Captives' Charade (11 page)
Authors: Susannah Merrill
“Oh he did, did he?” Sarah answered hotly, pushing herself up to a kneeling position on the far side of the bed, her thick hair caught away from her face by her night bonnet, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders. “What else did he tell you?”
“LadySarah,Teganimplored.“Heseemed disturbed. Said there was some misunderstanding betwixt the two of you and that you would be upset. But this letter explains everything.”
With an exasperated jerk, Sarah flung herself off the bed and stripped the clothing from her body. Tossing the garments angrily on the coverlet, she marched to the tub and plunked herself down into the steaming water, ignoring the shock of the heat. “I see the rogue has cast a spell on you, too, Tegan. How dare he wheedle you into playing his messenger? Well I won’t read it!” And with that, she began vigorously scrubbing herself with a chip of lavender-scented soap.
“Very well, then,” Tegan announced matterof-factly, breaking the letter’s seal. “I shall have to read it to you.”
“You will not!” Sarah gasped, slamming the sliver into the water. “That is a personal message to me and you have no right to open it!”
“Mr. Chamberlain told me to do whatever I had to do to make sure you got his message,” Tegan replied calmly, a steely glint in her hazel eyes, “so if you won’t read it yourself, what choice do I have? ‘Tis a terrible position you’ve put me in.” And with that, she withdrew the folded note, preparing to read aloud.
Tegan moved back to the tub, holding the letter before her, her expression sober. “’Tis with you, mum, as it always has been and always will be. ‘Tis why I am begging you to read this letter for yourself. Mr. Chamberlain fears you’ve been upset and needlessly so. And if reading this will ease your mind, as he says it will, then it’s my bounden duty to make certain you do.”
For a moment, their eyes locked in silent combat above the parchment Tegan held in her outstretched hand. It was Sarah who buckled, torn by the love and concern in her maid’s elfish face. “Oh Teeg,” she sighed dejectedly, “I know you mean well. It’s simply that you don’t under--. Never mind,” she shook her head vigorously, wiping a slim hand over her brow. “I shall read it ....”
“... after I’ve finished bathing. Now please, just put it on my dressing table and let me soak in peace. I promise you I will look at it presently.”
“Verygood,mum,”Teganansweredhappily, tucking the letter back in its envelope and leaning it against the vanity mirror. “Now what can I get you? Some tea perhaps?”
Sarah sighed heavily and sunk lower into the steaming tub. “No thank you, Tegan. I’ll send for you later if I wish something. For now, just don’t let anyone disturb me. Tell them I’m still sleeping ... anything ... I don’t care. I need to be alone.”
Tegan smiled confidently as she walked toward the door. “Don’t worry, mum. You can count on me.”
After Tegan departed, Sarah found herself shaking with unspent emotion. The letter meant that Stewart knew she had been the eavesdropper in the garden. Her cheeks burned with humiliation over the fact that her vulnerability was so apparent to him that he had to make some gesture of redress. Why couldn’t he just leave her alone? Besides, what could he possibly tell her – without lying – that would ease her mind? “Nothing,” she sighed. “Nothing at all.”
Sarah was surprised to feel her reddened eyes brimming with unshed tears. Oh bother, she cried, why should it hurt so? Why did I think for a moment that his interest was sincere? And how did I ever believe he wasn’t attracted to Juliana, when every man in the duchy would die for her on the spot. Sarah knew nobody could love a sister more than she did Juliana, but for a moment, the bitter taste of jealousy filled her mouth, and she nearly choked on the horrid emotion.
Viciously splashing water on her fevered face, Sarah rebuked herself for her momentary lapse. “It’s Stewart’s fault, not Juliana’s! She, too, is an innocent victim of his lecherous games. I’ve learned my lesson. I will never make a cake of myself again!”
Unfortunately, Sarah realized immediately, it was much easier to declare such a resolution than it was to summon the fortitude to carry it out. The pain and humiliation were still too real, compounded by a sense of longing she could neither understand nor control.
Wearily, she rose from the tub and began drying herself with the sheet Tegan had left nearby. The beige packet taunted her as she performed this task and she found herself propelled closer for a better look. The envelope was unaddressed. Carefully, she allowed her slim fingers to pick it up. As she gingerly turned it over in her hand, she saw on the broken wax seal the impression of a simple, bold “C.”
In spite of her reluctance, Sarah’s immense curiosity overcame her and with a sigh, she put down the letter so that she could don a wrapper to cover herself and ward off the chill. Tying the cord around her slim waist, she sat down at her dressing table, and, with shaking hands, removed the note from its envelope. Momentarily squeezing her eyes shut, she unfolded the paper, mentally preparing to read. When she finally looked, she was immediately struck by the neat yet dramatic scrawl before her. So much like him, she thought: bold and elegant.
I have not deceived you, Sarah, despite what you may think. But I do not expect you to believe me without an explanation, which I will deliver only in person. Until I see you again, I implore you to postpone judgment and hold dear the thought: circumstances are not always as they appear.
P.S. Your father will enlighten you as to the news I had hoped to give you myself. In spite of the cost, I am pleased that you chose to meet me.
Sarah threw down the letter with an oath. “He tells me nothing! And expects me to harbor warm thoughts until I see him again! Only a true rake would believe such a fairy tale!” But even as she gave words to her bitterness, Sarah’s thoughts were racing to discover the truth behind his claim of virtue. Circumstances are not always as they appear. But how else was she to interpret the impassioned scene she witnessed in the garden? Stewart and Juliana’s embrace was anything but casual. And even Juliana would admit it wasn’t the first time they had been so entwined, for she had told Sarah about kissing Stewart in the garden on her birthday.
And the nerve of him throwing back in her face her stupid decision to meet him! “What a little fool he must think I am,” she fumed. But how did he know it was she? He must have been sure or he would not have risked writing such an incriminating letter. “Probably some omniscient power given to demons,” she remarked, and abruptly rose.
And with that, her answer was dropped at her feet – a small bit of frayed blue silk trim had fallen unnoticed from the letter into her lap. From her gown, no doubt when she had fled the garden.
“Ooh!” Sarah squealed in absolute frustration over his continuing luck and her seemingly endless misfortune.
CHAPTER 11
It was midday before Sarah departed the sheltering haven of her room and then only because she was summoned by her father.
As she entered the library, dressed in a demure flowered gown trimmed in white at the neck and sleeves, her foreboding was masked beneath a pleasant smile and the bright azure gaze she bestowed upon the Duke, who rose from his massive leather chair by the fire.
“Come,come,mydarling,”hebeckoned cheerily, holding out long arms to great her. “You’ve played the family ghost long enough so I am forced to make an appointment to see you.” Father and daughter shared an affectionate buss, and as he released her to return to the chair, he added, “What has become of my constant shadow? The young lady I trip over every time I turn around?”
“Oh Father,” Sarah returned warmly, “you have been so busy of late; none of us has enjoyed your company as much as we would like. Is that what was on your mind?” Sarah gathered her skirts and lowered herself onto the settee, her expression teasingly innocent.
“Only in part,” he chuckled. “In truth, I am fairly bursting with good news for you and I cannot wait another second.”
“Gracious me!” Sarah reacted, raising a hand to the tall white ruffles at her neck in a gesture of mock surprise, “Tell me now. What is it that excites you so?”
“I am sending you on a visit to the United States of America.” Her father, Sarah could see, was practically beside himself with joy.
“But how did this come about? I’ve never been further than Town in my entire life. What is the reason for such a journey?”
“I wish you to handle the purchase of some property for me there. You know I trust your judgment in land matters, and I am quite sure you will recognize a fair deal.”
“But really, Father,” Sarah argued. “There are many others much more qualified than I to handle such a task. What about your representatives?”
“They have their place. But if I wish to send my daughter to the Colonies, what is to keep me from doing so? Besides, your powers of observation are keen. I would have no better correspondent than yourself to tell me about this land that I shall never see with my own eyes.”
“Oh,Papa,”Sarahwhisperedherchildhood name for her sire, her eyes tearful and brimming with love, “I-I don’t know what to say. It is dreams come true, surely. But to leave you ... and Mama ... and my home? I’ve never been ....”
Weston quickly interrupted. “I’ve no doubt you will suffer some homesickness, child. But it is time you begin living a life of your own, and not cloistered here in the Oxfordshire countryside. You need to meet new people. Society may not approve of a daughter of the ton traveling so freely, but” he added with a mirthless chuckle, “I never gave a care for the ton. And you, my darling, are no gabster. I can think of no one I would trust more, or be more honored to send on this voyage.”
But Sarah saw something more in his rationale, something she felt compelled to name. She gave him a steady look, thinking back on the day when Stewart Chamberlain had given words to her father’s concerns. “I appreciate your modern ideas, but I think you are worried that unless I leave this house, no husband will be found for me. Are you concerned, Father?”
“No!” Sarah’s expression was defiant, but her father’s eyes did not waver. It was she who finally broke the stare, as she slumped her shoulders and sighed. “You have always been honest to a fault, haven’t you? I beg you not to trouble yourself overmuch, for I shall marry ... eventually.”
“That is true,” Weston replied sternly, ignoring her defensive tone, “but you’ve taken no interest in the local crop and you have not helped yourself in London by spending more time in libraries than the salons. So pray tell, where are we expected to find this husband for you?”
Sarahflunghergazeaway,roseandwalked toward the fireplace. As she whirled around to address her father, irritation was apparent in her furrowed brows and stony eyes. “What does it matter? It is not as though you are in need of sonsin-law or grandchildren, as Uncle Wesley is your heir,” she said, referring to her father’s much younger brother, who, by the conventions of peerage, would take the place in succession of the son the Duke and Duchess never had.
“If I am destined to marry, I will. But I am not unfulfilled here. I enjoy my life – my family, my books, Serena, helping you, living here. I enjoy my freedom most of all. And yes,” she added, thrusting her hands on her hips, “I will enjoy this voyage to America – but only as your emissary – not as some Friday-faced spinster, desperate to marry. Can this be certain between us, Father?” Sarah implored. “For I refuse to go if you expect otherwise.”
Weston, who had been watching his beautiful daughter critically, rose slowly and joined her in front of the fire. “From the outset,” he began slowly, “our terms have been in agreement. Have no doubt of that. And I remind you that it was you who brought up the subject of marriage. But since you have, I will say one thing and that will be the end of it for all time. Will you listen?”
“You think I want you to marry because that is a gentlewoman’s primary function in life. And that we, your parents, would be spared some humiliation if you were to wed. Well, you are wrong,” he admonished, “absolutely wrong.”
Taking her smaller hands into his great ones, he continued, “I want you to enjoy a full, purposeful life. I simply know that marriage and family should not be underrated in their ability to provide such things. When you choose wisely and make a firm commitment with your spouse to hold to your vows, the world is laid at your feet. Anything can grow from that most sacred bond – an infinite measure of love, courage, compassion, success – and freedom as well.
“Where we di ffer is that I do not put as much trust in chance as you are wont to. We must go after that which we want; make ourselves available to the workings of fate. So,” he concluded, stroking her cheek and tilting her chin to look directly into her misty eyes, “is it permissible for your doting old papa to provide opportunities for you to see what is beyond your own doorstep?”
“Oh, Father,” Sarah cried, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him fiercely. Mumbling into his collar, she sniffed, “I am not sure whether I agree with your beliefs, but your motives are indeed loving and honorable. And I am touched.”
As they held each other close, Sarah thought of what a wonderful man her father was. They had been close from the time she could remember. Despite the high value placed on sons and heirs, his every word and action told her that he would not have wished her to be anything but what she was. And because he believed an idle mind was the worst sin of all, he had encouraged her natural curiosity, making sure she learned how to read, write and reason as well as a man.
