Page 2 of Suddenly a (The St. Clairs 5)

“What about when you see your friends? Do you dress like a man then?”

The question startled her. “I... don’t really see friends, Aunt.”

“Why not?”

She clasped her hands. “I don’t have any, you see. I don’t leave Morris Park. Papa doesn’t entertain. He—we—are much too busy working on his inventions, you see. I don’t have time for frivolous activities.”

Fury filled Aunt Fanny’s face. “Oh, this is so much worse than I could have imagined. I told Trentham. He won’t believe this. Mia, you need—”

“Fanny? Is that you?”

Thank goodness Papa had arrived. Mia noted he was dressed as a proper country gentleman and she would have to thank his valet for that. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him in a coat and cravat. At least he appeared to be aware of his surroundings today. And he had called her aunt by name.

“Morrison, you are a disgrace,” Aunt Fanny proclaimed. “You have been derelict in your duties. I knew I should have taken Mia with us when Trentham was assigned abroad. I have let my sister down. You, sir, have let her down. Mia, as well.”

Papa frowned. She only hoped her aunt wasn’t confusing him, especially mentioning Mama. Sometimes, her father still believed his wife was alive. It was easier to mollify him by telling him she was taking a nap or working in the garden and that he could see her later.

“Why do you say that?” he asked. “I spend a majority of every day with my daughter. Her mother would be proud. Mia can do complicated formulas in her head. She does outstanding work with machines. She is a veritable wizard when it comes to chemical...”

Then his brows knit together and his voice trailed off. Mia knew they would be losing him.

“What good is that to a young woman?” her aunt demanded. “Mia should have wed years ago. As it is, she is on the shelf.”

“On the shelf?” her father repeated, his tone uncertain.

“Yes, Morrison. On the shelf.” Her aunt frowned. “Do you know what that even means?”

“No,” he admitted.

“It means she is old, Morrison. A spinster who may not be able to ever find a husband.”

“No, she isn’t,” her father insisted. “She’s... she’s...” His voice faded.

Dread filled Mia.

Aunt Fanny asked, “Do you even know how old your daughter is, Morrison?”

“She’s... she’s... ten and six?” he guessed.

She went and slipped her arm through his. “No, Papa. I am four and twenty. In three weeks, when the first day of the new year comes, I will turn five and twenty.”

A baffled expression filled his face. “You are an adult?”

“Yes, Papa. I have been for quite some time.”

“This is ridiculous. A man who doesn’t even know hold old his only child is. You have sadly neglected Mia, Morrison. You...” Her aunt stopped mid-sentence.

Mia saw why. Papa now wandered about the room, fingering things, looking bewildered. She knew his thoughts jumbled and it would be hard for him to carry on a conversation for several hours.

“What’s wrong with him, Mia?” Aunt Fanny asked quietly.

“Papa has... spells,” she replied. “He functions normally and then he gets confused.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“For a while,” she admitted, not wanting her aunt to know it had gone on for over five years and worsened over the last three.

“You can’t remain here.”

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