by Holt, Cheryl
She swallowed down a wave of rage that was so intense, she worried she might choke to death on it.
“Sit down,”she told Sarah, and she motioned to the chair across.
Sarah trudged over and plopped down, and she appeared as awful as Hedley. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she hadn’t dressed her hair. It hung down her back and was tied with a single ribbon.
“What do you want?”Sarah asked again. “And please be brief. I’m not feeling very well and—for obvious reasons—I’m not too keen on speaking with you right now.”
“I don’t need quite so much attitude from you.”
Sarah snorted. “I don’t need quite so much from you either.”
“There are matters we must discuss, and it will be easier if we can remain courteous and cordial.”
Sarah sneered at Hedley, “You don’t look so good. Rough night?”
“A very rough night,”he grumbled.
“How was the card game?”
Hedley diligently ignored her, so Mildred had to respond for him.
“It went as badly as could be expected.”
“So everything is still lost?”
“Yes. Everything is lost.”
“Is Mr. Sinclair tossing us out immediately? Should I return to my room and pack my bags?” Her hot, furious gaze landed on Hedley. “Or have you gambled away my clothes, too?”
“We don’t have to leave immediately,”Mildred advised.
“When, then?”
“He’s given us a month—with certain conditions attached.”
“What conditions?”
“Hedley will explain.”
Hedley blanched. “Mother! I can’t tell her. Don’t make me!”
“It’s your fiasco, Hedley. It’s your duty to inform her.”
“Inform me of what?”Sarah snapped.
Mildred braced, terrified over how Sarah would react to the news. Sarah had to be handled carefully, had to be led in the right direction.
Mr. Sinclair wouldn’t allow Sarah to balk, and if she tried, he’d force her to comply and he’d evict Mildred. Since Sarah would have to relent, why should Mildred suffer?
There was no option for Sarah except to say yes, and it was pointless to wait for Hedley to clarify the details. He’d only make Sarah angrier than she already was, would only make her agreement harder to obtain.
Mildred said, “There has been a bump in the road in our negotiations with Mr. Sinclair.”
“What sort of bump?”
“We requested thirty days to vacate, and in order for him to permit it, he demanded a surety to guarantee our departure.”
“What surety? You just admitted there was nothing left.”
Hedley spat, “There was one thing left.”
“Be silent, Hedley,”Mildred said, as Sarah asked, “What was it?”
“Mr. Sinclair is…smitten by you.”
Sarah guffawed. “Smitten? By me? You’re joking.”
“No, he’s very intrigued.”
Sarah studied Mildred, then Hedley, then Mildred again. Her distrust was palpable. “So he’s intrigued by me,”she warily mused. “What are you saying?”
“He’d like to spend some time with you.”
“He wants to spend time with me?”
“Yes.”
“How much time?”
Mildred tamped down her nerves. “The next month.”
Sarah frowned, grappling to decipher what was really happening.
“I’m confused,”she finally said.
“That’s understandable.” Mildred was all smiles, all commiseration.
“What exactly is he asking me to do?”
“Well, he thinks you’re very pretty, and you’ve never been married. In cases like this, a man will occasionally suggest a…ah…that is…”
Mildred simply couldn’t blurt it out.
She’d never liked Sarah, but she’d never wished her to come to any actual harm. If Sarah succumbed to Mr. Sinclair’s advances, there would be no hope for her later on. She’d never be able to wed, and with how their luck was running, she’d likely wind up with a babe in her belly. But her situation wouldn’t matter to him. When he was through with her, he’d ride off into the sunset.
For a fleeting moment, Mildred flushed with shame. Bernard had bequeathed a fine dowry to Sarah, but Hedley had squandered it. Mildred had been too shocked to confess the theft to Sarah, so she’d lied and claimed there had been no dowry.
If Mildred had stood up to Hedley, if she’d declined to turn over the bank accounts, she could have used the money as it was intended by Bernard. Sarah would be wed, with a husband and home of her own. Hedley’s shenanigans would have had no effect, because Mildred could have prevailed on Sarah to take her in, and Sarah would have. She was kind that way, kind as Mildred had never known how to be.
It was one more sin to lay at Hedley’s feet. One more disaster that he’d orchestrated. Would the catastrophes ever end?
“Spit it out, Mildred,”Sarah barked.
“I can’t say it.” Looking bleak, Mildred glared at Hedley. “You have to tell her.”
Mildred glowered until Hedley realized she wouldn’t yield. He stumbled over and sat next to Sarah. He clasped her hand.
“My dearest sister,”he started, and Sarah yanked away.
“What have you done now?”she hissed.
“Mr. Sinclair has agreed to…to…have you as his mistress.”
“No!”
“Yes.” Hedley nodded as if he could coax her into it.
“No!” She leapt up and lurched to the other side of the room.
“It’s for thirty days, Sarah,”Hedley cajoled. “He’s a handsome fellow. It won’t be so bad.”
“I won’t do it,”she fumed. “I don’t care what you wagered. I don’t care what you arranged with him. I won’t do it!”
A hard gleam infused Hedley’s gaze. “If you refuse, we have to depart immediately. Can you go upstairs and pack your bag, Sarah? Can you make Mother? Can you make Caroline?”
Sarah was so angry, she was shaking. She pointed a condemning finger at Hedley. “How dare you put me in this predicament! If Father was alive, what would he think of you?”
The mention of Bernard was too much for Hedley. Hedley had yearned to impress Bernard, but never had. Bernard had always complained that Hedley was lazy and spoiled, that he didn’t try or apply himself.
They’d often quarreled over what Bernard had viewed as Hedley’s hollow traits, and Hedley couldn’t bear to have Bernard cited, because they were all aware of what Bernard’s opinion would have been.
He stomped to his own corner, and brother and sister scowled like pugilists in opposite sides of the ring.
“Before this goes any farther,”Sarah ultimately said, “there’s something you should know.”
“What?”
“I talked to Mr. Sinclair. I begged him to give the estate back to us.”
“Yes, and we can see how well you succeeded,”Hedley jeered.
“He told me a secret about his past.”
“What is it?”Mildred asked.
“He claims he is Florence’s son.”
Mildred gasped. “He what?”
“He has an old vendetta against you, and he traveled here deliberately to destroy you. He used Hedley to accomplish it.”
Mildred’s mind raced. Hadn’t she once speculated over Sinclair’s surname? Hadn’t she wondered if he was related to the despicable rogue, Charles Sinclair?
She struggled to recall Mr. Sinclair’s face, tried to decide if he resembled Florence. But it had been three decades since Florence had fled England. It was so difficult to remember her features.
“He had to be jesting,”Mildred insisted. “He can’t be kin to us.”
“He wasn’t jesting,”Sarah replied. “He was very, very serious. What did you do to him, Mildred? Why is he so angry with you?”
“I did nothing to him!”she insisted, but she had to glance away.
As a boy, he’d written to her, and she vividly recollected the letter. Florence had been gravely ill, and he’d been terrified and alone. He’d pleaded for money, for help. Mildred should have ignored his appeal—Bernard had sternly advised her to—but she’d been so bitter over Florence and the disasters she’d wrought by running off with Charles Sinclair.
Her rash act had wrecked numerous lives. Mildred’s parents had died of shame. Florence’s husband had died of shame too, but he’d drowned himself with alcohol. Her two young boys had had to be raised without a mother, had had to endure a lifetime of censure, while watching their father waste away. Mildred had had to marry Bernard, had tumbled down society’s ladder until she’d arrived at the bottom.
The very least her sister had deserved was a severe scolding for all the damage she’d caused. Mildred had viciously responded to the boy’s letter, apprising him of what she thought of his mother, that he should wallow in the filthy trough Florence had dug for both of them.
Could Mr. Sinclair really be Florence’s son? Could it be possible? Could a caustic letter still have him raging decades later?
She nearly wailed with dismay.
It wasn’t Mildred’s fault that Florence had been seduced by Charles Sinclair. It was Florence’s fault—and Charles Sinclair’s fault. John Sinclair was the very worst sort of illegitimate bastard. If he wanted to blame someone for his troubles, the true culprits were his own selfish, debauched parents.
“You did nothing to Florence’s son?”Sarah scoffed. “Why don’t I believe you? Mr. Sinclair is positively bent on vengeance. How much will we allow him to take from us? And why must I accommodate him? I didn’t even know Florence. Why is this calamity landing on me?”
“He’s not Florence’s boy,”Mildred staunchly declared. “The last I heard, and from very reliable sources, the child died of consumption in Paris a year after Florence passed away.”
“He is her son,”Sarah shouted, “and look at the havoc he’s wreaking! Tell me how to stop it! Tell me how to stop him!”
Mildred couldn’t have the discussion descend to bickering and bellowing. They all had to remain calm. “I’m sorry you’re upset, but we’re all in a state. I need you to compose yourself and give me your answer.”
“My answer to what?”
“We must make arrangements as to where we’ll be living in another month. I’ve written to Caroline’s husband to come fetch her.”
“You what?”Sarah seethed.
“I wrote to Archibald. Where can she go but back to her husband? I haven’t the funds to support her. Shall I throw her out on the road?”
“How could you, Mildred? What is wrong with you?”
“I’m trying my best, Sarah, in very difficult circumstances.”
“No, you’re not. You’re being your usual cruel self. You’ll never change.”
“You’re distraught, so I’ll ignore your insults.”
“Ignore them if you wish, but I won’t cease voicing them. I’ve put up with you my entire life, and I’m certainly beginning to question why I have. What have you ever done for me that was any benefit at all?”
Mildred was determined that Sarah see reason.
“Mr. Sinclair let us speak to you on his behalf,”she coolly said. “He was anxious for us to explain the situation.”
“I will not be his mistress. How dare you ask it of me!”
“Sarah, what is our other option? Shall we leave at once? Think, girl! Think.”
“Honestly, Sarah,”Hedley interjected, “where would we go? Will you trudge down the lane, with a pillowcase full of clothes balanced on your shoulder?”
“I won’t do it,”she hotly repeated. “I will not!”
She was so adamant in her response, so aggrieved and offended. What did the foolish ninny expect to occur? Did she suppose Mr. Sinclair would simply nod and permit her to renege?
“You can’t refuse, Sarah,”Mildred tried again. “Mr. Sinclair won’t let you.”
“Mr. Sinclair can jump off a cliff.”
“I gave him my word,”Hedley whined.
“I don’t care.”
“You don’t seem to realize the jam you’re in,”Hedley said.
“The jam I am in? I’m in no jam. You caused this, and I suggest you find Mr. Sinclair and have him take his thirty days out of your hide.”
“Sarah,”Mildred chided, “it’s pointless for the three of us to quarrel.”
“Why shouldn’t we? I may start to say things I’ve always been dying to say.”
“How can I make you understand the facts?”
“You have made me understand, Mildred. I understand every blasted detail. Hedley ruined our lives, you were complicit, and you have the gall to demand that I suffer the consequences for his behavior. My answer is still no, no, NO!”
She stormed out, and Mildred and Hedley were frozen in place, listening as her angry strides vanished down the hallway.
“That went well,”Hedley sarcastically said.
“Shut up, Hedley. Just shut up.”
“What should we do now?”
“I have no idea.”
She walked to the window and stared out at the ocean, showing him her back until he had the good grace to slink away.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Sarah stood on the rocky promontory of Bramble Headland and gazed off to the horizon.
Throughout her life, she’d climbed to the spectacular spot to stare at the ocean. She was up above the mortal world, where it was just wind and waves and sky, and she felt she could see to the end of the earth.
From her high perch, the manor looked tiny and perfect, like a doll’s house where only good things happened and nothing bad could ever occur.
How could such a tranquil place breed so much sadness and strife?
Off to her left, the trail wound through the grass and over the cliff, a scenic shortcut that led to Sheldon’s.
She’d just returned from there, having rushed to speak with him after her quarrel with Mildred and Hedley. Sheldon knew her family better than anyone, was older and wiser and had dealt with numerous tragedies of his own.
Yet to her extreme dismay, he’d been called away to London and would be gone for weeks so she’d received no advice or assistance. She could have asked the housekeeper to let her stay, to hide her. But she’d been too embarrassed to confess the scandal that was raging on the Teasdale side of the hill.
She’d staggered away, feeling like a shipwreck survivor. She had to find Caroline, had to warn her that Archie was coming, that they likely had a few days to prepare before he rolled up the drive.
Once she located Caroline and told her of Mildred’s perfidy, how was Sarah to proceed? John Sinclair and his friends were still lodged in her home, and she had no power to dislodge them. Mildred and Hedley were still there too, and Sarah wished she had the right to march down and demand they all leave.
She was the only one who had ever loved Bramble Bay. The estate didn’t matter to any of them. It had simply been a token to be bartered over. Why should Sinclair or Mildred or Hedley be allowed to continue living on the property? When they’d caused such trouble, why should they get to remain?
A wave of fury—directed at her father—washed over her. He’d understood what Hedley was like, so why had he put her in such jeopardy?
She hoped he was peering down from Heaven and could see how his poor decisions had endangered her. She hoped he was ashamed and aghast.
She glanced at the manor again and was distressed to note that John Sinclair was on his stallion and trotting toward her. For once, he didn’t appear as the rich, pompous overlord he pretended to be. He was dressed as he’d been the first time she’d met him: a flowing white shirt, tan breeches, and black boots. The wind riffled his hair, his shirt flapping against his skin.
He was fixated on her, his determination plainly visible, so he must have spoken to Mildred and Hedley. They’d have painted her in a horrid light, would have apprised him that Sarah h
ad been completely unreasonable.
She watched him approach, and he was practically daring her to run so he could chase her down and demonstrate his superiority over her. But where was there a safe refuge? There was no way to escape, nowhere to hide.
He kept coming until he was beside her, and he reined in and extended his hand.
“Climb up.”
“No.”
“I’ll give you a ride to the house so you don’t have to walk.”
“No.”
“I don’t permit people to refuse my commands.” His magnificent eyes were flashing daggers.
“So? I just did.”
“I’m not in the habit of asking twice.”
“Then you’ll really hate dealing with me, because I’m not too keen on obeying orders.”
He leapt to the ground and stepped to her, and she was immediately and vividly reminded of his size and power. He was very intimidating, and he used his stature and height to overwhelm and confuse.
“I’ve talked to your brother and stepmother.”
“Bully for you.”
“They seem to have left you with the impression that you can decline to honor Hedley’s bet.”
“No, they didn’t. They insisted I comply, but I won’t. Mildred’s days of bossing me are over.”
He studied her, then snorted with derision. “You blame me for this.”
“Yes, I absolutely blame you.”
“I don’t suppose it occurred to you that your brother might be at fault.”
“That absolutely occurred to me, too. I blame both of you. I loathe both of you.”
He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. “I did it for you.”
“Don’t make me laugh. You did it for yourself.”
“Why would I have?”
“Because you could, because you’re bigger and stronger and male. Because you enjoy humiliating others, because you enjoy having the chance to humiliate me.”
As if she’d burned him, he released her and stomped off to the edge of the cliff to stare out at the ocean. Far off in the distance, the sails of a passing ship were discernible.
They stood, frozen in place, until it faded from sight. Then he whipped around.
“If I hadn’t agreed to his proposal,”he said, “what do you think might have happened to you?”
