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“Her mother forced me to promise that if anything went wrong during the labor and delivery of the baby and I was forced to make a decision over which life to save…” Watson began, his throat tightening even further as he knew what he was about to admit was far more painful than anything he had ever spoken before.
“Things did go badly, and the doctor requested that I choose which one of them to save…”
“And your wife had already made you promise that if such a thing occurred, you would choose Amy…” Miss Percival said almost under her breath, so quietly that Watson could barely hear her over the roaring of his own thoughts. That day still haunted him terribly and he had never forgiven himself for having to make such a choice. All he could do was nod in response to the governess’ finishing his sentence.
There was silence in the room for several moments and then the woman continued, “And since then you have felt as though you must continue to choose her, even at the cost of your own happiness.”
It was an odd thing to hear the words said out loud, to know that someone could understand his reasons for why he did and did not do certain things.
“Do you believe that Lady Florentia would make you happy?” Miss Percival asked suddenly, surprising Watson beyond belief. He was so stunned in fact that he actually moved back in his seat, recoiling from the question momentarily before recovering himself.
Quickly, shaking himself mentally, he responded, “I do believe that a marriage between myself and Lady Florentia would be good for this family.”
Miss Percival looked at him then with such an expression that it was clear she did not entirely believe him, and the truth was that Watson was not entirely sure he believed it himself. He was rather beginning to believe that he had been fooling himself all these years, especially in the last few months when he had finally worked himself around to entertaining the idea of marriage with a woman such as Lady Florentia.
“Lady Florentia is a fine noblewoman as you said,” Watson continued, feeling as though he was trying to justify it to himself almost as much as he was to her. “She is gracious and smart and holds herself elegantly in mixed company. I believe she has a great deal that she could teach my daughter.”
“As you say, Your Grace,” Miss Percival responded with a curt nod, looking as though a part of her wanted to argue. There was that spark in her eye again that told Watson there was something she wished to say but did not quite have the guts or maybe the right words on how to say it.
“Miss Percival, is there something that you wish to say?” Watson asked, unable to take the sudden tension between them anymore. The governess looked stunned that he had even asked such a thing, as though she was not at all used to her employer actually caring for her opinion on important matters.
“As I have said previously, Miss Percival, you are a member of this family and I value your opinion,” Watson assured her when she still looked reluctant to speak. The woman’s chest rose then as if she were sucking in a huge lungful of breath to prepare herself for whatever it was that she was about to say to him.
Watson had to force his gaze away from it, feeling his eyes drawn to the ampleness of her breasts which were too voluminous for even her full cover gown to hide though it was clear that she always tried her best to remain modest.
“I only hope that you will not rush into anything now that Lady Florentia and Lady Amy have finally met,” she admitted, looking down at her hands even as she appeared to play with something between her thumb and forefinger, a loose thread on her dress perhaps. “I do believe that was one of the things standing in your way, was it not?”
When she raised her gaze to look him dead in the eye Watson felt unnerved, though the sensation was not entirely unpleasurable. It felt good to be seen by someone, to have someone look at him and feel as though she could see right into him, that he never had to explain anything because she always seemed to understand exactly where he was coming from.
“How do you do that, Miss Percival?” he asked, so intrigued by her that he found himself leaning forward against his desk just to get an inch or two closer to her.
“Do what, Your Grace?” Miss Percival asked, and Watson was certain that he saw her lean forward slightly as well. His heart soared with the hopes that perhaps she felt just as drawn to him as he did to her. Again, he had to remind himself that she was the governess to his daughter and nothing more.
“How do you read people so easily?” Watson asked, his words barely more than a breath. “How do you seemeso easily?”
He examined her closely, unable to take his gaze from her even when she met his eyes and her cheeks started to blush. When she smiled and shrugged her shoulders, her lips pursing to respond, Watson felt the urge to scoot around the desk and go to her.
He did not only want to hear the words from her lips, he wanted to feel them in her breath upon his face. He wanted to be so close to her that he would be able to smell her breath as she spoke so that he might know and feel and hold onto whatever it was she had to tell him, as if she had a pearl of great wisdom that he felt the need to thrive off of.
Whatever is the matter with me?he asked himself, placing his hand upon his leg to pinch himself, feeling for a moment that he might actually be dreaming because it was the only thing that made sense as to why he was feeling so drawn to her.
“It is a gift that I have always possessed, Your Grace,” she admitted finally, and Watson was slightly disappointed with the answer. He had been hoping for a miracle, for something that he might have been able to use to his own advantage to figure out whether he found himself upon the right path.
It was in that moment that Miss Percival moved forward to perch on the edge of her seat. Having left one hand on top of his desk, Watson was surprised when she leaned over to place her hand on top of his. She smiled warmly at him and squeezed his hand in such a comforting way that it sent a shockwave up his arm.
“It is also in that gift that I find the truth of the matter, Your Grace,” she said, still smiling warmly, never taking her gaze or her hand from his.
“And I find that the truth is, you are not to blame for the death of your wife nor have you failed your daughter by refusing to remarry. A girl can grow perfectly well with only a father though she can grow terribly wrong if she is to be placed under the care of the wrong mother.”
Watson’s muscles tightened for just a moment before beginning to swell in such a manner that he believed his heart might suddenly burst right out of his chest. He could not help but smile back at Miss Percival, feeling a tear prick at the corner of his eye as he felt as though someone was truly seeing him for the very first time.
“Thank you, Miss Percival,” he said, barely breathing the words as he realised that he did not wish to spoil the moment. Yet he did all the same. His words seemed to spark Miss Percival out of whatever trance she appeared to be under, and she quickly leaned back, releasing his hand in such a way that his knuckles instantly felt cold and alone without her touch.
“I do believe that I have kept you long enough, Miss Percival.”
Without waiting for her to respond, Watson pushed himself up from his chair and began to make his way around the desk, gesturing her to follow him to the door. She looked startled for a moment, almost as if she were fearful that she had said or done something wrong.
Watson wanted so desperately to tell her that it could not be further from the truth and yet he could not bring himself to speak until they both stood in the open doorway where she had left the door agape upon entering, ever modest and professional.
