The Whisper Of Wings Read Free Page B

them.
    Unlike his father, Gerald wasn't one to hide his feelings, and he observed his father now with open interest. He was unaccustomed to seeing the man perform a duty he usually relegated to a member of his household staff, and it was especially surprising to see him behaving with such concern and tenderness toward a perfect stranger. But then, they all seemed touched by this young woman's sudden presence among them. It was difficult not to be. She was just so pathetic, in such obvious need. Her eyes, her face. Who could resist offering assistance to one with such a sweet countenance? Why should his father be immune? He wasn't so infallible as all that, much as the rest of the household might like to think he was.
    Gerald stood at the foot of the couch and watched his father's hands as he gently blotted the blood from the girl's forehead. He was a bit in awe. He so rarely ever saw this side to his father, if ever. The gesture was such a tender one, so unusual coming from a man who was more likely to be seen handing down orders with a quiet determination that brooked no argument. A man who seemed always to hold himself rigidly aloof from everyone around him, impassive, contained, with an almost military air of discipline about him. Not that he wasn't compassionate, nor was he necessarily the dictatorial type. He was kind enough to the household staff, especially to Mrs. Avery who had been with them for so many years, even before Gerald had been born. But Christopher Standeven had never been one for open displays of emotion. Bathing this waif's wound wasn't exactly a display of emotion, but it was certainly akin to one, and something this household hadn't seen since Gerald himself had been a child.
    Gerald remembered quite well the regard he'd received as a boy. While it hadn't exactly been affection, it had been a sort of nurturing and love that had allowed him the security every child needed. Even now, his father gave him the respect and consideration due a son well appreciated. Not to mention an approval he certainly hadn't earned, nor did he quite deserve, considering how aimless he was. He didn't even have a career planned out for himself yet, and he was all of twenty-four, certainly old enough to have decided on a course of education, at the very least. Even the semesters spent away at college were as sporadic and purposeless as the rest of his life seemed to be. Fortunately, his father didn't judge him harshly for it, just seemed to accept it in his strong, solemn way. He accepted it as a fact that he would never try to change. That was something Gerald had learned at a very early age. His father would never force him to do something he didn't want to do. Such a contrast to the way he ran his own life, always pushing and striving and working to improve his state of being, a state of being that never quite seemed perfect enough. Still, he never tried to mold his son to fit into that way of life, and it was not a way of life his son would ever choose for himself. In fact, Gerald abhorred it. The world and all the wonders it held was to be explored, enjoyed. How could one truly appreciate everything life had to offer when one spent the full of it in toil?
    "It all happened so fast," Mrs. Avery was saying. "She just appeared at the door, and then...." She gave a sad shake of her head. "She seemed to think she knew someone here."
    "She asked for a Mrs. Smythe," Gerald offered, still watching his father bathe the girl's wound.
    His father appeared thoughtful for a moment. "I don't know of any Smythes in the area. Perhaps I'll make some inquiries."
    Mrs. Avery hid a smile. An offer of an inquiry implied he had already taken the girl in under his wing. She was pleased indeed, for she hated to see the poor dear turned out.
    "How old do you suppose she is?" Gerald asked, regarding the girl with somewhat more interest.
    "Hard to say, she's so disheveled." Christopher stopped bathing the girl's face and stared down at her.