Beatrice

Chapter Two

(NOT EDITED)

After a few minutes, Ms Caldwell pulled away from Beatrice. "I have to finish, alright?" Beatrice nodded. "Can you check on the chefs? I told Mr Freeman I would, but..."

"Of course," Beatrice interrupted.

"Thank you." Beatrice only smiled before walking into the hall towards the kitchen. She was silent, watching her surroundings. She smiled at the servants if she saw them in the hall and they smiled back at her. On the way she saw Mrs Freeman holding her one year-old son, James.

Mrs Freeman was a tall and thin woman who always seemed to have a beautiful smile on her face. She was kind to those large and small, just as she treated her own. Just like most during that time, she was at least a few years younger than her husband, but also in some ways acted younger. She seemed innocent, yet strong.

"Hello, Beatrice," she smiled and waved with her .

"Hello, Mrs Freeman, and to you, too, James," Beatrice said and waved. She peered down at the baby. On top of his head, there was a few dark black hairs covering his head, and his large green eyes matched his mother's. He clearly was going to be a handsome boy when he grew up.

Beatrice looked away from the baby to his mother, before walking down the hall. "Wait," Mrs Freeman called. Beatrice turned. "And please call me Grace." Beatrice nodded. "I heard what happened. I truly am sorry. I don't know what gotten into him."

"It's alright," Beatrice answered. "I understand he was just upset."

"I just wanted to apologize," Mrs Freeman explained. Beatrice smiled.

"Of course. Excuse me, but I should go. I must check on the cooks."

"Of course." Beatrice peered back down at James.

"Goodbye, Jamie. Stay happy for me, alright?" Beatrice cooed. James giggled and reached out for Beatrice. Instead Beatrice pulled back farther away from him and waved a goodbye to Mrs Freeman.

****

When Beatrice stepped into the kitchen, she was greeted by an egg hitting the door, only inches from her face. There were cooks rushing around the kitchen, trying to duck away from flying eggs and flour, coming from a young boy only five years years-old. His dark brown eyes sparkled with mischief and his brown hair was dusted with flour.

"Patrick!" Beatrice screamed. The little boy stopped at his name and turned to see her. "What on Earth are you doing?"

"Having fun; what else?" Patrick laughed. Beatrice grabbed the little boy and pulled him close to her.

"You know your cousin is visiting today, right?" Patrick nodded. "Then he has to eat, right?"

"Who cares about him? Let him starve."

"You have to also eat," Beatrice reminded him.

"Fine," Patrick groaned and Beatrice giggled.

"So, where is Katherine?"

"Why should I tell you?"