Finding Betsy (Betsy Jones Book 2)

Finding Betsy - Chapter 15

"I have to say, it is wonderful to see my old home filled with so much joy. We had so many memories here when I was growing up. Then the wars came and we lost them one by one. My father. My brother. My husband. My son." She sighed and briefly closed her eyes, her hand resting over her heart. "Fate left me to live here alone with just a sad old woman's memories. It never does one well to dwell on the past and on what might have beens. Wandering these empty halls alone, it had started to feel like a mausoleum before." The older woman confided, her eyes lifting briefly to the grand chandelier hanging above their heads. "As old as I am, I still hope I have a fair bit of time before I am committed into one of those."

Clapping her hands, she turned to face the younger woman with a kind smile. "Now, how about we get this party started. The children have been incredibly well behaved but I can imagine there is only so long they can resist the cakes."

"Fair point, Lady Bainbridge."

"How many times do I have to ask you to call me by my first name?"

"A few more." Betsy responded with more mirth than she felt.

"Well, nothing else for it then." The older woman hooked her arms through Betsy's and pulled her through the growing crowd to the front of the entry hall of the stately home where a small stage had been set up. A microphone stand stood in the middle. Waiting.

Betsy wiped her hands on her skirts. Was the room hot? It felt hot. Or perhaps it was just her. She wiped her hands on her skirts. Betsy hoped no one was looking too closely because she was a hundred percent sure the face paint was sliding down her face with how clammy she suddenly felt.

"Don't panic, dear. What's the worst that can happen?"

Betsy shook her head in disbelief. Hadn't she ever been told not to tempt fate?

Before she knew what was happening, the older woman was leading her up on to the stage. The chatter, which had been at a steady hum as the room filled, dropped away. Even the children turned to stare up at them. Their attention held momentarily by the change in the atmosphere.

Unable to avoid it any longer, Betsy stepped closer to the microphone and gently tapped on the end. Wincing at the loud thudding which immediately echoed over the gathered group, she muttered, "Definitely on then."

A few chuckled and Betsy fought not to let her own nervous laugh escape. Instead, her eyes swept over the crowds searching for familiar faces. And then, there they were, at the back. Nick, dressed as Count Dracula himself, complete with plastic fangs and a cape, stood with a miniature dinosaur and a bat woman. Grinning widely, Betsy released a slow breath, their encouragement was exactly what she needed.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen." She began, addressing the crowds calmly despite her racing heart thudding against her rib cage. "Thank you all for joining us here today. As some of you may know, the Bainbridge House project started as nothing more than an idea several years ago. Lady Bainbridge, our generous benefactor, knew that she wanted a lasting legacy for her family. And, on behalf of the trust, I am truly honoured that Lady Bainbridge chose this charity to support. I have only been with the charity for a short while but I am proud to be part of a project that gives children the chance to thrive."

"With that being said." Betsy turned to the table at the back of the stage and picked up an obscenely large pair of scissors. "Lady Bainbridge, if you would like to do the honours."

Stronger than she looked, the older woman walked over to a set of heavy oak doors which had been tied closed by a length of pastel blue ribbon. With a bit of careful maneuvering, she slid the blade under ribbon. "I now declare Bainbridge House open."