Page 95 of When She Was a Governess
“That’s wonderful. Should we leave it here so it can go home to its family?” Henry asked.
“Yes. Everything should get to go home to its family.” She patted the starfish gently. “Goodbye, starfish. Have a nice swim.”
They made their way back up to the house with the spring sun on their backs, Amelia’s pockets full of shells and her hair windblown and tangled. She chirped away about which shells Mama would like best and whether starfish had mamas and papas like regular families and why owls hooted only at night because she wanted to hear one.
Henry loved her sweet, high-pitched voice and the way her hand felt in his. How could he have been afraid to love this child? But he was not afraid now. He was ready, finally, to live.
*
That evening, beforehe went to change for dinner, Henry found his wife in her bedchambers. Although it was still early, she’d changed into her nightgown and wrapper, her hair loose around her shoulders, and was standing by the window looking out at the moonlit gardens.
“Are you ill, my love?” Henry asked.
She turned from the window. “No, not ill. Just in need of a quiet night. I’ve asked for our dinner to be sent up. I have something to tell you.”
Henry wrapped his arms around her waist. “Is anything amiss?”
“No, quite the opposite. I think I might be with child.”
His arms tightened around her. “What?”
“I’m not certain yet. But I’m late. And I’ve been feeling odd in the mornings. I think we might be having a baby.”
Joy flooded through him, so intense it was almost painful. “A baby. Our baby.”
“Are you happy?”
“Happy? Sophia, I’m—” He couldn’t find words big enough. “I’m overjoyed.”
“I keep thinking about how adorable Amelia will be with a baby brother or sister,” Sophia said.
“It will be good for her to have a sibling.” A hint of sadness drifted into his voice, thinking of Rebecca. “I loved my sister very much. And now, Edward and I are becoming close again. Nothing is quite as wonderful and complicated as the love between siblings.”
“Yes, and think about where I would be without my brothers.”
“We’ll be a family of four.”
“Unless it’s twins,” she said laughing.
“I’ll take as many as you will give me.” He lifted her into his arms and crossed the room to lay her gently on the bed. But before he could do all the things he wanted to do to her, a maid arrived with their dinner.
First things first. Sustenance for his pregnant wife. And then, he would show her once again just how much he loved her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
September arrived atMontrose Manor with golden sunshine and the promise of harvest, weather perfect for the grand opening of the Duke of Ashford Memorial School. After months of construction, the building was complete—two bright classrooms, a beautiful library with floor-to-ceiling shelves already filled with books, and a small garden where children could play during breaks. The village had been buzzing with excitement for weeks.
By early afternoon, it seemed the entire village had gathered in front of the new school. Farmers and shopkeepers, craftsmen and laborers, their wives and children. It pleased Sophia to see how everyone had come to witness this moment. Many of the children had never attended any school before, had never owned a book or learned to write their own names.
The building itself gleamed in the late summer sunshine, its fresh paint and new windows making it look almost too fine for the humble village. A small platform had been erected in front of the school’s entrance. Sophia stood nearby with Charlotte, Thomas, Edward, and Sebastian and James, who’d come from London for the occasion. Amelia stood between Sophia and Charlotte, bouncing with excitement in a pretty blue dress.
Henry stepped forward, and the crowd quieted. “The idea for this school came to me in a dream,” he began, his voice carrying across the crowd.
Sophia’s throat tightened. She tugged a hanky from where she had tucked it earlier, knowing she would need it.
“Fourteen years ago, my wife’s father, The Duke of Ashford, was falsely accused of a crime he didn’t commit. He was convicted and executed for murder, leaving his three young children orphaned and penniless. To say it was a terrible injustice is mild, one that was only corrected years later when the real killer was found and the Duke’s name was cleared.”
The crowd murmured. Many knew this story already, as it had beenthescandal of its time.
