He couldn’t see the children over the high railings of their beds, and, surprisingly, he couldn’t hear them, either. They appeared to be listening to her.
What witchcraft was this?
He crept closer, to hear what she was reading.
“‘It is a beauteous evening, calm and free,’”she read in her joyful, ringing tones. “‘The holy time is quiet as a Nun. Breathless with adoration; the broad sun is sinking down in its tranquility...’”
The elegant lines of her profile rattled something loose inside Edgar’s chest.
“‘Dear Child! Dear Girl! That walkest with me here, If thou appear untouched by solemn thought, Thy nature is not therefore less divine...’”
The words rang like a muffled bell inside his shuttered heart.
He knew the poem well.
Wordsworth had written it for his daughter by a Frenchwoman. It was a lovely poem, about meeting the illegitimate daughter he’d never met until that day.
He had to admit it was appropriate, though the children could hardly understand the full significance of the choice.
She closed the book.
“Very pretty,” said Adele.
“Not enough fighting,” scoffed Michel. “I only like poetry with a good battle scene.”
“I see you’ve plenty of toy soldiers to play with,” said Miss Perkins. “Tomorrow we’ll stage a battle reenactment, shall we?”
“Pah! The duke thinks we’re babes in arms. We’re too old for toys,” said Michel.
That was news to Edgar. He’d chosen the same toys he liked to play with as a boy. They didn’t like them?
“Too old for toys?” exclaimed Miss Perkins. “What a dreadful notion. Why, I believe a person is never too old for toys.”
“Youdon’t play with toys,” said Michel.
“I most certainly do.” Miss Perkins pulled something out of a bag at her feet. “I have my rabbit.” She held up a carved wooden rabbit with tall ears and jointed limbs that dangled at crooked angles. There was something familiar about the rabbit. Where had he seen one like it before?
“She’s been with me since I was a little girl,” said Miss Perkins.
“You still play with her?” Michel sounded so incredulous that Edgar smiled.
“I write stories about her. Because she has so many strange and unusual adventures, you see. Don’t let this velvet gown fool you.” Miss Perkins stroked the tattered green gown the rabbit wore. “She’s quite fearsome. She’s known throughout the world as P.L. Rabbit, the Scourge of the Seven Seas.”
“She’s apiraterabbit?” asked Michel.
Edgar clapped a hand over his mouth.
“What does P.L. stand for?” asked Adele.
“Why, Peg Leg, of course. See?” Miss Perkins lifted the rabbit’s paw. “She has wooden pegs holding her limbs together. But that doesn’t mean she can’t carry a sword. Why, just the other night, she set sail on her ship,The Silver Hind, with her trusty crew of fearless bunnies. They were hunting for sunken treasure off the coast of Barbados when they were set upon by the dread pirate rat known as Drew the Destroyer... oh, but I forgot, you’re too old for toys.”
A breathless pause. “But what happened?” asked Michel.
“I’ve no idea. I haven’t written the ending yet. Perhaps you can help me think of a good one,” said the clever Miss Perkins.
Edgar saw exactly what she was doing. Trying to engage the children, make them participants instead of antagonists.
He had to admit that even though she appeared fragile and defenseless, she had quite a few tricks up her sleeves.