Chapter 12
The rain began just as Sarah folded the first of Clara’s dresses.
It tapped steadily against the windowpanes and she paused for a moment, listening to it, aware of how unwelcome the sound felt.
The day itself seemed gloomy and disapproving, the same outlook she had detected in Lady Vane’s voice the night before.
Sarah drew the curtain back a little, watching the rain gather along the sill. She had hoped for a clear morning but the weather was not cooperating. She turned back to the room, reminding herself to stay focused.
Clara sat cross-legged on the bed, her small hands smoothing the fabric of her one nice dress. She folded it with careful precision, pressing each edge flat before setting it aside. Sarah watched her for a moment, grateful for the child’s quiet focus.
She turned back to the linens, folding the last of them and placing them neatly into the trunk. She checked each corner of the room again, making sure nothing had been overlooked.
Sarah closed the trunk carefully, pressing her hand against the lid for a moment before stepping back.
This will be ready when I need it, she thought. Now we can leave at a moment’s notice.
She knew she had until the end of the month, but she wanted no delay. She had kept out only what she and Clara needed for the next few days, nothing more.
The room looked different. The small touches she had added during their stay, like Clara’s ribbon on the dresser, the book near the window, and the shawl over the chair, were packed away. Without them, the space felt temporary again, as though they had never truly belonged there.
The night before, she had thanked Lady Vane for the opportunity. She had stood tall, kept her voice from wavering, and assured the older woman that she understood why she had to be let go. Lady Vane had looked genuinely regretful, and Sarah believed that the dismissal was not meant to wound her.
She knew that it was meant to protect the household. A companion who attracted talk, even unintentionally, could not remain employed. Sarah knew that, and she had known it from the first moment Lady Vane asked her to sit.
But understanding it did not make her situation any easier.
She had spent half the night thinking through every possible next step, but none of them felt secure.
Each idea carried some risk with it, and she knew she could not afford to choose poorly.
Clara’s future depended on her making the right decision.
Sarah felt a tightness in her chest as she walked over and began to fold Clara’s shawl. She kept her movements calm, unwilling to let her daughter see anything that might frighten her. The child hummed quietly as she arranged her belongings, unaware of the struggle her mother was facing.
Sarah stepped back from the trunk and let her hand rest along the edge of the nightstand as a wave of humiliation washed over her.
She had done nothing improper, yet she was the one being dismissed.
A woman in her position was easy to judge, and she knew it.
She had seen similar situations before and had hoped she would not face one herself.
She shook her head to try and clear her thoughts.
Clara looked up. “Is this folded well enough, Mama?”
Sarah managed a small smile. “Yes, very well.”
Clara returned to her task, satisfied.
Sarah forced herself to smile, not wanting to let Clara see how concerned she truly was.
But she knew the truth. A dismissed companion was rarely hired again without questions, and questions were the last thing she could afford.
She whispered a silent prayer that a new situation would find them soon.
Clara finished folding her dress and Sarah helped her lower it into her little trunk. When everything was settled, Clara hurried to the window and pushed the curtain aside.
“The rain stopped,” she said, excitedly. “Can we go outside? I want to see the animals come back now that it is safe for them; and see how bright the flowers are after the rain.”
Sarah nodded. “Yes. We can go.”
Clara clapped her hands and reached for her cloak. Sarah helped her into it, fastening the ties carefully. She gathered her own shawl, after making sure Clara’s shoes were secure, and guided her downstairs.
Outside, the gardens glistened with the remnants of the earlier rainfall.
The rose paths curved gently through the grounds, bordered by trimmed hedges and beds of damp earth.
Drops clung to the petals, weighing them slightly, and the gravel beneath Sarah’s shoes was darkened by moisture.
Clara walked ahead, her steps light, pausing occasionally to inspect a flower or a stone washed clean by the rain.
Sarah followed, grateful for the small break in the weather. She had hoped the walk would help her relax a bit, but her thoughts were still a jumbled mess. Each step reminded her of packing upstairs, the trunk waiting near the door, and the fact that their time in the house was nearing its end.
As they reached the turn near the rose arbor, Clara pointed toward a cluster of low shrubs. “Look, Mama. The rabbits came back already.”
Sarah followed her gaze and nodded. “They must have been waiting for the rain to stop, just like you said!”
Clara stepped closer to the path, studying the wet leaves. “The flowers look brighter now,” she said. “Everything looks clean.”
Sarah moved beside her, adjusting the collar of Clara’s cloak. For a moment she focused only on the small movements in the garden. She noticed the way the branches moved in the wind and heard the sound of water dripping from the arbor. Then she looked ahead.
A figure stood at the end of the path.
Sarah’s heart began to pound as she recognized who it was.
The duke waited there, his coat damp at the shoulders, his attention fixed entirely on her. He looked as though he had been searching for a moment when she might be alone and had finally found it.
He approached her slowly. “Mrs. Shaw,” he said quietly.
Sarah stopped, her hand resting lightly on Clara’s shoulder. “Your Grace.”
“Miss Clara,” he said, looking down at the child.
Clara gave a small curtsy. “Good afternoon, Your Grace.”
Sarah touched her daughter’s arm. “Look there, Clara. Do you see the bird near the hedge? Go see if it comes closer.”
Clara brightened and hurried several steps away, crouching near the hedge to watch the small movement in the leaves.
Sarah turned back to the duke, certain that Clara would not hear whatever he planned to say.
He glanced toward the house, then back at her. “I knew you would bring Clara out here, and it seemed the best place to speak with you. I did not want to approach you inside. It would only encourage more talk.”
Sarah nodded once, appreciating his consideration even as her stomach tightened.
At that moment Clara spotted Henry as he came around the hedge. She let out a small squeal, and Henry ran straight to her, his boots splashing lightly in the damp path.
“Clara,” he said, catching his breath, “I was just looking at a hedgehog. It came out after the rain.”
Clara’s eyes widened. “Can I see it?”
Both children turned to Sarah, waiting for her approval. Sarah nodded. “Yes. It may still be near the hedge. Go look but stay where I can see you.”
Clara caught Henry’s hand, and the two of them ran off together, disappearing behind the low curve of shrubs.
The duke waited until they were fully occupied before speaking again.
“I have learned,” he said, “that your employment here will end at the close of the month.”
Sarah nodded. “Yes, Lady Vane informed me yesterday.”
He looked at her closely. “I am sorry. I know you have done nothing to warrant such treatment.”
“Lady Vane must protect her household,” Sarah said quietly, lowering her eyes. “I understand.”
The duke inhaled slowly. “I do not believe you should be left without a position.”
Sarah kept her hands folded, trying to hold her composure. “I am sure something will open up,” she said. She forced herself to sound more confident than she felt.
He looked toward the hedge where the children had gone, then back at her. “I was thinking about that. You have always been very good with Henry. He listens to you. He trusts you.” His voice grew quieter, and he seemed to search for the right words. “I was considering…”
Sarah felt her heart begin to pound, the shift in his tone unmistakable.
He straightened slightly. “Mrs. Shaw, I would like to offer you a position at Roxburghe Estate. As Henry’s governess.”
Sarah stared at him, startled by the directness of the offer. “Your Grace,” she said, her voice catching. “I do not know what to say.”
“You and Clara would have respectable accommodations,” he continued. “You would have a proper wage. It would provide stability, and you would not be left to manage alone.”
Sarah hesitated, pressing her hands against her sides so he could not see them tremble.
“People have heard the rumors,” she said quietly. “They may think poorly of it. They may say I drew your attention, or that I welcomed it.”
William’s expression softened. “Mrs. Shaw, I would not have spoken to you if I believed there was any impropriety. You have conducted yourself with care. I know your character, and I know what is true. The rest can be managed.”
Sarah looked toward Clara, who was laughing softly at something Henry had said. The sound carried across the damp garden as Sarah thought about everything that had happened. She thought about being dismissed, how uncertain everything felt, and the new offer set in front of her.
The duke waited patiently, his eyes fixed on her.
Sarah looked toward the children once again.
Clara and Henry were busy moving sticks and small rocks, trying to make a home for the hedgehog.
She noticed how patient Henry was being, and she could see how happy Clara looked.
Then she turned back to His Grace, aware that he was waiting for her answer.
“Your Grace,” she said, keeping her voice even, “I do not wish to accept anything that resembles charity.”
“It is not charity,” he said. “It is a position I am looking to fill, and you are the person I trust to take it.”
Sarah looked down at the damp gravel beneath her shoes. “People will talk. They already have.”
“They will talk no matter what you do,” he said. “But the truth is that I make the decisions for my own house, and I will not let idle chatter decide how it is run.”
She hesitated again, thinking through everything that had happened.
She had spent the morning packing and preparing Clara for change.
Accepting a position from the duke felt like placing her future in someone she had no right to depend on.
But the offer was sensible, respectable, and clearly something he had considered carefully.
She heard Clara laugh at something Henry said. Sarah glanced toward her daughter and could see that Clara’s shoulders were relaxed and her expression was open as her small hands moved confidently to arrange the stones. She looked completely content.
The duke followed her gaze. “She would have stability,” he said quietly. “And you would not have to worry about where you will go next.”
Sarah nodded. “She does like this part of the country.”
“She would like Roxburghe as well,” he said. “And she would not be separated from Henry.”
Sarah felt her resistance start to fade away.
She had wanted to stand on her own and avoid accepting anything that might affect her dignity.
But dignity meant little if she could not provide for her daughter.
And the sincerity in his voice, quiet and without pressure, showed her that he was offering her a future and not a favor.
She met his eyes. “Yes. I will accept.”
He nodded once, the tension easing from his face. “I am glad to hear it. I will send word to Lady Vane so she knows you will not be left without employment.”
Sarah tilted her head. “Thank you, Your Grace.”
He turned toward Henry, who was still crouched near the little shelter of sticks and stones.
“Henry,” he called softly. “We must leave soon.”
Henry looked up at his father’s voice. “Already?”
“You will see Clara again soon,” the duke responded with a reassuring smile.
Henry accepted that without complaint. He stood, brushed off his hands, and gave Clara a quick goodbye. Clara returned it with a bright nod.
The duke gathered the boy to his side, then looked back to Sarah one last time before leaving her with Clara and the quiet of the garden.
They walked slowly along the path, Clara still talking about the little shelter she and Henry had made.
Sarah listened, answering when needed, but her thoughts stayed on what had just taken place.
She had accepted the position, and the truth of it was dawning on her as they moved through the garden.
She had agreed because it was sensible and because it gave Clara stability. She knew it was the only choice that did not leave them facing uncertainty. But as she thought about it, she felt something else stir inside of her.
I have managed everything alone for so long. Now I will be working in his house, seeing him each day, and answering to him.
The thought did not sit easy with her.
I am not sure what this will mean for us. I am not sure what it will mean for me.