Chapter 14
Sarah scarcely stepped into the entrance hall before Clara’s eyes widened in open wonder. The room was larger than anything the child had ever seen.
The ceilings rose high above them, the polished floors reflected the late morning light, and the tall windows made the space feel even more open. Portraits lined the walls, their frames gleaming softly in the quiet brightness.
Clara turned in a slow circle, taking in each detail with careful attention.
Sarah watched her, noting the way her daughter’s hands stayed close to her sides, as though she did not wish to disturb anything.
Clara’s excitement was quiet but unmistakable, evident in the way her eyes quickly moved from one portrait to the next.
Sarah kept her posture straight, her fingers lightly resting against the handle of her small trunk. She had prepared herself for the formality of the estate, yet seeing Clara react with such open interest reassured her.
She is not frightened. She is curious. That is good.
Sarah let her eyes move across the hall once more, taking in the neatness of the space and the careful arrangement of each object.
Clara looked up at her mother with a small, bright expression. “Mama, it is very fine.”
Sarah gave a quiet nod in agreement. “Yes. It is.”
A maid stood beside Sarah, holding Clara’s trunk with careful attention. Before Sarah could speak, a voice carried from the top of the stairs.
“See that Mrs. Shaw and her daughter are shown to the west wing,” the duke said, addressing the maid directly.
Sarah looked up at once and watched as His Grace descended the staircase. When he reached the last step, he paused and offered her a brief nod.
“Mrs. Shaw.”
“Your Grace.”
He nodded toward Clara as well. “Miss Clara.”
Clara gave a small curtsey; her hands resting neatly at her sides.
His greeting was restrained, polite, and nothing more. He did not linger or approach further. He simply acknowledged them both and withdrew, turning toward the corridor that led deeper into the house.
The formality of it surprised Sarah but also felt somewhat reassuring.
He will truly treat me as he would treat any other governess, she thought.
However, as she watched him walk away she felt a small pang of sadness.
Clara tugged lightly at her sleeve. “Mama, look at the ceiling.”
Sarah managed a small smile. “Yes, it is very fine.”
Before she could say more, an older woman approached from the far end of the hall. She moved quickly, but her expression was warm. Her hair was pinned neatly beneath a modest cap, and her dress was simple but well kept.
“Mrs. Shaw?” she asked, her voice bright and welcoming.
“Yes.”
“I am Mrs. Hensley, the housekeeper. His Grace asked me to greet you.” She turned to Clara with a gentle smile. “And you must be Clara.”
Clara straightened, her hands clasped politely. “Yes, ma’am.”
Mrs. Hensley’s smile widened. “We are very glad to have you both here.”
The words were simple, but they were much more sincere than Sarah had expected. She had been prepared for formal civility and was pleasantly surprised to encounter genuine kindness.
Mrs. Hensley gestured toward the corridor. “If you will follow me, I will show you the house. It is large, but you will learn it quickly.”
Sarah reached for her trunk, but Mrs. Hensley stepped forward, a hand extended.
“You need not carry that, Mrs. Shaw,” she said, her tone respectful but firm. She turned slightly toward a waiting footman. “Take their things to the west wing and see that everything is set in order.”
The footman moved immediately, lifting the trunk as if it weighed nothing.
Clara stayed close to Sarah, still looking around with bright curiosity as they prepared to follow.
They passed through the main hall, where the floors shone from recent polishing. Servants moved quietly, offering respectful nods as they passed. Mrs. Hensley pointed out each room with clear, practical explanations.
“This is the drawing room. His Grace uses it for guests, though it has been quiet for some time.”
“This is the morning room. You may find it comfortable for reading.”
“This corridor leads to the library. His Grace spends a great deal of time there.”
Clara’s eyes lit up at the mention of the library, and Mrs. Hensley noticed. “You will see it soon,” she said kindly. “It is a fine room.”
They continued through the house, the tour steady and thorough.
Mrs. Hensley explained the routines, the staff, the hours when meals were served, and the places where Clara might play without disturbing anyone.
She spoke with a warmth that softened the formality of the estate, making each room feel less intimidating.
Finally, they reached the west wing. Mrs. Hensley opened the door to a spacious chamber with tall windows overlooking the gardens. The bed was neatly made, the linens fresh, and a small writing desk stood near the window. A second, smaller room adjoined it, clearly prepared for Clara.
“These will be your rooms,” Mrs. Hensley said. “His Grace asked that they be made comfortable.”
Sarah looked around the room, taking in the space with careful attention. It was more than she had expected, and more than she had ever been given. Clara walked into her small room, touching the edge of the neatly folded blanket with quiet awe.
Mrs. Hensley clasped her hands lightly. “If you need anything, you may come to me. You are welcome here.”
After everything she had been through, it was comforting to hear that she and Clara were welcome.
“Thank you,” Sarah said softly.
Mrs. Hensley nodded. “I will leave you to settle in. Dinner will be at six.”
When she left, the room grew quiet. Clara sat on the edge of her new bed, her feet dangling and her expression bright.
“Mama,” she said, “I like it here.”
Sarah looked at her daughter, then at the room, and at the window where the gardens stretched beyond the glass.
A small sense of hope formed, careful and restrained.
She wanted to think that might be a place where they could remain, but she kept the thought close to her chest. She had hoped for the same at Lady Vane’s, and that memory made her cautious.
The rest of the evening passed quietly. The household sent up a plain but warm supper, and before they ate, Clara saw Henry for a short moment in the corridor outside the nursery. He had been on his way to his evening routine, and his nurse stayed close behind him.
He greeted Clara excitedly and said he had many things he wished to show her, but that it would have to wait until morning. His nurse reminded him of the hour, and he hurried on.
Clara spoke about him as they ate, bright and curious about what the next day would bring. The day had been long, and the excitement of arriving at a new home had worn her out. She grew tired soon after supper and fell asleep quickly once Sarah settled her into bed.
***
Morning came with a pale, calm light. Sarah dressed, helped Clara with her hair, and they went downstairs for breakfast. The meal was simple and well prepared, and when they finished, Mrs. Hensley guided them through the corridor toward the small schoolroom beside the library.
The walk was short, and the house felt still at that hour, with only a few servants moving about their duties.
The schoolroom was bright; the morning light peeking through the windows.
Sarah opened the shutters fully, letting the air circulate through the room.
The shelves were neatly arranged, the slate boards clean, and the writing table set with fresh paper.
Clara settled herself on a cushioned stool near the window watching everything with bright eyes.
Henry arrived a few minutes later, his steps quick and eager. He gave Sarah a formal nod, polite and correct, then turned to Clara with a broad smile that showed his excitement at having her there. Sarah guided him to the writing table and began the lesson.
Henry sat at the table, his posture straight at first, his attention fixed on the arithmetic problems Sarah placed before him.
He was bright, quick to understand and quick to answer, but his restlessness showed in the light tapping of his foot against the leg of the chair.
After twenty minutes, his gaze drifted toward the window.
“May I look outside?” he asked.
“In a moment,” Sarah said gently. “Finish this last sum.”
Henry tried, but his attention slipped again. Clara sat at her own small table nearby, copying letters onto her slate. She leaned forward and whispered something encouraging to him. Henry smiled, but the distraction remained. Sarah recognized the signs. He needed movement, not more figures.
She closed the book. “We will take a short walk.”
Henry brightened at the idea. Clara set her slate aside and stood, ready to join them. Sarah gathered their cloaks and led them through the corridor, past the library’s tall doors, and out into the lower gardens.
The air was cool as they stepped outside.
Clara walked ahead, pointing out small patches of moss and the way the leaves held the last drops of moisture.
Henry followed her, eager to add explanations whenever she paused.
He named a few plants in Latin, but Sarah could tell he was guessing at some of them.
Sarah let them continue, watching the way Clara’s excitement encouraged Henry, even when his answers were uncertain. It was clear he enjoyed sharing what he knew, even if his knowledge was not quite as wide as Clara had imagined.
They reached the lower gardens just as His Grace appeared from the direction of the stables. He carried a pair of gloves in one hand; his coat slightly marked with dust from the morning’s work. The moment the children saw him, they ran toward him without hesitation.
Henry reached him first. “Papa, we are walking in the gardens.”
Clara arrived a moment later, her steps light. “We are learning about plants.”
William looked down at both children, his expression softening. “Are you now?”
Henry nodded vigorously. “Mrs. Shaw said we could walk because I finished my sums.”