Chapter 4: Red

The temporary peace dissolved the moment Lord Rathcliffe’s carriage rolled into the stables. For three days, the manor had breathed. I had walked in the gardens with Katherine and David despite the winter chill, frost clinging to bare branches while their laughter rose in white clouds before them.

We had fed the birds with numb fingers. We had raced along the stone paths until Katherine forgot herself enough to squeal.

They were children. Not heirs. Not responsibilities. Just children. And in those moments, I had seen it clearly the space beside them where a mother should have been.

“Papa,” Katherine beamed when the carriage door opened. The word escaping before she caught herself. She quickly lowered her head, swallowing her joy as though it were improper.“Katherine,” Lord Rathcliffe acknowledged. “Son,” he turned to David.

That was all.

I watched Katherine’s shoulders straighten, watched her tuck her hands neatly in front of her as though bracing herself for inspection rather than affection. And then something inside me shifted.

They did not need a governess. They needed gentleness. Lorf Rathcliffe's gaze lifted to me before he moved past us into the house.

“Belle. A word," he said, walking towards his study and when I looked at the two children who woke up excitedly because they knew their papa was coming home. My heart sank further. I gave them a reassuring smile and moved to follow him.

I began mentally preparing myself for another reprimanding session. As I walked into his study

he handed me an envelope. “I want you to take Katherine and David into town. They require new garments," he said, moving to sit behind his desk. David is growing. His trousers are too short.”

I was surprised by what he wanted to talk about. He didn’t want to know about his children. “Yes, Lord Rathcliffe.”

“William will accompany you.”

My stomach tightened.

“Where to?” William’s voice came from behind me.

I turned to see him standing in the doorway, composed and distant. He had not looked at me since the piano. It should not have mattered. But It did.

“To the tailor in town,” his father replied and William nodded once.

“Father, if you are not otherwise occupied, I would like a moment.”His eyes flicked to mine briefly. They were cold.His eyes couldn't scream 'get out' loud enough.

I left the room and escorted the children outside again. "Where are we going?" David asked.

"We are going into town, little one."

“May we truly go?” he was excited.

“Yes,” I smiled.

Katherine’s eyes widened slightly, as though such freedom were extravagant.

The front doors opened sharply. William strode past without a word, boots striking stone with quiet force. He climbed to sit beside the coachman rather than inside the carriage. Deliberately stating or making a show out of not wanting to sit with me no doubt.

I helped the children inside and settled beside them. As the carriage began to move, Katherine instinctively shifted closer to me when it jolted over uneven ground.

David leaned against my arm, steadying himself. Neither of them seemed aware of it. But I was. Their small bodies trusting. Their movements unconscious. Seeking warmth without asking for it.

I had never imagined myself in this role. Never imagined standing in the shadow of another woman’s memory. Never imagined being expected to nurture children who were nearly strangers.

The weight of it frightened me.

What if I failed them?

What if I was too young, too unsure, too unprepared to fill a space that sacred? Yet when David tilted his head and whispered, “Will you help me choose something that makes Father proud?” I did not hesitate.

“Of course,” I said gently. And I meant it. Not for Lord Rathcliffe's sake but for this little boy that so desperately needed to be cared for and guided into manhood.

I looked at Katherine — so careful, so eager to behave perfectly. She was probably told her whole life what it meant to be a lady. I saw it in the way she tried to correct herself. As if being a child was wrong.

I was afraid of the scrutiny. Afraid of never being accepted in this house. But as Katherine’s gloved hand slipped into mine without thought, fear became something quieter.

Resolve.

I did not know how to be their mother.

But if they needed one...

I was prepared to learn.

The carriage had slowed down significantly and I peeked my head through the window. The town was alive with winter movement. Shops bustled despite the cold. Smoke curled from chimneys, and horses clattered along narrow cobbled streets. The air smelled of wool, frost, and fresh bread.

Katherine pressed her face briefly to the carriage window before catching herself and sitting properly again. “You may look,” I said gently.

She glanced at me, uncertain.

“You are allowed to be excited.” That small permission changed her entire posture.

The carriage rolled to a stop and the door opened. William offered his hand to Katherine first, then David. He did not look at me.

I stepped down on my own.

After a few brisk steps we arrived at the Tailors shop. The shop was warm, lined with bolts of fabric in muted winter shades — browns, deep greens, navy, charcoal.

David was quickly measured, standing stiff and proud as the tailor fussed over him. I knelt slightly to his height.“Your father says you are growing very quickly,” I smiled.

He beamed. “Father noticed?”

“Yes,” I said. “He did.”

Katherine wandered more slowly, her fingers brushing over the fabrics as though touching something forbidden. Her eyes moved carefully — not choosing what she liked, but what she believed she should like.

Until she saw it.

It hung near the back of the shop.

A coat in the most striking shade of red, bold and rich, almost defiant against the winter palette.

“That color is impractical,” William said evenly from across the room.

Katherine’s hand withdrew instantly. “I wasn’t— I didn’t mean—”

I stepped beside her.“Do you like it?” I asked softly.

She hesitated, then nodded once. “It’s very bright.”

“Yes,” I agreed.

Her fingers brushed it again, reverently.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

William looked at me confused as if he didn't know what I was doing.

I looked at Katherine. All of this depression and sadness needed to end. If this red coat would be the start of colour flooding her dark and grey world then I knew I  couldn't leave this shop without it. “If you like it,” I said gently, “then you should have it.”

Her eyes widened. “Truly?”

“Truly.”

William exhaled sharply. "Do you know how my father will react to this?" He questioned when Katherine and David were out of an earshot. The concern in his voice for his brother and sister was evident.

I met his gaze.

“If Lord Rathcliffe questions it,” I continued calmly, “I will explain that bold winter tones are quite fashionable this season. London is hardly dressed in mourning forever.”

He stared at me as if i had gone mad.

Katherine looked between us as though watching a storm gather. “Try it on,” I encouraged her.

The tailor helped her into the coat. The red transformed her instantly. Her pale cheeks flushed brighter, her posture straighter.

She did not look improper. She looked alive. David clapped softly. “Katy, its perfect.”

She laughed — a full, unmeasured sound that made two women in the shop glance over.

William looked at his sister. And for the briefest second, his resistance faltered. Because i knew he saw it too. The joy.

***

The manor felt colder upon our return.

Even before we stepped inside, I sensed it — that invisible tightening in the air.

Lord Rathcliffe stood near the hearth in the entrance hall, gloves removed, posture immaculate. He had returned from his afternoon ride and looked every bit the master of the house.

Katherine slowed beside me.

David’s chatter quieted.

William stepped forward first. “Father.”

Lord Rathcliffe inclined his head. “I trust the trip was efficient.”

“Yes, Father.” His eyes moved past William.

To the parcels.

“To what extent was my instruction followed?” he asked calmly.

David brightened. “I have new trousers, Papa! And boots that fit properly.”

“Good.”

Then his gaze landed on the package in Katherine’s arms.

“And that?”

Katherine’s fingers tightened around the paper.

My heart began to pound — not violently, but steadily. Like a drum announcing a choice already made.

“It is my coat, Papa,” Katherine said carefully.

“Your coat.” He held out his hand. “Let me see it.”

The paper crinkled loudly in the quiet hall as she passed it to him. William stood still.

Watching.

Lord Rathcliffe unfolded the wrapping with precise movements.

And then the red appeared. Bold. Unapologetic. Striking against the muted tones of the manor.

The silence was now unbearable. But I was already in too deep. His expression did not change immediately. Which was worse. “Explain,” he said finally and Katherine’s breath caught.

I stepped forward before she could shrink into apology.“I encouraged her to choose it,” I said evenly.

His eyes lifted to mine.“It is winter,” he replied. “Not a masquerade.”

“It is well-tailored,” I continued calmly. “And the shade complements her complexion. London fashion houses have embraced richer tones this season. It will not appear improper.”

His gaze sharpened.

“You presume to advise me on propriety?”

“No,” I said softly. “Only on color.”

A flicker of something crossed William’s face. Lord Rathcliffe looked back at the coat. “Katherine.”

She straightened instantly.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

She hesitated.

This was the moment. I saw the instinct to retreat

forming behind her eyes.

“Yes, Papa,” she said finally. Her voice was soft, but steady.

A long pause followed. Lord Rathcliffe studied his daughter — not the coat. Her posture. Her courage. Then he folded the garment once more.“You will wear it on appropriate outings,” he said coolly. “Not to formal engagements.” Relief moved through Katherine so visibly it was almost painful to witness.

“Yes, Papa.”

He handed the coat back to her.

And then he looked at me.“You are eager to influence this household.”The statement was neither praise nor accusation.

“Only where it concerns their happiness,” I replied.

William shifted slightly beside me.

Lord Rathcliffe’s gaze lingered on us both. “Happiness,” he repeated, as though testing the word. “Is not the foundation of discipline."

“No,” I agreed quietly. “But it makes obedience less fearful.”