Becoming Sophia (65)
I didn’t mean to be impolite, but surely if Georgette had known me before, I would remember her.
“Of course you don’t, you were far too young. Once your father fell ill, bless him, the parties dwindled to none. We could only come every other year and the last year we were supposed to attend, I was pregnant with Caleb; the last time you saw me, you were… oh, I suppose seven, maybe nine, but it wasn’t quite a long enough acquaintance to remember anything. Mr. Dautry and I spoke with your father and Adelind while you danced with friends.” Georgette seemed sad, though her lips smiled, her eyes drooped. “I remember how your mother glowed when she was pregnant with you.”
“Is that how you knew me so surely?” I thought back to when she greeted me with my true name.
“Yes. I suspected it was you from the start, but you were so thin and ragged, it was hard to tell. When I saw the dress, I was sure of it. I was there when your mother commissioned it.”