Page 32 of When She Was a Governess
Amelia looked up, her expression curious. “What is it, Uncle Henny?”
Sophia reached over and took the child’s small hand. “It’s good news, love. Very good news.”
“Are we getting a puppy?” Amelia’s eyes went wide with hope.
Despite her nervousness, Sophia had to smile. “Not exactly.”
Henry leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Miss Sophia and I are getting married. To each other.”
“Married?” Amelia asked.
“Yes, your uncle and I are getting married. And that means I’ll be your stepmother. And I’ll live here always, with you and Uncle Henry.”
For a long moment, Amelia said nothing. She looked from Sophia to Henry and back again, her small face working through this information.
“Married?” she repeated. “Like a real mama and papa? Like in our books?”
“That’s right,” Sophia said.
A slow smile spread across Amelia’s face. Then she launched herself at Sophia, wrapping her small arms around her neck. “You will be my mama.”
Sophia caught her, laughing as she held the child close. “That’s right.”
“Do I call you Mama now?” Amelia asked.
“I think that would be best,” Sophia said, trying to keep her voice steady when inside she was a mess of emotions. Mama. She would be Amelia’s Mama. What more could she ever ask for?
Amelia turned to Henry, her forehead creasing. “Then shouldn’t he be my Papa?”
“Um, well, yes, you may call me that if you wish,” Henry said, stiffly.
“I will. Starting now,” Amelia said, moving to hug Henry. “Hello, Papa.”
He pulled her onto his lap, kissing the top of her head. “Hi, Amelia.”
“Papa, can we have a puppy?”
Sophia and Henry laughed.
“I think a puppy would be a great addition to our family,” Henry said. “We shall discuss it further.”
Amelia snuggled against Henry’s chest. “A real family. With a dog.”
Sophia and Henry exchanged a glance as she fought tears. This beautiful child was so innocent, so accepting of such a change. Surely it meant that this was truly a good thing. It had to be. For Amelia.
*
The next morning,Sophia waited in her room for Mrs. Bromley and the dressmaker. Amelia was down in the kitchen for her breakfast with Lucy.
“Miss Ashford? It’s Mrs. Bromley. May I come in?”
“Of course.” Sophia turned from the window as the housekeeper entered, followed by a woman Sophia recognized from the village—Mrs. Fletcher, the dressmaker, a spare womanin her fifties with sharp eyes and capable hands. Both women carried what appeared to be enormous bundles of fabric.
“Good morning, Miss Ashford.” Mrs. Bromley’s smile was warm but knowing, as though she understood exactly how overwhelming this moment would be. “Mrs. Fletcher has brought samples for your consideration. We thought it best to begin immediately, given the compressed timeline.”
Three days. Three days to create an entire wardrobe suitable for a lady.
“Yes, of course. Thank you both for coming.” Sophia gestured helplessly at her small room. “Though I’m afraid there’s not much space here.”
