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his most valuable asset.
    She washed quickly, arranged her hair and donned a pastel green day dress. She was thankful that her wardrobe had been designed and created by the talented seamstress Madame Fairchild kept on her staff. The Frenchwoman traveled abroad at least once a year to update her fashion knowledge and buy fabrics and notions.
    Without anyone ever saying as much, Ella understood she’d be expected to live up to the caliber of dress and conduct befitting a governor’s wife. She donned a strand of pearls and a jade brooch appropriate for day wear.
    The upstairs hall was quiet, but sounds of activity rose from downstairs. In the dining room, she discovered Nathan and the children seated at one end of a massive table.
    He stood and held a chair out for her. “Did you sleep well?”
    “I did, thank you.”
    The children observed her in silence. “Good morning,” she said. She noticed an extra place setting and wondered who would be joining them.
    Mrs. Shippen arrived through a doorway with a pitcher of milk she poured into the children’s glasses. She seated herself in front of the other place setting.
    Footsteps sounded and a plump woman entered from the kitchen, carrying a steaming platter of sliced ham and a plate of fried eggs. She handed the platter to Nathan and set the plate within his reach.
    “Ella, this is Charlotte Miller.” He served Christopher and himself and passed both dishes to Ella. “Charlotte, my new wife.”
    “How do, Mizz Lantry,” the woman said with a friendly smile.
    “It’s a pleasure, Mrs. Miller.”
    “Just Charlotte,” the woman said.
    Ella took servings from each plate and passed the dishes to Mrs. Shippen, who served the other two children and proceeded to cut their ham into bite-size pieces.
    “Charlotte’s a fine cook,” Nathan assured her. “She’s here every morning, and each night. After breakfast on Sunday, she leaves a noon meal in the oven.”
    Robby slumped in his chair and pouted.
    “What’s the matter, Robby?” his father asked.
    “I want applesauce.”
    Nathan glanced at the cook. “Do we have applesauce?”
    The woman nodded.
    Ella folded her hands in her lap and didn’t lift her gaze to watch the exchange. She’d never sat at a table with a family in her life. If Nathan was mustering up a load of steam to reprimand the child, she didn’t want to be a witness. In her experience children ate what was placed in front of them without options or complaints.
    Nathan stood, resting his napkin on his seat. “I’ll be right back.”
    Ella’s heart rate increased a measure in her discomfort.
    Robby remained slumped on the chair, swinging his feet under the table.
    Mrs. Shippen unconcernedly served herself eggs and picked up her fork.
    Nathan returned and Robby sat up straight with a bright smile. “You will eat an egg, too,” Nathan told him, spooning thick applesauce onto his plate.
    Nodding happily, the boy picked up his spoon and ate.
    Nathan returned to his seat and glanced at Ella’s plate. “Something wrong with the food?”
    “Not at all.” Ella relaxed and smeared a spoonful of preserves on a slice of toast.
    “No jam at Miss Haversham’s, either?” he asked.
    “No jam,” she replied. “Dry toast and tea.”
    “Doesn’t sound like a meal for growing children.”
    She took her first bite to discover a pleasant burst of sweet raspberry flavor. Nothing about her life had been ordinary, but she had no idea what ordinary involved. “Is this a normal breakfast for you?” she asked. “Or is this a special occasion?”
    “Your first day with us is a special occasion, but this is a typical breakfast. When Charlotte needs a day off, we make the best of it. Mrs. Shippen isn’t a bad cook.”
    Virginia Shippen spoke up for the first time, directing her remark to Ella. “The mister can stir up a fine kettle of cooked oats.”
    “Mrs. Shippen has asked for a day off each week now that you’re here,” Nathan said.
    “May I watch after