The third floor…
Geoffrey drew her to him the next afternoon, kissing her soundly. “I tend to forget there are parts of the house you’ve never seen. This goes up to the third story, where my parents’ rooms were. The nursery is up there as well. You might want to see it. Then, if you wish, I’ll show you my mother’s paintings.”
“I would love that.” Her expression changed. “And now I think of it, is there a reason I cannot go up to the nursery in the staff wing? Hannah said she had to get permission before she could take me up there.”
He grinned. “I’ll take you up any time you’re ready and introduce you. After that you can go whenever you wish. Hannah was just following orders, because they have instructions to protect the children’s privacy.”
That seemed to satisfy her. Geoffrey reached the top of the stairs, and set her gently down on her feet. “First, I’ll show you the nursery where I spent so many of my childhood years.” He grinned down at her, leading her down the hall toward the end. “It may be dusty; I haven’t been in here in a very long time.”
But when he opened the door, he was surprised. It was pristine. Angel took in a deep breath, delighted. The walls were a light blue, and white curtains covered the large windows, letting in the beautiful afternoon light.
An empty white crib on one side was the first thing that caught her eye; a larger bed sat on the opposite side. A school desk designed for a young boy stood in the corner by the window, and a large but worn rocking horse stood in the center of the room. Angel left his arms to kneel by it.
“Clyde,” Geoffrey prompted, when he saw her expression.
“That’s his name?” she asked softly.
He chuckled. “I dubbed him Clyde when I was three. And I think this is his third tail. I apparently broke off the other two, or so Mollie told me. I don’t remember it.”
Angel giggled. “Clyde,” she said to the little horse, “You must always stay with us. Someday there will be another little Geoffrey running around. But I promise not to let him pull off your tail again.”
Geoffrey was laughing at her expression. “I believe you’re fonder of him than I was.” He reached down to help her up. “Are you ready to see the paintings now?”
“I am.” She rose, but her hand still lovingly rested on Clyde’s mane.
“Then I’ll take you.” Taking her hand, he led her out into the hallway to the next room. He stood just outside a door with his hand on the doorknob.
“These were my mother’s rooms. My father’s are next door, but the rooms are identical, except for the color. Mother wanted to be closer to the nursery, so she stayed in here much of the time until I was past three or four. Are you ready, Angel?”
* * *
Angel stood, taking in the exquisite room. The pale pink of the room, accented with white furniture, stately and elegant, gave the room a French flair.
“Oh, Geoffrey! These rooms are beautiful. And her tastes were lovely.” Her voice sounded reverent. He smiled down at her, as he opened the study door. “May I go inside?”
“You’re sure you feel well?”
“Very well.”
He guided her inward. “The rooms that lead off my mother’s are very much like yours, Angel. Except for the study, which she turned into a studio. She thought the desk took up too much room so she had it removed.” He led her toward the closed door, and opened it.
Angel gasped. The brilliant white room, made even lovelier by the afternoon sun that seeped in through the white curtains, gave it a soft glow. But inside there were pieces upon pieces of framed and unframed paintings, stacked against each other.
Geoffrey pulled out a chair for her. “Sit, my love. And I’ll show them to you so you may choose.I know you’ll want to pick out some for the dormitory, since you’ve now seen the bed coverings and the curtains.”
Obediently, she sat. But each piece he showed her was so exquisite and unique, she was amazed. “Oh, Geoffrey, I don’t think I can choose. They’re all so perfect.”
He eyed her. “Shall I show you the pieces I thought might work for the dormitory?”
“Please. But I do want to see them all.”
Geoffrey sorted through them, pulling out one at a time. Angel exclaimed her delight at seeing each one, but couldn’t seem to make up her mind. After showing her several of them, he located a stack of paintings. “Ah. If I remember correctly, these were my mother’s favorites,” he said, smiling.
“I want to see them,” she exclaimed.
Angel sat, staring in awe at them as he brought them to her. The first was of a mirror, showing three little girls who were almost climbing over each other in an effort to see their own reflections. A washstand stood in the corner of the bath.
“Who are they?” She asked curiously.
“Now that you’ve asked, I don’t know. I don’t ever remember seeing these little girls, and mother never spoke of them to me. There’s another here somewhere that might be the same children.”
He looked again through the paintings, but shook his head. “I’ll ask Miss Hazel. She might know where it went.”
Angel eyed the painting more carefully. “This one should go in the bath at the dormitory,” she announced. “It’s perfect.” She bent down to see it more closely. “Geoffrey? Look. What’s this at the end of her name?”
He leaned down. A moment later, he pulled his spectacles out of his pocket. “It looks like the letter L.”
Angelica was still staring at it. “What do you think it means?”
“I’ve no idea. I’ve never noticed it before.”
The one they chose for the kitchen was of a little elderly lady, leaning over a steaming cup of coffee and praying. A light from a window behind her shone down on her, almost making a halo around her graying hair. Angel exclaimed at it.
“This looks like it could be Mollie.”
He smiled. “It was. My mother often used us as subjects, without our even knowing it.”
“I see.” She looked again. “Wait. This one has an N after it.”
Geoffrey met her eyes, and then leaned down to look.
“So, it does. It’s odd I never noticed them before.”
They chose several more, and he pulled out another. “I thought you might like this one, too.”
Angel was delighted. It was a flower garden full of colorful hollyhocks. In the foreground was a little girl in a white dress with red hair in ringlets down her back, tied with white ribbon. She was watching as the wind seemed to gently blow the flowers to and fro; her small hands clasped behind her back.
“She resembles you, Angel, as you must have looked when you were a little girl. Wait—it holds a letter as well.”
“An A,’” she said, bewildered.
“I think this is one I would like to keep here. Let’s continue. Are there any here that you would like to put somewhere?”
Angel could sit still no longer. She scurried across the room to pick out one she had spotted earlier; the painting of a little boy with dark, curly-hair. There was a rueful expression on his face as he stood standing by a rocking horse, holding its tail in one hand. The horse’s expression was full of surprise.
Angel looked up, her eyes pleading. “I want this one for the study. I know it must be you and Clyde. And look—the letter behind it is a G.” She paused. “For Geoffrey?”
“I don’t know. However, it was of me,” he said, frowning. “Are you sure, Angel? There have to be any number of paintings you could choose.”
“Oh, but this is just so adorable, and I think I can understand exactly how your mother must have felt as she painted it. Please?”
He gave in finally, and she laughed with delight. “Thank you, Geoffrey. I love it.”
“All right, my love. Just don’t share with everyone who comes into the study, that it was of me.”
“I won’t if you insist.” She said softly, reaching up to caress his face. “But I’ll be surprised if they don’t know as soon as they see it. And it will thrill me every time I look at it.”
Looking further, she also chose one of a long line of dancers at a ball, performing their steps. It looked as if it was painted from a balcony. “I think I would love this to be in the ballroom, Geoffrey.”
“Believe it or not, sweetheart, this piece did hang in the formal ballroom for many years. If you like, we’ll hang it again.” He was grinning at her, and she smiled back.
Angel moved to reach for one that stood at the corner of the room. Her steps slowed as she approached it, however, and she paused several feet away.
“Geoffrey? What’s this?”
He shook his head. “I wondered if you’d ask me that, sweetheart. The truth is, I don’t know. This is one she painted a year or so before she passed. I’ve never understood its meaning.”
They both stood there, looking toward the painting. A lonely little cabin stood by itself with a full moon in the dark sky above. But there was an ominous feeling about it. Light and dark both emanated from the windows, and a lone tall men leading a horse through the woods toward it further increased the feeling of a battle between good and evil.
At the end of the painting were two letters side by side. G & E.
Angel continued to stare at it. “This man she painted…” she whispered. “Geoffrey, he looks like you.”
He hugged her to him. “I’ve often thought that too, sweetheart. I wish I knew what it meant.”
* * *
It became a treasure hunt. Before they left, Angelica and Geoffrey had also picked out others to go into the dormitory. Geoffrey set the pieces they had chosen outside in the hallway and then gathered her up. “Come. I believe we should go down and see Hannah and get you ready for supper.” He lifted her in his arms and walked with her toward the doorway.
But she looked back over the rooms, still as they were so many years ago. “Your mother must have been very special sir,” she whispered, “I wish I had known her.”
“Indeed, she was. And you, my love,” he said softly, “are very like her.”
Angel’s eyes misted with tears. “Thank you, Geoffrey. I’m so honored to hear you say that.”
* * *
But Angel was unprepared for what happened next. It seemed, suddenly, that the entire room filled with white light. She gasped, her eyes enormous. The light continued to grow brighter and seemed to come from within the room itself.
“Geoffrey?” she whispered in his ear. “What’s happening?”
He grinned. “I’ll explain, my love. Don’t be afraid.”
Angel was glad to be held protectively in his arms. She remained still as she blinked at the light.
Geoffrey kept her in his embrace as he turned back to face the room, beaming toward the light and saying softly. “Yes. I love her too.” Turning back, he left the room with her and descended the stairs.
They had reached the bedroom before Angel spoke again.
“Geoffrey? What happened in there?” It was a whisper, but her eyes had remained wide.
He set her down and turned her to face him. “I don’t know if you’ll believe me, but I’ll tell you.” He watched her face for a moment, seeing that she was intently waiting, and began.
“Since the time of my mother’s passing, Angel, this happens whenever I go up to her suite of rooms. As I leave, the room grows bright with light. I’ve always assumed it was a sign that she loves me and misses me. A sign of approval. I didn’t know if it would happen when I took you up with me, but I suspected it might.” He took her face in his hands. “And it was even brighter today than it usually is. I take that to mean that she approves of you. Wholeheartedly.”
He was silent a moment. “I don’t mention these occurrences to the staff. As it is, they’re afraid to go into those rooms. Miss Hazel goes in to clean rather than ask the staff to do it because she knows some of them are frightened of it. She says the same thing happens to her. But she knew my mother well, and she was devoted to her.” He looked down into her eyes. “So now you know. Does it frighten you? And do you believe me?”
She nodded. “I’m not frightened,” she said quietly, tilting her head. “But I’m very honored. And yes, Geoffrey. I believe you.”