Page 45 of When She Was a Governess
Amelia ran up to them, arms full of treasures. “Can we come back tomorrow? Please?”
Henry looked at the beach, wishing he had not stayed away so long. He’d been right to face it. To see for himself that it was not only the place where Eleanor had walked into the sea, but also a place of many, many good memories. Times with Charlotte and Thomas he had cherished. And he was ready tomake new memories. With Sophia and Amelia. More days like this one, when the world seemed less harsh and love seemed possible.
“We can come back whenever you like. As long as your mother says it’s all right.” He glanced at Sophia. She smiled, nodding her head, clearly pleased for him.
As they walked back up the path toward Montrose Manor, Amelia skipping ahead with her collection of shells and driftwood, Henry glanced back at the shore.Goodbye, Eleanor. May you rest in peace.
Then, he turned back to the path toward the manor, and put one foot in front of the other, walking toward the future. And when Sophia’s hand slipped into his again as they climbed the path, he held on tight.
Chapter Ten
After they returnedfrom the beach, Sophia helped Amelia wash the sand from her hands and face, listening to the child’s excited chatter about crabs and shells and how high she’d been on Papa’s shoulders. By the time they’d finished their midday meal, Amelia could barely keep her eyes open. Sophia tucked her in for her nap, stroking the golden curls back from her forehead until the child’s breathing deepened into sleep.
Now, standing in the doorway of what would soon be her bedchamber, it truly hit her. Her life was about to drastically change. Was she truly ready for it?
“This will be your suite, Miss Ashford,” Mrs. Bromley said, leading her inside. “His lordship wanted you to have the lady’s chambers, as is proper.”
Sophia stepped into the room. “Oh, it’s lovely.” Pale blue walls, tall windows overlooking the gardens, a massive four-poster bed with cream silk hangings. A dressing room opened off to one side, and through another door she could see a small sitting area with a writing desk and comfortable chairs arranged near the fireplace.
But what drew her eye was the door on the far wall. In fact, she couldn’t stop staring at it. The connecting door to Henry’s chamber.
“That door leads to his lordship’s room,” Mrs. Bromley said, clearly following her gaze. “It locks from both sides, of course. You’ll have complete privacy whenever you wish it.”
Privacy. As if she would want privacy from the man whose touch had made her pulse race on the beach this morning. The man who’d looked at her with something that might have been desire.
“Now then,” Mrs. Bromley said, moving toward the door, “I’ve arranged for a candidate to interview for the position of your lady’s maid. She should be arriving shortly. Shall we meet her in the sitting area here?”
“Yes, of course.” Sophia followed Mrs. Bromley into the small sitting room adjoining the bedchamber, taking a seat in one of the comfortable chairs near the fireplace. Her stomach tightened with nerves. She’d never had a lady’s maid before. What was she supposed to say? What questions should she ask?
A knock sounded at the door. Grimshaw’s voice came through. “Mrs. Bromley? The candidate has arrived.”
“Send her in, please.”
The door opened, and Grimshaw stepped aside to allow a woman to enter. Sophia judged her to be in her late thirties, tall and spare, with dark hair showing threads of silver at the temples, pulled back in a severe but elegant style. Her dress was simple but well-made. Intelligent gray eyes portrayed both curiosity and competence.
Those eyes fixed on Sophia and went very wide.
“Miss Ashford,” Mrs. Bromley said, “may I present Mrs. Prudence Shaw. Mrs. Shaw, this is Miss Sophia Ashford, soon to be Lady Montrose.”
Mrs. Shaw stood frozen in the doorway, staring at Sophia with an expression of such shock that Sophia took an involuntary step forward.
“Mrs. Shaw? Are you quite all right?”
“I…” The woman’s voice came out hoarse. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Forgive me, miss. It’s only your eyes. They’re exactly like Lady Emily’s, but of course they would be.”
Sophia’s heart began to pound. “You knew my mother?”
“I did, yes.” Mrs. Shaw’s own eyes were suspiciously bright. “The Duchess of Ashford. My mother was her lady’s maid. I was twenty-two when your mother was carrying you. I’d just started as an upper housemaid at the manor. I was there the day you were born. And the day your mother…” Her voice caught. “The day she passed.”
Sophia reached for the back of a chair to steady herself.
Mrs. Shaw continued. “After your mother’s death, my mother left within the month to take another lady’s maid position. But I stayed on. I watched you grow from a babe to a little girl of eight. I was there the day they came to take His Grace away.”
Sophia sank into the chair, her hand pressed to her mouth. “You were there? That day?”
“Yes, I was,” Mrs. Shaw said, nodding her head, her mouth set in a grim line. “By then I’d risen to head housemaid. I remember it all too well. The men coming to arrest him, your brothers standing so straight trying to be brave, and you, just eight years old, not understanding why your father was leaving.”
“I don’t remember much of that day,” Sophia said. “I remember my father’s face. How it looked gray. I remember being so frightened.”
