walked across the mare’s pasture. Did you know there are many different shades of white, Mama? There is white with pink, white with silver, and white with blue or yellow. All kinds of white.” He took a slurp of his tea. “And sunlight can be white, when it lands on water or glass. Mr. Dorning used to sit for hours staring at sunlight and trees and clouds. He asked if I had a pony.”
“Would you like a pony?” Catherine had a mare, a sweet old thing who only cantered in the direction of the barn and then never for more than a dozen yards.
The momentary gust of enthusiasm—over the color white, of all things—dropped from Alexander’s sails. “I must earn my rewards, Mama.”
Another small scold aimed at an adult too silly to grasp a basic tenet of childhood. “Did Mr. Forester tell you that?”
Alexander nodded.
Whatever Mr. Forester was accomplishing, he certainly hadn’t taught Alexander anything about polite conversation.
“Would you like a biscuit, Alexander?”
“No, thank you, ma’am.”
Good God, when had her company become such a tribulation to her son? “Would you like to be excused?”
The kicking resumed. “Yes, please, Mama. Thank you for the tea.”
“One more question, Alexander. Did you enjoy the time spent with Mr. Dorning?”
Alexander looked at his tea cup, sitting half empty on the saucer on the tray. He looked at the door and at his hands. Then his gaze went to the window, where late afternoon sunshine slanted through the glass, sending dust motes dancing on warm, golden beams.
“Can Mr. Dorning be my tutor?”
“For art, while he’s here, he can be. Mr. Forester will continue to instruct you in other subjects.” Vera broke a biscuit in half and passed the larger portion to her son. “What did you enjoy about your time with Mr. Dorning?”
Alexander took the half-portion. “Mr. Dorning explains things. He isn’t mean. He doesn’t walk too fast for me to keep up, and he doesn’t call me boy. I don’t feel stupid because he knows more than I do. He said you are proud of me.”
“I absolutely am.”
The vehemence in Vera’s tone must have surprised Alexander, because for the first time since this interview had begun, he looked her straight in the eye.
“You are proud of me?”
“Of course I am. You work hard at your studies, day after day. You are making progress, as I said this morning. You do not give up, and you never complain. Of course I’m proud of such a son.”
The half biscuit disappeared into his pocket. “I’m a slow top, but Mr. Dorning said he was a slow top at Latin.”
“I haven’t a word of Latin, so you aren’t as slow at it as I am.”
“You’re a girl, Mama. You needn’t trouble over Latin.” Another jarring touch of condescension colored that explanation. “May I be excused now?”
“You may, though I will continue to monitor your progress with Mr. Dorning.”
He bowed like a little automaton. “Good day, ma’am. Thank you for the tea.”
Alexander didn’t exactly scamper from the room, but he certainly didn’t dawdle either. When he opened the door, Oak Dorning was standing on the other side, his hand upraised as if to knock.
“I told Mama about all the colors of white, Mr. Dorning.” This was offered somewhat nervously, for no reason Vera could discern. “I explained about what you said.”
“We had a thorough discussion of undertones, didn’t we?” Mr. Dorning replied. “We also had a nice ramble by the stream, and I hope tomorrow we can continue our conversation about seeing what’s before us.”
“You didn’t go near the bog, did you, Alexander?” That bog had occasioned some enormous nightmares for Vera.
“We did not,” Mr. Dorning said. “Alexander described its location, the better to ensure my safety, and we ventured nowhere near it, nor will we ever. I’ll see you tomorrow after lunch, Alexander.”
“Yes, sir.” Alexander flung a bow at Mr. Dorning and scuttled through the door.
“The tea is still hot,” Vera said. “Perhaps you’d like a cup?”
Oak left the door open, which meant he wasn’t planning on taking liberties—alas—but the open door also meant he wouldn’t risk starting talk among the staff, which Vera appreciated.
“Thank you,” he said, taking the chair Alexander had vacated. “A cup of tea and a biscuit can right most of the ills of the world.”
What a contrast between the pale, diffident boy and the handsome, muscular man. The child was fair, Oak Dorning was dark-haired. Alexander’s eyes were the blue of a bachelor button, Oak Dorning’s eyes were nearly the color of blooming