My Darling Caroline by Adele Ashworth Page A

it never occurred to you that Rosalyn’s only problem is that she cannot hear?”
    He sneered. “Of course she can hear.”
    She smiled faintly. “I think you should consider that she can’t.”
    She expected him to laugh, or dismiss her notions completely, but instead he lowered his gaze, thoughtfully pondering the statement she had posed.
    “What makes you think such a thing?” he finally asked.
    Caroline wiped the back of her hand across her brow. “Well, she never utters a word, and three days ago, when I found her in the stables, she didn’t hear me come in. I think she was sleeping, but even someone in a very deep sleep would have heard me, or the horses, or the wind and rain when I opened the door. She heard nothing.”
    He shook his head skeptically.
    “If you think about it, it’s not implausible,” she persisted. “If she is a perfectly balanced little girl, she should be able to speak. I’ve concluded she’s perfectly balanced and yet she does not speak. In nearly all cases where people do not speak, they also cannot hear.”
    After a moment of staring at the rug beneath his feet, he admitted quietly, “I don’t think it’s ever occurred to me.” He looked at her again. “Don’t you think Nedda would have noticed, though? She’s the one who’s practically raised her.”
    Caroline shook her head. “I think Nedda probably did more taking care of her needs than raising her. I’m sure she fed her, changed her, cuddled with her, but she isn’t her mother—and you were gone much of the time, were you not?”
    He nodded negligibly.
    “I think, under those conditions, the only person who would have likely noticed she was deaf would have been her mother, someone keenly aware of a problem from the beginning. You and Nedda probably noticed she was different when she matured and didn’t learn to communicate with speech. By then she was communicating the only way she knew how, and the two of you accepted it as a problem with her mind.”
    She lowered her body onto the settee. “I think she either was born deaf or lost her hearing with the fever she had when she arrived here. I know that fevers in children sometimes do that.”
    He stood quickly and began to pace the room. “Children who cannot hear are usually placed in institutions, are they not?”
    She refused to look away. “Sometimes. I would say nearly always, in the case of the underprivileged. Where the nobility are concerned, that decision would be strictly up to the parents.”
    “I see.”
    He stopped and faced her squarely, arms crossed over his chest, legs spread apart like a soldier ready for battle. He looked formidable and intimidating. She knew what was coming.
    “Well, I absolutely refuse to have my daughter placed in an institution. It would tear us both apart. I’d rather she stay here for the remainder of her life and live as she is now, in my care.”
    Caroline melted. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
    His brows shot up. “Indeed.”
    She rubbed her hands together in her lap, choosing her words cautiously. “Brent, Rosalyn is not stupid or insane, she is deaf. I would like your permission to teach her to communicate.”
    He was taken aback by that. She could see it in his eyes. Then his lids narrowed as he began sauntering toward her.
    “If she can’t talk or hear, Caroline,” he asked suspiciously, “how do you expect to accomplish this?”
    Her expression became grim. “She can learn associations between objects, to move her lips to form words, to use gestures for meaning, to write. The possibilities are endless, I should think.”
    He said nothing for a moment. Then Caroline raised herself until she stood only inches away, taking his warm, large hand in hers and squeezing it gently.
    “I think Rosalyn is as quick-minded as any child her age,” she said passionately. “And if you allow her behavior to continue as it is now, if you only feed her and clothe her and let her run wild, you’ll be cheating her.