Page 7 of The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor
Rose’s breath caught in her throat as she looked away, unsure of why his stare unnerved her so deeply.
He is the man who shattered your life with a few short words,Rose reminded herself.Tis only natural that you would feel discomfort in his presence.
“Come along,” Bridget insisted. “You must keep up your strength, child. It is what Philip would expect of you.”
Hearing his name made her wince as if a thousand blades pierced into the depth of her soul.
Do I have a soul any longer or has it died now that my love is gone?
Bridget steered her from the parlor toward the galley, carefully blocking the well-meaning grievers from communicating but Rose hardly noticed. In her mind, there was still a strange shroud about her eyes, stopping her from seeing the outpouring of good intent.
Bridget shooed the gathering of women from the kitchen and gently steered Rose into a chair. She then turned to collect a plate of food for her to eat.
“From where had all this come?” Rose asked suddenly, looking about in surprise at the mass of dishes piled along the countertops.
There were meats, breads and pies as far as the eye could see. Sweets and cheeses perched almost precariously over the edge of the table, taunting the house mice from their hiding spots in the shadows.
“The parish, of course. Philip was a well-loved member of our community and you are still one of us. We will not see you starve in your grief.”
“It is too much!” Rose protested, blinking. “It will go to waste. Bring it home to John.”
“Nonsense,” Bridget barked, her tone oddly harsh and Rose stared at her in surprise. Instantly, the older woman’s face showed contrition.
“I only mean that you are growing frail in your sadness. Philip was a hero who must be remembered for his bravery. You must honor his memory with strength, Rose. You cannot merely waste away.”
It is so easy for her to say such things,Rose thought with some bitterness.Her husband still lives. She had the opportunity to bear him a child. I have nothing now, no one. I am an orphan once more.
“You must eat, Rose,” Bridget insisted. “Please.”
Rose knew that arguing would only be a waste of energy she simply did not possess, and she reluctantly accepted the plate which her neighbor held in outstretched hands.
She means well. You must not act disorderly toward Bridget when she and John are all you have now. You must not drive them away.
Bridget gingerly sat across, studying the younger woman’s face and Rose wondered what she saw. Did the older woman still see a porcelain skinned girl with bright blue eyes or did she see precisely what Rose felt; a devastated soul without hope?
Bridget nodded toward the untouched plate and Rose stifled a sigh, bringing a piece of bread to her waxen lips. It was tasteless in her mouth, as if she was consuming sawdust, but she continued to chew, if only to appease Bridget.
She is correct; I benefit no one by falling to pieces.
Since learning of Philip’s death three days earlier, Rose had fainted several times. The exhaustion and anguish was too much for her to bear.
I am already earning a name for myself as weak. I cannot proceed in such a fashion.
“How are you faring, Mrs. Parsons?”
She heard a voice from the doorway and looked up, her heart hammering wildly as she stared at Captain Balfour.
“As well as can be expected,” Bridget responded for Rose, a noticeable tension in her tone. “She needs rest.”
“Of course,” the captain agreed cordially. “I only wished to pay my respects, but I must return to my home in Colchester.”
“Wait!” Rose cried, casting her dish aside to rise. “Please, do not leave yet! I need to know about Philip’s last days. How did he…”
She trailed off, unable to speak the word aloud but Bridget cleared her throat rudely, shaking her head.
“That is hardly a discussion for this moment, Rose,” she interjected as Captain Balfour opened his mouth to respond. “Captain, we wish you safe travels.”
“You may call on me. I will submit my post to a reading member of the household…”
