How to Claim a Governess’s Heart - Bridget Barton Page 0,19
the floor at the duchess's feet sat a very young girl. She too had black ringlets that matched her mother’s. Wearing a straightforward white child's frock, she held a small doll in her hand.
Bridget hadn't realised that Lord John had a younger sibling and made a note to enquire after her when the time was right. She was sure that Mrs. Smith would be happy to give her any information on the family that she wished to have.
"It's a bit outdated, but unfortunately it was the last one made of the family," Lord John's voice called from the other end of the room.
Bridget yelped in fright and spun around.
With a broad smile on his face sending his eyes aglow, Lord John chuckled.
"I didn't mean to startle you," he said hands out in surrender. "I just returned and heard you and Betsy in here. I just wanted to see if you needed anything."
Lord John finished his comment and looked down at the child, who had attached herself to him at his entrance.
"We are getting on well. Our belongings arrived, and we were just looking for a place for lessons. Mrs. Smith suggested this room. I hope it's all right."
Bridget watched as Lord John hesitated and looked to the door behind him that joined his office.
"We could also do lessons in the parlour or our room if that would suit you better," Bridget added quickly.
"No, this is fine," Lord John waved off quickly. "I'm sure you will be able to put some of these books to good use. I had some of my earliest education in this room myself," he added, looking down at Betsy.
"Before I went to Eton, I often had my own private tutors instruct me in this room with my siblings."
"Did you have a governess like Miss Thatcher?" Betsy asked in innocence.
"I am sure I would have been quite lucky to spend any one of my lessons with a fine lady like Miss Thatcher, but sadly I had a very grouchy looking clergyman that smelled of cheese."
Betsy giggled at Lord John, who had contorted his face and body to resemble an aging unhappy educator.
"Tell me more about when you were my age, Uncle John," Betsy said excitedly.
"We don't want to impose on Lord John's time," Bridget quickly said to give him a chance to leave.
"I think I have time to tell you one story," Lord John said after checking his watch.
Bridget perused the room, only half-listening to Lord John's tales of growing up. She thought it best she didn't listen too carefully as this was a private family moment, but she still wanted to be near enough to take charge when Lord John returned to his work.
Bridget was sure if she had the time she could spend a whole day just reading the titles of all the books as she touched all the various bindings.
"Do you enjoy reading, Miss Thatcher?" Lord John's voice called out in a break of their conversation.
"I do, very much. I am ashamed to say I often neglect to practice other talents because I love it so," Bridget confessed as she tugged on her jacket's sleeves.
"I don't know if it's really neglect," Lord John countered. "Painting, drawing and needlework – that is all well and fine for a lady. But I feel if you don't have a natural talent for it, no amount of practice will make you proficient. But when it comes to reading – to gaining knowledge – one does not need a predisposition granted by Providence. Growth of the mind is something we can all equally strive for perfection in."
"I appreciate your sentiment, but as a governess, I probably shouldn't be telling employers that my other areas of expertise are lacking," Bridget retorted with a blush.
"Oh, I have no doubt that Betsy has had a fine education under your watch. Already I can see she is very well mannered, her French surpassed what I expected for such an age, and she enjoys learning. I find enjoyment of one's education goes a long way to success in it."
Bridget blushed again at the compliment. She hadn't realised it, but while she had been looking at books, their conversation had turned from childhood memories to Betsy's own progress of growth.
"You're very kind to say all that," Bridget said softly, unable to meet Lord John's eyes.
"I suppose, as a writer, you have a passion for reading as well?" Bridget asked, hoping to steer the conversation away from herself.