How to Claim a Governess’s Heart - Bridget Barton Page 0,18
as easily as Nanny did."
Betsy nodded her approval of the situation.
"Good, then let's go downstairs. Mrs. Smith said we could put your school items in the library. I expect by tomorrow we should be ready to start lessons again."
Bridget came to stand, taking Betsy’s hand in hers. Together they collected the few books and items to take downstairs.
"You'll stay here with me till I am all grown up, won't you Miss Thatcher?"
"I don't know," Bridget responded as they walked down the hall to the stairs. She did her best to keep the melancholy from her voice. Bridget would be willing to do anything to stay with Betsy.
"But until I am told otherwise, I am still your governess. That means I must insist we still learn something every day," Bridget added, trying to brighten the mood.
"Every day?" Betsy asked with a sigh.
"Oh yes, and perhaps sometimes twice a day," Bridget jested in a foreboding tone.
The library that Mrs. Smith had suggested for their use was directly across from the parlour and separated from Lord John's office by a dividing door.
Bridget had yet to enter it, and when she did, her breath caught in her throat. Never in all her life had she seen so many books all in one place, except perhaps a bookstore.
The room itself was almost the same size as the grand parlour, with three of the four walls covered from floor to ceiling in bookshelves. The fourth wall had four large windows with deep window seats that faced out onto the townhouse to the left, as well as a bit of garden between them.
Bridget could tell any one of the windows as a perfect place to sit and read all afternoon as the sun cast in ideally through them. The floor was covered in a deep red Persian rug with two leather chairs in front of a small hearth. On the far side of the room was a small table with ornately carved chairs.
Bridget surmised that this place would be the best for Betsy to do most of her schoolwork, though the hearth would be well used as they read together. Next to the wall, and on the only other space without a bookshelf, nestled into a corner, was a small writing desk with a portrait hung over it.
Bridget placed most of Betsy's writing materials inside the desk, as there was not an inch of space on a single shelf. She wanted to peruse the books and see what manner of topics could possibly fill so many walls. But first her eye was caught by the portrait.
It was of a family. Bridget guessed it was Lord John's family and was able to make him out almost instantly in the picture. Though Lord John was still a boy in the image, his sandy blond hair stuck out in contrast to the almost black of the older brother and mother.
Bridget took a moment to study Lord John further and see if she could picture the boy who stood before her in oil paint.
Like her first impression of Lord John, he stood a very tall frame in the image, making him easily the first thing the eye was drawn to.
His cheeks were still slightly round and rosy with childhood, though the artist had clearly marked the sharp angles of his chin and nose. He was standing just slightly in front of his mother with a hand resting softly in hers.
Bridget studied the dowager duchess next. Her dress was full and ornate, her form slightly rounded, with a powdered hairstyle with ringlets that rested on her shoulders. Her hair was as black as a raven, with small black eyes. Bridget couldn't help but feel a shiver as she studied the expression on her face.
It wasn't stern, but unlike Lord John, who had light happiness in his blue eyes, the dowager was cold and expressionless.
On the other side of the seated lady was the late Duke of Ludford. He was dressed in formal attire, the family signet beaming from his chest. Bridget could immediately tell that Lord John had taken after his father in looks. Though the late duke's eyes were dark brown and hair a salty grey, he had the same square-set jaw, the very tall, imposing presence, and that small spark of joy in his eyes.
Bridget briefly studied the teenage boy with an arm on his father's shoulder. Bridget had no trouble guessing that he was Lord John's brother and the current Duke of Ludford. He shared his mother's frosty glare.