Page 50 of The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor
“Do you miss him?” Betsey asked, her eyes as round as the dinner plates left untouched on the table.
“My word!” Bridget muttered, her cheeks stained with anger but Rose continued.
“Yes,” she replied honestly. “I miss him every day.”
“Would you miss him less if you had had children?” Betsey asked and Rose smiled sadly at the simplicity of her thinking.
If only it could be so simple,she thought miserably.Truthfully, I have no way of knowing.
It seemed impossible that one small hand could aid in the healing of her badly wounded heart.
“We wanted to have children very much,” Rose continued. “But alas, it was not meant to be. I imagine that it is for the best. I look at you and think of how much you have lost, and I realize that it is unbearable to see a child in such pain.”
“Perhaps you will marry Nicholas,” Harry piped in and the grown people inhaled sharply.
“It is not as simple as that, Lord Arlington,” Rose explained. “There are many factors to consider.”
“Nobility, you mean? The duke and duchess do not care about status,” Betsey offered. “They would encourage your union.”
Would they? That is interesting.
“It is more difficult an issue than status,” Rose told them softly. “When someone passes, it is very difficult to allow another into your heart in the same place they occupied because, truly, that space is still quite full from the original. Just because someone dies, does not mean they have been forgotten or can be replaced. You, of all people, understand what it is I am saying.”
The Arlingtons nodded and stared at the table.
Have I said the wrong thing?She wondered, suddenly concerned she had made a mistake.Will my words scar them in the future somehow?
“Miss Rose?” Betsey whispered, looking up.
“Yes, Lady Arlington?”
“When we are alone, Harry and I would like you to call us by our given names.”
Rose’s mouth became a smallOof surprise.
“I would like that…” she lowered her voice and looked about to ensure no one else was about. “…Betsey.”
The girl’s face brightened considerably, and she leaned forward glancing at the Boyles who pretended to eat their supper.
“Miss Rose?”
“Yes, Betsey?”
“If you are ever sad and you wish you had children of your own, you may pretend that Harry and I are yours – but only if you like.”
She sat back in her chair in a rush, her cheeks growing pale. Rose stared around the table, the Boyles’ faces reflecting the look of awed shock she felt and Harry nodding in agreement.
“We love you, Miss Rose,” the boy mumbled. “You remind us of our mother – and not just because of your toilet water.”
“Oh children…” Rose whispered, emotion catching in her throat. “That is the kindest thing anyone has ever offered me.”
“Is it?” Betsey asked warily. “Why are you crying?”
“These are tears of appreciation and adoration for you both,” she replied softly, reaching her hands out to each sibling.
Eagerly, they accepted her outstretched palms and they squeezed together simultaneously.
“Thank you for being my family,” Rose told them before raising her head toward Bridget and John. “Thank you all. I may have no blood-bonds but I know that real family is not always born.”
