Chapter 21
Sarah stood near the front steps, watching the drive with an eagerness she tried to keep contained. Clara clutched her hand, excitedly stepping from one food to another.
“Is she coming now?” Clara asked, leaning forward as if she could pull the carriage into view by sheer will.
“Any moment,” Sarah said, smoothing Clara’s sleeve.
The carriage rounded the bend, and Clara let out a small gasp. Henry, who had been lingering near the garden wall, ran toward them.
“She is here,” he said, breathless.
The carriage stopped, and Eloise stepped down with a bright, familiar smile. Sarah felt a lightness that she had not felt in weeks.
“Sarah,” Eloise said, reaching for her hands. “I have been waiting for this visit.”
Clara rushed forward. “Lady Conway, we went to town.”
Eloise laughed softly. “Did you? You must tell me everything.”
Henry stood beside Clara eagerly. “It was a few days ago. We saw the bakery windows.”
Sarah shook her head lightly. “Let her come inside first.”
Eloise squeezed her hand. “Or we could walk. It is too fine an afternoon to sit indoors.”
Henry perked up immediately. “Yes. The lower gardens.”
“I want to show you the pond,” Clara said, nodding with equal enthusiasm.
Sarah smiled. “Then a walk it is.”
They set off down the path. Henry and Clara ran ahead, happily pointing things out to one another.
Eloise watched them for a moment. “The children look happy.”
“They are,” Sarah said quietly.
They continued along the path until they reached the privacy of the garden.
Eloise glanced at her friend, her expression softening.
“Tell me,” she said. “You have written much, but I want to hear directly from you. I want to know what is happening now.”
Sarah hesitated, then exhaled. “Things have changed. The best way to describe it is to say that my conversations with the duke no longer feel like simple courtesy.”
Eloise’s brows lifted slightly. “In what way?”
Sarah kept her eyes focused on the roses that lined the path.. “I rely on him more than I intended. He has been kind. Too kind. And I do not know how to manage it.”
Eloise slowed her steps. “Do you feel uneasy with him?”
“No,” Sarah said. “That is the difficulty. I feel… comfortable. It is not what I expected.”
“And you worry what others will make of it.”
Sarah nodded once. “Yes.”
Eloise linked her arm through Sarah’s. “Then you must be careful. But you must also be honest with yourself. You are not imagining his attention.”
Sarah looked ahead at Clara and Henry, who were crouched near a patch of clover. “I know.”
Eloise gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Then tell me more.”
Sarah hesitated before speaking again. “There have been moments. Small ones where he looks at me in ways I do not know how to answer.”
“What kind of looks?”
Sarah looked around for a moment and kept her voice low. “Longer than they should be. He watches me when I am with the children. And a few days ago, in the gardens, a breeze scattered Henry’s papers. We both reached for the same sheet.” She paused. “Our hands touched.”
Eloise’s expression sharpened with interest. “And neither of you stepped back.”
“No,” Sarah said. “Not at first.”
“What did he do?”
“He looked at me,” Sarah said. “Directly. As though he meant to say something but could not. And I… I did not look away.”
Eloise nodded slowly. “And how did it end?”
“Clara ran into me,” Sarah said. “It broke the moment.”
Eloise considered that, her voice gentle but firm. “Sarah, you are not beneath him in virtue. You are a vicar’s daughter and a naval captain’s widow. You have lived with dignity. You have raised your child with dignity. Do not let anyone suggest otherwise.”
Sarah looked down at the path. “It does not change how people speak.”
“No,” Eloise said. “But it changes what is true.”
Sarah inhaled deeply.
Eloise continued, her tone serious. “Do not accept uncertainty for too long. If he means something by these glances and these moments, you must know it. And if he does not, you must know that as well.”
Sarah nodded, though her voice was faint. “I do not know how to begin such a conversation.”
“You will,” Eloise said. “And you must. Before gossip finds you again.”
Sarah looked ahead at Clara and Henry, who were racing toward a patch of sunlight. “I hope so.”
Eloise touched her arm. “Then start with honesty. It is the only way forward.”
Sarah smiled at Eloise, her expression softening. “Thank you,” she said. “I needed that.”
Eloise returned the smile. “I know you did.”
Sarah straightened her shoulders. “Tell me something lighter. How do you enjoy being a wife? You have barely said anything about it.”
Eloise’s face warmed. “It suits me. He is steady. He listens. And he does not mind when I insist on rearranging the household every few weeks.”
“That sounds like you,” Sarah said, laughing quietly.
“It is,” Eloise said. “And he accepts it.”
They walked on, the conversation easing into comfortable talk about Eloise’s home, her routines, and the small habits she and her husband had settled into. Clara and Henry ran ahead, calling back to them with discoveries that mattered only to children but made the afternoon feel free.
The rest of the visit passed quickly. They walked the gardens, shared tea, and spoke of ordinary things.
When Eloise departed, Sarah felt cheered and relaxed.
Yet when she went to bed that night, her thoughts returned to their earlier conversation, circling the same question she still did not know how to answer.
The next morning, Sarah gathered the children in the schoolroom. Henry sat forward eagerly, already restless, while Clara held her slate with both hands.
“Your lessons will be shorter today,” Sarah said. “We are going into town for books and supplies.”
Henry brightened at the mention of town. “Are we going now?”
“After your reading,” Sarah said. “Then we will leave.”
Clara nodded. “I want to see the shop with the ribbons. And the bakery!”
“We will see it,” Sarah said, smoothing her daughter’s hair.
Henry looked toward the door. “Will Papa come with us?”
Sarah hesitated. “I do not know.”
A moment later, His Grace appeared in the doorway. “Mrs. Shaw,” he said, “I was walking by and could not help overhearing that you were taking the children into the village.”
Sarah straightened, surprised to see his face. “Yes, Your Grace. We need books and a few supplies for Henry’s lessons.”
Henry looked up at him eagerly. “We are going soon.”
The duke stepped farther into the room. “If you are going into the village, I will accompany you.”
Sarah nodded. “We would be glad of your company, Your Grace.”
Henry grinned. Clara held her slate close, already excited for the outing.
They finished their short lesson, then stepped outside together. Clara talked about the ribbon shop, while Henry swung his bag over his shoulder with exaggerated importance.
Sarah looked down at the children. “We will walk into the village. It is not far.”
Henry nodded eagerly. “I like walking better than the carriage.”
“We can see everything,” Clara added.
His Grace glanced toward the path. “Then indeed we will walk,” he said. “It is a fine morning for it.”
They set off down the lane, the children staying close at first, then drifting ahead in short bursts of excitement.
Clara pointed out a bird on the fence. Henry asked whether they could stop at the bakery window.
Sarah answered each question patiently, each time they asked. The duke listened with quiet amusement.
Henry looked back at his father. “Papa, do you like walking to town?”
“I do,” he said. “It gives me time to see what I often overlook.”
Clara skipped a few steps. “I like the ribbons.”
Sarah smiled at her daughter’s contagious excitement. “We will look at them if we have time.”
The duke glanced at Sarah. “We will have time.”
They continued down the lane, the children walking ahead but never too far. Clara pointed out a patch of wildflowers, and Henry tried to decide whether they were better than the ones near the orchard.
The duke looked toward Sarah. “Mrs. Shaw, what is your favorite part of town? Are you as fond of the ribbons as Clara?”
She shook her head lightly. “Clara enjoys them far more than I do.”
“Then what do you enjoy?” he asked.
“The bookstore,” she said. “It is peaceful, and the shelves are always full.”
He gave a small, teasing nod. “I should have expected that. You chose your cookie the other day with the same care one uses when selecting a volume.”
Her lips curved. “I did not choose it carefully.”
“You did,” he said, amused. “You examined the tray as though you were comparing editions.”
She looked down at her feet briefly, a faint blush rising. “It was only a cookie.”
“Yet you enjoyed it,” he said. “Despite insisting you needed nothing.”
She met his eyes. “It was pleasant.”
“I am relieved,” he replied. “I would not want you to think I bring you to poor bakeries.”
She gave a quiet laugh. “I do not think that.”
They walked a little farther, passing a dressmaker’s cottage with a small display in the window. A pale blue gown hung behind the glass, simple and elegant.
Clara paused to look at it, and Sarah followed her gaze.
The duke glanced at the gown, then at Sarah. “That color would suit you.”
Her cheeks warmed. “It is very fine, Your Grace.”
“It is,” he said, his tone gentle. “But you would wear it better than the mannequin.”
She looked away for a moment, gathering her composure.. “You are kind to say so.”
The duke walked beside her, the children still chattering ahead of them, They reached the outskirts of the village, where the road widened and the first of the main shops came into view.
The children slowed, taking in the bustle of the square.
Sarah felt the shift almost immediately as they approached.
Conversations softened, a few heads turned, and people paused in doorways as the four of them approached.
Henry tugged at her sleeve. “The bookshop is there.”
“I see it,” Sarah said, keeping her voice calm.