by Claudy Conn
“So I am. Nevertheless, I believe I can help you in your present plight,” the marquis offered on a serious note.
“Help me? ’Tis impossible. You read her note—she means to marry Grey!” replied Percy, groaning.
“The devil is in it that she just might—if you allow her to do so!” the marquis countered.
“Allow her? How in God’s name am I to prevent her?”
“I have given it some thought, Percy, and I believe the chit actually wrote you that note in the hopes you would follow her to Bristol and somehow manage the affair—oust Lord Grey and win over her mother.”
“Sounds pretty, Justin, but now I shall sound very much like you and remind you that reality and fantasy rarely mix. Besides, this doesn’t sound a bit like the advice you gave me last week. Why the change of heart?”
“I haven’t had a change of heart, ol’ fellow. I simply think a change of tactics is in order, as evidently you don’t mean to forget the girl as I advised you to do.”
“You don’t understand!” Percy wailed.
“Oh, but I do. Lord Grey has title and more wealth than you. Her mother wishes her to accept his hand, but does the lady really wish it?”
“What does it matter? They won’t let me near her.”
“That, my friend, is where I come in,” the marquis said glibly.
“Eh, what mean you?”
“Mrs. Delleson has an eye for titles and money. Why not dangle mine in front of her?”
“What the deuce?” Percy exclaimed.
“I shall accompany you to Bristol, where I am quite certain you shall not be refused admittance while in my company.” The marquis’s voice was dry.
A fog of brandy swirled in Percy’s mind, but some of the marquis’s words made a clear path through the fog. “By Jove … by Jove, I say!”
The marquis grinned. “Then it is settled, and we leave for Bristol?”
“Hold a moment.” Percy’s gray eyes narrowed. “Why are you doing this?”
“Isn’t it obvious? You are my closest friend … want you happy,” the marquis responded evasively.
“Gammon!” returned Percy on a snort.
“Don’t question my motives, Percy. I mean to help you, whatever they might be,” the marquis said, his expression suddenly grim.
“Do you know, for as long as I have known you, through all we have been at over the years, you remain an enigma.”
“Indeed, Percy. That is because I wish to be so. Be ready at ten tomorrow morning, for I shall be prompt.” With that, the marquis turned and made his way out of the club.
Motives, Percy thought as he watched his big rake of a friend take his leave. The marquis’s inscrutable motives were bound to plunge them into some sort of complication, he was sure of it, because he damn well knew Justin wasn’t making this trip just to further his cause with Sophy!
~ Three ~
The day had been long, without enough to do, though she had had to dodge Sir John—and more than once. Therefore, it was with some relief that she bid her ladyship and Sir John goodnight and made her way to her room.
She had locked her bedroom door, as was her habit, and was sitting on a hardback chair, reading by candlelight, when she heard the key slip into the lock on the other side of the door.
She looked up to find him in shirtsleeves, his breeches unbuttoned. He exposed himself, holding his hardened manhood as he leered at her and said, “Look what I have for you …”
Her reaction was spontaneous. She leapt to her feet, threw a nearby vase at him, and growled, low and threateningly, “Get out, and if you don’t, I shall scream loud enough to bring down this entire house around your ears!”
Faith, that should have sent him off. Instead, swaying slightly and with bloodshot eyes, he sneered and took a step towards her.
She threw the chair she had been using at him, but he ducked it, ran at her, and grabbed her arm.
Magic came to her rescue. It swirled around him, lifted him off the floor, and flung him out of the room. She rushed the door, locked it, and once again, without even having to rub her ring, she called on her magic and pushed a dresser in front of it.
Her fear of Sir John had taken precedence over caution, but he was drunk and would not remember details—hopefully. She spelled the door so his key would not work again. Magic. It had become a living entity within her. She had but to need it, and it was there. She would have to be careful.
* * *
By morning, realizing matters were now intolerable, Sassy knew what she had to do.
Sir John was unabashed and unashamed. He had come up to her after breakfast. “Sooner or later,” he threatened, his eyes mere slits in his fury, “I shall have you.”
She knew he would be forever hovering about, ready to pounce on her. He was without principle, and although she might be able to put a stop to it by informing Lady Margate of his behavior, she found she simply could not tell her benefactor such a thing.
She went looking for Lady Margate and found her sitting at her writing desk in the study. Sassy had an idea and hoped fervently that she would be able to implement it. She would take on a position as a governess.
As she broached the subject, Lady Margate put up a hand and frowned. “Enough … impossible … your dear father—”
“I think I would make a good governess,” Sassy interjected. Silently she said to herself, My father would not wish me to remain exposed to Sir John’s advances. However, she could not find it in her to say that to dear Lady Margate.
“Nonsense. What woman would want you under her husband’s gaze? Absurd child … that is out of the question.” Lady Margate sighed. “I did hope you would be happy here. I have such great plans for you. Of course, not until your mourning period is at an end … but …”
“There must be something I could do, for I simply cannot stay,” wailed Sassy, wringing her hands. “I adore you, my lady—I always have—but you know I have never liked to be idle.”
Lady Margate was a kind-hearted woman, and observant. Now and then Sassy suspected Lady Margate knew her son was something more than merely a bit of a cad.
Her ladyship eyed her thoughtfully. “Has it gotten that bad?” Then she added, “Ah, I see that it has. Very well then … let me—” She stopped herself and then said with some excitement in her tone, “Netherby Halls!”
She put a plump finger to her lips. “Indeed. I think you will like that.” She sighed but then put on a hopeful smile. “Perhaps you will get your bearings during this very difficult time in your life.”
“Hmmm. Sounds intriguing. Is it a school?” Sassy returned.
“Yes. My dear friend Edna took to running the school when her husband died. It was a pet project of his, you see. It is a very prestigious school for orphaned girls of the gentry. Sometimes, young girls are left orphaned and penniless, but they have gentle backgrounds. The school is maintained by subscriptions and very little else.” Lady Margate clucked. “Perhaps she has an opening … it is just that, well, Sassy, you are not just the daughter of a local vicar. You are the daughter of a prominent aristocratic family, and how the Earl of Wollington will look at my part in this, my dear, I don’t know.”
“I am only a member of that branch of the family by blood. They have never bothered with me, so I doubt that they would care even if they were to inquire after me, which after all this time, even after my mother’s and now my father’s passing, they have not done.” She shook her head. “This sounds … perfect for me.”
“Actually, I am not certain that it is anything I will allow to go on indefinitely, but I am confident it will be good for you to keep busy and give you a chance to adjust. However, I am hoping that once you have satisfied this need to be independent, you might come back to me. Sassy, you are, well, there is no other way to say this—you are simply ravishing, and to be quite blunt, there isn’t another young woman that could come close to you. The only thing you lack is a large inheritance, but you are not without some income, and you
have your family’s name behind you, no matter what we may think of them.” Lady Margate sighed. “It is not the time to launch you in London just after your father’s passing—well, not this year at any rate—but next year, if you decide you are ready, then you will come back to me and we shall take London by storm, you and I.”
Sassy hugged her ladyship. She had been a friend of her mother’s, and Sassy had known her all her life. “Oh, but I don’t know if I could afford the wardrobe I would need for a London season, my lady, and I don’t indulge myself with fanciful notions …”
“Absurd child, I have so many lovely things that do not fit me, and we can alter them quite nicely for today’s ‘look’ and your figure. In addition to that, I mean to outfit you with a few new things as well. After all, your mother was my dearest friend. ’Tis the least I can do, and don’t wave any objections at me. My pocket can well afford it, and I have always wanted a daughter. What fun! So then, what say you?”
“Then, yes. I do promise you that if Netherby does not work out, I will come back to you, and then, well, we shall see.” Sassy played with her fingers and sighed. “The thing is, I shall be too old to launch on the marriage mart, and the thought of the entire business is most daunting.”
Lady Margate laughed out loud. “Absurd child!” She smiled fondly and waved her hands in a ‘shooing’ motion. “Off—go for a walk while I jot off a letter to Edna. Indeed, the only thing that worries me is that you will have to travel on your own to Bristol. That doesn’t sit well with me.”
“I will manage,” Sassy said.
“Hmmm … I can perhaps send that little chambermaid—oh dear, what is her name?”
“Dolly.” Sassy smiled. “No, you must not do that, for then she would have to travel home alone.”
Lady Margate laughed. “That is part of her job. No, go on, and we shall see how the rest is to be managed.” She suddenly stopped. “Why did I not think of it at once? I shall send my John with you.”
Sassy’s face must have blanched, because her ladyship reached out for Sassy’s hand. “Oh, my dear … you are white. Has he stepped over the line?” She clucked her tongue. “I see that he has. No,” she said, her voice firm, “then, you will not need to suffer his advances any longer.” Lady Margate looked troubled as she stared off for a moment.
“Oh, my lady …” Sassy was not sure what she could say. What would Lady Margate think of her son if she knew what he had tried only last evening?
“I am an old fool.” Lady Margate patted Sassy’s fingers. “I should have realized what he was about.”
“Oh, he means no harm, I’m sure,” she said quietly and suggested, “Perhaps I am a bit too shy …”
Lady Margate did not comment on this, but her eyes held a sad expression. “No need to make excuses for him. I have done that, I am afraid—too often.” She clucked again as she made up her mind. “Very well. Go for a walk, and I shall immediately put quill to paper …”
* * *
It was a cool morning. Sassy wrapped her cloak tightly about herself as she walked in the Margate gardens while trying to sort out her jumbled thoughts. Netherby Halls? She felt excitement at the prospect of being useful.
She had turned one and twenty a few weeks after she had lost her father, and with her majority, the transition she was experiencing was nearly complete. Her thoughts bounced off one another, and memories weaved themselves around those thoughts.
Her mother had spoken to her about the flood of magic that would begin to seep into her mind and into her blood. She had spoken of the responsibilities that came with it. Like all the women in her mother’s line, Sassy was a white witch, but her mother had told her she was meant for more, so much more. What did that mean?
Her mother had always said the magic’s intensity had passed over herself but had landed deeply etched in Sassy’s inner being. Now Sassy knew how true that was, for she could feel it growing inside her.
She had used it without thinking last evening with Sir John. To her surprise, she’d not been frightened, only disgusted.
Without calling on it, her magic seemed to take form, whispered words into her mind, and she had found the magic seemed almost to work itself. No wonder her mother had been so strict regarding its use.
She touched her ring, which her mother had given her in place of a wand before she passed. Its stone centered in the gold was iridescent and unique. Engravings in the gold could not be read by an outsider and looked like a mere design.
The ancient Gaelic word Solas, an innocent word that if seen by a ‘clear’ human would simply mean light, to her family meant so much more.
All at once, the face of her dream lover flashed before her eyes. He seemed always to be there—calling to her. Oh, but the heat that rushed through her whenever he came to mind. It just had to stop …
~ Four ~
THE JOURNEY TO Netherby took Sassy over roads in poor condition, making her all too sorely aware that what she had thought might be somewhat exciting was in fact an endless tribulation of bumps, boredom, dust, and a memory that left her yearning for something she would never have.
When they passed a young woman heavy with child obviously in need of help, Sassy had stopped Lady Margate’s driver. She took some bread and fruit from the basket that had been prepared for her and jumped out of the carriage.
The girl thanked her with her eyes lowered. Sassy offered her a ride, but the girl declined, saying she lived with friends, just around the bend.
She thanked Sassy once more for the food, saying that she hadn’t had a piece of fruit in months, and went on her way.
Sassy returned to her carriage and sighed heavily. She recalled how, when she was fifteen, she and her parents had gone on a trip to Dover. They had seen a girl no older than she was at the time, heavy with child. The girl was in rags and begging in the street as people unfeelingly passed her by.
Sassy’s father had nodded an assent as Sassy looked imploringly at him, and she’d run over and given the girl the money she had saved to use on this trip. When she returned to them, her mother had stroked her cheek and Sassy had asked, “Why was the girl alone like that?”
Her father had answered crisply, “She gave her love before taking the man’s name.”
This immediately triggered a sense of injustice in her, and she turned to her mother. “But … if she gave her love, did not the man … take it?” She shook her head. “Why, then, should he not have to help her?”
Her mother had said softly, “He should have to help her, shouldn’t he? You are quite right, but this is an imperfect world, love, and justice is rarely distributed equally. Remember that when you make choices.”
Her father had reached over and touched her mother’s face, and they had proceeded with their day, but that image had struck her and stayed with her. And now, what was she doing? Dreaming of making love with a man she was certain she had never even met, whom she’d seen only once across an avenue.
At the end of a long day of travel, the driver of Lady Margate’s barouche stopped at an attractive and well-kept posting house. He appeared tired as he assisted her from the carriage and opened the door of the inn for her to pass through. He left her there and went to meet the livery boy that had hurried towards him.
Sassy sighed to herself. What she wanted after the tedious day was to wash, have dinner alone in her room, and sleep away all her confusion.
That was what she wanted, and as a small, thin woman wearing a full white apron and a white linen cap came crisply forward, she smiled hopefully.
The woman’s gaze traveled over Sassy and then out to the barouche visible through the window overlooking the courtyard. “What do ye want?”
Sassy was taken aback by the woman’s waspish tone. “First, I should like a room—”
“Ho! A room is it? You’ll be getting none here. We don’t run that sort of house.” The woman sneered.
A small, wiry man with a white apron hanging from his waist approached the sharp-tongued woman
but said nothing.
Sassy’s eyes flashed as she sucked in her temper. “I don’t precisely understand your meaning, ma’am, though I take leave to advise you I take exception to the tone you use with me. My name is Sassy Winthrop, and I have had a long journey from Tanderlay. I require a clean and comfortable room, hot water, and later some dinner, in my room.”
“Gawks, listen to the mort!” exclaimed the shrew, sniffing. “Out wit ye,” she ordered, waving her hand. “A mort with airs—out!”
“How dare you!” Sassy was both outraged and mortified, and one gloved finger began rubbing her ring. Should she use magic to get what she needed? No, her mother and father had told her to only use it when all else failed. She should, instead, use her wits.
“Listen to the fancy piece, will ye …” continued the shrew looking at her derisively before she turned to the man at her side. “Talks like a lady born and raised.” She returned a spiteful gaze to Sassy. “Doxy, I won’t say it again—out.”
The word doxy resounded in Sassy’s ears, and the urge to use magic began trumpeting in her head. The moment was saved, however, as the driver of Lady Margate’s carriage arrived on the scene.
He gasped and then in shocked accents said, “Harebrained ye be, ye old hag! Miss Winthrop is a guest of Lady Margate’s. You know her ladyship well, as we have often stopped here, as ye know me. This is the late Sutton Village vicar’s daughter, ye dolts! So what ye need to do now is make Miss comfortable, unless ye want Lady Margate to hear of this incident and start telling her friends this is not the place they want to patronize?” He nodded. “Aye, I see ye understand. Right then, I think ye best put a hot brick between Miss Winthrop’s sheets and attend to her needs without any more of yer argle-bargle.”
Sassy shot the driver a grateful look, and he tipped his peaked wool cap. “I am that sorry, I am, Miss. Thought this was a respectable place.”
“It is a respectable place,” squeaked the innkeeper’s wife. “It isn’t m’fault … How was I to know—why, she doesn’t even have a maid with her.”
