SASSY WALKED THE short distance from the livery,
where’d she left her cob horse and curricle, and made her way to
the curio shop that also served as their village book shop. It was
a busy time of the morning, nearly lunch, and the wide avenue was
bustling with people, horse-drawn wagons, and quite an impressive
number of carriages of all sizes, ages, and styles for their quaint
village.

The dust they kicked up didn’t do her well-worn blue
cloak any good. With a grimace, she brushed and shook off some of
the offending dirt as she made her way to the lead-paned window of
Mrs. Plummet’s Curio Shop and stepped beneath the awning.

A little bell announced her arrival, and the tall,
buxom woman Sassy had known forever looked up from the counter
where she was arranging a stack of the new and latest novel that
had only just come in. The woman smiled and welcomed Sassy. “Hallo,
m’dear, and how is the vicar today?”

Pushing a stray hair away from her ear, Sassy
adjusted her chip hat and sighed as she gave Mrs. Plummet a warm
smile. “Papa is cranky today, I am afraid. He shooed me off and
told me to come into town and purchase a book to keep me busy. He
says I am always fussing about him, and he won’t have it.”

Mrs. Plummet laughed and said, “Good then, Sassy
love. If he is feeling feisty, perhaps we will have a small miracle
and he will take a turn for the better.”

Sassy almost released her pent-up emotions but fought
back the urge to dive into Mrs. Plummet’s arms and cry. She held
herself in check and unconsciously rubbed the ring on her right
hand beneath her glove.

She couldn’t very well tell Mrs. Plummet about the
guilt she carried because, once again, she felt useless. She hadn’t
been able to save her mother two years ago when she had suddenly
fallen ill and died within a week. What good was
the power
if she couldn’t rid the ones she loved of disease?

Now, her father was not getting any better, and not
all the tisanes in the world were helping. Not even those her
mother had taught her to concoct had worked to do more than ease
his discomfort.

She picked up the latest novel by an author whose
name she did not recognize and looked it over. “What do you
think?”

“I started reading it last evening. It was
very … absorbing.”

“Right then, I’ll give it a try.” Sassy fished in her
knit purse for a coin. She shouldn’t be wasting her father’s money
on a book, but he had insisted and she didn’t want him to worry
about her. It was all he talked about these last few days—
her
future
.

She knew she was going to lose him, and her heart was
being ripped to shreds at the thought. How could she do without him
and his guidance, especially now?

When her mother had passed, Sassy had been left to
carry the burden of what she was alone, except for her father. He
had kept her secret, even as he had her mother’s. Now that she had
reached her majority, she was experiencing the ‘transition’;
without her mother to advise her, only her father could help
her.

She should, of course, be able to turn to her
mother’s family, but they had disowned their only daughter when
she’d defied them to marry a poor young man of the cloth. No, Sassy
would get no guidance from them, although like her they had the
‘power’.

She set these disturbing thoughts aside as she took
up the package Mrs. Plummet handed her and made her way
outdoors.

Before crossing the avenue, she meandered down the
walkway, stopping to look in the window of the village dress shop.
It was still there—a gown that had caught her eye the week before.
It was breathtaking. Yellow and in the fashionable A-line, low cut,
trimmed with Belgium lace, and much too expensive for her. She
sighed as she turned away from it.

Her own ensemble beneath the aged cloak, though once
a pretty shade of blue, was becoming threadbare. She hadn’t thought
much about refurbishing her wardrobe in the last two years. She had
been devastated at her mother’s death, and then this year, while
her father’s health dwindled, socializing had been out of the
question.

The sound of laughter across the street caught her
attention, and she glanced in the direction of the hearty
noise.

Two men stood at the curbing at the edge of the
avenue, but only one of them stood out. It was as though the
atmosphere around him glowed, and her heart actually skipped a beat
and then made up for the offense by beating faster.

His beaver-skin top hat was set saucily on his head
of black silky hair. His black cloak had been rakishly thrown back
over one shoulder, revealing not only the cream silk lining but the
breadth of his obviously muscular chest.

As Sassy’s gaze traveled up to his face,
unconsciously a small breath of air left her lungs, swished up her
throat, and escaped in an audible gasp.

He was the most handsome man she had ever seen, but
more than that, he was the man who had been making passionate love
to her in her dreams!

This was madness. This was … Before she could
complete the thought
, it
happened.
Only this time it
was different. This time he was right there. He was nearby—the man
of her dreams was standing only thirty feet away.

His blue eyes had suddenly locked with hers, and all
at once she felt herself transported to another place.

It was a bedroom—and she recognized the bedroom, for
she had been there many times in her dreams. It was as though she
were in a theater shamelessly watching herself, watching
him—watching, experiencing things she had no physical knowledge
of.

She was a virgin, and yet in her dream she had been
his intimately many times. Now, with him so near, she saw herself
naked and lying across dark, smooth sheets.

He was bending towards her, his blue eyes glittering,
his black, silky hair falling across and touching her breasts as he
licked her nipple and then suckled there with expertise that sent
her body into a convulsion of pleasure. His fingers moved over her
flesh, and she could feel herself clench with desire as he
touched—

What … ? No! No—this was just schoolgirls’
talk coming back to haunt her. This had to stop. She had to
stop.
She tried to break with the vision. How could she know
what it would feel like to have a man … how could she
know?

And then she saw something in his eyes across the
avenue that told her a fact she could not deny:
s
he
wasn’t having this illusion alone. He was as well. It was so real
and not only for her—but for him also!

When he took a step into the street towards her,
Sassy Winthrop ran as fast as her little walking boots could take
her and escaped around the corner.

~
One ~

THE VICAR’S ROOM was in darkness as Sassy got up from
her chair, where she had been keeping vigil. She opened the
curtains to allow morning light into the room.

“Sassy,” her father whispered hoarsely.

She turned and ran to sit near him on the bed. The
sheets felt cold to the touch, and she frowned.

The vicar of Sutton moved fretfully for a moment and
then stopped to stare at her. He reached a hand, and she took it to
kiss his fingers. “I’m here, Papa.”

It had been a long and difficult night. “Papa,” she
said, gently brushing his hair back from his brow, “I am here.
Everything is fine. You are getting better.” She didn’t believe her
words, but she needed to comfort him somehow.

“Hush, child, I need to remind you before I go …
keep your secret close. Never allow anyone to know, and never use
it in any but life-and-death matters.”

“Yes, Papa. You and Mama taught me well, and I
understand, so don’t worry,” she answered, laying a damp cloth on
his sweating forehead.

“Yes, my dear … but there will be times when you
are tempted to use what is in you …
Be careful.
”

“Yes, Papa, I know,” she repeated. He was saying
good-bye. How could she bear it?

“Your mother always told me that you were special.
She said yours was the gift of many … that it had passed over
her and into you.”

“Don’t think about it, Papa.”

“Hush now. I have made arrangements for you, my
beloved girl, to go to … Lady … Lady … I …
made … arrangements … Lady … Margate …” His
words were labored; she had to lean forward to hear him.

“I know, Papa,” she said, the words catching in her
throat as she struggled not to cry. “I know.”

“Promise you will go to her … for the new vicar
will arrive here … and you … will lose your home.” He
moved again fretfully. “I thought you would be safely married
before I had to go …
My fault
… all my fault.”

“Nonsense—nothing is your fault.”

“Promise me, child … you will let Lady Margate
protect you …” His voice was scarcely a whisper.

“I promise, but I shan’t have to go anywhere. You
will get better and …” He slumped, and she touched him gently.
“Papa?”

Realization sped through her, and with an anguished
cry she bent her head onto his hand and sobbed.

* * *

Sassy put down the miniature of her mother and paced
as she thought about the last few months. Nightmarish? Nearly,
though most of the time she had felt numb. Within two years of each
other, both her parents were gone, and now, now she had to leave
her home—the only home she had ever known.

She gazed at herself in the long mirror. She had lost
weight, and her pretty day gown of pale green needed taking in at
the waist. Her black hair, though still full of luster and curls as
it hung about her shoulders and back, also needed attention. Sad
green eyes looked back at her.

Her father had been a vicar in a small village and
thus had brought in very little income. It had been supplemented by
her mother’s small trust, which her family had not been able to
undo, though in all other ways they’d turned their backs on her
when she married Sassy’s father, for she had spurned the plans
they’d had for her.

Now that small living was Sassy’s, but the
home … the home would go to the new vicar.

Lady Margate had called on Sassy immediately after
the funeral and reiterated the vicar’s wish for Sassy to join her
at Tanderlay Place, and thus Sassy began putting her affairs in
order. Even so, leaving had been something she found she just
didn’t wish to do, and she’d put it off until she received the
letter that a new vicar had been appointed and would soon be
arriving. Thus forced to act, Sassy dispatched a note to Lady
Margate, advising her that she was ready to move to Tanderlay
Place.

And so it was Sassy, with her well-kept secrets,
unsure, grieving, and unsteady, prepared to leave the only life she
had ever known.

~
Two ~

SASSY WATCHED THE leaves of russets and gold waltz
their way to the ground in the morning’s bright light.

She sighed as she heard the sound of horses and
stepped outdoors to see a handsome pair of bays pulling a
streamlined brown, shiny, and newly styled carriage. At the sight
of the Margate Crest glistening gold against the vehicle’s sturdy
doors, Sassy thought with a lift of her brow that she was certainly
being taken away from the vicarage in style.

The neat carriage came to a halt directly in front of
her, and a livery boy jumped from the boot. He stumbled on a rock
and went reeling forward a few steps before he caught himself and
grinned shamefully at her while he opened the door for its
occupant.

She gave the lad an encouraging smile when he shot a
furtive glance back her way and stood waiting.

The occupant of the carriage stepped down, tapped the
livery boy with his cane, and commented on the lad’s clumsiness
before casting a deprecatory glance about his surroundings.

Sassy’s bottom lip quivered as she watched him walk
mincingly toward her.

“Good morning, Sir John,” she said, her eyes alight
with amusement. He had no doubt just returned from his London romp.
She noted that he had taken fashion to the extreme; the points of
his collar looked as though if he turned too quickly he would pink
his cheeks.

“Ah, Sassy, how lovely you look,” he drawled.

“Won’t you come in,” she asked, turning, “and have a
cup of tea?”

BOOK: Netherby Halls

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