Page 39 of When She Was a Governess
Amelia considered this seriously. “And now you’re marrying Papa. Like Cinderella marries the prince.”
“Yes, exactly like that.”
“So you get a happy ending.” Amelia’s face lit up with understanding. “Like in the story!”
“Yes, darling. I get a happy ending.” Sophia’s voice wavered. “I get to stay here with you and Papa, and we’ll be a family.”
“A real family,” Amelia agreed. She patted Sophia’s cheek with one small hand. “I’m glad you were like Cinderella. Because now you get to be happy.”
Oh, this child. She was simply too sweet for words. “Me too, sweetheart. Me too.”
They continued reading—the fairy godmother’s magic, the ball, the midnight escape, the lost slipper. When they reached the wedding scene at the end, Amelia touched the illustration of Cinderella in her wedding gown.
“You’ll wear a pretty dress too?”
“Yes. A very kind and hard-working dressmaker is making it for me to wear at my wedding,” Sophia said.
“Good. ReadCinderellaagain?”
“Again? We just finished.”
“Please?”
“Oh, very well. One more time.”
Sophia began reading from the beginning. As she read, she thought about how similar her life had been to the fictional Cinderella’s. For whatever reason, it had not occurred to her before. She’d been orphaned, forced to work, treated poorly by people who should have cared for her. However, in her story, the prince had not fallen in love with her. He had simply needed a wife and a mother for Amelia. Life was not a fairy tale. She had never expected it to be, so there was no need to feel sorry for herself.
She didn’t hear the door open, didn’t notice the figure standing in the doorway until Amelia suddenly squealed with delight.
“Papa, hello.”
Sophia’s head snapped up. Henry stood just inside the nursery, one hand on the doorframe, his dark eyes fixed onthem. How long had he been standing there? What had he heard?
“I apologize,” he said. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“You’re not intruding.” Sophia shifted Amelia on her lap. “We were just reading a new book. It arrived today from London.”
“Cinderella.” Amelia held up the book proudly. “She was like Mama. She had to work and people were mean to her, but then she married the prince and got a happy ending.”
What seemed like surprise and understanding flickered in Henry’s eyes.
“Is that so?” Henry’s voice was gentle as he looked at Sophia. “Then it’s a very appropriate story.”
“The best story,” Amelia declared. She wriggled off Sophia’s lap and ran to Henry, grabbing his hand. “Papa, can we go see the waves tomorrow? All three of us?”
Henry blinked down at her, clearly caught off guard. “The waves?”
“At the beach. Please?”
Sophia saw darkness cross Henry’s face. Oh dear. Had he not been down to the shore since Eleanor’s death? He’d said he found her body, washed up onto rocks.
“It’s nearly your suppertime, love,” Sophia said, trying to give him an escape.
But Henry crouched down to Amelia’s level. “Perhaps tomorrow, if the weather holds, we could all go down to the beach together. You, and me, and Mama. Would you like that?”
“Yes.” Amelia threw her arms around his neck.
Over Amelia’s head, Henry’s eyes met Sophia’s. There was vulnerability there, and determination. “I have not been down to the shore in quite some time.”
