She scarce noticed the door open,
but the slightest noise from him made her look up. She hurried to her feet as
she realized it was her brother. He approached quickly
“Hello,
Eleanor.”
“Hullo.”
He took both her hands into his by way of greeting her.
“I trust
your travels went well?”
“Well
enough. Now, let me look at you.”
She stood with perfect posture and head held high. He hadn’t
known quite what to expect, but the girl standing before him was a perfect
image of their mother. In fact, one of the portraits in the hall would easily prove
it.
“You look
quite like Mum.”
“Dad always
said I had her eyes.” She replied, a catch in her throat at thinking of her
deceased parents.
“How are
you coping with his death?”
The girl returned to her seat, drawing her knees up and
clasping them
“I miss
him.” She spoke softly “You missed the funeral.”
“I know.
For that I am sorry. I came as quickly as I could.”
Mr. Flanders brought in the tray with tea and Eleanor rose
to pour it as she had become accustomed.
“Marjorie
Wayworth was there.” The girl continued, handing her brother the dainty cup and
tactfully leading the conversation away from her personal feelings. “She was
most anxious to find out more about you.”
“Is her
daughter Gladys still at home?”
The girl nodded.
“Then I am
sure I understand why Mrs. Wayworth wanted to hear about me. ” The man replied dryly, leaning forward
and picking up the book his sister had been reading “Le Comte De Monte Cristo…
In French.”
She smiled
“I admit, I
am indulging myself. Mr. Clark would be scolding me for reading fiction again.”
“I take it
Mr. Clark is one of your teachers?”
“He is my
tutor.”
“And he
disapproves of such reading?”
She tried her best to explain how the teacher felt about
fiction when there was so much knowledge to gain from the other books. She went
on to tell him that the tutor had taken a couple weeks off to allow the family
mourning time.
“And how do
you find Mr. Clark’s teaching?”
When she lingered in searching for a response, half hoping
James would brush past the question with a different one, he remained silent,
however, drinking his tea while waiting for her response.
“I believe
I should be studying harder subjects and expanding my knowledge at a more rapid
pace.”
It was more critical about her own personality rather then
her tutor’s ability to teach. James guided her back to the question again and
this time she was blunter in her response
“I do not
like his teaching style and I feel he does not extend me respect for the
knowledge that I do have.”
It was the answer James had been looking for her to say. Suggesting
anything to change at a time that was already so challenging was not what James
was thinking. She asked a question before he could make any comment on her
schooling.
“So, where
have you been the last seven years?”
He sighed, looking down at his watch
“I’m afraid,
child, that it too long of a story for tonight.”
Immediately she apologized, forgetting how tired he must be
from his travels and rose to show him to his room. She was a sweet girl, but
James informed her he knew the way to his room and bade her goodnight.
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