Page 8 of When She Was a Governess
During their enjoyment of the delicious meal, Charlotte and Thomas spoke easily, their laughter a familiar duet, as they told him of their recent visit to London, regaling him with stories of the ton and the latest gossip. None of which interested him particularly, especially with so much on his mind, but he nodded and asked questions, feigning interest for his cousin’s sake.
Henry, watching them, thought how effortless it seemed between them. Once, he’d dreamt of a marriage like this one. But it was not to be. His mother had made sure of that.
When the servants withdrew after delivering rhubarb tart, custard, and a small plate of preserved fruit, the conversation turned to talk of the estate, Parliament’s squabbles, and the latest absurdities of society. But as the final course was cleared and the servants withdrew, Charlotte turned to him, her expression expectant.
She folded her hands upon the table. “Now, tell us what brings you to Thornbridge with such gravity in your eyes. Is everything all right? Have you gambled away your fortune?”
Henry gave a dry huff of amusement. “Given my disdain of the sport, the answer is an emphatic no. My situation is not as dire but concerning just the same.”
Thomas raised a brow. “Go on.”
“It concerns Amelia’s governess,” Henry said. “Miss Ford. Though that is not her real name.”
Charlotte tilted her head. “Not her name?”
He nodded. “I learned only this morning that Miss Ford is in fact Lady Sophia Ashford, sister to Lord Ashford. She concealed her identity when she came to us two years ago. My housekeeper hired her under the impression that she was a gentlewoman of good breeding, fallen into reduced circumstances. Which, to be fair, was the truth at the time.”
Charlotte’s eyes widened. “The Ashfords? We have recently made the acquaintance of Lord Ashford and his lovely wife. The scandal involving the two families is widely known. Their marriage and subsequent restoration of the Ashford’s place in society was the subject at many dinners.”
“Yes, it’s not every day that a man disguises himself as a gardener in order to clear his father’s name,” Henry said. Not only had Sebastian Ashford pretended to be a gardener, he’d also managed to fall in love with his enemy’s daughter.
“All’s well that ends well,” Charlotte said. “They seem besotted with each other. Rose is a remarkable woman, especially given the truth about her father.”
“She handled it all with grace,” Thomas said. “But it must have been devastating to learn that it was her own father who murdered her mother, not Lord Ashford.”
“May he rest in peace,” Charlotte said. “The poor man.”
“Yes, it was a horrible tragedy that befell the Ashfords,” Henry said. “Miss Ashford’s brother has summoned her to London for the Season. Apparently, she convinced him to give her more time here. With Amelia. But she can no longer deflect. She gave her notice.”
Charlotte’s mouth curved in sympathy. “Her brother wants her to marry, now that their titles are restored. I cannot blame him. However, from my observations, Miss Ford—Miss Ashford—adores Amelia. I often see them out for walks, collecting seashells and pebbles. I cannot imagine it will be easy for either of them to part.”
“I spoke with her earlier today,” Henry said. “She wept. Leaving Amelia is like leaving her own child.”
“Oh, dear, how sad,” Charlotte said.
“She’s to leave within the fortnight,” Henry said. “I’m at an absolute loss as to what to do.”
Thomas poured a measure of claret into his glass. “I don’t suppose she imagined her change in her circumstances when she took the job.”
“That’s right,” Henry said. “In fact, Mrs. Bromley told me Sophia had suffered at the hands of her previous employer. She was only too happy to accept the position with us. From what she told me today, her childhood was less than ideal.”
“Meaning?” Charlotte asked.
“They were sent to live with their mother’s distant cousin. The Langstons. The children were treated like servants. And thebaron was violent. I saw a scar on Miss Ashford’s hand that probably came from him.”
“Goodness me. What kind of man hurts children?” Charlotte asked.
“I cannot say,” Henry said.
Charlotte’s voice softened. “Henry, what will you do?”
He looked down into his glass. “Mrs. Bromley will help me find a replacement, I suppose, although Miss Ashford is irreplaceable. I doubt there’s another woman like her in Kent—or all of England, for that matter. Amelia will be devastated. Miss Ashford’s more like her mother than governess. In addition, I’ve neglected the child. Miss Ashford has raised her. Thinking of separating them seems cruel. Impossible even.” He shook his head. “But she cannot go against her brothers’ wishes.”
Charlotte’s expression changed from mournful to scheming. He knew that look. His cousin had an idea. “Perhaps there is another solution.”
Thomas chuckled. “Careful, Montrose. My romantic wife is about to suggest something. Most likely outlandish.”
“Not outlandish. Not really,” Charlotte said. “You are in need of a wife. Is that not so?”
