Chapter 1 #2
Mrs. Ellis nodded, as though she had been waiting for the question.
“Of course. Her Ladyship rises early, and you will attend her once she rings. You will help her dress and see that her morning things are set out properly. After that, you will sit with her while she reviews her letters. She will dictate replies, and you will write them.”
Sarah did not say anything, patiently waiting for Mrs. Ellis to continue.
“You will also keep account of small household matters such as messages to be sent, callers to be received, and any errands that concern Her Ladyship directly.”
“I understand,” Sarah said gently.
“If you are ever uncertain,” Mrs. Ellis added, “you may come to me. I will see that you are set on the right path.”
Sarah tilted her head. “I will do my best.”
“I have no doubt of that,” Mrs. Ellis said. She then turned to Clara. “And you, young miss, must remember not to trouble the servants while they work.”
Clara nodded quickly. “I will not, ma’am.”
Mrs. Ellis softened her tone a bit. “You may visit the kitchen at the proper times. I expect we will find something for you to do.”
Clara’s face lit up. “Thank you.”
After Mrs. Ellis left them, Sarah closed the door and knelt beside Clara, who looked up at her mother with wide, searching eyes.
“Mama,” she whispered, “are we going to be all right here?”
Sarah brushed a curl from Clara’s cheek.
“Yes, my love,” she said. “We will be safe here. We will have a happy life.”
Clara nodded, but her bottom lip trembled. She tried to hold her smile, but it faltered.
“I miss Papa,” she said in a small voice.
The words struck Sarah with a familiar ache. She gathered Clara into her arms, holding her close. Clara’s head rested against her shoulder, and Sarah closed her eyes for a moment.
“I know,” she murmured. “I miss him too.”
Clara’s fingers curled into the fabric of her mother’s gown. “He would have liked it here.”
“Yes,” Sarah said quietly. “He would have.”
For a moment, she allowed herself to think about the year and a half before John’s death.
Their life had been marked by long stretches of calm between his deployments.
The early years had been full of small routines she had come to depend on.
He had been constant in his affection and patient with her.
He had also been entirely devoted to Clara from the moment she was born.
Sarah could still recall the way he held their daughter when he returned from sea, as if he were memorizing every detail of her face before duty called him away again.
Those memories were a constant reminder to her of the happiness they had once known.
His death had come without warning, and the shock of it had left her struggling to find her footing.
She had lost her husband and the life they had built together.
The grief had settled into every part of her days.
Once the first weeks passed, the practical matters followed.
His pension was small, and there was no family to help her.
She had been forced to face the truth that she would have to provide for Clara alone.
She had taken on whatever tasks she could manage, learned to handle matters she had never expected to face alone, and kept herself calm for her daughter even when she felt uncertain about every step ahead.
She had not wanted to take this position, but she had reached a point where wanting no longer mattered. It was the only way to be certain her daughter would be provided for, and she accepted that.
She pulled back slightly and cupped Clara’s face in her hands.
“We will be well here,” she said. “I promise you.”
Clara nodded again, that time with more assuredness. Sarah helped her into her nightdress and tucked her into the small bed.
Sarah stayed with Clara until the child’s breathing settled into an even rhythm. She sat in the small chair beside the bed, her hands resting loosely in her lap, watching the rise and fall of her daughter’s chest.
The room grew quiet around them, the lamp on the washstand giving off a soft, steady light. When she was certain Clara was fully asleep, she leaned over and turned out the lamp before slipping quietly from the room.
She stepped into the corridor and closed the door with care before crossing into her own room.
The air inside was calm, a candle stood on the writing desk near the window.
She moved toward it, struck a match, and lit the small lamp beside the inkwell to give herself a bit more light.
Then she sat, smoothing a sheet of paper with deliberate hands.
Sarah had been waiting all evening for a quiet moment to write to Eloise. Her dearest friend was away on her honeymoon, but Sarah knew she would want to hear of their arrival. The thought of reaching out to someone who knew her so well brought her a sense of comfort.
She dipped her pen in ink and began to write.
My dearest Eloise,
I hope this reaches you safely as you begin your journey with your husband.
I have thought of you often since the wedding and am glad to know you are starting your new life with such happiness.
It feels strange to write to you so soon after leaving you, but I wanted you to have news of us, knowing how kind you were to ask your sister to arrange this position for me.
Clara and I arrived at Lady Vane’s estate just before dusk. The house is modest but comfortable, and Lady Vane received us with more kindness than I expected. She spoke gently to Clara, which comforted me more than I can express. I believe she will be a considerate mistress.
Clara has already taken to Mrs. Ellis, who seems to have a natural fondness for her. It is a relief to see Clara smile after so many unsettled months. I hope she may come to feel at home here in time.
As for myself, I am grateful for the position and determined to fulfill it well.
My duties begin in the morning, and I hope I will manage them as your sister assured Lady Vane I could.
I will admit to you, as I always have, that beginning again in a new household feels uncertain.
Still, I know this is the right choice for Clara’s future, and that must guide me.
I hope you will write when you are able, though I understand the early weeks of your marriage will demand much of your time. Your letters have always been a comfort to me, and they will be even more so now.
With affection,
Sarah
Sarah folded the letter with care, smoothing the crease with the side of her hand before reaching for the small pot of sealing wax.
She lit the taper, held the stick above the paper, and waited as the wax softened and fell in a slow, steady line.
When it was enough, she pressed the seal into place and lifted it cleanly.
The letter looked neat and proper, ready to be sent in the morning.
Sarah set it aside and rose from the desk.
She undressed without hurry, hanging her gown over the back of the chair and folding her apron before placing it on the chest of drawers.
Her nightclothes were simple and soft from wear, and she slipped into them with a mix of anxiety and anticipation, her mind already turning toward the morning.
She crossed the room, turned down the bed, and extinguished the lamps one by one until only the faintest glow from the corridor slipped beneath the door. Then she lay down, drawing the coverlet to her chin.
She let her thoughts settle slowly, aware of how long it had been since she allowed herself to imagine anything beyond duty.
She did not expect affection or companionship in a new household, yet she felt the faint pull of wondering what her life might become since she was no longer moving from place to place.
She did not dwell on it, but she did not push it away either.
The house was unfamiliar, and the future uncertain, but a new life for her and Clara would soon begin.