Leonard smiled softly at Miss Bronte’s words about the brevity of childhood. For all her brash good cheer, Miss Bronte would be good for Leanna. She needed a warm and caring female role model, one who would support her and praise her achievements, unlike her mother. He hd been too well trained not to speak ill of the dead to actually say that aloud, however. He nodded, when Miss Bronte asked to see the photograph, and stood. “Give me just a moment to fetch it.” He went to one of the many small study areas scattered throughout the Library. This particular one, in a corner of the third floor, was his favorite. The bookshelves completed the square the walls started except for a passage way at the corner, hiding it from view. An elegant desk stood against the windowless wall, with a comfortable leather chair. The other wall had a large picture window, in front of which sat to overstuffed leather arm chairs and a small table. He retrieved the picture from the desk drawer, then headed back down to the fireplace and Miss Bronte.

As he returned, he heard Mrs. Browne softly murmur a polite ‘You’re welcome’ to Miss Bronte, who was now holding a cup of tea. He gestured for Mrs. Browne to take a seat, knowing that without the invitation, she would remain standing out of propriety. He handed the photograph to Miss Bronte, and returned to his seat. He knew what she would see without looking. Anna, with her incredible good looks, smiling and looking bright, himself looking dour and gloomy, and little Leanna, with her waist length blond curls, beautiful big blue eyes, clinging to him. She wouldn’t know that Anna was acting, that behind the façade, was a cunning, manipulative… He stopped himself, knowing that that train of thought led nowhere but anger and sorrow. “I believe you said you wished to know more of Leanna?”