The Governess Club: Sara

Mrs. Yardley confirmed with a nod. “I will fetch it for you.” When she returned from the back with several letters in her hand, she said, “We received some nice white and yellow ribbons this week that would complement your hair nicely.”

Sara raised a self-conscious hand to her red curls and offered a weak smile. “Thank you, perhaps I will browse through them.” Don’t draw attention to yourself, girl; vanity is the Devil’s vice.

Mrs. Yardley smiled back and handed her the letters after noting the cost on the Ridgestone page in the account ledger. “It has been some time since you bought something for yourself. We all deserve a little spoiling now and then, Miss Collins.”

“Thank you,” she replied. She made her way over to the ribbons as suggested and fingered the new arrivals. The colors would indeed go well with her hair, but she had not allowed for any extra expenses this afternoon. Louisa had spent much of the evening yesterday discussing their finances, and Sara did not feel that new ribbons for herself would be looked upon favorably.

With a glance back at Mrs. Yardley to see if she was paying mind to Sara, she made her way to the door and slipped out, slipping the letters into her basket. The bright sun caused her to squint momentarily, but Sara did not hesitate to head back the way she had come, toward Ridgestone.

Waving at the greetings of students and parents, Sara left Taft behind her and slowed her pace, enjoying the unusually warm spring day. She took joy in the weekly task of walking to the village to fetch the post and other little necessities required. It was her one time of the week, time to be kept company by her own thoughts and to not concern herself with the trials and tribulations of the Governess Club.

It was precious time to herself and she guarded it as best as she was able.

Today was particularly pleasant and Sara decided to take a longer route across the fields. Climbing over a stile, she swung the basket in her hand and tilted her face up to the sun. The long dry grass teased her ankles, bringing a smile to her face. Coming to a hill, she had to lean into it to keep her balance and she lifted her skirts so she wouldn’t trip on them. She didn’t pause in her walk until she crested the hill when she stopped to catch her breath.

Looking out over the spring scenery, she inhaled deeply, as though she could bring the sunshine into her body and have it warm her from the inside out. She turned her gaze to Ridgestone, still two miles distant in the valley. The boxy building was surrounded by a sea of green, grass and trees carpeting the land. Sara could see the back gardens, Claire’s passion, the vibrant flowers creating sparks of color in the greenery.

Ridgestone had been her home for nearly a year now, a safe place, and one of growth. Her governess position had been relatively simple; two young, biddable girls who primarily wanted to be her friends. Coming here, creating the Governess Club, had been an enlightening experience for her. Instructing a large group of children was vastly different than two, something Sara found outside of her skills. Seeing her struggles, Claire and Louisa had made the decision to have her focus on the youngest children in their school, the four- and five-year-olds who came for half-days only. These students focused on basic reading and manners, primarily. In this, Sara found her mornings combining play with learning, laughter and love.

Bringing herself back to her task, Sara descended the other side of the hill, holding onto her bonnet as gravity sped up her steps. Once again breathless at the bottom, she allowed herself a giddy laugh for behaving like one of her students.

She entered a path that wound through the trees, leading back to Ridgestone. In the shade provided by the canopy, she pulled the letters out of her basket and flipped through them. Most were, as expected, addressed to Claire and Jacob; they were the owners of the estate after all. One was addressed to all of them, from their friend and fellow Governess Club member Bonnie Montgomery, now living at Darrowgate with her husband and their wards. But one in particular excited Sara as it was addressed to her, written in her brother’s hand.

Without a moment’s thought, Sara situated herself at the base of a tree and broke open the seal. His letters were infrequent and she cherished every one, treasuring the link to her sibling. She quickly became engrossed in her brother’s retelling of his seafaring adventures.