“Yes, I was quite taken aback,” Georgette said and was pleased to see that the children were paying their conversation no heed whatsoever. Rather they were chattering happily between themselves, and Georgette smiled as she saw Eleri reach for yet another cake. “Because it is the first time that I have heard His Grace speak to the children so conversationally.”
“He spoke to them without prompting?” Lady Lyndon’s eyebrows rose.
“Yes, quite out of the blue he asked them if they were looking forward to their tea here.”
“Well, I rather think that is progress of a sort.”
“And he went on to tell them not to eat too many cakes, for he had often eaten too many cakes here himself when he was a little boy,” Georgette went on, pleased to see a look of happiness cross Lady Cynthia’s lined and kindly face.
“Oh, he did. I daresay I was as much at fault for I cannot help indulging children. But dear little Hamilton would just reach for cake after cake, picking up one whilst he still had a mouthful of its predecessor. But he was just the most adorable little boy, and I absolutely doted upon him. I think more than once he made himself ill, and yet it did not stop him on his next visit. He would attack the cakes again, and I would provide them in the same great quantities.”
“It sounds as if the two of you think a great deal of one another,” Georgette said, hoping that she was not overstepping the conversational mark.
“We certainly did. And I hope that we still do, despite our difficulties. In truth, I shall always see him as I did then; however tall and broad he is, and however taciturn and morose he becomes, he will always be little Hamilton.”
“Really, My Lady, how lovely.”
“He would undoubtedly fight against it. Men always do.” She chuckled. “But tell me, are you quite well?”
“I am very well, My Lady. I thank you,” Georgette said and felt greatly pleased to note how very genuine Lady Cynthia’s inquiry was. “I have been greatly relieved these last days as I feel a sense that things are settling just a little.”
“I am very pleased to hear that, my dear. I do not wish to disrupt such a good feeling, but I must once again beg that you remain vigilant. I should not like you to find yourself most horribly surprised by something.”
“It is good advice, My Lady.”
“You know, I really am so pleased to hear that my nephew has addressed the girls, even in so small a way. When he was a very much younger man, he was a most kind and attentive brother to his little sister.”
“That is a good thing, My Lady, for I rather think that not all brothers are so,” Georgette said with a smile.
“No indeed,” Lady Lyndon said, nodding furiously and agreeing. “But Hamilton absolutely adored Josephine. When their mother died, Josephine was but four years old. Just a little older than these two poor little mites were when Josephine was taken from them.”
“Oh dear, that really is most terribly sad.”
“Indeed, it was sad, my dear. Hamilton was sixteen years himself, and quite the little gentleman. He was so clever and bright and caring. And he was such a tall and broad youth, having almost the body of the man when he was still but a boy. And he seemed to take on such great responsibilities as if he himself believed that he was fully grown.”
“And yet sixteen is full young to lose one’s mother,” Georgette said, knowing the pain of such an early loss herself.
“But he did everything in his power to keep little Josephine’s spirits up. He told such wonderful stories of heaven and how they would see their mother again and that nothing would ever change between them. Really, I can hardly think of it now, all these years later, without crying.”
“So, the two of them were very close?”
“As close as any brother and sister could be. He could never bear to see a look of sadness on her face in anything and always sought to play with her and make her laugh whenever it was so. I have seen him, a man of twenty years, crawling about the floor in the style of a horse with his eight-year-old sister sitting on his back, squealing and laughing with happiness.”
“What a wonderfully attentive brother. How proud you must be of him.”
“Yes, I had always been so proud. Their father, you see, as good a man as he was, was not particularly attentive himself. He had never been particularly a part of things and seemed to drift ever more after my dear sister passed away. I have nothing to resent in Hamilton’s father. The old Duke was a good man, and he adored my sister greatly. I just wish he could have found a way to be a little closer to his children. He loved them, I have no doubt; he just had no means at his disposal with which to express it.”