“Oh, no. I come in here all the time and no one cares. Look!” She pulled a silver comb out of the box and held it up for Julia’s inspection. “Isn’t it pretty? And there’s one with pieces of coral in here, too. Do you know what coral is? I thought it was a stone, but Papa says it’s not, that it was a living thing in the oceans. I wonder if he could take us to Brighton and we could see some there!”

  “I doubt there’s any coral in Brighton,” Julia said, and took a tentative step into the room. “It prefers more southern waters, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “Oh.” Zora furrowed her brow, clearly disappointed. “But I suppose that’s what makes it special, that it’s not from here originally.”

  Julia progressed further into the room. The carpets were thick and plush beneath her feet, like walking on freshly fallen snow. “Come along. I doubt your father would wish for you to be in here without his permission.” She had no idea if what she said was true or not, but she didn’t want to see Zora get into trouble for rifling through Mrs. Halberd’s things. “Let’s return to the nursery. We cannot avoid our French all day, you know.”

  Zora pulled a face as if she was about to protest, but she closed the lid of the jewelry box and walked past Julia and out of the room.

  Out in the hall, Julia shut the door behind them and stood there for a moment, her fingers curled around the doorknob. She wondered why the room was still kept so beautifully, as though Mrs. Halberd had only gone for a brief excursion into town and was expected back at any time. Julia would’ve expected there to be dust cloths over everything, the carpets rolled up and stored away, the entire room perhaps put to some other use rather than continuing on as a shrine for a woman who had died five years before.

  As they made their way back towards the nursery, they passed Mrs. Holland as she came up the stairs, her arms laden with a stack of clean, pressed shirts.

  “Mrs. Benton.” The housekeeper paused at the top of the stairs. “I have a message for you from Mr. Halberd. He said that dinner is to be served in the drawing room this evening, and he hopes the two of you will be able to join him.”

  “The drawing room? Are you sure?”

  Mrs. Holland’s mouth thinned. “If you wish to interrogate him yourself, in order to ascertain whether or not I am telling the truth—”

  “Oh, no. It’s not that. It’s only that we’ve never eaten in the drawing room before,” she pointed out, before Mrs. Holland could take further offense.

  “He says it is to be a special occasion.”

  Beside Julia, Zora bounced on the balls of her feet, her hand reaching out for hers.

  “And what time is dinner to be served?” Julia asked, before Zora could begin pinging off the walls with excitement.

  “Seven o’clock.” The housekeeper’s gaze darted past Julia, towards the end of the corridor and Mrs. Halberd’s room. “A bit of advice, Mrs. Benton. It would be good not to let the child wander all around the house as she would wish, and I’m sure Mr. Halberd would prefer for you to set an example in the same manner.”

  Julia smiled. A small smile, one that acted as a barrier against the dozen other things she could have said to Mrs. Holland but wisely — in consideration of Zora’s presence — chose not to. “Mr. Halberd was kind enough to give us leave to use any part of the house and grounds we needed for his daughter’s education and care, apart from any room or space belonging to anyone currently living in the house,” she added. “But I thank you for your concern. Though if you wish, you may go to Mr. Halberd himself and see what he says. In case I misheard him.”

  “That will not be necessary,” Mrs. Holland said, her voice low.

  They said nothing more to one another before parting ways, Mrs. Holland moving along with her stack of shirts and Julia shepherding Zora back to the nursery.

  “Mrs. Benton?”

  Julia closed the nursery door and walked over to check the state of the fire. “Yes?”

  “Is it all right to not like someone?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well…” Zora scuffed her foot across the edge of the rug, flipping the corner over and back again. And again. “I know the Bible says we’re to love one another, but it’s not very easy to do. At least with some people.”

  “Some people.” Julia prodded one of the logs in the fire, splitting it in half with a crackle of sparks and flame.

  “What do you think? Do you like Mrs. Holland?”

  “I’m sure it’s not my place to say,” Julia hedged, and returned the poker to its stand.

  “That means you don’t.” Zora put her nose into the air, victorious. “But she always looks at me as though I’ve done something wrong, even when I haven’t. Sometimes I wish Papa would send her away and hire someone else.”

  Julia turned from the fire and bent down to pick up a few puzzle pieces that had been left on the floor. “If your father hired her and is satisfied with her work, then—”

  “Oh, no.” Zora picked up the empty puzzle box and held it out for Julia to drop the pieces into. “Mrs. Holland came with Mama from London, when she and Papa married. I think she was her maid before that, and then Mama made her the housekeeper once they came to Langford.”

  “And where did you hear that?” Julia asked the question before she could stop herself. She didn’t want to trade in gossip, but unfortunately it seemed to have become a day for it.

  “From the servants, when I would overhear them talking to each other.” She leaned forward. “Most of them don’t like Mrs. Holland, either.”

  “Perhaps you shouldn’t listen to other people’s conversations so much,” Julia said, as gently as possible. Considering this wasn’t the first instance when Zora had overheard something she shouldn’t have, Julia worried it might soon develop into a bad habit. Both the listening and the gossiping.

  “I suppose.” Zora shrugged and put the puzzle box away. “I’d rather learn where we can find some cora than listen to silly old gossip, anyway.”

  Julia swept her hand over the girl’s dark hair and finished the movement by plucking a piece of fuzz from the collar of her dress. “Agreed. So why don’t we see what the library has to offer in the way of ocean creatures, hmm?”

  ***

  Julia and Zora arrived in the drawing room promptly at seven o’clock. They were astonished to find most of the furniture cleared away and a large blanket spread out on the floor in front of the fire, complete with a large basket filled with food and a pitcher of lemonade set out beside several glasses.

  “A picnic,” Alexander announced in greeting, and in such a way as to make it seem completely natural to have a picnic dinner on the drawing room floor as frost crackled its way over the outside of the house.

  Zora jumped and tumbled onto the blanket, ecstatic when she realized her kitten, Ellen, was already curled up on a corner of the heavy wool, clumsily cleaning a paw.

  “What’s the occasion?” Julia asked. “Or does there even need to be one?”

  “There doesn’t need to be one,” he replied, and held out a hand to help her down onto one of the cushions that had been strategically placed on the blanket. “But I should admit that as it’s my birthday today, something should be done to commemorate the date.”

  “Happy Birthday!” Zora bounced on her knees while clapping her hands. “But why didn’t you tell us? I could have made a present for you.”

  “I don’t need any presents,” he assured her, and reached out to tweak the tip of her nose, making her giggle. “I’m happy enough with a roof over my head and a basket of our cook’s finest comestibles. And fine company to go with it,” he added, brushing a curl back from her shoulder before his gaze settled warmly on Julia.

  “And Ellen!” Zora declared, holding up her kitten while it tried to claw its way up the length of her arm.

  “And Ellen,” he echoed, and helped to rescue the edge of a ruffle from one of the kitten’s back paws.

  Julia took on the task of emptying the basket of its contents, which included all manner of salads and sandwiches, and also a collection of jam tarts, their crusts so flaky they threatened to break apart with every brush of her fingers. At the other end of the blanket, Alexander crouched on his hands and knees, dancing his fingers along the floor as prey for the kitten to pounce on, all while Zora laughed and squealed with delight.

  It was a beautiful moment. Julia watched it unfold, all while wondering how she had been fortunate enough to stumble into a situation that brought her such joy. She had more than prepared to whittle away the rest of her existence in her rented rooms from Mrs. Cochran, doing her best to avoid the society of townspeople who had never made her feel truly welcome for as long as she had lived among them. But here, at Langford, she’d found something she had feared was never truly meant for the likes of her. Happiness. Desire. Being wanted. Being needed.

  There were times when she thought she might have to pinch herself, to discover if she was dreaming. Surely this new existence couldn’t be hers, could it? After so many years of loss and grief combined with Frederick’s steady lack of affection, she had begun to believe it was all she would ever have, all she deserved.

  Was that what Frederick had done to her? Had seven years with him slowly eroded her into a creature unable to see herself as worthy of love? She tried to imagine what her marriage would have been like if Alexander had been her husband instead. Would he have made her feel unattractive? Would he have made her feel as though she had to earn his affection — or the affection of anyone — through the birth of a child?

  For too long, she had thought she was the faulty piece in the whole of their marriage, that if only she had been more, done more, there could have been joy. All those years, wasted, believing that happiness was something only to be doled out to her when she had suffered for long enough.

  “Oh! She’s gone under the piano!”

  Julia put down her lemonade and looked towards the corner of the room. Zora was already halfway beneath the piano, wedged between a stool and the wall as she reached out towards a curious — and oblivious — Ellen. Julia stood up quickly and moved the seat aside, while Alexander helped to reach beneath the piano, his longer arms making quick work of scooping up the kitten before she could venture beyond anyone’s ability to catch her.

  “Poor thing,” Zora cooed as her father tipped the mewling kitten into her waiting arms. “Naughty girl!”

  “She’s only exploring,” Julia reminded her. “Here, give her to me for a minute.” Zora handed over the kitten and Julia sat down on the piano seat, settling the animal in her lap and petting her slowly until she began to purr. “After so much excitement, I suspect she is greatly in need of a rest.”

  Zora squeezed onto the seat beside her, her hands in her lap for all of a moment before they fidgeted their way towards the keys of the piano. She pressed one, which let out a low vibration of sound, but she snatched her hand away again as though waiting for a reprimand about touching the instrument without permission.

  “Mrs. Holland said it isn’t a toy,” Zora said, her voice wary. Her fingers fluttered forward again, wanting to play another note. “She said it belonged to Mama and that it wasn’t to be trifled with.”

  “No, it isn’t a toy,” Julia admitted. But instead of shaping the statement into a warning, she hoped it would ignite a spark of respect in Zora’s heart, and hopefully one that wasn’t underlined with fear. “But if you’re careful…”

  “Mrs. Holland says that Mama used to play all the time, that she never heard anyone with greater execution and taste. Is that true, Papa?”

  Julia looked towards Alexander. After his help rescuing a wayward kitten, he had resumed his place on the blanket, this time lounging with one leg stretched out, the other bent and acting as a prop for his arm. “Your mother played very well, yes.” His attention drifted down to the floor, his gaze seeming to focus on a frayed edge of the blanket. “Though she spent a great deal of time practicing, which had much to do with it.”

  “Do you play, Mrs. Benton?” Zora looked up at Julia, then reached out another tentative finger towards a black key.

  “Yes, I play. Or I did. Though it’s been some years since I took the trouble to practice.” There had been a small pianoforte at the vicarage, old and always dreadfully out of tune, but Frederick had never considered it a priority to bring it into working order again.

  “Can you play now?”

  Julia laughed at Zora’s insistence. “As I said, it’s been several years. Too many years, more than likely.”

  “Something simple, then?” Zora’s voice took on a pleading tone that Julia found difficult to resist, though it wasn’t a good lesson for the girl to learn that should she only whine and beg for long enough, she would get her way. “Papa, please tell her to play for us! I’ve never heard anyone play the piano here before.”

  Alexander finished the small triangle of sandwich he’d been eating and brushed the crumbs from his hands. “I am not about to make Mrs. Benton do anything she does not wish to.” His gaze caught Julia’s, and there was a brief flash of heat in his eyes, a memory of how they had spent the last two nights together. “She has a mind and will of her own,” he said to Zora, though his attention did not break from Julia. “And I would not want to see them diminished.”

  “Um.” Julia cleared her throat and looked away as a flush of warmth flooded her cheeks. “If it hasn’t been played at all recently, then I daresay it will sound terrible regardless of any deterioration of my skills.” She adjusted her position on the seat, careful not to wake the sleeping kitten still curled into a ball of orange fur and pink toes in her lap. Her hands hovered over the keys as her mind swept back to all of the music lessons she’d had as a child, all of the hours she’d spent practicing and playing for her younger sisters while they giggled and trotted through their dancing steps on the parlor floor.

  And then… she began to play.

  She was slow, at first. Her fingers and wrists were stiff, and the piano had indeed been neglected, despite the regular dusting and polishing it had regularly received from the servants. She made one mistake, and then another, before she struck a key that made her wince at how out of tune it was. But she kept on, working her way through the tune at an awkward, plodding pace.

  And it was amazing. Or at least it felt amazing to her. She had never been especially skilled at playing, but she had always enjoyed, had thrilled at the vibration of sound carried on the air by that little bit of pressure from her fingers. And all of it working together to create a melody that could evoke sadness or joy or any other emotion from its listener.

  When she finished, she sat very still, waiting for the final note to fade out of the air. Zora began to clap, as enthusiastically as if she was in a concert hall filled with an audience standing up to share their adulation for her performance.

  “Don’t, please.” She scooted back in her seat and picked up the still-sleeping kitten, returning it to Zora’s care. “No doubt you heard how I cheated my way through half of it.”

  “You just need to practice more,” Zora said, swinging her legs beneath her as she reached out again to gently touch one of the keys. “If you want, you can teach me, and then you’ll get better while I learn.”

  “Sound logic,” Julia said, biting back a laugh. “But you should learn to play an instrument, I suppose. Only if you truly wish to play, however. I would not want to force it upon you when you could apply your interest elsewhere.”

  Zora assured her that she wanted to learn, and Alexander promised to send word into town for someone to come to Langford and return the instrument to peak performance. After that, all three of them settled fully into their forgotten meal, the sandwiches and tarts disappearing rapidly as both Julia and Alexander amused Zora with humorous stories from their childhoods.

  “Can Ellen sleep in my bed tonight?” The question came from Zora as Alexander packed the remains of their meal into the bottom of the basket and Julia shook all of the crumbs off the blanket.

  “Well,” was all Julia said, and looked towards Alexander.

  “I see no reason why not.” Alexander smiled at his daughter. “I had a spaniel when I was about your age. Followed me everywhere and would not spend a single night away from me without whining loud enough to keep the entire household awake. Micah, was his name,” he added, his expression growing wistful. “He was a champion protector, and so I think Ellen should be allowed to prove her worth as your guardian.”

  “Or maybe I am to protect her,” Zora announced with staggering resoluteness. Julia could almost picture the girl girding her loins and drawing a sword against anyone or anything that might pose a threat to the small, orange kitten.

  “Off with you, then,” Julia said, and finished folding up the blanket. “Grand Shieldmaiden of Langford. Will you still be requiring a story tonight?”

  “Of course!” Zora furrowed her brow, as though the prospect of bedtime without an accompanying story was reprehensible and to be thoroughly frowned upon. “And Ellen will want one, too. I’m sure of it.”

  Alexander took the blanket from Julia as Zora left the drawing room with Ellen and skipped towards the stairs. Julia moved to follow her, but Alexander touched her arm, stopping her with that single brush of his fingertips.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “Me?” She looked around at the basket, at the blanket on his arm, the furniture all pushed to the sides of the room to make space for their picnic. “This was all your idea. And you should’ve mentioned to me that it was your birthday. I could’ve helped with the planning of everything and—”

  But he shook his head before she could finish. “No, not with this. What I mean is… your coming here, and everything since.” His hand wrapped around her wrist, his thumb stroking where her pulse pounded beneath her skin. “You’ve done something here, worked some sort of magic. With Zora, with…” He sighed. Despite the open door behind them, despite the fact that anyone might walk by and see them, he raised her hand to his lips and kissed the tips of her fingers. “For too many years I’ve felt like a vagabond, wandering through my own life in search of something I couldn’t even put a name to. And now, finally, I think I’ve found it.”