“It’ll happen,” Peter declared, adding more softly, “It has to.”
Emma trembled inwardly. “It’s getting late,” she said. “I think I’ll try to get some sleep. How about you?”
Peter stood and together they went back into the hall and up the main staircase to the nursery, where Nell was waiting for them, sitting on the rocking horse, with Bertie in her arms.
“Nanny Cole’s snoring like a grampus,” Nell informed them.
“You should be asleep, too,” Peter scolded. He lifted Nell down from the rocking horse, buttoned the top button of her white robe, and checked to make sure she had slippers on.
“Bertie wasn’t tired,” Nell explained. “He wanted to hear a story.” She turned to Emma, who was watching discreetly from the doorway. “Will you tell Bertie a story, Emma?”
The request took Emma off guard. “Well, I ...” She glanced uncertainly at Peter, who was yawning hugely and rubbing his eyes. “Yes, all right, I’ll tell you a story, Nell. Peter, you get straight into bed.”
“Yes’m. But don’t forget to put a glass of water next to Nell’s bed. Bertie gets thirsty sometimes.” Motioning for Emma to follow, he led the way past a kitchenette, a large bathroom, and a lavatory, stopping when they reached a pair of doors. Peter opened the door on the right, but turned back to shake a finger at his sister. “Only one story,” he reminded her, then went inside and closed the door behind him.
Opening the other door, Emma peered into Nell’s room, amazed by the trouble the duke had taken to ensure Queen Eleanor’s comfort. A bedside lamp cast a soft glow on the child-sized canopied bed, the mirrored dressing table, the skirted chaise longue, and the wardrobe. Everything was white and gold, including the bear-sized rocking chair sitting beside the chaise.
While Nell hung her robe in the wardrobe and crawled into bed, Emma dutifully filled a glass with water in the kitchen. Glass in hand, Emma waited while the little girl fussed over Bertie, making sure that his fuzzy brown head was precisely centered on the pillow and tucking the covers under his chin.
“I hope Peter goes straight to bed,” Emma said, moving to place the glass on the bedside table. “He’s very tired tonight.”
Nell settled back on her own pillow and regarded Emma with that strangely intimidating air of self-possession. “Peter’s always tired,” Nell said. “I told you that before.”
“Did you? I must have forgotten.”
“Don’t forget,” said Nell. She slid one arm out from under the covers and reached over to touch Bertie’s ear. “That’s why I told you. Somebody should know. Not just me.”
“Know what?” said Emma.
“When Papa’s away, Peter has to do everything.”
Emma smiled. “Now, Nell, you know that isn’t true. You have a very nice housekeeper, remember?”
“Mrs. Higgins is a boozer,” Nell stated flatly.
Emma nearly laughed. “But in those stories you told us in the garden, Higgins was a clown.”
Nell gazed at her levelly. “She’s not funny, Emma.” Rolling over on her side and curling her knees up to her chest, the child turned her back on Emma. “You can turn out the light now. I’m ready to go to sleep.”
Emma was disconcerted. “What about Bertie’s story?” she asked.
“Bertie’s asleep, Emma. He doesn’t need a story.”
The frost in Nell’s voice told Emma that she’d been rejected as well as dismissed. Unsettled, and sensing that she’d failed some obscure test, Emma stared helplessly at the back of Nell’s head, then switched off the bedside lamp and left the nursery.
Back in her own room, she spent an hour on the balcony, trying to figure out what had just happened. Emma might not know the fine points of parenting, but she’d seen Derek go out of his way to dress up for Queen Eleanor, and he’d been equally willing to sprawl across the floor for Peter. A blind person could see that he adored his son and daughter. He’d never leave them alone with a ... a boozer.
On the other hand, Derek didn’t spend much time at home. He hadn’t known about Nell’s new play group or Peter leaving the Boy Scouts. And why had Peter quit the Scouts, anyway? He loved the outdoors and was always after Bantry to show him how to tie a new knot or identify an unfamiliar insect. It didn’t make sense.