Annabelle turned to face her seriously then. “Daddy wouldn’t want me to leave you alone,” she said as firmly as any parent.

Consuelo shook her head. “That’s nonsense and you know it. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” But as she said it, her eyes filled with tears again, and her daughter was not convinced.

“We’ll see about that,” Annabelle said firmly, and swept out of the room, to organize a tea tray to be taken up to Consuelo’s room. When she returned, she put her arm around her mother, gently escorted her upstairs for a nap, and settled her on her bed, the bed she had shared with the husband she had loved and who was gone, which broke Consuelo’s heart.

“You’re much too good to me, my love,” she said, looking embarrassed.

“No, I’m not,” Annabelle said brightly. She was the only remaining ray of sunshine in the house. She brought her mother nothing but joy. And each was all the other had left. There were just the two of them now. She pulled a light shawl over Consuelo, and went back downstairs to read in the garden, hoping her mother would feel up to going back to the hospital the next day. It was the only distraction Annabelle had, and gave her something to do that was important to her.

She could hardly wait to go to Newport the following month.

Chapter 3

Annabelle and her mother left for Newport a month earlier than usual, in June. It was beautiful that time of year, and as they always did, the staff had gone ahead to open the house. Usually, the social season in Newport was dazzling, but this year they were planning a very quiet life. People could visit them at the house, but two months after her father and brother’s deaths there was no way that Annabelle and her mother could go out. The now-familiar black ribbons were put on the front door in Newport, to indicate their state of mourning.