“You don’t need a hat right now,” he said. “Have you and Miss Brooking been to the chapel yet?”
She shook her head, stumbling over a tree root. But he caught her before she could fall, and once she had her balance again, he began walking. She could see the chapel in the distance. She knew what chapels looked like. This one was a small gray stone building with a weathered wooden door. She thought they might go inside. Instead, he led her toward the back, where a black iron fence made a square out of the yard behind the chapel. She could see flowers in the yard and gray stones on the ground. She moved toward the gate to go in, but her father crouched before her and looked at her with his serious eyes. “Do you know what a cemetery is?” he asked.
She shook her head. The truth was, she had heard that word before, but she didn’t like it.
“That’s the cemetery for Lilacfall Abbey. There are four graves inside. Do you know what a grave is?”
Frances felt as though a little pebble landed in her tummy. “Can we go back to the house?” she asked. “I’m hungry for flapjacks.” She tried to turn away, but Papa put his hands on her shoulders. Another pebble fell into her tummy.
“Frances, I know you don’t want to hear this, but it’s time we dealt with it. A grave is where we bury the body of a loved one when he or she has died. There are markers where the graves lie so we can come to the cemetery and visit. Some people like to leave flowers or other presents. The people who owned Lilacfall Abbey before your mother and I bought it buried two of their loved ones here. I buried two of our loved ones too. I want to show you.”
More pebbles tumbled down and thudded on top of the flapjacks she’d eaten this morning. Papa took her hand, butshe dug her feet into the dirt. He looked back at her. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t want to go in there.”
“I know, but you need to see the graves. You should know where your mama and baby brother are buried.”
“Mama is not in there. She ran away from the cruel prince. She’s hiding in her kingdom, and she will come back for me.” More pebbles seemed to plop into her belly, and she clutched her middle and sank down on the grass outside the iron fence and began to cry.
*
Rory wished hehad waited for Genevieve to wake before undertaking this task. He’d known it would be difficult, but he hadn’t thought about how he’d deal with a crying child. He pulled out his handkerchief, looked at it, stuffed it back into his coat, and sat down on the ground beside Frances. Chaffer would have something to say about the grass stains on his breeches, but Rory didn’t care. Frances stopped crying and looked at him, her eyes wide behind the spectacles. He drew out the handkerchief again, gingerly removed her spectacles, and dabbed at her eyes and her nose.
She sniffed. “You are sitting on the ground, Papa.”
“So are you,” he said.
She nodded. “I’m too sad to stand up.”
“I’m sad too.” He realized that hewassad. Somehow a small crack had formed in the wall he’d erected to contain his feelings, and a trickle of sorrow had leaked through. He probably should have patched that crack, but it didn’t seem right to let Frances grieve alone.
“You are?” She seemed to have forgotten about crying and was staring at him.
“I’m very sad. I never got to meet your baby brother. My son. Your mother was bringing you both here to see me when the coach overturned. Did you know that?”
She made a gesture that was neither denial nor confirmation. “Mama told her maid we were traveling to see the evil prince.”
“Is that what she called me?” Rory asked, smiling a little. He’d probably called her far worse, though not in his daughter’s hearing.
“Yes, but she was angry at me for listening. She said for me to call youPapa.”
“But you still think of me as the evil prince?”
“I did.” She shrugged.
Rory didn’t know why he did it, but he held out his arms. And then, to his shock, his daughter climbed into them, sitting on his lap, and leaning her head on his shoulder. He patted her back, feeling the rising sun warm the air as the sunlight streamed through the trees.
“I wish your mama had run away,” he said, his voice quiet. “I wish she was safe in a kingdom far away. Your brother too. For a long time, I too wanted to pretend the accident didn’t happen. But I can’t pretend anymore, Frances.”
She was quiet for a long time. “Why not?”
“Because, like you, I have the tendency to run away from my problems, but I have a daughter who needs me now. I can’t run away anymore.” He leaned back and looked her in the eyes. “I won’t leave you again. I have something important to tell you too. I think you’ll be happy about it.”
“More flapjacks and drinking chocolate?” she asked, expression hopeful.
“Better. Miss Genevieve will not leave you again either. She will be your new mama.”
“Doessheknow that?”
