Love Bade Me Welcome Read Free Page B

Norman never drank more than was good for him.”
    “I am happy to hear it. Naturally we all wondered what could have caused it. We thought, having nothing else to think, that he must have fallen while drunk, or some such thing. Your letter, you know, only said that he had died suddenly. Homer wrote asking if it was an accident, you perhaps recall, and you assured him it was not, but didn’t explain what had happened.”
    “I’m sorry I left you in confusion. I was very busy at the time, with arrangements to be made, and also very disturbed in my own mind. That was poorly done of me.”
    “You must have been totally distracted, poor child. You should have let Homer go to you, as he wanted to.”
    “It is a long, wearying trip, and to what purpose, Thal? He was already dead and buried. The business affairs to be attended to were to be done here.”
    “Homer will go into all that with you soon, when you are recovered from that grueling trip. There is no real consolation one can offer at such a time as this. I often wonder, while I lie here through the long days, why God decided to throw me from a horse and destroy my spine. Well, He did it, and no doubt He had his reasons, but at times we mere mortals would be happy for some elucidation. You may be sure it is all for the best. That’s what I tell myself. I don’t always believe me, but I try to. It is the only way. Otherwise we would grow into angry beasts, hating God and the world and everyone in it. Don’t let that happen, child. You are much too young, and pretty.” She looked at me closely, with that same curiosity and surprise I had seen in her son’s eyes. Had my angry grief left its traces on me?
    Soon she spoke on. “You have your youth, your health, a home where you will always be welcome. Let it be enough,” she said softly, patting my hand.
    Her words, revealing how well she understood my mind, were some consolation. I vowed I would try to match her bravery, and her optimism. I blinked away a tear. I was suddenly aware that she was squeezing my hand very hard. She was still strong, though an invalid.
    “Time is the best healer,” she added gently. “Mind you, a little glass of wine helps in the off moments. Shall we? No, you are wanted below for dinner. I shall have a glass by myself, and dip into this charming novel Homer has found for me. Charles Dickens. He’s a wonder, that man. A gift from God to us poor invalids. So prolific one can hardly keep pace with him. I am reading about Little Nell, and feel myself fortunate compared to her. If she dies, I shall write Mr. Dickens a stiff rebuke. Surely he could not be so cruel. And if you know, pray don’t tell me. Homer always does.”
    “I haven’t read it. I must go now. May I come back tomorrow?” There was no charity in the request. I liked the woman very much. I had a feeling I had found a new friend.
    “You never have to ask, Davinia. Mi chambra, tu chambra. I don’t know if that is proper Spanish, or even if it is Spanish at all, but you know what I mean. The door is always open.”
    “Happy reading.”
    I left, my heart a little lighter. What a difference one single friend who understands can make. I even imagined I had found a mother at last. She would not have offered her cheek to just anyone.
    * * * *
    They set an elegant table at Wyngate. Silver and crystal sparkled on the linen cloth. A floral centerpiece of flowers not in season told me there was a conservatory somewhere on the grounds. The china was patterned with dainty roses, gold rimmed, delicate and fine. The cups were fluted. My eyes were nearly as busy as Mrs. Winton’s in assessing the table. Besides the two gentlemen met when we entered, there was an unknown female there. She was introduced as Miss Dennison, which alerted me to her identity. Norman’s mother’s maiden name was Dennison. This then was his Aunt Millicent, who made her home at Wyngate.
    “So you’re Norman’s lady,” she said, smiling brightly. She