Mr. Henry and Lady Walker were taken through a house tour and began to see how Lady Walker enjoyed being distracted by the pretty things; it was much harder for me to ignore reality than it was for her as she did not even touch the subject of my mother's bad disposition once more. Distracted unlike me, I saw she took great pride in her personal appearance; her clothes were of thick embroidered fabrics, I could not remember even Lady Thomas being this objective about her wardrobe. Lady Walker wore a rich brooch on her outfit while showing her array of knowledge on the old pieces in my grandfather's country home; she marveled at them and tolerated my ignorance in the process.

"Oh yes this is a good thing, your garden has been kept the same way it's always been," Lady Walker said knowing the intimacies of the house well.

This part of the garden we walked through was a tall stone structure outdoors with not much use other than to be an old gate and two different smaller spaces which connected to the high gates; it was so old that the Stewart crest and words above it could barely be seen.

"Virescit Vulnere Virtus," Lady Walker read it perfectly in Latin, "courage grows stronger at a wound, a very noble crest from a very noble family."

"Forgive me Lady Walker but did you know my grandparents well?"

"Yes I suppose one can say that, my family spent a couple of summers here."

"I did say our grandfathers knew each other well," Mr. Henry confirmed the connection.

Lady Walker then opened the door of the smaller space on the left and stepped inside to find that many scattered leaves on the floor hid a fake floor underneath it.

"See this floor, it is a door, and it leads right back into your house, it's how the house survived enemy attacks, in times of war."

"I never knew," I followed her story like a mesmerized child, she was even of a more mellow mood now, "did you know my father then?"

"Yes I knew him."

"Lady Alice you have an interesting home to say the least but I am ready to go inside and get ready for dinner, mother?" Mr. Henry asked having had enough of her enthusiastic walk through though I was curious to get more out of her.

"Yes let us go back inside," Lady Walker agreed and he walked back with her while Edna and I walked behind both questioning Lady Walker's history.

Dinner was mostly about Lady Walker talking of London news, who was out in the last season and how I left it unfinished she pointed it was not a good thing though everyone just expected my absence after my sister's death.

"Miss Campbell refuses to marry Sir Arthur during the cold seasons and insists on waiting for flowers, everything must be exactly how she wants but if it were me after such luck considering the disparity between her and Sir Arthur I would not take too long," Lady Walker said.

"Well a lady only gets married once so Miss Martha like any other must have things her own way."

"Oh youthful generation must have their youthful hopes or what every artist out there would be penniless."

"Any news of Miss Cynthia?"

"Oh that poor creature, yes, she took to thinking she might become a nun or such but I told her she should be more patient granted that patience she would have had to learn there as well, but this is her fifth year out in society although I was only out twice some ladies take longer to be appreciated."

"Well I am sure someone will come along who appreciates her."

"Yes that is what I told her, for if Miss Campbell and Sir Arthur are to be married I am sure there must be some hope for her," Lady Walker was not very encouraging and rather tactless with my two dear friends.

"Mother if only Miss Cynthia could hear you," Mr. Henry laughed.

"Well then she would start to realize her own great expectations will no doubt lead her into a marriage less life. She was offered a good enough proposal but she judged him not handsome enough, as if there was anything worse than a shallow girl with no exalting looks for herself."

Lady Walker brought my attention to the truth, this was clear as water in a china cup, Miss Cynthia did not give the time of day to anyone who she did not deem handsome enough, yet I had never noticed the common link between the gentlemen she decided in her heart was the one for her, I could not defend my friend's error there.

"Lady Alice will you go to my sister's wedding?" Mr. Henry asked me.

"Of course, I would not miss it, she is a dear girl."

"I am glad we must get you out of this house, you have been here for too long right mother?" Mr. Henry lit his pipe as the staff took the dinner away.

"Yes of course my son," she nodded Mr. Henry was always in the presence of his mother and never of his father, they were always linked arm in arm, inseparable bonds.

"And how is Lord Stanley and your sister, Miss Lilly?"

"My sister has never been happier, and my friend the same, he will be living in his father's London residence with my sister after their marriage, mother is helping them redecorate it, it was a mess before."

"Hm," I nodded remembering Mr. Howard's London town house and how it did not really need to be redecorated just cleaned.

"Though it seems after Lord Bridgeston's appearance in London for the season he has gone back to his mad earl days."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well after your party left us in Stanley Hall, Lord Bridgeston unveiled a new set of paintings he would be taking to London, they were sold within the end of the week, so obviously everyone assumed he was there to stay, be in society once more, maybe even find a bride now that his son has a life instead he secluded himself again. A couple of articles came out speculating how long Lord Bridgeston will make the public wait to see new art from him but as of yet there has been no sign of him anywhere close to London or sending word out about his artistic progress."

"What does Lord Stanley say of it?"

"My friend says his father went away to Bath for many months and now that he is back to Stanley Hall he has gotten himself a new companion," Mr. Henry said and my heart almost jumped out of my mouth with shock for who was this new companion he was talking of.

"Companion?"

"Oh nothing in the likes of Lord Byron..." Mr. Henry cleared it up.

"Well not as far as we know, but his newest companion came after that ridiculous dog named Charles passed away, he went on to and got another to put in its place."

"Charles passed away?" I said in sympathy for his loss but since Mr. Howard claimed to not like the happy endings Charles Dickens wrote of I guess this might've made him rethink it.

"Yes and then it seems he named the next dog some other strange name, what was it mother?"

"If I were to keep up with the Earl's unique attributes there would be no space in my head for anything else, who cares what he names his animals? It is of no consequence to us," Lady Walker dismissed Mr. Howard though it did matter to me; I wanted to know what had become of him.

"You are right; artists have this awful inclination to be strange, I dare say my friend must have resembled his mother then for he does not take after his father in any way I can think of." Mr. Henry commented though coming to think of it, I could not recollect how Joseph was like his mother Lydia nor Mr. Howard, where could he have possibly have gotten his sweetness from?

"Yes," I drank sherry which I had not had for many months trying to stay alert every moment for my mother.

"Weren't your mother and Lord Bridgeston good friends?" Lady Walker asked.

"Yes they were good friends," I nodded.

"At one time we thought they might have gotten engaged."

"Yes I heard the rumors, though they were a little bit exaggerated, I guess a widowed woman ought to expect if she has too many conversations with a widowed man," I tried to dismiss the conversation.

"Well said, be sure then you do not make that mistake then, and I think it is time for us to retire to our chambers son," Lady Walker got up and Henry stopped smoking.

"Yes mother, goodnight Lady Alice."

"Goodnight Lady Walker, Mr. Henry," I got up and nodded and Mr. Henry kissed my hand before going up with the staff.

"Oh he named the dog John, I remember thinking he must've named it after John the Baptist? Strange man right?" Mr. Henry said and I was glad he remembered for the probability was he had named his dog after John Webster, the author of The Duchess of Malfi, not after a notable Bible figure which was less likely when talking about Mr. Howard.

"Yes very strange," I nodded.

Before going to my bedchamber I went to see how my mother was, she was sitting in the corner playing with one of Joan's dolls and Edna had fixed my mother's hair, it was straight untangled and short up to her neck unlike any woman I previously met with.

"Mother?" I said and she did not respond, "mother?"

"Take them away," she said.

"Who?"

"Henry and his master, they do not love you."

"How do you know they are here?"

"I can see it all; I see him on a leash trying to take me away from you but you must not let them!" She latched on to my arm.

"Then please mother behave, prove to them you are well, show them how good you are, that you are still my lovely mother," I looked into her eyes.

"But I am not Alice; I have gone so far away already so far... I am only waiting for the right time and when they call me I will be entirely there," she spoke with eyes wide open.

"Let us think on something else..." I embraced her, "how about I sleep with you here tonight?"

"Oh yes come let yourself dream and when you wake up everything will be right in the world."

Mother placed me in bed like I was a child then she laid next to me and with held hands we fell asleep together, while I slept peacefully with hopes of waking up the next day to a miracle something else took place.

"Lady Alice!" Edna jerked me back and forth from my mother's bed to wake me up.

"Edna? What are you doing here?" I struggled to open my weary eyes.

"Your mother milady!"

"Where is she!" I saw she was no longer sleeping with me.

"Mr. Henry! Hurry!" Edna pulled me out of the bed and I stumbled over with her through the hall.

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No part, character, names, plot, setting, conflict or resolution, point of view, theme or symbolism of this story may be replicated.

Copyright: All Rights Reserved to A. Sena Gomes.