Chapter 15
William looked out the study window and saw movement in the lower gardens. Mrs. Shaw was crossing the gravel path with Henry and Clara, the three of them walking in an easy line. Henry spoke animatedly, his hands moving as he tried to explain something only he seemed to understand.
Clara laughed beside him, her steps light, her attention fixed on whatever story he was telling. Mrs. Shaw listened with patient amusement, guiding them along the path with a gentleness that made the scene feel almost peaceful.
He watched them in the garden longer than he intended. The sight of Henry so openly content was rare enough to hold him. It had been a week since Mrs. Shaw had come to stay at the estate, and William could not be more delighted with what had taken place in that short time.
Each day had brought some small improvement, and Clara’s presence had changed the boy’s manner. She drew him out, calmed him, and gave him a companion whose enthusiasm matched his own.
Mrs. Shaw had settled into the household quickly.
She moved through each day with an ease that impacted everyone around her.
The staff spoke of her with respect. The children trusted her without hesitation.
And even the west wing, which was once silent and unused, had become to feel lived in and orderly.
William stood at the window and was certain that bringing her there had been the right decision.
A quiet knock at the door drew him back inside.
“Enter,” he said.
Mrs. Hensley stepped in the room, her expression warm but composed. “Your Grace, I wished to give you a brief report on the first days of lessons.”
William gestured for her to continue.
“They have gone remarkably smoothly,” she said. “Mrs. Shaw keeps Henry to a steady routine each morning in the schoolroom. Arithmetic, reading, writing. Clara sits nearby with her own small tasks, and the arrangement seems to suit them both.”
William nodded. “And Henry?”
“He has completed every lesson without complaint,” Mrs. Hensley said, her approval unmistakable. “It is the first time in months I have seen him so focused. Mrs. Shaw has a way of keeping him attentive without pressing him too hard.”
William felt a faint flutter in his chest. “Good.”
Mrs. Hensley continued, “After the morning lessons, she takes both children outdoors. Sometimes for reading, sometimes for walks around the grounds. The fresh air seems to help Henry focus.”
William glanced toward the window again, where the three figures were moving toward the orchard. “I have noticed.”
Mrs. Hensley folded her hands lightly. “I should also mention, Your Grace, that the staff have grown fond of Mrs. Shaw already. She is polite and respectful. Despite the rumors that followed her from Lady Vane’s household, there has been no difficulty.”
William’s jaw tightened slightly. “I am glad to hear it.”
Mrs. Hensley nodded. “If there is anything further you wish arranged for the schoolroom or the west wing, I will see to it.”
“That will be all for now,” William said.
She bowed her head and withdrew, closing the door softly behind her.
William returned to the window. Mrs. Shaw and the children had reached the orchard.
Clara bent to pick up a fallen blossom, holding it out for Henry to inspect.
Mrs. Shaw stood beside them, her posture relaxed, and her attention divided evenly between the two children.
The scene was simple, but it had a warmth he had not felt in the estate for a long time.
He rested his hand lightly against the window frame.
It had taken her only a week to bring order into the household. Henry’s restlessness had eased, Clara had settled without difficulty, and the staff had accepted her. Everything had settled quietly, without disruption. It was as though her presence had filled a space he had not realized was empty.
Despite how well it was going, William still felt somewhat uneasy.
He knew how quickly gossip traveled. Lady Vane’s servants had already repeated their version of events.
The village had heard it. The inn had heard it.
And with Mrs. Shaw’s sudden dismissal and equally sudden arrival at Roxburghe as governess, the talk would spread again, but that time with more confidence and more assumptions.
He had brought her into his household and had placed her under his roof. He had given her a position that would draw attention no matter how proper his conduct remained.
But even knowing all of that, he still would not change his decision.
He turned from the window, knowing he would need to be cautious, deliberate, and restrained in the days ahead. But he also knew, with quiet certainty, that he did not regret bringing her there.
Not for Henry’s sake.
And not for his own.
Later that afternoon a heavy storm moved through the area, and William knew that some of the property might have been damaged.
Once the rain had stopped, he prepared to go outside to inspect the grounds.
Henry saw him fastening his coat and stepped closer, asking if he could go as well. William agreed without hesitation.
Henry then said that Clara would want to go too, and William accepted that just as easily. Before long, William was walking through the garden with Mrs. Shaw, Clara, and Henry in tow.
The children ran ahead as William turned his attention to the damaged rose beds.
Several supports had loosened in the storm, and one had nearly collapsed under the weight of the soaked branches.
Mrs. Shaw knelt beside it without hesitation, examining the broken piece with a steady, practical manner.
“This one needs securing,” she observed.
William knelt beside her. “The gardener left twine here.”
She reached for it at the same moment he did. Their hands brushed lightly, the touch warm and steady. Neither of them drew back. The contact lingered, held by a quiet pull neither of them tried to resist.
He looked up. Her gaze met his, her expression composed, but he saw the faint shift in her eyes. It was the same shift he felt in himself.
Behind them, Clara’s voice rang out. “Henry, wait for me!”
Henry laughed, running farther down the path.
The sound broke the moment. William withdrew his hand quickly, clearing his throat as he adjusted the support. Mrs. Shaw focused on the task with deliberate care, and neither of them spoke of what had happened.
She tied the twine securely, her fingers steady. William checked the knot, nodding once. “That should hold.”
“Yes,” she said softly.
He stood, brushing the dirt from his gloves. She rose as well, smoothing her skirt. The silence between them felt different. It was no longer simply polite or formal, but he could not determine what exactly had changed.
The children ran back toward them, breathless and smiling. Clara held a leaf in her hand. “Look, Mama. It’s shaped like a heart.”
Sarah smiled gently. “It is very pretty.”
Henry pointed toward the far path. “Can we go to the pond?”
“For a short while,” William said, answering before Mrs. Shaw could.
They walked together in silence, the memory of their touch hanging between them.
When they reached the pond, the children immediately began searching for smooth stones along the bank. Mrs. Shaw stood near the water’s edge, watching Clara crouch beside Henry. William remained a few steps behind her, his hands clasped behind his back.
He spoke quietly. “You have brought order into the household.”
She did not turn. “I am glad it has been helpful.”
“It has,” he said. “More than you know.”
She kept her eyes on the children, though he sensed she had heard the weight in his voice. He did not elaborate. He could not. The moment at the rose arbor lingered too clearly in his thoughts, and he did not trust himself to speak without revealing too much.
They stayed at the pond until the children got tired of gathering stones. When Henry finally announced he was hungry, they all headed back toward the house. William walked with them, though he did not speak again.
The closer they got to the house, the more his thoughts absorbed him.
He had touched her hand by accident.
He had let it linger by choice.
And he knew it.
They returned to the house as the last of the storm clouds drifted East. Mrs. Shaw took Clara upstairs to their chambers, still speaking softly about the orchard and the pheasant they had seen.
A tray was sent up for their dinner, and the quiet of the upper floor settled around them.
Henry remained below with William, and the two of them ate together in the small dining room, the conversation easy and unhurried after the long afternoon outdoors.
When the meal was finished, William sent Henry to bed and retired for the night himself.
***
The next morning William sat in the study, reviewing the estate accounts while the early light fell across the desk.
He paused when movement outside caught his eye.
A carriage turned onto the front drive, its polished wheels cutting clean lines through the gravel.
The Spencer crest was visible even from a distance.
He felt a familiar tightening in his chest. It was the same one that had followed him ever since James repeated what he had heard. One of Lady Vane’s servants had spoken freely of his aunt’s remarks, and she had been the first to suggest there was improper familiarity between him and Mrs. Shaw.
He watched the carriage come to a halt, knowing that whatever Lady Spencer intended to say would not be easily dismissed.
He had not visited her since he knew what she had done. He had not trusted himself to speak with her without revealing how deeply her interference had angered him.
He stepped out into the corridor just as the footman opened the door. Lady Spencer entered with her usual composed elegance, and she greeted her nephew with a tight, forced smile.
“William,” she said. “I thought it best to call, considering recent developments.”
He gave a brief nod of his head. “Aunt.”
Her gaze moved past him, toward the direction of the school room.