She hasn’t had time to provoke you yet—Oh, wait.” A shadow dropped over her face with the force of an anvil falling from the sky. “Three? You said she was three?” Jennifer’s lips tightened as if she didn’t want to say what they both were thinking. “Does that mean…?”

“Yes,” Myfanwy replied, picking at the dirt underneath her fingernails. “It means that unlike the other child that Samuel told me about—the one that died—Annabelle was born before my father passed away.”

“Do you think he knew about her?”

Myfanwy shrugged, dropping her hands in her lap. “I don’t know, and I won’t know until I find the mother. She’s the only one who can explain his actions, because I surely can’t. And she’ll also be the one to explain why she thought Annabelle needed us.”

Jennifer reached out and took her hand in a comforting hold. “Maybe the mother is dead?”

“Maybe,” Myfanwy allowed. “Or destitute. Is it horrid of me to hope the mother has passed? That would answer why the child needs us. But if the mother is alive and in need of funds… I just don’t think I can accept that my father had a child and left the mother in such a horrible predicament without providing any financial relief.”

“People are strange beings that do strange things. You mustn’t let this affect your feelings for him, especially since he cannot defend himself.”

“How can I not?” Myfanwy argued. “Either my father knew about the child and never told me or didn’t know about the child and neglected his duty. It’s…it’s…” She slumped. “I don’t know what it is.”

Jennifer lengthened her spine as if shouldering the burden for the both of them. “Well,” she stated firmly, “we know for certain that none of this is Annabelle’s fault. She’s innocent in all of this.”

Myfanwy couldn’t debate that point. The child was the picture of purity with her rosy complexion and toothy smile, but she seemed determined not to want anything to do with her older sister. And that felt too close to losing for Myfanwy to take kindly. She flashed her friend a thankful smile, though it died quickly.

Jennifer continued, seeming to understand Myfanwy’s disappointment. “Did you try to play with her? I’ve found that children enjoy it when you get down on their level to join in games and such.”

Myfanwy responded with an irritated tsk. “Of course I tried to play with her! I showed her how to hold the cricket bat properly and threw balls at for a quarter of an hour, but she wouldn’t swing. Not once. She just looked at me like I was insane!”

It wasn’t lost on Myfanwy that her best friend was looking at her in the same way now. Jennifer’s countenance was sweet—it was always sweet—however, her eyes sharpened, telling a different story. “Dearest, Annabelle probably didn’t like you throwing balls at her. I don’t think most children would.”

“I would have loved it!”

Jennifer patted her hand. “Yes, but you weren’t exactly a normal child, were you?”

“I thought I was,” Myfanwy grumbled.

“What else did you try?”

“Well…naturally, I thought that maybe she would like to bowl the ball instead, so I taught her the proper way to so while I was at bat—”

“Myfanwy!” Jennifer interrupted with a start. “Did you do anything else besides teach the child how to play cricket?” Myfanwy’s mouth screwed up in a pout and her friend released an exasperated sigh. “No, I didn’t think so,” Jennifer replied. “What about dolls?”

“Again with the dolls,” Myfanwy muttered. “I don’t have any blasted dolls!”

“Right.” Jennifer nodded, focusing on the girl again. “You’ll have to remedy that. Ask Samuel to go out and purchase new toys for Annabelle. She’ll need new clothes as well, everything that will make her feel at home. That’s the only thing that’s important right now. Not cricket.”

Home.In the excitement of the day, Myfanwy had completely glossed over the possibility that Annabelle might be staying in Samuel’s home for an indeterminate amount of time. How would he take that? He already had one ward; he could hardly want the trouble of another, especially when neither was related to him in the slightest. Most men would send the child away to an orphanage if family couldn’t be found, providing money for its care.

But Samuel wasn’t most men. And Annabelle wasn’t just another potential orphan on London’s streets. She was Myfanwy’s sister. And as exciting as it was to know she had a sibling, it was equally confusing. Even when her father was alive, Myfanwy’s life was incredibly solitary. For the most part, all she ever had to worry about was her wants and needs. Adding another to worry about—care about—would require an energy that Myfanwy didn’t know she had. She had one goal in her life—the cricket club was everything, and it was almost in her grasp. That dream looked extremely different with a child at her side.

But Annabelle would stay at her side. Myfanwy understood that now. It didn’t matter what family Samuel found. If Annabelle’s mother had truly passed, then Myfanwy would keep her. Her mothering skills might be lacking; however, her sense of family and decency wasn’t. Learning to handle and love a child would be like any other skill she’d had to master. Myfanwy hadn’t come out of the womb understanding the mechanics of throwing a leg-spinner. She’d had to work at it! For hours and hours! Practice was the only thing that led to success, and those who thought differently were only fooling themselves.

Myfanwy would practice. And she would make perfect.

Suddenly, everything seemed a little bit brighter in the garden, even as Annabelle ripped off the heads of more target roses. “Yes,” Myfanwy said jovially, raising her face to the sun. She allowed the rays to soak into her skin, reviving her fledgling courage. “I will make her feel at home. And then I will teach her to love cricket.”

Myfanwy thought she heard Jennifer sigh, but she was too busy enjoying the light and her newfound confidence.