“Wonderful,” Georgie said. “I will start by creating a list of books for Lord Grenton.”
As her words left her mouth, a lanky older girl stepped into the room with a bucket in her hand. She was dressed in a loose-fitting white frock, she had dirt on her cheeks, and her blonde hair was tousled.
With downcast eyes, the girl said in a tired voice, “I have come to clean the floor.”
Georgie watched until the girl brought her gaze up before saying, “Why don’t you sit down and rest for a spell?” This was a perfect opportunity to become more familiar with one of her charges.
The girl shook her head vehemently. “I don’t dare,” she replied. “Mrs. Hughes would be furious if I did so.”
“You let me worry about Mrs. Hughes,” Georgie said.
The girl put the bucket down and walked hesitantly over to the chair next to her.
Georgie gave her an encouraging smile. “I was hoping we could get acquainted.”
“I know who you are,” the girl remarked as she sat down. “You are the headmistress.”
“I am, but I’m afraid I don’t know your name.”
“Sarah.”
“That is a beautiful name.”
Sarah bobbed her head. “I was named after my mother,” she shared proudly.
“I was named after my grandmother.”
“Is your grandmother dead?”
“She is.”
Sarah lowered her gaze. “My mother is dead, too.”
“I am sorry to hear that,” Georgie said. “When did she die?”
“Six months ago,” Sarah replied, dejectedly. “She died in the workhouse, as did my father. They got real sick.”
Georgie felt compassion swell inside of her. “But you survived.”
“I did, and so did my sister,” Sarah said.
“Is your sister here, as well?”
“She is.”
“I’m glad that you two have each other.”
Sarah’s eyes swept over the floor. “Mrs. Hughes makes her clean out the fireplaces every morning. She says that small hands are best for that chore.”
“I think I met your sister,” Georgie said. “Is her name Rebecca?”
“It is.”
“She is a lovely girl.”
Sarah fidgeted with her hands in her lap. “They tried to separate us at the workhouse after my parents died, but we ran away instead.”
“You did?”
