by Joyce Alec
Sarah smiled at Mrs. Stanton. “And I am grateful for that. However, I must go on my own way now. You are, of course, welcome to join me if you should wish it. I will need a companion.”
She held her breath, and Mrs. Stanton considered the matter, before shaking her head.
“No, I think I had best remain here. Mr. Stanton will need me, and as much as I care for you, he must come first.” She squeezed Sarah’s hands again before letting them go, her eyes glazing over with tears again. “Promise me that you will write to me often, when it comes time for you to leave. I must know where you are and that you are well.”
“Of course, I will,” Sarah promised, suddenly feeling an ache in her own heart, as she thought about leaving the only home she had ever known. “I will write very often so that you need not concern yourself over me.”
Mrs. Stanton smiled and made to turn away, only to stop herself. “You know that you will always have a home here with us, whatever the circumstances, Sarah. Should you wish to return, you only need to appear, and we will welcome you with open arms. You are as much our child as if I had birthed you myself.”
“And you are the only mother I have ever known or will ever need,” Sarah replied, feeling her own tears threatening. “Thank you. I will keep you informed of any changes to my plans.”
Mrs. Stanton nodded and left the room, and Sarah was about to close the door when the maid appeared, telling her that Mr. Stanton and his solicitor were waiting for her in the study, just as soon as she could join them. Sarah spared herself only a few seconds to glance in the mirror and smooth her chestnut-colored hair before setting her shoulders and making her way back to the study, telling herself that she could not stop being brave now. Whilst Mrs. Stanton’s conversation had brought her a sharp, unexpected grief at the thought of leaving, Sarah could not allow herself to show any kind of emotion now. She would have to be practical and sensible, showing both men that she had every intention of carrying on with what she had begun.
“Ah, Sarah,” Mr. Stanton began, getting out of his chair as she came into the room. “This is Mr. Featherstone, my solicitor. He was in the village today from London, as I said to you before, so he was able to stop in at short notice.”
“I had business with a few others in the village, so it is no trouble,” Mr. Featherstone replied, heaving his great bulk out of the chair and inclining his head towards Sarah, who found herself staring at one of the largest men she had ever seen. The man was positively rotund, with a faint sheen of sweat appearing on his brow as he bowed. His thinning, fair hair was plastered to his head, his large nose rather red and his small, narrow eyes studying her intently. Sarah felt herself disliking him at once, but setting her personal feelings aside, she sat down with them both.
“It appears you have discovered something about your fortune,” Mr. Featherstone began, tutting a little. “You are either a very nosy girl or someone informed you of the matter.” He raised one eyebrow and looked Sarah up and down, sniffing disdainfully. “Might I ask which one it is?”
Sarah, feeling as though she was being reprimanded by this man she did not know, felt her cheeks turn scarlet as she fought to keep her anger under control. “I do not think that is any of your business, Mr. Featherstone,” she replied caustically. “Please inform me about my fortune and dowry.”
Mr. Featherstone did not appear to be in any way pleased by this response, but a look from Mr. Stanton prevented him from saying more.
“Very well,” he said, somewhat stiffly. “You have an income of ten thousand pounds a year, Miss Weston, from the year you turned eighteen, which, I believe, was a little over a year ago.”
“I am just now turned twenty,” Sarah replied, trying to keep a hold of herself at the sudden wealth that was being poured into her lap. “And my dowry?”
Mr. Featherstone pulled some papers from his case and scrutinized them. “Twenty thousand pounds, Miss Weston. Oh, and there is a townhouse in London in your name, although I do not know whether or not it is furnished. There is no staff there yet, of course.”
Reeling, Sarah clung to the arms of her chair and tried her best to breathe normally. This was more than a fortune; this was extravagance.
“You were not to know of this until you wed, which is what is most unfortunate,” Mr. Featherstone continued, still sounding rather annoyed. “I believe it was felt that a young woman would not be able to manage such a great amount of money alone.”
That caught Sarah’s attention, bringing her back into the room with a sudden jolt. “I think you—and whoever suggested that—greatly underestimate me, sir,” she replied firmly. “And I shall tell you what I intend to do with my fortune, if that is to put you at ease. I intend to give ten thousand pounds, from last year’s income, to Mr. and Mrs. Stanton. Immediately.”
There was a short, stunned silence. Sarah looked at Mr. Stanton, who was staring at her with wide eyes, his hands grasping the table in front of him.
“Mr. Stanton, I know you were given some income each year to care for me, but I would not have you struggle when that income ceases. I intend to ensure that yourself and Mrs. Stanton are able to live comfortably.”
“I….” Mr. Stanton’s voice grew hoarse, as he swallowed once, then twice, before shaking his head at her. “You are much too generous, Sarah. I did not expect this from you.”
Sarah gave him a half smile. “And that is precisely why I want to give you this, Mr. Stanton. I will confess to being rather angry with you for the multitude of secrets that were kept from me, but I see now that this was not your doing.”
Mr. Stanton looked up at her, his gaze steady. “I did what I had to for your own safety, Sarah,” he said softly. “I am only sorry that I do not precisely know why or what is the cause of such danger.”
Feeling a great deal more in control, Sarah smiled back at him before returning her gaze to the solicitor. Her smile faded from her lips as she kept her gaze firm, wanting to ensure that he knew she had no intention of changing her mind on anything she had discussed so far.
“And is there anything that you know, Mr. Featherstone?” she asked, narrowing her gaze a little. “I am sure that you need not hold anything back.”
Mr. Featherstone shook his head, clearing his throat as he did so. “No, I know nothing, Miss Weston. I am, after all, your guardian’s solicitor and nothing more. I do as I am instructed.”
There was something about the way he could not look at her that made Sarah grow a little more suspicious of the rotund man, her fingers tightening in her lap as she kept her gaze fixed on him.
“There is nothing. I assure you,” he said again, as if aware of her scrutiny. “What could I know that I would not share with Mr. Stanton?”
Choosing to drop the subject for a moment, Sarah sniffed delicately and turned her head. “Are there papers I need to sign?” she asked, somewhat sharply. “And I should like details of the townhouse in London as well, if you please.”
“Why?” Mr. Stanton asked at once, as the solicitor began to shuffle papers about in his briefcase. “Is that where you intend to go?”
As the solicitor laid out papers on the table in front her, Sarah gave Mr. Stanton a slight shrug. “Yes, I think that I should stay there for a time. I know I will need both staff and a companion, but I intend to secure both of those things before I leave. I have already promised Mrs. Stanton that I will write to her regularly so that neither of you will have any cause for concern.”
Mr. Stanton nodded slowly, his expression troubled. “I am always going to be concerned for you, my dear. I have not always made the best decisions, nor have I always shown you the care and consideration that you required, and for that, I am sorry.”
For a moment, Sarah was struck dumb, not knowing what to say. Mr. Stanton had never spoken to her in such a way before.
“I think I speak for both myself and Mrs. Stanton when I say that we will miss you, Sarah. Our lives will not be as full as they once were.”
Wishing that the sol
icitor was not present so that she might reach forward and take Mr. Stanton’s hand for a moment, Sarah contented herself with a gentle smile. “Thank you. I know that I will miss you both very much, but I must go in search of Lord Thorndyke to see what he knows, if anything. I cannot have the rest of my life remain a mystery.”
“I quite understand,” Mr. Stanton replied, as Mr. Featherstone handed her a quill to sign various documents. “Just know that you will always be welcome here, no matter how long you stay away.”
“Thank you,” Sarah said gratefully, before turning to sign the papers that would open up the next part of her life.
It was only after Mr. Featherstone had left the house that Sarah felt herself able to tell Mr. Stanton the truth about the locket and the note she had found. It was not that she did not trust Mr. Featherstone, but rather that his attitude towards her had rifled her to the point that she did not want to say more than she had to.
“You were rather suspicious of Mr. Featherstone,” Mr. Stanton commented, as Sarah began to tidy up her copies of the papers she had signed. “Might I ask why?”
Briefly, Sarah explained about the locket and the note, watching Mr. Stanton carefully. From the look on his face—the whiteness of his cheeks, the widening of his eyes—he had very little idea who had done this. Nor did he know who might have been watching Sarah so as to place the locket under her pillow.
“I cannot think that it would be one of the staff, for they have been here since before you arrived,” he mumbled, looking away from her as his brows furrowed together in thought. “You must be careful, Sarah. The fact that someone has made this much effort to inform you of your fortune means that they have their own purposes behind it.”
Sarah gave him a rueful smile. “And those purposes might be nefarious, yes. I had thought of that.”
“It troubles me to know that someone has managed to make their way into my home without my knowledge,” Mr. Stanton continued gravely. “If I were able to, I would insist that you remain here in safety.”
Sarah laughed softly, seeing the wry expression on Mr. Stanton’s face. “I know, but it is not something I am willing to do, Mr. Stanton. I will take every precaution; I assure you.”
“Do,” he said quietly. “It would be the death of me to know that you have been injured or the like, not to mention what it would do to Mrs. Stanton.” He let out a long breath, sighing heavily. “This was not what I had intended for you, Sarah.”
“I know,” she replied quietly, “but I believe it is for the best. You will see. All will come aright in the end. I am sure of it.”
6
One month later and Sarah found herself waving goodbye to Mr. Stanton and Mrs. Stanton, feeling as though her heart were about to break in half. She had not expected to feel so upset, but the tears on Mrs. Stanton’s cheeks were enough to tear anyone’s heart asunder. Their goodbye had been long and drawn out, and as the carriage left the grounds of the only home Sarah knew, she felt herself break into sobs.
“There, there,” Mrs. Avis said soothingly, reaching forward to pat Sarah’s hand. “You are being very brave so far, Miss Weston, and I am sure that you will do very well once we get to London.”
Sarah drew in a sharp breath and tried to steady herself. “Thank you, Mrs. Avis,” she said quietly. “It is just rather difficult leaving the home and the parents that have surrounded me for so long.” Seeing Mrs. Avis’s surprised look, Sarah gave her a small smile, as she dabbed at her cheeks with a handkerchief. “Mr. Stanton is not my father, and Mrs. Stanton not my mother, but they have become those things to me, although I did not recognize that until a few short weeks ago.”
Mrs. Avis’s eyes warmed with understanding. “I see. They seem heartily sorry to be losing you.”
“They are,” Sarah replied quietly. “And yet I know this is what I must do.”
Mrs. Avis settled back in her seat and made no more comment, pulling out her knitting and beginning to continue with whatever it was she was creating. Sarah closed her eyes and let the sound of the knitting needles soothe her fractious mind, listening to nothing but their noise and letting all other thoughts drift away.
It was not until a few hours later that Sarah awoke, realizing with a start that she had fallen asleep within a few minutes of leaving the Stantons’ home. Mrs. Avis was also asleep, her knitting now set aside carefully as her head rocked gently from side to side. Sarah had been glad of her company thus far, even if she had only been awake for a few minutes, but to know that someone was there with her when she awoke was a comfort indeed. Mrs. Avis had responded to Mr. Stanton’s notice for a companion for his wife, but when she arrived for the interview, Mrs. Avis was told that a companion was needed for Sarah. Mrs. Avis had accepted this change with ease, and since Sarah found herself liking Mrs. Avis so very much, she had been offered the position within a few hours of arriving for the interview.
Mrs. Avis, who was an unmarried sister of some titled but thrifty lord, had a coil of grey hair pinned neatly to the back of her head, which matched the severity of her clothing. Regardless, Sarah found her to be an amicable and conversational lady, who she was sure would be more than an excellent companion. There had been a little too-ing and fro-ing as Mrs. Avis had returned home for her things, mentioning to Sarah about her quiet, nondescript cottage and somewhat feral cat, which had made Sarah smile. Mrs. Avis seemed as glad to have Sarah’s company as she was to have hers, which boded well for their future together. Sarah was unsure as to how long she would require Mrs. Avis, but the lady seemed in no desperate hurry to return home, assuring Sarah that the cat had gone to a neighbor, who often took it in whenever Mrs. Avis went away.
Sighing to herself, Sarah looked out of the window into the growing darkness. It was to be two more days of traveling until they arrived in London, and they would stay in an inn nearby overnight, although she could not see any kind of village or town in the distance as yet. It felt so strange to be a woman traveling alone, a woman with wealth and fortune in her own right. She had been forced to purchase a great many things, including the carriage so that she might have means of transportation. Whilst Mr. Featherstone had offered his services, Sarah had chosen to deal with another solicitor entirely, one whom Mr. Stanton knew of in London. Her solicitor had taken matters in hand, working with her new steward, Mr. Fernley, who together had found her a new household staff and furniture for her home in London. Mr. Stanton, however, had insisted on vetting each member of her household staff himself, which Sarah had found both frustrating and kind. He was clearly still rather concerned for her welfare, and even though this lengthened the process, Sarah could not help but be grateful for Mr. Stanton’s kindness.
Now that all was settled, Sarah knew she was certain to find her new home comfortable. A flurry of nerves settled in her stomach, as she continued to look out of the window, feeling as though she were a rabbit drawing purposefully closer to the hunter’s snare. There was little point in worrying, she told herself firmly. She had made a plan and fully intended to stick to it.
Lord Thorndyke’s manor house, Thorndyke Estate, was on her way to London. She had sent a letter, only to receive the response that Lord Thorndyke had gone to London for the start of the Season. That did not inconvenience her in the least, however, for she still fully intended to call on him in London in the hope that Lord James Thorndyke would see her.
Mr. Stanton had said clearly that Lord Thorndyke might not even know of her existence since it had been his father who had arranged everything with him regarding Sarah and her future. Even that was not about to dissuade Sarah from calling upon the man. Whether he knew anything about her or not, Sarah had to know the truth. She had no other place to start.
It took Sarah three days to reach London, given that one of the carriage wheels had broken during their travels, forcing her to remain at an inn for an extra night whilst it was fixed. She could not help but be even more anxious than usual that night, wondering if the carriage wheel was truly an accident or if the
re was something else, more sinister, chasing her.
Mrs. Avis had been somewhat unsure as to why Sarah had been acting in such a tense manner, and so—having not explained herself before—Sarah had chosen to tell Mrs. Avis everything. The lady had accepted everything calmly, showing no expression of surprise or even horror on hearing about the locket and note. Given that she had believed she would be accompanying a young lady of means around London in the hope of finding a husband, Mrs. Avis seemed to take the news that things were not as she had been told rather well. She had been able to reassure Sarah that carriage wheels sometimes do break or become damaged and that all this was entirely normal. She had been proven right, of course, for they had now reached London safely, and now Sarah found herself looking up at one of the grandest houses she had ever seen.
“Is this truly my home?” she whispered, as a footman helped her down from the carriage as though she were some kind of titled lady. “I can hardly believe it.”
The house had its own graveled drive with what appeared to be a small garden to one side.
“The gardens lead around the back, Miss Weston,” the footman said, as though seeing her questioning gaze. “There is a small stable nearby for the horses and carriage.”
“My goodness,” Sarah whispered, hardly able to accept that this had been left to her by whomever her benefactor was. “This is extraordinary.”
Mrs. Avis smiled at her, as she came to stand next to her. “Shall we go in, Miss Weston?”
Sarah nodded, but paused for a moment. “Sarah, please. I have rarely been referred to as ‘Miss Weston’ by those I live with, and I should like to consider us friends.”
Mrs. Avis looked surprised but nodded, gesturing for Sarah to go on in ahead of her. Taking a deep breath, Sarah walked inside, seeing the butler holding the door open for her.
