Henry looked at the wooden letters. Adrian noticed.
"What do you need?" he asked.
"6 months."
"You have been here 12 minutes."
"Then review me in 6 months."
"Your contract is for three."
"Amend it."
He stared at her. "Do you make demands in every household where you are employed?"
"Only in the ones where people expect me to be responsible for their children."
Something changed in Adrian's face. It was not approval; it was recognition. He looked toward Henry.
"What would you change?"
"Everything."
Henry's eyes widened. Adrian folded his arms.
"Explain."
"No forced recitation. No physicians examining him without his consent. No talk of curses in his presence. No punishment for silence. No public demonstrations unless he chooses them."
"You intend to let a 9-year-old decide when he will speak?"
"No. I intend to stop making speech the price of being treated as intelligent."
Adrian remained still.
Clara continued: "I also require access to the records from the night Lady Rosamund died, and permission to speak with the servants who were present."
His eyes sharpened. "Why?"
"Because children often tell servants things they will not tell people who are waiting to judge them."
"6 months," Adrian said. "With unedited monthly reports written by you."
"Yes."
"Your opinions included?"
"Especially those."
He looked at Henry. "Very well."
Clara inclined her head. "Then we understand each other."
"No," Adrian said. "I suspect we have only begun."
The first two weeks were the easiest. That worried Clara.
Henry did not learn poorly; he learned differently. He understood spoken explanations quickly. He remembered maps, conversations, bird calls, stable records, and the names of every tenant on the eastern farms. He struggled only when people demanded an immediate answer while watching his face.
Clara used cards first, then a slate, then wooden letters. She asked him questions while walking beside him, never directly in front of him. She let him answer with a tap, a nod, a written word, or a gesture.
The first word he wrote was RAIN. The second was BRAN. The third was LEAVE.
Clara looked at the dog. "He seems to have a clear position in this household."
Henry wrote: He listens.
Clara nodded. "That makes him unusually qualified."
Henry began to use his voice in small ways. He hummed when he believed himself alone. He whispered to Bran in the stable. Once, while Clara was reading a story badly on purpose, she heard a faint sound behind her.
"No," Henry whispered.
Clara turned. He had gone pale. She did not move toward him.
"Was that a correction?"
Henry looked at the floor.
Clara returned her eyes to the book. "Then I am grateful. I would hate to continue ruining the story."
For the next several minutes, she read without looking at him. When the lesson ended, Henry wrote on the slate:
Do not tell Papa.
Clara read the sentence twice. "Your secret is yours," she said. "I will not tell him."
Henry looked toward the door. Adrian was standing there. He had heard. He did not enter.
Later that evening, he found Clara in the library.
"Did Henry speak?"
"He corrected my reading."
"That is not an answer."
"It is the answer he gave."
Adrian's jaw tightened. "Did he speak to you?"
"Yes."
"And not to me."
"He has not yet chosen to."
"He is my son."
"I am aware."
"Then you must understand why I should know."
"I understand why you want to know. That is not the same as saying he owes you the information."
Adrian turned away. The library fire threw light across his face. "You think I have failed him."
"I think you are frightened."
His eyes returned to hers. "You have known me for 3 weeks."
"That is longer than most children need to identify fear."
"Do not confuse my restraint with fear."
"Then what do you call it?"
He looked at the window. "Control."
"Control is what people use when they cannot bear uncertainty."
He gave a quiet, humorless laugh. "You make simple things unbearable."
"No, I make complicated things visible."
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Adrian said, "His mother died in a carriage accident. Henry was with her."
Clara waited.
"The carriage left Blackmere after dinner. The road was flooded. The left wheel broke on the lower bridge. Lady Rosamund died before the doctor arrived."
"And Henry?"
"He was pulled from the wreckage."
"Was he injured?"
"Only a cut on his forehead."
"And after that, he never spoke?"
"He said one word."
"What word?"
Adrian looked down at the fire. "Uncle."
Clara felt the room become colder. "Which uncle?"
"Malcolm."
Lord Malcolm Vale was Adrian's younger half-brother. He lived in the west wing, maintained a charming house in London, and visited Blackmere whenever money was needed. He arrived 2 days later.
Malcolm was handsome in a polished, harmless way. His smile appeared before his eyes did. He kissed Mrs. Bell's hand, complimented the silver, and asked Clara whether her education had been received in a proper school or merely at home.
"Both," Clara said.
"How modern."
"Not particularly. Women have been learning things for centuries. Men have only recently noticed."