Page 51 of The Earl's Disguised Governess
“You mentioned several days ago that you had not chosen a favourite character,” Claire said, giddy to share her joy. “Have you thought about it more?”
“I have,” Lady Florence told her, giving her a secret smile. “I like Katherine.”
Claire felt Ernest’s attention on them, hearing his mother’s name in quite a different scenario.
“Go on,” Claire encouraged.
“Well, I like that she keeps the reader guessing. She claims to be ‘tamed’, and I believe Shakespeare does the act of making us unsure as to if she truly is. I want to believe her newfound affection for her husband is true, but I simply cannot believe it was done so easily. It is similar to Romeo and Juliet, where we believe they will come together, but we are kept in suspense. I truly admire how Shakespeare does both these things in his writing.”
She caught Ernest’s eye from across the library, finding him impressed by his cousin. He had a medical science book open in his lap and had been reading intently until they’d happened to look up simultaneously. Her heart beat double-time, and she cleared her throat.
“Do you agree, Miss Gundry?”
“Sorry? Oh, of course. He is very adept at providing suspense, Lady Florence. Do you have any favourite lines? Perhaps we can incorporate it into a recital of sorts to display your recollection.”
Lady Florence cleared her throat. “If I be waspish, best beware my sting. I like how it shows that many people can name someone bad, but when they truly are bad and give into what they are called, then they have only brought that badness upon themselves. It is like being called a grieving daughter, and everyone will acknowledge it, but when they see the signs of that grief, they do not know what to do with me.”
Claire blanched, unexpecting of the depth of the young girl’s mind. But she was quite right, really.
Lady Florence had possessed her moments in grief. Anger, rebellion, sadness. And she needed that space to grieve. Now, ever since Ernest had taken Lady Florence to the house’s gallery several nights ago, she had been warming back up to Claire, something she was immensely grateful for. She looked back at Ernest.
“Grief is a fickle friend,” she said, “and can make us act certain ways, but there is forgiveness in grief. Perhaps Katherine, in this play, grieves her former self.”
“I think so.”
Claire was too caught up in the soft way Ernest gazed at her as if her words were something he had needed to hear.
“Miss Gundry?”
Ernest caught her eye again and shook his head in a mocking scold as if to say you were not paying attention again!
But then his eyes lowered, his grin turned softer, more subtle, and Claire felt herself grow warmer. For a moment, she imagined they were two different people: a governess and a medic. Or perhaps an earl and a lady. Not this strange combination of their different lives but a combination of people that could have a courtship.
And then Lady Florence tapped her. “Miss Gundry, I was asking if you had a favourite line.”
“I do, in fact. Do I dream? Or have I dreamed till now? I do not sleep; I see, I hear, I speak, I smell sweet savors, and I feel soft things.”
“That is a peculiar choice.”
Claire hummed. “I have loved that line for a long time. It reminds me of …” She almost said being alive, for there was a time where she thought she would not make it through destitution to provide for herself. It was a reminder of all she had given in her life to ensure she survived.
“It reminds me that we are all aware of our surroundings, and we do our best.”
“I agree,” Lady Florence said.
“I have to leave for my luncheon soon, and my eyes hurt with so much reading. Can I practice my pianoforte until I have to leave?”
“Of course,” she said. “I am happy to hear you play again, Lady Florence.”
“I never should have been so stubborn.”
As Lady Florence left the room, Claire went to follow, but Ernest held a book out in front of her, stopping her in the doorway. “George Washington was a fine leader. Many Americans were sad to see him give up his position.”
She glanced up at him. “Indeed, they were,” she said. “It would be a great shame for many people if some men stopped doing the things they excelled at.” She gave him a knowing look.
“I see what you mean, Miss Gundry—”
“Claire,” she corrected.
