Chapter 7 #2
Clara giggled, delighted with herself, and pointed to another bed. “What about those?”
Henry looked thoughtful. “Rosa gallica.”
Clara attempted it with great seriousness. “Rosa… gal…li…ca.”
That time Sarah laughed softly, and Henry joined her. Clara grinned at them, proud of her effort.
They moved along the path, Clara asking for names, Henry supplying them, and Sarah encouraging each attempt.
Clara bent to inspect a rose, her fingers hovering just above the petals. Sarah watched her with quiet fondness.
That was when she sensed the duke’s arrival. She did not hear him approach, but she could feel his presence. She turned slightly and saw him standing a respectful distance away, his posture composed.
“I hope Henry is not imposing,” he said.
Sarah rose at that, nervously smoothing down her skirt. She kept her eyes lowered as she greeted him. “Your Grace,” she said softly. “There is no problem at all. Clara is delighted by his company.”
Henry looked up at his father with a small, earnest smile, and Clara stood beside him, patiently waiting to continue her impromptu Latin lesson.
“I am happy to hear that,” the duke said as he stepped closer, choosing a place on the bench near Sarah. She sat again, careful and composed, and the two of them watched the children together.
Clara had just finished repeating another Latin name when Henry pointed toward a patch of grass near the hedge.
“Look,” he whispered.
A tiny bird hopped out from beneath the leaves, its wings still covered in down feathers.
Clara forgot the flowers at once and crouched to see it better, her hands held close to her chest. Henry joined her, keeping a respectful distance so he would not frighten it.
The two of them whispered excitedly, their attention fixed on the small creature as it pecked at the ground.
Sarah watched them with a soft smile, and the duke sat beside her, observing the children with quiet interest. For a moment, neither spoke.
At last, the duke began a careful conversation. “The roses are doing well this season,” he said. “It seems the garden is Clara’s favorite part of the estate.”
Sarah answered before she could stop herself. “She says the roses are less lonely than people.”
The duke turned to look at her then, a faint smile touching his expression. “That is a rather wise observation indeed.”
Sarah felt her cheeks warm as she tried to explain.
“She is only five, Your Grace. She does not fully understand the concept of loneliness, but she does know what it is like to be alone. We had just spoken about how the roses grow in clusters, always near one another, and she said they must feel less alone than someone who stands by herself.”
The duke smiled at her explanation. “Children see the world with a clarity that we often forget as we grow older. It is remarkable to me how resilient they are, even when they sense more than we realize they do.”
Sarah nodded. “She notices small things. She asks questions I do not always know how to answer, but she recovers quickly. A moment of disappointment quickly turns back into curiosity.”
“This is a gift,” he replied. “And it seems she is fortunate to have you guiding her.”
Clara and Henry stayed near the hedge, still crouched beside the baby bird that had hopped into the grass. Clara whispered something about its tiny wings, and Henry tried to decide whether it had fallen from a nest. Their voices rose and fell in soft bursts of curiosity.
“Henry seems very taken with her,” the duke said.
Sarah nodded. “Clara enjoys his company. He is patient with her.”
“I am glad to hear it.”
Sarah kept her gaze forward, not allowing herself to look into the blue eyes next to her. Instead, she watched Clara point toward the hedge again as Henry leaned in to see whatever she had noticed.
After a moment, he spoke. “Mrs. Shaw,” he said, his voice low, “may I ask you something?”
Sarah turned slightly toward him, unable to avoid his eyes any longer. “Yes, Your Grace.” She forced her pulse to stay even, steadying her breath.
He paused, seeming to choose his words with care. “How did you come to widowhood?”
Sarah had expected the question. She had heard the servants whispering when they thought she could not hear them, and she knew he would have heard a bit about her background. She turned her eyes back toward the children, watching Clara crouch again as the bird hopped toward a patch of clovers.
“My husband served in the Navy,” she said. “He died during the Napoleonic wars when his ship was lost. No one survived.”
She allowed herself a glance at him then and could see that his expression held genuine concern and compassion.
“I am very sorry,” he said. “You have my honest condolences.”
She allowed herself a small, polite smile in return. Her smile faded as something shifted at the edge of her vision. She turned slightly. Lady Spencer stood on the terrace, her posture rigid, her expression fixed on them. Even from that distance, the disapproval was clear.
Sarah rose at once.
The duke stood immediately, startled by the abrupt change in her posture but following the etiquette that demanded he not remain seated while she was upright.
“Mrs. Shaw?” he asked quietly.
“I beg your pardon, Your Grace,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “I must take Clara inside.”
Clara looked up from the baby bird, disappointment flickering across her face. Henry stood as well, brushing grass from his trousers, his expression mirroring hers.
Sarah stepped toward them. “We will find another time to explore the garden,” she said softly. “I promise.”
Clara nodded, trying to hide her disappointment. Henry gave a small, understanding glance toward his father.
Sarah offered the duke a respectful nod. “Thank you for your kindness.”
He nodded his head, still unsettled by the sudden shift. “Of course.”
“Clara,” Sarah said gently.
Clara hurried to her side, and Sarah guided her back toward the house, her steps composed and careful as she left the duke and Henry in the garden.