Gemma looked around, frowning at the mess, before her gaze settled on Constance. She practically skipped to her mother’s side, dodging shoes, hats, and walking sticks. “I didn’t see you there for a second, Mother.”
Constance smiled. “Did you have a nice time with Uncle Norman?”
“We did. We watched him get his hair shorn off and then he took us to lunch at one of the fancy restaurants in the Palmer House.”
Constance turned to Norman. “I’m still confused why you got your hair cut in that particular style.”
“It’s because of a girl,” Gemma said before Norman could answer.
Constance’s eyes began to gleam. “I knew it. There is a girl. Who is she?”
Norman settled for a shrug, which had Constance turning to Gemma. “Who is she?”
Gemma frowned. “I’m eight, Mother. It’s not as if Uncle Norman is going to confide all the details to me.”
Constance shot a look to Norman before she nodded to Gemma. “I need to have a bit of a chat with Uncle Norman, dear. What say you go find Oscar and then the two of you can go up to Grandmother’s house? She’s setting out a lovely tea for you and Oscar to enjoy with another new doll she’s purchased for you.”
“I think Oscar and I would rather stay here,” Gemma said, gesturing around. “Uncle Norman could use some help getting his room tidy, and Oscar and I wouldn’t mind helping him, not when he’s agreed to help us make a real peddle-boat.”
Constance glanced to Norman again. “You’ve agreed to help them build a peddle-boat?”
“He’s already drawn up the plans for it, Mother, and he let me and Oscar make a supply list for him while he was getting his haircut.”
Constance narrowed her eyes on Norman even as she gave an airy wave in Gemma’s direction. “Grandmother’s waiting, dear. You’d best get on your way.”
Gemma immediately took to looking stubborn, clearly unwilling to head off to see her grandmother. She glanced to Norman, her lips curving just a little before she returned her attention to her mother. “I can’t go yet because I promised Uncle Norman I’d fess up to something I’ve done.”
Constance frowned. “You must really not want to have tea with Grandmother and a new doll if you’re willingly confessing to something.”
“Or maybe I’m wracked with guilt with what I’ve done and know I’ll feel much better after I get it off my chest.”
“Does Gemma always sound like she’s thirty instead of eight?” Theo asked, looking up from her fashion magazine.
“Afraid so,” Constance said before she nodded at Gemma. “Very well. Out with it. What have you done now?”
It took Gemma less than a minute to confess, ending with, “Me and Oscar tried to put the vase back together, but that didn’t work very well. But it turns out Uncle Norman is willing to give you the same vase that Aunt Alice gave him, so I’m hopeful you won’t be too cross with me.”
Constance laid a hand on Gemma’s shoulder. “I’m not cross with you, Gemma, because I know you didn’t mean to break my vase. Although I will expect you to fess up sooner the next time one of your inventions goes awry.”
“I will, I promise.”
As Constance gave Gemma a hug, Norman strode as best he could through the sitting room and into his bedchamber. Darting into his closet, he retrieved the vase Alice had given him, dusted it off on his jacket, then returned to the sitting room, handing the vase to his sister, surprised when she sent him a frown.
“This is a very expensive vase, Norman, and one a future wife of yours may enjoy, or perhaps that girl Gemma mentioned earlier.”
“Beatrix isn’t a girl, she’s a lady, and—” He stopped talking and winced as Constance immediately took to looking like the cat who’d spotted a nice dish of cream.
“Gemma,” Constance said rather absently. “Time for you to see Grandmother.”
“But it’s just getting interesting.”
“Gemma . . .”
Gemma’s little shoulders sagged. “Oh, very well. But I do hope someone will see fit to fill me in on what Uncle Norman says. I’d like to know if I’m going to get a new aunt sometime soon.” With that, she turned on a small heel and stomped out of the sitting room, her stomps continuing as she made her way down the steps.
The second the door to his workshop banged shut, Constance rounded on Norman. “Who is Beatrix?”
Norman pulled out his pocket watch. “While I would love nothing more than to divulge all the pesky details I’m sure you want to know about Beatrix, I’m running out of time. Theo and I have an engagement planned for this afternoon, one that is long overdue since it took us longer than expected to go through some very interesting research, and—”
“Sit,” Constance interrupted, pointing a dainty finger at a chair that was overflowing with jackets.
“I don’t think she’s going to let you out of here until you tell her about Beatrix,” Theo said, setting aside the fashion magazine she’d been clutching and stepping forward.
His eyes widened when he got his first good look at her.
Theo had never been one to concern herself with fashion, but apparently she’d been taking to heart some of the articles they’d been sharing of late because she was wearing what looked to be a walking dress, but it was one he’d never seen before and looked as if it might have been pulled out of an old trunk, given that the blue it had once been had almost faded to gray. More curious than the color, though, were the flowers she’d attached to the dress, ones that had apparently been fresh flowers when she’d attached them to the fabric but were now wilted.
“It would appear Norman’s not keen to answer my question, Theodosia,” Constance said. “Which means I’m going to need you to tell me all about this Beatrix.”
“I wouldn’t want to deprive him of the pleasure of explaining Beatrix to you.”
Norman pulled his attention away from what seemed to be
