Mariel by Jo Ann Ferguson Page A

showed no inclinations toward marriage, she had resigned herself to the solitary life of growing old with her charge.
    She followed as Lady Mariel led the child up the stairs. Her lips pursed in disapproval as she saw the woman allow the little girl to touch the stained glass window on the landing. The expression softened as she heard Lady Mariel proudly explain that this was the crest of the Wythe family. She began to smile as Rosie exclaimed over the two wolves holding up the herald flag.
    Phipps was sure neither Lady Mariel nor Mrs. Parnell had paused to consider the impact of this adoption on the community. Lady Mariel was the sole heir to the wealth of the Wythe family. When her uncle died, the Cloister would come to her to be passed on to this orphan.
    As the two raced up the few stairs from the landing to the second floor, the older woman paused by the window. Undimmed by the centuries of sunlight which had passed through its light green glass, the family motto written in Latin wafted on a scarlet banner beneath the flag. Always Prepared, Truth’s Champion , she translated mentally. Phipps often wondered if the creator of that phrase could have guessed Lady Mariel Wythe would embody it four hundred years later. When she heard the giggling from the second floor, she hurried after the others.
    Mariel pointed out the door to her uncle’s now unused rooms and the suite where she slept. Pausing by her door, she opened it. Out burst a dark brown blur. She grasped Muffin’s collar just as he was about to put his nose directly into Rosie’s face. The little girl was staring at the springer spaniel as if he was a monster.
    â€œRosie, this is Muffin,” she said as she dragged the dog back from the child. “She’s just enthusiastic. She loves children.”
    Regarding the dog’s brown eyes and the full coat covering its chest, she whispered, “To eat?”
    Mariel laughed and shook her head. “To play with. Do you want me to put her back in my room?”
    â€œYou sleep with her in your room?” she asked incredulously.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œOh.” For some reason that Mariel could not decipher, that fact seemed to change Rosie’s mind. She held out a tentative hand and stroked the dog’s head along the white stripe between its eyes and along its wide nose. Suddenly she grinned. “She’s soft.”
    â€œJust like butter melting on a muffin.” Mariel chuckled again. “That’s how she got her name. Now would you like to see your room?”
    â€œDo I have a Muffin, too?”
    Taken aback by the abrupt reversal, Mariel glanced at Phipps. The older woman was trying not to smile at the odd request. Mariel answered honestly, “No, there’s only one Muffin, but I’m sure you can convince her to sleep with you sometimes.”
    Rosie’s smile broadened as she patted the dog before skipping after the others. Opening the heavy door next to hers, Mariel ushered the child into the spacious room. It was a simple room, once a servant’s quarters, but the single room and attached bath would be perfect for Rosie. A chair and a small table would provide space for school work. Books clustered on the shelves, and a well-used dollhouse waited in one corner beneath a window overlooking the ocean. A jumbled selection of stuffed animals and dolls sat on a chest at one edge of the slightly worn Oriental rug.
    â€œFor me?” cried the little girl. She ran to the tester bed and threw herself on its neat covers.
    Mariel laughed until she heard Phipps’s outwardly outraged sniff. Hating to dampen the child’s excitement, Mariel went to the bed. In a stage whisper, she warned, “We don’t jump on beds with our shoes on, Rosie.” Her voice dropped as she added, “Only with them off, and when Miss Phipps is not around.”
    Rosie giggled, but slid off the now-rumpled bed. Her eyes were caught by the toys, which she had not