Bewitching Kisses (Bewitching Kisses Series) (21 page)

"I would like to borrow a few pounds." She spoke quickly as her enthusiasm grew. "I would return it to you as soon as I reach home."

Agatha waved her hand. "That's not the point. What do you need it for?"

Sarah edged closer on the bed. "If someone came to you seeking employment and their clothes spoke of desperate circumstances, you would hire them. But you would feel as if you were doing them a favor, so any wage offered would seem grand."

Agatha nodded silently.

"But if the same person came to you with skills you could use and looked as if they didn't need your employment, you might be tempted to offer more to entice them to work for you, am I not correct?"

A slow smile crossed Agatha's wrinkled face. "And this little Catherine you spoke of, her circumstances are that desperate?"

Sarah shuddered. "I don't know how the family is managing to make ends meet."

"And you wish to buy her a new frock for when she meets Charlotte so she'll be offered higher wages." Sarah nodded and Agatha cackled in glee. "After all that Charlotte has done for you, you'd do that to her?"

Sarah looked down and smiled. "Did you not say that business is business?"

Agatha's cackle turned to a full belly laugh that brought tears to her eyes. "My dear, I think I might have underestimated you."

Catherine, who had hardly spoken at all all morning, now chatted like a magpie as they reached the broken gate to her yard.

"Ma, Jimmy, come quick," she cried with excitement. And before she and Sarah could enter, Gracie Richardson, with baby Jessie on her hip and Jimmy at her side, came tumbling out of the shack. "I gotta job," Catherine shouted to the sky before reaching to give her mother and sister a fierce hug. "I'm gonna start tomorrow. Can you believe it? She thinks I have talent. She's gonna let me start with hems and then I get to work up to inside seams, and soon she promised she'd teach me to do the fancy beadwork. I just can't believe it." Catherine reached for Jimmy and swung him around in a circle.

Gracie turned to Sarah with eyes wide. "Is this true? It really worked out like you said?"

Sarah, who had not stopped smiling since they had left the shop, nodded with pleasure. "Madame Rousseau asked Catherine to do a seam for her while we waited and then she asked her to stitch a flower. You should have seen her, Gracie," Sarah beamed with pride. "Madame said she had never seen such straight stitching from one so young. She is willing to let Catherine work with her and learn the trade."

"Catherine ain't gonna have to move there, is she?" Jimmy questioned.

"No," Sarah said smiling. "I know in most apprenticeships that is common, but Catherine may come home each evening. That way she can still lend a hand here."

"And she's gonna really make money?" Jimmy's eyes were now wide with the same excitement as his sister's.

Sarah named an amount that made Gracie stagger and almost drop Jessie. "They want to pay her that much?"

"You should have heard Miss Sarah, Ma, she was wonderful."

Sarah blushed. "I just pointed out to Madam Rousseau that since she usually has to house and shelter the apprentices she takes in, it would be only fair to apply that as a wage for Catherine since she would going home at night."

"I just can't believe it." Gracie felt the tears on her cheeks but could do nothing to stop them.

Now stop that," Sarah commanded softly. "We still have more business to discuss."

"We do?" Gracie sniffed, wiping her nose on her sleeve and setting the baby down.

"Yes. I would like to make you a proposition," Sarah said. "I have arranged to extend you a line of credit in Mr. Wilkins's store. Catherine will need at least another skirt and apron like the one we purchased this morning. Also, it will be a full month before Madame will pay Catherine anything. So if you need to make any other purchases, Mr. Wilkins will run a tab. Catherine will pay him one shilling each month starting two months from now until the account is free andclear. Does this sound agreeable to you?"

Again Gracie could only nod her head as tears coursed down her cheeks.

"Does this mean I can get a peppermint stick, Ma?" Jimmy asked excitedly.

Gracie looked to Sarah with questioning eyes. "I would think that a peppermint stick every two weeks as payment for keeping the garden clear of weeds should be a fee that your mother and sister could agree to."

"Whoooeeeee." Jimmy hopped and danced around then stopped suddenly. "Hey, Miss Sarah, do you think you could find a job for me, too?" he asked. "You know, one where they would pay me with real money."

Sarah smiled. "I'll see what I can do, but for now I think your mother could really use your help around here."

Gracie looked at the shack and then back to Sarah. "Mr. Wilkins will really extend credit?"

"Ma . . ." Catherine grabbed her mother's hands with excitement. "What if we were to get a bucket of paint and maybe a few nails?"

"I'm real good with nails," Jimmy piped in.

"We could . . . Hey, who's that?"

The group turned to see Ruby clutching her heart and running down the road as fast as her thick legs would carry her.

"Miz Sarah," she cried, gasping for breath. "Miz Sarah, you gotta come quick." The maid stopped and almost doubled over from the pain in her side. "It's Mrs. Beaumont," she gasped. "I think she's really dying this time and she didn't even write no note."

"Dear God. Sarah grasped the woman's hands and tried to calm her. "What happened, Ruby? Where is Luther? Did he go to fetch Mr. Beaumont?"

Ruby shook her head and struggled for air. "Luther had to go down to Jamestown this morning. He's not gonna be back till super."

"Did you send anyone to fetch Mr. Beaumont?" Sarah tried to keep the panic from her voice as she watched Ruby nod her head.

"Oscar took the wagon. But Miz Sarah, Oscar, he don't know the dock like Luther does and I don't know if he's even gonna be able to find Master Nick." Tears ran freely down the woman's face.

"Catherine, run in the house and fetch Miss Ruby some cider," Gracie said, shifting anxiously from foot to foot, not knowing how to help.

"Did you send for the doctor?" Sarah questioned.

Ruby shook her head as her hands twisted her skirt in distress. "Mrs. Beaumont, she said no doctors. She said she just wanted you and Master Nick. Miz Sarah, we didn't know what to do. I ran to the dressmaker shop and then all the way here. Mrs. Beaumont, she ain't never been so bad before." Ruby gratefully accepted the cup of cider and took a gulp.

Sarah turned to Jimmy. "Can you run fast?"

His chest popped with pride. "You just watch me."

"Then I want you to run to the doctor's as fast as you can. Tell him to get over to Mrs. Beaumont's."

"Yes ma'am." Jimmy saluted, and was off like a shot.

"Ruby, you stay here until you catch your breath. Gracie, get Catherine to the store for the things she'll need for tomorrow. Mr. Wilkins is expecting you. I'll see you again as soon as I can." Turning, Sarah hiked her skirt past her knees and ran down the lane as if the devil himself were chasing her.

It seemed like a lifetime before she reached Agatha's front steps, and Tanzy yanked the door open before Sarah's hand even touched the knob. "Thank God you're here Miss Sarah. Miss Agatha is so sick."

"Who is with her?" Sarah took a deep breath and started up the stairs, Tanzy close on her heels.

"Why, no one would dare go in without Miss Agatha's permission," she whined. "It's just so awful."

Sarah bit back the reply about common sense that rested on her tongue. "Fetch me hot and cold water, a basin, and some clean cloths," she snapped, "and get them now." Tanzy nodded and scurried back down the stairs.

Taking only a second to calm her breathing, Sarah turned the knob and entered the room where the feared Agatha Beaumont lay all alone and dying. She found Agatha flat on her back, struggling for breath, and nearly blue from the effort.

"It's going to be all right," she soothed, gathering the old woman in her arms and gently easing her into a sitting position. "Just be calm. You're not alone anymore. I'm here now."

Agatha's gnarled hand clamped onto Sarah's arm like a claw. "Sarah?" she gasped.

"Don't try to talk. Just concentrate on breathing deep, easy breaths." With a firm hand, she kept Agatha's shoulders braced and began to rub with a slow, steady motion on the woman's back. As Agatha's breathing eased slightly, Sarah let her relax back against the pillows that she had propped into place. "You'll breathe better if you're not flat." She struggled to keep her voice calm, for Agatha was clearly terrified. "Just relax and take slow, even breaths."

Tanzy knocked timidly and entered with a tray and a steaming kettle. "Tanzy . . ." Sarah's voice was soft and even, "when the doctor arrives, be sure to bring him right up."

"No doctor," Agatha pleaded with a pitiful cry.

"There, there." Sarah took Agatha's hands within her own. I'm not going to leave you, but you must try to stay calm." She turned back to find Tanzy beside the bed, her eyes wide in horror. If Agatha hadn't known she was sick, one look on the maid's face would have placed her six feet under. "Set down the tray and then you may go, she said firmly, giving the girl a threatening stare. "And close the door behind you."

Sarah sat quietly and watched Agatha's eyes flutter open. "Can you tell me what happened?" she asked gently, taking a damp cloth and wiping the perspiration form the woman's face. "Are you in pain?"

Agatha nodded. "The worst seems to be over now," she wheezed. "But when it happened, it felt like some giant fist was trying to rip my heart from my chest." Tears began to gather and Sarah blotted them gently with the cool cloth.

"Sarah, I'm so afraid of dying." Her tears came faster and Sarah could only blink back her own. "I'm going to die and Nick isn't going to come in time."

"Hush," Sarah scolded. "You're alive now and shall stay that way until Nick arrives."

Regretfully, Agatha shook her head back and forth on the pillow. "He won't, you know." Her voice was frail and haggard and her eyes drifted closed. "But the fault is my own. I've sent for him so many times when naught was amiss that now he'll not know the difference."

"Oscar will find him," Sarah promised desperately. "Agatha, open your eyes and look at me. I've never lied to you and I know that if we both have faith, Nick will get here in time."

Agatha blinked and for an instant her eyes grew clearer. "Sarah?" she questioned.

"I'm right here." Sarah pressed gently on the woman's hands. "I'll not leave you."

Agatha struggled to sit a little straighter. "Why, you're different. Why did I never notice that before?"

"Just hold my hands and hang on for Nick."

Agatha smiled and felt a gentle peace seep into her aging bones. "It's all right," she whispered hoarsely, "I don't seem to be afraid anymore. Do you know how much you look like my little sister, Helena?" She gave Sarah a quizzical look. "You do, you know."

Sarah struggled to keep her tears at bay. "Agatha, you have to stay for Nick."

Agatha's eyes began to flutter. "Never going to forgive himself for not being here." She struggled to keep her eyes open. "Promise me you'll help him. Take his pain like you took my fear," she gasped.

Sarah swallowed hard against the knot in her throat. "Please just hold on."

"No," Agatha's voice grew stronger. "It's my time. But I can't go if Nicky . . . if Nicky suffers. Promise me you'll be with him tonight. Promise you'll give him comfort."

Sarah nodded, unable to see for the tears in her eyes.

"Good, pull the pillows away." Sarah sniffed, praying that any minute she'd hear the front door open and Nick's steps flying up the stairs.

"Won't die sitting up," Agatha said firmly. "Spare you the horror of breaking my bones."

Sarah struggled to stay calm. "Darling, no one is going to break any of your bones, but you have to sit up to breathe."

Agatha weakly shook her head. "When Hallie died . . . she froze in place. Doctor couldn't get . . . her body to straighten . . . had to break her bones." Agatha shuddered from the memory. "Hardest thing . . . I ever did. Let me . . . spare you that."

"Agatha, please."

"My time . . . Sarah." Agatha's voice was the barest whisper, but her thin lips smiled. "You. . . you know . . . better than I . . ."

"Agatha, think of Nick, please, just a few minutes more."

Agatha's eyes brightened. "Nick has you now . . . Please, Sarah . . . Hallie needs me. Don't . . . make me wait . . . Let me go home."

With tear-filled eyes and hands that trembled, Sarah eased the pillows from beneath Agatha's frail head. She watched the woman heave a great sigh as if a giant burden had been lifted.

"Remember . . . promise to Nick," she whispered. "Oh, Sarah . . . look . . ." Her voice grew weaker. "There's . . . my darling . . . Roger."

Sarah watched Agatha's eyes flutter closed on the name of her husband and knew she had truly started her journey home.

Chapter Nineteen

Numb with grief, Sarah slipped to the side of the bed to offer a prayer for the swift delivery of Agatha's soul into heaven. Then, still clutching the gnarled fingers, she pressed her face against the coverlet and wept.

Her tears were nearly spent when she heard the front door open. Pulling swiftly to her feet, she met Nick at the head of the stairs.

"Is she . . ." Nick never said the word; the tears that streaked Sarah's face were his answer. Turning, he flopped down to sit on the top step. "How long?"

Dropping to her knees behind him, Sarah hesitated only a heartbeat before wrapping her arms about his shoulders. Pain radiated from his body, but in that pain she found her strength, and her voice was steady when she spoke.

"She had an easy passing."

Nick shuddered within her arms. "I should have been here."

Sarah pressed her cheek against his shoulder. "You were here to bring joy to her life, and you did," she said slowly, searching for words that might grant him comfort. "In her last minutes, she had nothing but praise for the love you gifted her. And although she would have given anything to have seen you one last time, had it been in her power to do so, she would not have exchanged a lifetime of happiness for a final word of parting. You gave her too many special memories and she cherished them deeply."

"Was she in pain?" His voice was hoarse, and for the first time in her life, Sarah Townsend willfully told a lie.

"No . . . she wasn't. I think she was more annoyed that the time couldn't be of her choosing."

Nick gave a painful chuckle. "That sounds like Gran. She'd thumb her nose at the devil himself."

"Nick . . ." Sarah hesitated and then pressed on. "At the very end she seemed more than relieved to be going. It was almost as if she was excited. I think she saw her husband, for she smiled and spoke his name with her last breath."

Nick shuddered again and then straightened and took a deep, cleansing breath. "She loved Roger very much. When I was little, she'd sit me on her lap and tell the most outrageous stories. Grandfather was always the hero. He could command a ship, win at cards, deal in business – there was nothing that he couldn't do."

Sarah smiled against his back. "He sounds just like you."

Nick shook his head. "I always thought it unfair that he was taken from her so early in life," he sighed. "Gran lost so many people who were dear to her."

"She had you to love her, Nick," Sarah said gently. "Some go through their entire life and never have that."

Nick eased out of her arms and stood unsteadily on the step for a moment. His knuckles were white where he gripped the banister, and Sarah was startled to see how much color had drained from his face when he turned to her.

"I shall always harbor the wish to have been with her at the end," he said quietly. "But since I wasn't, I can only take comfort that she was not alone. She probably never spoke of it, but I know for a fact that during these past weeks Gran had grown to love you very much."

Sarah felt her own tears threaten anew and fought them back. "Thank you," she whispered. "She was a truly extraordinary person."

Nick wiped his hand across his face, erasing the last of his weakness. "And now, I need to say good-bye."

Sarah nodded and stepped aside, but as Nick reached his grandmother's door, he hesitated. "Would you come with me?"

In that moment, Sarah saw the vulnerable young boy Chris had spoken of, and knew she would have walked over hot coals if he had asked. She reached for his hand and led him into the room where Agatha Beaumont had once reigned supreme.

Sarah would forever be amazed at the hours that followed Agatha's death, for as news spread, it was as if the town itself had been cast into mourning. Shops closed and business in Middle Plantation came to a standstill.

Ezra Hawkins, the cabinetmaker, had been the first to arrive and he carried a fine coffin of cedar in the back of his wagon. "For a final thank you to Mrs. Beaumont," he said solemnly. But when Nick offered payment, the man heartily refused. "Long time back, my shop was damaged bad in a fire. Mrs. Beaumont was a spry young filly then. Showed up on my doorstep one morning and handed me the money to get back on my feet again. She let me repay the principal, but she wouldn't take no interest, said neighbors owed each other and that was that. Then she made me swear on all things holy not to tell a soul what she did. Well, I kept my promise these past twenty-seven years, but I also made a promise to myself that day." Hawkins had watched with hat in hand and tears in his eyes as Luther and Oscar unloaded his gift. Then, without another word, the man climbed into his wagon and pulled away.

Charlotte Rousseau and Gracie Richardson had arrived next. They chatted together easily as Charlotte fashioned a pillow for the casket from some of her finest satin and Gracie stitched black bands of mourning onto shirtsleeves. No one seemed to care that one dressed in the height of fashion and the other didn't.

And so the afternoon continued. Walter Johnson arrived to affix ornate silver fasteners on the coffin and he, too, refused payment, leaving Nick to stand in wonder about the unknown generosity of the woman he had called Gran. She had touched so many lives, yet she had made each promise secrecy.
Why
, he wondered,
did you not share this with me
?

Black wreaths appeared on the front door, and food began to arrive with each tick of the clock. By the time the sun had set, Agatha rested in the parlor like a queen in her casket, and three more tables had been added to the dining room to hold all the cakes, custard tarts, and fancy jellies brought by neighbors.

The hands of the clock edged past midnight as Sarah extinguished the last candle and slowly made her way up the darkened staircase. Less than an hour before, an exhausted Nick had retired to the room he had occupied as a boy, and Sarah couldn't help but wonder what thoughts filled his mind as the night settled in around them. Agatha's words echoed over and over in her heart.
He'll never forgive himself for not being here . . . promise me you'll take his pain . . . promise me you'll stay with him tonight.

Oh, Agatha,
she thought, entering her chambers and securing the door behind her,
do you have any idea what you ask of me
? But even as her mind spun with confusion, her hands were removing her lace cap and reaching for the pins that held her hair.

Lost in thought, Nick rested in bed and watched the moonlight filter through his opened window. Toy soldiers lined the top of his desk, but tonight their imagined battles were far from his mind.

"Why did you never tell me, Gran?" he challenged the silence of the room, for in truth he still could feel her presence. "Did you think me incapable of keeping your secret? Did you think I would find fault with the fact that you cared for your neighbors, that you were willing to share your wealth? Did you think I would beg you to save it for me?" A silent tear escaped to trace down his lean cheek. "We were supposed to be so close, yet you never spoke a word of it." Nick felt the achy lump in his chest begin to swell and he swallowed hard. "And damn it, why didn't you wait to tell me good-bye? Why didn't I come early today like you asked?"

"Because regardless of our wants, it was not meant to be."

Nick jerked upright on the bed and turned to see a shadowy figure standing in the doorway. "Sarah?" His voice was hesitant. "What are you doing here?'

He heard the latch slip into place, then watched as she glided across the room to stand in the glow of the moonlight. He could see the gentle curve of her hip through the thin fabric of her nightrail and briefly he wondered if his grief was causing him to hallucinate.

"Please don't send me away." Her voice trembled but from what, he knew not. "I learned an important lesson today, and I would share it with you."

Nick drew his knees up under the sheet and rested his arms on them. "Sarah, you shouldn't be here. Go back to your own room. We can talk of this in the morning."

Her fingers shook as she reached for the bow at the throat of her gown, for even in her dreams she had never gone this far. Her nerves stretched to the limit. Would she have to undress completely? She had no experience on which to draw, and as her trembling increased, only a deep unrelenting need to be with him kept her from fleeing. "Please let me stay." She hesitated, then took a step closer. "I've been alone for such a long time. Please don't make me be alone tonight."

Nick watched in amazement as his hand reached for her. He hadn't meant to do that. He had wanted her to go back to her own room where she would be safe, but his hand closed around hers and all sanity fled. Gently, purposefully, he pulled her the last remaining step to the bed. Her hand touched his wrist when he reached for the ribbon around her throat, but it did not bid him cease. Instead, her fingertips caressed the sensitive flesh of his inner arm, and Nick felt his heart beat all the harder.

Her forehead touched his, their breath mingled, and his hands glided up her rib cage to close over her breast. Through the thin fabric of her gown he felt her nipples harden against his palms as he gently aroused her. Silently, he wished she would make him stop, desperately he prayed she'd let him continue. He felt her frantic heartbeat and his arms slipped around her to pull her close, wanting to reassure and comfort, needing to possess. He leaned back, and Sarah tumbled with him onto the bed.

Their lips met, desperate, hot, seeking. Then her gown was gone and the sheet pulled aside. Each gasped as flesh seared flesh.

"Let me stay with you tonight," she whispered against his throat, loving the feel of his skin beneath her fingers. "Please let me stay."

The sound of her plea raced along his skin, tantalizing, enticing, beckoning, and his need to possess her increased tenfold. "The devil himself couldn't take you from this bed tonight," he breathed against her lips. "Tonight you're mine."

The devil himself might have put me here
, she thought. Then Nick's lips closed over her breast and all reasoning was gone. A fire started deep within her and its flames reached outward sensitizing every inch of her flesh. His lips tugged at her nipple even as his hand traced back to that secret place it had touched but once before.

This time there was no hesitation, and when his seeking fingers entered to caress, Sarah arched in pleasure sweeter than she had ever imagined.

Go slowly
, his brain cautioned again and again.

Go slowly
. But her hands were touching, her legs caressing, and when the heel of her foot journeyed up the back of his calf, Nick could wait no longer. She was tight and hot and unbelievably wonderful as her flesh resisted, then stretched to admit him. Fearing he'd crush her with his weight, his hands braced against the bed, levering his chest from hers as he pressed deeper and deeper into the heart of her. Her body closed around him. Somewhere in his brain he knew he must be hurting her, but she offered no protest and even tried to move with him. Her futile efforts were his undoing.

Sarah gasped in pain as his body invaded hers – white-hot pain that robbed her joy and obliterated her pleasure. She tried to move to relieve the pressure, but each motion only planted him deeper, and, finally, fighting tears, she bit her lip and prayed that it would soon be over.

Nick gathered her close and tried to bring her pleasure, but his own needs refused to be placed aside and, holding her tightly to his body, he lost himself within her and collapsed.

Boneless with exhaustion, Nick wondered if he'd ever find the words that might describe his feelings for her at that moment. She had given him a touch of heaven and erased the burning ache that had lodged deep within his chest. But his eyes refused to open, even though his greatest wish was to see her face. "I'm sorry . . . Sarah." His words were hot against her skin. "It w-went . . . too fast. Next time . . ."

Sarah's limp arm reached up to touch the quivering muscles of his back. "Hush," she whispered softly. "Sleep now."

Nick mumbled something against her throat, but his thoughts remained a mystery, for within seconds his deep, even breathing told her he slept.

She let her tears come then: silent tears of mourning of the loss of Agatha, bitter tears of disappointment for what they had shared. Her head ached and her body still throbbed from the turbulence of his possession. Was it possible that without the bonds of marriage there could be no pleasure, she wondered?

Gently, so as not to wake him, Sarah eased herself from beneath him. Nick mumbled again and stretched languidly, pulling the pillow close. For just a moment, she allowed herself the luxury of gazing upon his lean, muscular body – the broad back that tapered to his narrow waist, his firm buttocks, and those endless legs. Gooseflesh ran up her arms, and despite the warm night air, she shivered. Quickly, she located her discarded gown and pulled it on.

"I wish it could have been different," she whispered to his sleeping form. "For I love you with all my heart." She untangled the sheet and carefully flipped it over him. "But you don't love me, and somehow I must learn to face that fact."

Sarah rose with the sun, her aching muscles a silent reminder of the night before. Sleep had not been hers after leaving Nick, and for hours she had tossed and turned on her bed, struggling with emotions that would grant her no peace.