by Gayle Buck
By the time that the long evening was over and they had returned to Alverley House, Sarah was worn out. She made no demur when her maid insisted that she go straight to bed.
However, after the candle was blown out and the room was darkened, Sarah could not sleep. She stared into the shadows of the bed canopy overhead, her thoughts giving her no rest. Finally, she tossed back the covers and got out of bed. She had to talk to Margaret about Lord Eustace, even as late as it was. She had to find out just how strongly Margaret felt about him, and perhaps drop a gentle warning in her sister’s ear.
Pulling on a wrapper and slipping her feet into slippers, she crept out of her bedroom and down the hallway to her sister’s door. Easing open the door, she slipped inside. There was enough light from the glow of the dying fire that she easily made out the sleeping form under the bedclothes.
Sarah went over to the bed to waken her sister. “Margaret? Margaret, are you awake?” When there was no response, Sarah gently pulled down the covers. She straightened, shocked, for there was only a bolster and a pillow where her sister should have been.
Margaret was not in her bed. With a sickening feeling, Sarah realized that her sister had sneaked out of the town house. Panic licked at her thoughts, but Sarah got control of herself. It was obvious that Margaret had made her plans carefully. Her gown that she had worn that evening was draped over a chair. The wardrobe door was open, so that meant Margaret had taken something else that she could put on by herself. Finally, Margaret had carefully made it appear that she was safely in bed in the event that her maid peeped in on her during the night. All of it pointed to a spirited young girl’s escapade from which she fully intended to return.
Thoughtless, dangerous, mad! Sarah could think of a number of labels for her sister’s adventure. It was quite obvious that Margaret had not gone off on her own. She had an accomplice. A gentleman, of course! There could be no other explanation.
Sarah’s first inclination was to rouse the household and go in search of her sister. But she instinctively shrank from the inevitable repercussions of such a course. If she did that, Margaret’s clandestine assignation would become common knowledge to the entire staff of servants. The tale would be all over London before sundown the next day. The resulting scandal could possibly destroy Margaret’s reputation. As for Lady Alverley, Sarah thought that she could imagine well enough what a blow it would be for her ladyship to stand by helpless while her favorite granddaughter was shredded by such heartless individuals as Lady Cromes and Mrs. Plummer.
Sarah shivered. She had begun to grow cold as she stood there in hurried reflection. Sarah knew that she had to confront Margaret, but she decided that it was silly to freeze while she was waiting for her. Taking off her slippers, Sarah crawled into her sister’s bed. Even if she fell asleep, she would know when Margaret returned.
Sarah never knew later how much time had passed before the tiniest creak of the door roused her. She had been dozing lightly and fitfully, but at that insignificant sound she came fully awake. Sarah remained quiet, her body tense, while she listened to the brushing of skirt across the carpet and the unmistakable sounds of someone undressing.
Then the covers of the bed were lifted. Sarah sat up. “Hello, Margaret.”
Margaret leaped back, uttering a frightened squeak.
“Shh! Do you wish to rouse the whole house?” asked Sarah in a whisper.
Margaret slid into the bed. She drew her knees up to her chest and clasped them round with her slender arms. “What are you doing here, Sarah?”
“I think it is I who should be requiring answers,” said Sarah. “Where have you been, Margaret? I came in to talk to you and discovered that you were gone. And pray do not spin some farrago of nonsense, for I know that you have been out with someone!”
Margaret tossed her head. “Very well, Miss Snoop! If you must know, I have been to a masquerade.”
“With whom?” demanded Sarah. Her sister did not answer at once and she grabbed her arm. “With whom, Margaret? Was it some worthless cad whom you are too ashamed to introduce to our grandmother? Is that it?”
“No! It was Captain Jeffries! Let go of me, Sarah, do! You’re hurting me,” said Margaret, pulling her arm free and rubbing it.
“Captain Jeffries!” Sarah was stunned. She could not imagine the cavalry officer lending himself to something so potentially damaging as escorting a young girl to a public masquerade.
“You need not sound so amazed, Sarah,” said Margaret sullenly.
“I supposed that Captain Jeffries at least would have had more sense,” said Sarah in a curt tone.
“What would you know about it?” asked Margaret angrily. Then her voice changed. “Oh, Sarah, if you had only been there! I know that you would have liked it. It was so much fun. And then we drove past the Thames and all of the lights on the ships were bobbing and reflecting on the black water. It was so beautiful.”
“Margaret, why? I don’t understand! Why would you risk yourself in this fashion when you can see Captain Jeffries anywhere?” asked Sarah. An appalling thought suddenly hit her. “Margaret, is this why you have been so tired lately? Have you been out like this before? Have you acquired a taste for-for illicit affairs?”
“No, of course I haven’t! Why, Sarah, what are you thinking? I am not some vulgar hoyden!” cried Margaret.
“Of course you are not,” said Sarah quickly. She was ashamed of her suspicions. Surely she knew her own sister better. Margaret was simply spirited and wanted to enjoy life. It had been a harmless enough excursion, as it went. Margaret had been more interested in telling her about the masquerade and the lights on the Thames than she had been in her escort.
Margaret took urgent hold of her wrist. “Sarah, you are not going to tell Grandmama, are you? Oh, pray do not! I could not bear it if she were to be angry with me!”
“No, I-I don’t think that I shall,” said Sarah hesitantly. She wasn’t certain that she was being perfectly wise in yielding to her sister’s entreaties, but she could perceive that Margaret was genuinely distressed. “But you must promise me, Margaret! No more of these clandestine excursions with anyone!”
“Oh no! I shan’t do it again, I promise,” said Margaret, throwing her arms around Sarah.
After a few minutes more of whispered assurances between them and another fond embrace, Sarah left her sister’s bedroom and softly reentered her own. As she slid into her own bed, she suddenly realized that she had not said one word about Lord Eustace to her sister. Her former concern had completely faded under the shock of discovering what her sister had been up to. Now Sarah thought that everything else could wait at least until morning.
* * * *
However, as the days slowly passed one into another, Sarah began to realize that Margaret was just as determined not to be engaged in any kind of conversation with her. Margaret took care never to be alone with Sarah, and whenever Sarah did try to say anything to her, Margaret instantly made some excuse and whisked herself off. There were no more exchanged confidences between them.
Even on Sunday, when Sarah hoped that their usual perambulations in Kensington Gardens would grant her the opportunity that she needed, Margaret again thwarted her. Margaret claimed that she preferred to sit with her grandmother and Miss Hanson. “I have been drawing the bustle too much this week,” she told Lady Alverley with a bright smile.
“I have noticed that you appear more tired than usual, my dear,” said Lady Alverley. “I trust that you are resting well at night, Margaret. Perhaps you should lie down more often in the afternoons.”
Margaret glanced away, only to meet Sarah’s steady gaze. She flushed hotly. “That isn’t necessary, Grandmama. I am certain that I shall soon feel more the thing.”
“We don’t need to attend every function, ma’am,” said Sarah. “Surely we are well enough established to be a little more discriminate in choosing which affairs that we should grace with our presence?”
“You may be right, Sarah. I have ofte
n said that you girls must learn to pace yourselves,” said Lady Alverley. “Perhaps I shall scale back the number of invitations that we accept.”
“But I don’t wish to stay home!” exclaimed Margaret hotly. “I want to go to every party and entertainment that I can!”
“Margaret, pray be sensible. It would be best, at least for a time,” said Sarah gently.
Margaret rounded on Sarah with an angry expression. “How dare you, Sarah! You have no notion what is or isn’t best for me!” She leaped up and fled to the carriage.
“Annette Lozanger had told me that Margaret was looking pulled. I should have paid closer attention, for I begin to think that Margaret is actually burnt to the socket. I cannot recall ever seeing her indulge in a tantrum,” said Lady Alverley, frowning as she gazed after her granddaughter.
Miss Hanson shook her head, pursing her lips. “No, indeed, my lady. Margaret is always so cheerful and energetic. One wonders whether she is sickening from something.”
“I trust not. I have not made allowances for illness of any kind. Margaret must simply get over whatever ails her as quickly as possible,” said Lady Alverley with finality.
“Just so, my lady,” said Miss Hanson, nodding in agreement.
Sarah had listened with only half an ear. She was still shocked by Margaret’s attack. She was also bewildered and frustrated. She could not understand her sister’s about-face. It was almost as though Margaret now looked upon her as a stranger, or worse, an enemy.
“I have made my decision,” announced Lady Alverley, rising to her feet. “Margaret must remain at home this evening. I wish her to rest. Marie, I would like you to remain behind, as well, so that I can be certain Margaret does just as I will tell her.”
“Yes, my lady. I will do as you request,” said Miss Hanson.
“What of me?” asked Sarah. “Should I not remain behind also? I can help Miss Hanson persuade Margaret—”
Lady Alverley snorted. “My dear Sarah! From what I saw a bare moment ago, you could not persuade Margaret to anything to her good. She obviously resents you, though I haven’t a notion why.”
“Nor I, ma’am,” said Sarah in a low voice.
Lady Alverley looked sharply at her. “Have you and Margaret had a falling out, Sarah? Perhaps over one of your admirers?”
“Of course not!” exclaimed Sarah. “We haven’t exchanged a cross word between us of any sort!”
“I choose to believe that you have told me the truth, Sarah,” said Lady Alverley.
“So I should hope, ma’am,” retorted Sarah, regarding her grandmother with a shade of anger.
Lady Alverley nodded. “Let us be off, then. Lady Frobisher’s ball will no doubt be a lovely affair.”
Sarah’s heart was not in going out that evening. Especially to Lady Frobisher’s, where she would be certain of encountering Lord Eustace and have to endure his lordship’s cold snub.
* * *
Chapter 17
The Frobishers’ ball was a gala affair. A full orchestra had been hired and there was constant dancing. One entire wall of the ballroom was mirrored, so that the ladies’ dazzling gowns and the formal dark evening clothes of the gentlemen were reflected under a blaze of chandeliers. Off the ballroom were two small salons devoted to card playing for those who preferred games of chance to the exertion of dancing. At the opposite end of the long ballroom, a drawing room had been made over for refreshments.
Sarah danced nearly every set. Lord Dissinger was one of her first partners and he confided during the course of the reel that he had made an offer for Miss Darton. “I wanted you to be one of the first to know, Miss Sommers, for you are a good friend,” said his lordship with an eager expression.
“Indeed, my lord, I am exceedingly happy for you and Miss Darton!” said Sarah, surprised but genuinely pleased.
“I knew that you would be glad for us,” said Lord Dissinger, nodding. “It was you who brought us together in the gardens that evening. Before then, I had not really gotten to know Miss Darton, but we talked together for several minutes and discovered that we have many things in common. Why, Babs is just as mad as I am for hunting!”
As the reel separated Lord Dissinger from her, it occurred to Sarah that she had been instrumental in steering away one of her most respectable admirers. She started chuckling because she knew that if Lady Alverley ever learned of it, her ladyship would want to give her a blistering scold.
Lord Dissinger’s confidences enlivened Sarah’s spirits. She was able to set aside some of her dread over encountering Lord Eustace and take pleasure in the evening. She had already seen Lord Eustace, of course. Upon arrival, her eyes had automatically sought out his well-built familiar figure. Lord Eustace was naturally attired in evening clothes, a black coat and knee breeches, white stockings, and black pumps. She thought that he had rarely appeared handsomer.
Sarah did not go up to Lord Eustace as she might once have done, nor did she expect him to acknowledge her. Sarah was therefore surprised when he came up to her halfway through the evening. She had just sat down for an interlude between dance partners, plying her ivory, gilt-edged fan gently to stir the air against her warm face. She had not even seen his lordship’s quiet approach, so that his sudden appearance came as something of a shock. She met his gaze, her own startled.
“Miss Sommers, good evening.”
Sarah inclined her head, held mute by surprise. She had not exchanged more than a polite word or two with him since that disastrous evening when she had asked him about his former betrothed, Miss Vivian Leander.
Lord Eustace indicated the empty chair beside her. “May I?”
Sarah felt her heart begin to race. She could not imagine why he had sought her out. She gestured permission with her fan. “Certainly, my lord.”
Lord Eustace sat down. His expression was somber. “Miss Sommers, I owe you an apology. I spoke harshly to you. I am sorry for it.”
“I understood it, my lord. I offended you by prying into private matters that should not have concerned me,” said Sarah quietly. “I shouldn’t have done so. I, too, apologize.”
“Miss Sommers, you have heaped coals on my head,” said Lord Eustace with a wry grin.
When she looked a question at him, he said, “Pray recall that just an instant before you inquired about my former betrothed, I had urged you to unburden yourself of a personal anxiety. I told you that one may share things with friends. Do you remember?”
“Yes, my lord,” said Sarah in a low voice. She was no longer looking at him, but instead glanced out at the couples whirling about on the dance floor.
“You trusted me, Miss Sommers. But I did not reciprocate,” said Lord Eustace. “I therefore must reject your apology.”
Sarah looked around at him, again startled. “What?”
Lord Eustace picked up her hand and briefly squeezed it. “My dear Miss Sommers, I know that you were not asking me about Miss Leander because you had an inordinate interest in my affairs. No, you were concerned for your sister. When I finally realized what your motive was, I became ashamed that I have treated you so callously. Miss Sommers, you were not out of line to inquire what my thoughts about Miss Margaret might be. I understand and appreciate your loyalty toward her.”
Sarah said nothing. She did not know how to reply because she was suddenly feeling incredibly guilty. She was not so disinterested nor as loyal as Lord Eustace was assuming. His next question took her completely by surprise.
“Do you recall that you promised to reserve a waltz for me, Miss Sommers?”
Sarah looked up quickly. She searched his face. “Yes, I do, my lord.”
“Could I persuade you to honor me with this set?” asked Lord Eustace.
Sarah hesitated only the fraction of a second. “Of course, my lord.” She accepted his hand and rose from her chair.
Lord Eustace led her out onto the dance floor. Sarah felt a tingling go through her body. Anticipation heightened her senses. The bright candlelight, the myriad co
lors of the ladies’ gowns, all reflected in the long mirrors, now seemed twice as dazzling and twice as bright.
Lord Eustace clasped her hand warmly in his own. His arm circled her waist and they whirled away. Sarah knew at once that they moved together remarkably well on the floor. It was as though they were made to be with one another.
Sarah’s pulses fluttered. She felt light as air. She was acutely aware of Lord Eustace’s embrace and of the pleasant sandalwood scent that he used.
She glanced up into his face. Her head just brushed his chin. When he glanced down and met her gaze, she blushed faintly even as she smiled. “It is a lovely dance, is it not, my lord?”
“Indeed, Miss Sommers. And you perform it exceptionally well,” said Lord Eustace quietly.
Sarah glanced away, full of confusion. There was such conflict between her heart and her head. Her heart was soaring with happiness, even as her head whispered a warning.
Despite Lady Frobisher’s freely worded opinion about the danger in being attracted to her brother, Sarah did not want to thrust aside the deep attraction that she felt toward Lord Eustace. She was a fool, of course. She knew it, but she didn’t want to heed what her head was telling her.
Was Lord Eustace still in love with Miss Leander? Was he in love with Margaret? Or anyone?
Sarah didn’t want to believe any of it. If Lord Eustace was still in love with his former betrothed, Miss Leander, then there could be only unhappiness in store for any lady unlucky enough to fall in love with him.
There you are, Sarah! Draw back before it’s too late! Sarah ignored her reason, rationalizing that it was already too late.
If Lord Eustace had simply been influenced by his memories to fall in love with her sister, Margaret, then she was still caught hopelessly in the same snare. Lord Eustace was as far away from being hers as the moon. She could never betray her sister’s interests and go after Lord Eustace for herself. Fool, fool! It was better when he wasn't speaking to you! Now look where you are!
Sarah knew the insurmountable barriers. But she didn’t care. Her heart beat strongly, drowning out the cries of her head. The strains of the waltz carried her into a peculiar reality where everything was possible, even the improbability that Lord Eustace was falling in love with her.
