Chapter Eight
After Mrs. Fletcher left with her bundles of fabric and her promise to work through the nights, Sophia sat at her small dressing table feeling scattered.
The wedding dress, two altered gowns, weeks of work ahead for the rest of her wardrobe.
It was all happening so fast, faster than her mind could keep up.
“May I help you with your hair?” Mrs. Bromley asked. “You’ll want it fixed properly for Lady Thornbridge’s visit.”
Sophia touched her hair self-consciously. She’d attempted to put it up herself, but the result was serviceable at best. “Yes, please.”
Mrs. Bromley opened a case she’d brought with her earlier, revealing an array of pins, combs, and ribbons. “Sit, dear. We have a bit of time before the Duchess arrives.”
Sophia sat obediently while Mrs. Bromley began unpinning her hair, letting it fall in waves down her back. The housekeeper’s hands were gentle but efficient as she began to brush through the tangles.
“Mrs. Bromley, I’ve been thinking about what happens after the wedding. With Amelia.”
“Yes?”
“Who will care for her? If I’m to be Lady Montrose, I can’t very well spend all day in the nursery as I do now.
But Amelia needs attention.” She swallowed hard.
“From someone who knows her. Who understands that she doesn’t like her porridge too hot, that she needs her milk in the blue cup, that she needs to have physical activity so that she goes down at night with no fuss. ”
“Miss Ashford.” Mrs. Bromley’s voice was firm but kind. She set down the brush and met Sophia’s eyes in the mirror. “You’ll be her mother. Not her governess.”
“But that’s exactly what I mean. I can’t be both, can I? A mother and a lady? Someone has to care for her during the day, teach her, watch over her while I’m attending to whatever it is ladies attend to.”
Mrs. Bromley resumed brushing, her strokes long and soothing.
“You’re right that you’ll need help. Lucy has done well these past few days, hasn’t she?
She’s fond of Amelia, knows her routine.
We could promote her to nursery maid officially.
Give her more responsibility and a higher wage.
She’d still report to you, of course. You’d still be the one making decisions about Amelia’s care, her education, her daily life. Lucy would simply be there to help.”
Sophia let out a sigh of relief. “So I can still read to her? Play with her? Take her to the gardens?”
“Of course you can. You’ll be her mother.
” Mrs. Bromley began pinning Sophia’s hair up, creating an elegant twist at the back of her head.
“My mother was in service, like me. But the lady of the house where she worked was kind. She had a nursery maid, but she was always in and out of the nursery herself. Her children adored her. That’s the kind of mother you’ll be. ”
“I don’t want Amelia to feel abandoned,” Sophia said. “That is very important to me.”
“She won’t. Because you’ll be there. Every day. Just in a slightly different capacity.” Mrs. Bromley inserted another pin with practiced ease. “Besides, you’re allowed to be both, you know. Both her mother and a lady. It’s not one or the other.”
“Isn’t it? I feel like I’m giving up being her governess to become something else entirely.”
“You’re not giving anything up. You can be Lady Montrose and Amelia’s mother. You can run this household and still spend hours with Amelia.”
Sophia clasped her hands together in her lap. “What if the staff won’t accept me, or I make mistakes with the household, or Lord Montrose is displeased with me?”
“You are smart, Miss Ashford. Nothing about being Lady Montrose will be beyond your capabilities.” Mrs. Bromley’s reflection smiled at her in the mirror. “And you’re not alone. I’ll be here to help you. Lucy will help with Amelia. And his lordship? You will make him proud.”
“I do hope you’re right,” Sophia said. “Thank you for your kind words.”
Mrs. Bromley added another pin and stepped back. “There. What do you think?”
Sophia looked at herself in the mirror and barely recognized the woman staring back. Her hair was arranged in an elegant style with soft curls framing her face and the rest swept up into an intricate twist. She looked refined. Like a lady.
“It looks wonderful. Thank you for taking the time. I know you have other things to do besides take care of me.”
“It is my honor to serve you. However, you bring up a good point. As we discussed, you’ll need a lady’s maid. I can begin interviewing candidates if you’d like, or we can wait until after your family arrives. Your sisters-in-law might have recommendations.”
“I don’t even know what to look for in a lady’s maid.”
“Someone skilled, certainly. Someone who can dress hair better than I can, who knows fashion and can help you navigate society. But most importantly, someone you can trust. Someone honest. Someone loyal.” Mrs. Bromley’s expression grew thoughtful.
“I have a few candidates in mind. I’ll assist you until a decision can be made. ”
“Yes, that will be fine.” Sophia drew in a deep breath. “And Lucy? Should I speak with her about becoming Amelia’s nurse?”
“I’ll speak with her first, gauge her interest. Then you can talk to her properly, tell her what you’d expect.
She’s a good girl. I think she’ll be pleased.
” Mrs. Bromley handed her a small hand mirror so she could see the back of her hair.
“Now, the Duchess will be here in a few minutes. Are you ready to go downstairs?”
Sophia looked at herself in the mirror one more time—at the elegant hair, the pretty dress, the woman who was slowly emerging from behind the governess’s disguise.
“I think so,” she said. “Or as ready as I’ll ever be.”
“That’s all anyone can ask.” Mrs. Bromley smiled. “Come along, Miss Ashford. You’ll enjoy yourself. I’m certain of it.”
Sophia hoped Mrs. Bromley’s optimism proved to be true. At the moment, she felt wracked with nerves. But she must be courageous. So she rose to her feet and followed Mrs. Bromley out of the room and down the stairs.
*
By two o’clock that afternoon, Sophia stood in the drawing room trying not to wring her hands.
A small fire crackled despite the mild weather, more for coziness than need. A footman had laid out the best china on the low table between the chairs. A silver tray gleamed, waiting only for the ring of the bell.
Voices drifted from the entrance hall. Grimshaw’s deep murmur and a woman’s bright, musical laugh. Sophia’s stomach tightened.
The door opened.
“Her Grace the Duchess of Thornbridge,” Grimshaw intoned.
Charlotte swept in first, exactly as Sophia remembered her from the lane—golden-brown curls, warm hazel eyes that crinkled when she smiled, a gait that suggested the strength of a woman who spent time outdoors and on her horse.
Today she wore a deep green walking dress with the confidence of a woman who knew exactly who she was and liked it.
“Miss Ashford, how wonderful to see you. Thank you for allowing me to intrude on what must be a busy afternoon for you.” Charlotte came forward at once with both hands extended.
Sophia dropped into a curtsy. “Your Grace, thank you falling calling on me.”
“Oh heavens, not that.” Charlotte waved her hand as if clearing a bothersome fly. “You must call me Charlotte. After all, you’re to be family in a matter of days.”
Despite her nerves, Sophia found herself smiling. “Then, thank you. Charlotte.”
“Much better.” Charlotte gave her hands an affectionate squeeze before releasing them. “Now, do let us sit and get to know each other properly.”
Sophia gestured toward the chairs near the fire. “Please.”
Charlotte settled, smoothing her skirts. Sophia sat opposite, keenly aware of every movement, every breath, every expectation of being hostess.
“Shall I ring for tea?” Sophia asked.
“If you please,” Charlotte said.
Sophia tugged the bell pull. Grimshaw arrived promptly with the tea tray, giving Sophia a discreet, encouraging nod before withdrawing.
“How do you take your tea?” Sophia asked.
“A little milk, thank you.”
Sophia poured carefully, managing not to spill a drop. She poured her own next.
“There now,” Charlotte said, accepting her cup with a pleased nod. “A cup of tea is just what I needed.”
Sophia could think of absolutely nothing to say. Fortunately, Charlotte seemed quite willing to take the lead.
“How are you holding up? All these changes in such a short amount of time must be overwhelming.” Charlotte’s hazel eyes were soft, inviting even, but it did little to assuage Sophia’s nerves.
“It has been strange. The last few days.”
“I can imagine. However, this union is the right thing to do for everyone. You. Henry. Amelia. I can only hope that from practicality comes affection.”
“Excuse me?”
Charlotte set down her teacup. “The marriage was my suggestion, and I am delighted Henry took it. I dare say, I know him better than he knows himself.”
“Oh. I see.” Charlotte’s idea? That fact had been left out of Henry’s proposal.
“Fortunately, he is a smart man and could see what was right in front of him. The perfect solution.”
“I am a solution?”
“You know what I mean.”
Sophia looked down at her cup, a weight on her chest. “I do not entirely know what you mean.”
“Many marriages start out this way. I have full confidence that, in time, the two of you will be as madly in love as Thomas and I are.”
“Why are you so sure?”
Charlotte looked toward the fire. “It is hard to explain, other than to say, I have an instinct for these things. I would not have suggested it had I not thought it would all work out in the end.”
“But you don’t know me. What would make you think Henry could ever fall in love with me?”