How to Claim a Governess’s Heart - Bridget Barton Page 0,43

looking through the contents. In her hand was the white silk handkerchief.

Bridget hesitated. She wasn’t entirely sure if she should just tell the child to put it back and not explain what it was. She had that inner desire to keep it secret, as it still was a portion of guilt on her conscience.

Instead, Bridget set her book on the chair and came to sit on Betsy’s bed. Inviting Betsy to do the same, she took the handkerchief to show the contents to her.

She didn’t speak, but instead opened up the cloth and laid out the pearl jewellery and the ring. She watched as Betsy studied them, letting her still plum fingers run over the string of pearls.

“They’re cold,” she commented.

“Yes, pearls always stay cold no matter the temperature around them.”

“They were Mama’s, weren’t they?” she said, looking up at her governess.

“They were. I want to tell you a secret, but you must promise that you won’t tell anyone else, at least not till you're older.”

Betsy nodded her head, bobbing her golden curls. Her crystal-blue eyes were wide with excitement at the chance of being trusted with a secret.

“We were meant to keep them at your old house with the rest of your parents’ things. I took them, though, so that when you are older you can have them. I think your mother would be pleased to know you have her favourite pearls and her sapphire ring.”

Betsy picked up the ring and studied it for a second before trying it on her own finger. It was much too big, of course.

“Mama told me once about this ring. She said it belonged to her grandma. She said it was very special to her because of that.”

Betsy put the ring back down delicately on the silk fabric. She wriggled a bit on the bed.

“When can I be old enough to wear them?” she asked, looking at them expectantly.

“Well, I should think we should wait until they fit first. I think the earrings are so big they would just slide off those tiny ears of yours,” Bridget said, gently pinching one of Betsy’s ears.

The child giggled in response. Taking a cue from her giggle, Bridget continued to tickle the girl.

“And you are so wriggly just now,” Bridget said as she tickled. “I fear it would jiggle right off your body.”

“I’m only wriggly because you're tickling me, Miss Thatcher,” Betsy half-giggled half-scolded.

“Oh, perhaps you’re right,” Bridget replied, stopping for a second.” Ah, there you are back to your wriggle-free self,” she remarked.

“But still, let’s put these away for now,” Bridget added as she wrapped the jewellery back up. “I think you still have a few years yet before you will be old enough and responsible enough not to lose them,” Bridget added with a knowing eye.

“I don’t lose many things,” Betsy protested.

Still, she watched without complaint as Bridget put the jewellery back into its drawer.

“May I take it out from time to time and look at them?” Betsy asked.

“I think that would be fine. Only do so if I am here with you, though. And remember, we must keep it a secret for at least a little while.”

Betsy nodded her head again in understanding.

“It could be my pirate treasure. You have to keep pirate treasures secret, or someone will steal it from you. Pirates are not very honest people, you know,” Betsy informed her governess.

“I imagine they are not,” Bridget agreed with a smile.

“Have you heard at all from your brother?” Bridget asked tentatively one night by the firelight.

“No,” Lord John stated simply, setting aside some papers he was editing. “I suppose that makes an end of it. It’s been a few weeks since I wrote to him. If he had something to say in response, I am sure he would have said it by now.”

They sat for a few more minutes in peaceful silence. Nothing but the turning of pages and scratching of notes on paper betrayed their presence in the room. Finally, Lord John set his work down on the table beside his high-backed chair and studied Miss Thatcher.

They had come accustomed to these nights together after Betsy went to bed. The room had even been re-arranged to situate specific accommodations. Instead of two long couches jutting out from the fire hearth, they had been replaced with two high-backed cushioned chairs.

Both were angled so that there was only a small space between them that allowed the heat from the fire to pass by them. The chairs themselves, though seated to face outward