Chapter 19
Sarah stood by the window and watched Lady Spencer’s carriage roll down the drive, keeping her expression composed until the party disappeared beyond the gate. She let out a quiet sigh and turned from the window.
She stood still for a moment, enjoying the quietness around her. The drawing room felt too large after the visitors were gone, and she became aware of how tense her shoulders had grown. Sarah smoothed her sleeve with a slow motion, trying to comfort herself before addressing the waiting footman.
“I am feeling unwell,” she said softly. “I will go upstairs.”
He nodded in reply. His Grace had already retreated toward his study, so no one questioned her decision.
Sarah glanced briefly toward the corridor where the duke had disappeared.
She wondered whether he had noticed her discomfort during tea or whether he had been too occupied with his aunt’s demands.
The thought lingered only a moment before she pushed it aside, determined not to dwell on anything she could not change.
The footman's respectful nod gave her a small sense of relief. She had no desire to explain herself further, and she was grateful that no one pressed her for details. The morning had already demanded more composure than she wished to show.
She crossed the room to where Clara and Henry stood near the hearth, and Clara reached for her hand immediately. Sarah reached down and touched Henry’s shoulder. He leaned slightly into her touch, offering a small gesture that reminded her how much trust he had placed in her.
She hoped Lady Spencer had not unsettled him as well. He had watched the visitors carefully, and Sarah had wished she could shield him from the tension that had filled the room.
“I will see you later,” she said.
Henry nodded and smiled.
Sarah guided Clara up the staircase, and when they reached her chambers, she opened the door and ushered Clara inside. She took a small box of wooden animals from the shelf and set it on the rug.
“You may play with these while I rest,” she said.
Clara knelt and began arranging them in a circle. Sarah watched her daughter for a moment, grateful for the simple focus Clara brought to any task.
The small animals clicked softly against the rug as Clara adjusted their positions. The familiar sight and sound eased some of the tightness in Sarah’s chest, giving her a moment of calm before her thoughts returned to what she had experienced that morning and afternoon.
Sarah turned toward her room and gently closed the door.
I am not sick, she thought, crossing the room and sitting down on the edge of her bed. I need quiet, and I need to breathe without anyone watching every movement I make.
She looked down at her hands and folded them together. She wished she could dismiss Lady Spencer’s scrutiny, but she could not get it out of her mind.
She insisted I sit in that drawing room as though I belonged there, only to watch me for any sign that I did not. She wanted me there so she could compare me to Lady Arabella.
Sarah took a deep breath. She remembered the way Lady Spencer’s eyes had moved between them, assessing every detail with intense precision. It had been clear that Lady Spencer wished to prove a point, though Sarah could not understand why she needed to be present for it.
She wanted him to compare me to Lady Arabella, but I did not need to be there in order for him to do so.
She quickly stood up and crossed the room.
Her writing desk stood near the window, and she sat at it at once, pulling out a sheet of paper and her pen.
Eloise had not replied to her previous letter yet, but Sarah could not wait.
She needed to speak to her friend, even if only through ink and paper.
Writing always calmed her, and it allowed her to express the worries she could not voice aloud.
My dearest Eloise,
I must write to you again, even though I know you have not yet had the chance to answer my last letter. I cannot seem to keep my thoughts steady today, and I know you will understand why I need to put them to paper.
This morning was difficult. Lady Spencer arrived with Lady Arabella, and from the moment they entered the drawing room, I felt nothing but the intensity of Lady Spencer’s scrutiny. Her tone was sharp, and her manner left no doubt that she wished to make her opinions known.
Lady Arabella was quiet and composed, and she carried herself with ease. I could not fault her for it. She behaved with perfect politeness. Yet Lady Spencer looked at me as though I were a disruption. She clearly does not approve of me as a governess.
I have never acted improperly toward her or toward His Grace. I have kept to my duties and nothing more. Still, her disapproval was unmistakable.
Sarah paused, letting the ink dry before continuing.
She had tried to ignore Lady Spencer’s glances, but each one had contained a clear message.
She had felt out of place despite her efforts to remain confident, and the memory of it made her feel as uncomfortable as she had in the moment. She picked up her pen again.
I write all of this because I know you would tell me not to let her unsettle me, but it is difficult to ignore. You would say that her opinion is not a measure of my worth, and I would try to believe you, though I am not certain I could.
I must also tell you, with no small sense of shame, that Lady Arabella’s presence troubled me. She is beautiful and poised, and I felt a sting of jealousy I wish I did not feel. I know what her visit represents. Lady Spencer is trying to arrange a match between her and the duke.
Again, I paused while writing this, because I already know what you would say.
You would tell me not to borrow trouble and not to imagine outcomes that have not yet come to pass.
But I cannot help wondering what such a match would mean for my position.
Would Lady Arabella allow me to remain as Henry’s governess, or would she choose someone else once she became duchess of the house?
I know that I have faced uncertainty before and managed it, but the worry remains. It has followed me throughout the day, no matter how I try to set it aside.
She rested her pen for a moment, aware of how tightly she had been gripping it.
The worry had followed her from room to room, and it refused to let up.
She wished she could dismiss it as easily as Eloise would advise, yet the thought of losing her position completely unsettled her.
She shook her head and finished the letter.
I will send this letter before I can change my mind. Writing has calmed me somewhat, though the unease has not left entirely. I hope your reply will reach me soon. I need your clear judgment more than I can say.
With affection,
Sarah
Sarah carefully folded the paper and slipped it into an envelope. She sealed it firmly, then crossed the room and opened her door. A maid passed by, and Sarah held out the letter.
“Please have this sent to the post,” she said. The maid nodded and took it from her.
Sarah closed the door behind her and leaned against it for a moment, letting out a long, steady sigh of relief.
“Thank you,” she whispered, offering a quiet prayer for her dear friend’s consistency and judgment.
She pushed away from the door and walked over to her daughter’s adjoining room. Clara looked up from the rug, her face brightening. “Mama,” she said, smiling.
Sarah crossed the room and sat beside her. “Are you enjoying your animals?”
Clara nodded. “I made them all stand in a line. Henry said they should march.”
“It looks very neat,” Sarah said as she adjusted one of the wooden figures. “You have arranged them well.”
Clara beamed and moved another piece closer to Sarah’s hand, eager to continue. Sarah adjusted another one of the animals and let Clara place the next, their hands brushing lightly as they worked. Clara looked up after a moment, her smile softening.
“Can we go outside before it gets too dark?” she asked.
Sarah brushed a hand over her daughter’s hair. “Yes,” she said. “We can go now.”
She helped Clara into her small jacket, fastening each button with steady fingers. Clara talked the entire time, her voice bright with excitement.
“They were marching, Mama. All of them. And did I tell you that this morning Henry showed me a beetle? It was brown. It moved its legs like this.” She wiggled her fingers to demonstrate.
Sarah listened, grateful for the brightness in her daughter’s voice.
Sarah took Clara’s hand and led her down the steps toward the gardens. The air was cooling, and the light was beginning to fade, but Clara walked quickly, still chattering. “I want to see the flowers. Maybe they changed. Maybe they’re bigger now. Or maybe they’re sleeping.”
They crossed the lawn, the grass soft beneath their steps, and followed the path toward the orchard.
She has been more talkative since we arrived, Sarah thought. More eager and more settled. I had not realized how quiet she had become before we came here.
They continued along the path, Clara’s hand warm in hers, the orchard coming into view ahead of them.
As they reached the edge of the trees, Sarah saw the duke and Henry ahead of them. Henry was crouched near a low branch, pointing out something on the ground, and His Grace stood beside him, paying careful attention to what his son was saying.
Clara spotted Henry at once. She let go of Sarah’s hand and ran across the grass.
“Henry!” she called.
Henry looked up, his face brightening immediately. Clara reached him and dropped to her knees beside him, eager to see whatever he had found. The children began to play, moving between the trees with quick, excited steps.
Sarah hovered at the edge of the orchard path, her hands lightly clasped, unsure whether she should move any closer. She watched as His Grace stood beneath one of the lower branches, watching the children play.
He looked up and gave a small gesture, inviting her forward.
She approached slowly. “Your Grace,” she said, her voice a touch quieter than usual.
“Mrs. Shaw.”
She kept her focus on the children, unable to meet his eyes. “I did not mean to interrupt,” she said. “Clara wished to come outside, and I thought it best to let her have a little air.”
“It is no interruption,” he replied.
She nodded, still unable to lift her eyes fully to his. The atmosphere was tense between them, and she did not know what to do.
He glanced toward the children. “They seem well this evening.”
“Yes,” Sarah said quietly. “Henry has been more confident lately, and Clara enjoys every moment she spends with him. They learn from each other.”
The duke gave a small nod. “I have noticed. He speaks more freely when she is near.”
Sarah folded her hands. “I am grateful for it.”
He smiled. “And how are you?” he asked.
“We are well,” she said. “Clara is so happy here. I enjoy teaching, and Henry’s progress has been encouraging.”
He studied her for a moment. “Very good. And you, Mrs. Shaw? Are you managing well?”
She kept her gaze lowered. “I am,” she said. “The work is clear, and the household is orderly. It has been a relief to have a place where Clara can grow.”
After a moment, he spoke again, quieter than before. “Mrs. Shaw, I am glad you feel settled. But please know you are not obligated to remain at Roxburghe if the recent visits have made you uncomfortable.”
His tone was firm, but gentle enough that she felt her breath catch. She had not expected him to sense her hesitation so easily.
She took a deep breath and finally gathered the courage to ask the question that had troubled her all day. “Do you regret bringing me here?”
He turned to her immediately. “No,” he said plainly, looking into her eyes.
She smiled faintly and then looked down again before continuing. “I feared Lady Arabella’s arrival meant my position would soon become unnecessary.”
His expression softened. “Henry has made more progress in the last few weeks than he has in years. The estate itself feels different since you and Clara arrived. Your position is essential.”
“I am pleased to hear that,” Sarah said quietly.
The duke studied her for a moment. “You have taken on a great deal,” he said. “It has been a difficult season for you. I hope you have not felt overwhelmed.”
“I manage,” she said. “I have grown accustomed to managing.
Another moment of quiet settled over them.
She took in a shaky breath. “After my husband’s death, I believed Clara and I would spend the rest of our lives simply surviving one uncertain situation to another.”
The duke’s expression softened. “You carried that fear with you for a long time.”
“I did,” she said. “I tried to keep Clara calm and steady, but there were days when I did not know how we would manage the next week, let alone the next year.”
He nodded slowly, taking in her words before he spoke again. “I understand that, truly.”
She looked at him, surprised by the quiet certainty in his tone.
The duke was quiet for a moment. When he finally spoke again, his voice held a sincerity she had never heard from him before.
“After my wife left, I became convinced that my home would never again feel peaceful or alive. I thought Henry and I would move from one strained day to the next, always trying to appear as if we were fine when we were not.”
Sarah felt a surge of empathy. “You hid it well,” she said, hoping it would bring him encouragement.
“I thought I had to,” he said. I believed Henry needed strength from me, even when I did not feel it myself.”
Sarah nodded. “Clara needed the same. I tried to give her stability even when I felt none.”
The duke glanced toward her, his voice gentler. “It is clear that you did just that. She is a lovely child.”
Sarah smiled. “And you have done a wonderful job with Henry, as he is just delightful.”
She lifted her eyes for a brief moment, then let them fall again.
The quietness between them was comfortable, and Sarah knew that it was a personal conversation rather than simply a polite exchange.
Although it surprised her, it did not frighten her, and she noticed that neither of them moved to end the conversation.
The duke shifted slightly, as though he meant to say more, but the fading light caught her attention. The orchard was growing dim, and she realized Clara would need to be brought inside and prepared for bed.
Sarah dipped her head. “I should return inside,” she said softly. “It is getting dark, and Clara must be settled.”
He gave a small nod. “Of course.”
Sarah stepped back. “Clara,” she called gently.
Her daughter looked up from where she had been playing with Henry and hurried toward her. Sarah offered the duke a quiet farewell, then guided Clara across the lawn and toward the house, the conversation still occupying her thoughts as they went inside.