Exactly half an hour later, I knocked on Mrs. King’s door. When she called enter, I pushed it open, and announced, "I'm here, Madam."

She lifted her head to gaze at me. "I will be heading to Winslow to see my Aunt today. I need to rest and since I want to spend more time with Zackary there will be no need to come along. Cancel his swimming lessons at ... what time is it?"

“2:30pm," I replied.

"Right. Cancel that, and get luggage packed with his things, enough for a few days.”

"Yes, Madam.”

"When are you meant to have your day off?"

"On Sunday," I replied.

"Today is …?”

“Thursday.”

“Doesn’t matter. Just take the time off until I return.”

"Alright, I responded. "Thank you."

"Get his breakfast ready, then come back for him."

I could have taken the child with me then, but she wanted to treat me like a lowly servant. Gritting my teeth I smiled at Zackary. Then I headed down the stairs determined I wouldn’t let her get to me, but there was no fooling Mrs. Blackmore.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her brows furrowed with concern.

"Nothing a good breakfast won’t cure. What is Zackary having today?" I asked her.

“Oatmeal.”

"I guess you can start to prepare it. I’m supposed to bring him down for breakfast now.”

“Why didn’t you just bring him down with you?”

“Madam wanted a few more minutes with him,” I said with a tight smile.

“Charlotte, you don’t look so well,” Carrie noted, looking up from her cup of coffee.

“Mr. Boothsworth, how scared is Zackary of his father?”

Mrs. Blackmore answered for him. “Carrie told me George, the last chauffeur, told her how Mr. King had waited by his door for Zackary to come back from a trip to his Aunt’s, but when Zackary saw him he ran back out to the car and shut the door. George told her he was trembling.”

“That was nothing,” Mr. Boothsworth said, his tone doleful. “On his second birthday Mr. King threw him a party. He didn’t participate in the event but came at the end of it to give the boy a present. The moment Mr. King appeared Zackary started crying and looking at his mother for reassurance.”

“I know he’s a kid, but really someone should sit him down and be firm with him. I wouldn’t let my son treat me like that. It’s the strangest thing. He should have been used to it by now. It’s very strange because children that age are usually so good about accepting their parents exactly as they are.”

I had a good idea where his hysterics could have originated from, but I didn’t say. “How did the accident happen?” I asked Mr. Boothsworth. “You were around at the time, weren’t you?”

“This one’s been around a long while,” Mrs. Blackmore said sarcastically.

“I’m capable of commitments,” he insinuated, and for a moment I was pushed out of the conversation.

She gave him a sour look before returning to the batch of flapjacks she was pulling out of the oven.

He turned to me. “It was three years ago,” he said. “Mr. Stanley Wilde, Madam’s father was in the car with Mr. King. They were on their way from the airport when the driver of a truck carrying flammable liquid fell asleep at the steering wheel. His truck rammed into them. The impact flung their car off the road and into the woods. The leaking tank blew the entire vehicle up. Luckily Mr. King was flung out since he wasn’t wearing a seat belt, but Mr. Wilde wasn’t so lucky. Mr. Wilde was like a father to him in many ways and I think it was a devastating blow to him. He was driving, you see. After the accident, he completely shut off.”

“What was Mr. King like before the accident? More approachable?”

“Oh, no. He’s always been guarded. The only person he truly opened up to was the Madam’s father and of course, he fell in love with Zackary from the day he was born.”

“Do you think he tolerates all her affairs because he feels guilty?” Mrs. Blackmore asked.

For a moment the butler stopped and looked between us, then he rose to his feet, a look of dignity on his face. “Being with you women for even a few minutes has turned me into a tattler.”

“You don’t need us. You’ve always been one,” Mrs. Blackmore growled.

“I’ll take my flapjacks to go,” he said and rose to finish off his tea elsewhere.

Mrs. Blackmore finished putting Zackary’s breakfast together and I rose too. It was time for me to go get him.