Stand and Deliver Your Love

by Sheffield, Killarney

  Once the tea was brewed she poured herself a cup and curled up in the tattered armchair closest to the fire. While sipping the steaming liquid she heard footsteps on the stairs. Ann appeared moments later, her long gray hair braided into a thick rope hanging over her shoulder.

  “Home at last are you?” The older woman took a cup from the cupboard and poured some tea for herself.

  “You were not waiting up for me, I hope.”

  “You know I can't sleep when you're out at night.” Ann gave her a motherly smile. “Besides, it is almost time to begin making the breakfast for the little ones.”

  Sarah sighed. “Is it that late?”

  “It is, or early if you look at it that way.” Ann gave her hand a gentle pat and settled herself in the chair next to Sarah’s.

  The pitter-patter of feet on the stairs announced the presence of little Sally dragging the one-armed china doll Sarah had found in a discarded box a week before. She smiled as the tiny blonde three-year-old toddled toward her on scrawny flea-bitten legs and climbed up into her lap.“Sa la ‘ome?”

  “Yes, sweetheart, I am home. You should be sleeping,” she gently admonished the child. Sally just grinned and snuggled closer to her. Popping her thumb in her mouth, she made contented slurping sounds. Sarah smoothed the little girl’s hair and cuddled her close, rocking her. Within minutes the child was fast asleep.

  Ann smiled. “She frets something awful when you are not here.”

  Sarah rested her chin on the sleeping child’s head. “The poor thing, she will get used to it here soon enough. It has only been a couple weeks.”

  “Bertie found another poor little mite outside the tavern today.”

  Sarah sighed. “We already have more children than space permits.”

  “Aye, and mouths to feed.” The housekeeper stood, carefully taking the sleeping child from Sarah’s arms. She placed her on a small worn sofa in the corner, covered her with a quilt and sat back down.

  “I saw the marquis tonight,” Sarah said absently, staring into the flickering flames of the fire. “It was he who stole my heirlooms from under the manger.”

  “Did he give you back your keepsakes?”

  Sarah shook her head. “He has been invited to the king’s hunting party. I told him to bring the things with him when he goes there.”

  “You’re going then?”

  “I must Ann. There will be many rich travelers going to the party. They expect to be held up on the other side of town. They will not expect the robbers to strike them on their way to and from the hunt.”

  “You play a dangerous game, Sarah.”

  Sarah nodded with grim resolve. “I know. Like you said though, there are more and more mouths to feed.”

  “Now you no longer have his lordship’s papers, how do you know he will keep quiet about you?”

  Sarah looked over at Ann. “He will keep my secret.”

  Ann looked doubtful. “I don’t trust him.”

  Sarah lowered her gaze back to the fire. “He kissed me,” she said quietly.

  “He what?”

  Sarah glanced at her. The woman wore a look of shock and disapproval. “He kissed me in the kitchen garden at the ball.” Sarah looked down at her tea cup and swirled the amber-colored liquid around in it. “I liked it. I think I am in love with him.”

  Ann was silent for a moment. The mantel clock ticked away the minutes before she finally spoke. “Lord, help you child. You know you have no dowry, so marriage is out of the question, even if he was inclined to offer for you.”

  “I know,” Sarah answered softly. A tear trickled down her cheek. She turned to Ann in anguish. “What am I going to do? I cannot eat or sleep. He is in my thoughts, always.”

  “You should have left him lying in the road where you found him,” the housekeeper grumbled. She looked remorseful for a moment. “You get your jewels back, and then he will go back to his home in the country and eventually you will forget about him.” With that, the woman stood, patted Sarah’s hand and headed for the kitchen to make the morning biscuits. Sarah looked at the little girl sleeping on the sofa. Ann was right. She should just get her heirlooms and never look back. There was no room in her life for him and certainly no room in his for all of the children she had vowed to love and protect. A frantic pounding at the front door roused her from her thoughts and she hurried to open it.

  A young boy whom she knew well stood outside shivering in the chill of the morning air. “Mistress! Come quick! One of Madame Rylee’s girls is hurt. She’s bleeding bad.”

  Sarah pulled the boy into the warmth of the house. “Ann,” she called over her shoulder. “Can you get Ralph some tea and something to eat? I have to go help one of the girls at the Madame’s.” She snatched up her bag from the floor by the door where she always kept it handy, threw on her cloak and headed out the door. The sun was just starting to tinge the horizon pink as she jogged down the deserted streets to the brothel.

  She skidded around the corner and hurried to the backdoor of a large two-story brick building and banged the knocker. As she waited she shifted her weight back and forth in effort to keep warm in the chilly morning breeze. After a few moments the peephole scraped open. A pair of black eyes peered out at her. The eyes vanished as fast as they appeared then the door squeaked open. The so called ‘butler’ motioned for her to enter and closed the door behind her.

  Turning, he started up the dim staircase without waiting to see if she followed. Sarah pushed the hood of her cloak off her head and hurried after the huge man. At the top of the steps they turned left then stopped at an open door at the end of the hall. Without waiting Sarah pushed past the butler and entered the room. The smell of blood in the stuffy little room was almost over powering. Sarah pushed past the girls gathered just inside and made her way to the bedside. One of the Madame’s girl’s lay huddled under the bright yellow silk sheets, moaning and writhing in pain. She was hardly recognizable.

  “I need some hot water, towels and ice, if you can find any,” Sarah said over her shoulder to one of the pale-faced onlookers.

  The frightened girl hurried from the room to collect the materials without a backward glance.

  “Will she be all right?”

  Sarah looked at the girl she vaguely remembered from her first visit with Franny, and gave her an encouraging smile. “I hope so. Come and hold her hand. What is her name?”

  “She’s a new girl,” Franny explained. “Her name is Rose.”

  The other girl returned to the room with her arms full of the requested supplies. Sarah gave her a smile of thanks, knelt beside the bed and began to wash her patient. When Rose was cleaned, dried, and examined, she packed the ice around her badly broken arm to stop the swelling. After brushing a lock of wayward hair from her eyes Sarah wiped her hands and dropped the soiled towel to the floor. Getting to her feet she stretched and rummaged in her medical bag for a pouch of sleeping draught to stir into a glass of water she noticed by the bed. When she had managed to get Rose to drink the whole glass she pulled up a stool and sat down beside her to wait.

  Franny touched her hand. “Can I get you a cup of tea?” Sarah gave her a tired smile. “Yes, thank you.”

  Franny left the room taking the other girls with her and shutting the door.

  Sarah recalled the day she had met Franny. She had been summoned to the house of ill repute by Ralph, when a nasty customer had beaten the pretty girl half to death. She had sat by the girl’s bedside for two days until she finally regained consciousness. They had shared many a secret, however no matter how hard Sarah tried, she couldn't convince the girl to leave the Madame’s. It was sad really. Every time Sarah wallowed in her own self-pity she tried to remember how much worse Franny’s life was than her own. At least she didn't have to service men and let them use and abuse her body.

  Sarah's face heated as remembered how she let the marquis use her body. What if she were with child? Should she ask Franny if it were possible? No, she would be too embarrassed
to admit to the girl how little she knew about what went on between a man and a woman. Surely Franny, with all her worldly experience would find her lack of knowledge pathetic and laughable. A single tear trickled down her cheek. Whose life is sadder now?

  Franny returned with the cup of tea. The abbess followed. Sarah tried not to let her disdain show for the older woman whose looks had long since faded.

  The hard-faced woman nodded to her and came to stand by the bedside. “Will she be all right?” she asked in an emotionless voice.

  “I do not know.” Sarah watched the sleeping girl. “If the swelling stops soon I can try to set the arm. I am not a physician. I do not think it will ever function properly again, and she will not be able to work for a couple of months.”

  The abbess frowned but did not comment; instead she dropped a coin into Sarah’s lap. “This should compensate you for your trouble.”

  Sarah touched the woman’s sleeve. “Madame, perhaps you should call a physician.”

  The madame looked down her nose at her and glared. “I cannot afford one, besides what one would want to come here?” She turned and strolled to the door as if unaffected by the tragedy of human life around her. “I thank you for your concern, but it is really not your place to tell me what I should do with my girls.”

  Sarah bit back an angry reply as the woman left. So much for appealing to the woman’s compassionate side. She obviously lacked a heart, either that or it hardened into rock long ago.

  Giving Franny a sympathetic look she took the offered cup of fragrant tea and sipped it absently. Life seemed much too complicated, she mused as she watched Rose’s chest rise and fall with shallow even breathing. Setting down the cup on the bedside table she rubbed a hand across her eyes. Sleep was something she desperately needed if she was going to pose as a serving girl during the day and the highwayman each night during the king’s hunting party.

  As if reading her thoughts, Franny gave her a small smile. “I have the night off. If you would like, I can sit with Rose.”

  Sarah gave the girl another grateful smile. “That would be kind of you. I really am very tired.” She stood and stretched. Taking a quick look at the ice packing, she was relieved to see the swelling had already slowed dramatically. She began to repack her supply bag. “Send Ralph for me if there is any change. I will be back later to try to set her arm.”

  Franny took the seat Sarah vacated. “Thank you.”

  Sarah nodded. “You are using the herbs I gave you to lessen your chances of getting with child I hope. I have heard they work….” She paused, wanting to confide in Franny but not sure how to initiate the conversation, and frowned when she realized she had not taken her own good advice that night at the cottage.

  When the girl nodded solemnly, Sarah left. It was all she could do to keep her eyes open as she shuffled down the awakening streets to home. The orphanage was alive and bustling with activity by the time she arrived. Smiling, she closed the door behind her and was immediately enclosed in a pair of sticky little hands covered in a thin layer of berry preserves.

  She dropped her bag to the floor and scooped little Sally up into her arms as she headed for the kitchen. “Hello, darling. I see you had your breakfast. Did you leave any for me?”

  The girl giggled, nodding her head with vigor so her golden curls bounced.

  Ann looked up as Sarah entered the noisy kitchen. “Oh, there you are.”

  The long dining table was cluttered with empty porridge bowls, milk glasses and jam pots. Half a dozen children who were still finishing their meal greeted Sarah enthusiastically. Ann reached for Sally and carefully wiped the little girl’s hands with a damp cloth.

  “Come on now children. Finish up your meal. Bertie and me will take you all to the park today so Mistress Sarah can get a bit of sleep.”

  Sarah smiled as their eyes lit up at the prospect. “That will be lovely children. You will finally get the chance to fly those pretty kites you made!” When the children raced off to get their hats and cloaks, Sarah sat down at the table. “Thank you, Ann.”

  The housekeeper smiled and set a pot of hot tea, a small plate of fresh biscuits and a dish of Sarah’s favorite preserves on the table in front of her. “You look like you could use something to eat and some sleep.”

  By the time everyone left and the house was quiet, Sarah had finished her breakfast and tidied up the kitchen. After a quick cup of tea, she headed for bed, to get what sleep she could before she would have to go back to the Madame’s and check on her patient.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Byron spurred Bacchus forward to keep up with the rest of the hunting party as they followed the boar across the soft grass. The field of peacefully grazing sheep scattered, bleating pathetically as the men and horses thundered through their midst. The baying of the hounds became earnest as the boar ducked into a small thicket. Within moments the dogs flushed the frightened animal from its hiding place. The king fired upon it. The beast twitched but kept coming. It took two more shots before with one last squeal the animal dropped, blood oozing from the wound in its side.

  Voices rose in congratulations to the king. Byron smiled and added his praise to those of the other lords present, not wanting to appear unappreciative, even though he really didn't enjoy hunting boar. When the footmen had the boar gutted and strung across the carrying rack, everyone headed back to the hunting lodge at a more leisurely pace. Byron gave Bacchus a pat as he paid attention for any hitch in the animal’s stride which would betray any lingering aftereffects of his injury from the carriage accident. The horse seemed fine, he noted with relief.

  The king reined in his prancing mount alongside Byron’s. “What a splendid animal.”

  “Yes, the boar will make a very fine meal,” Byron agreed, shielding his eyes from the blazing sun.

  “That it will, but I was referring to your horse,” the king replied with an easy grin. “Where did you get such an impressive mount?”

  Byron smoothed a lock of his horse’s mane fondly before he answered. “I bred him myself, Your Excellence.”

  “Is that so? I have to purchase more mounts for the army this year and would like to see the rest of your stock.”

  “I have twenty two-year-olds and another twenty started three-year-olds I could be persuaded to part with.”

  “Are they all as nice as this one?”

  “There is none that equal Bacchus, Your Majesty,” Byron admitted. He smiled respectfully, “but they are all fine horses by the same sire.”

  The king held his eye with a level gaze. “Then sell me this one.”

  “At risk of offending you, Your Eminence, I have to decline. This one is not for sale at any price,” Byron said, carefully.

  The king favored him with a deferential look. “Ah. You are a smart and honest man, Lord Cobbett. Only a fool sells that which he cannot replace if he values it. I see I chose well when I put you in charge of finding that troublesome band of thieves who have been robbing my people.”

  Byron swallowed uncomfortably. “About that Your Excellence, I am not sure your faith in me is fully justified.”

  “Nonsense.” The king kicked his horse forward through the gates to the palace. “I have complete faith in you.”

  Byron groaned and followed. Sarah had yet to make an appearance at the hunt. He needed to find her and convince her to give up her midnight masquerade as the highwayman. If the problem of the highwayman disappeared then he could go back to his country estate. The king would be happy and none the wiser.

  A groom hurried forward to take his horse as he reined in at the grand steps of the king’s country residence. He dismounted and tossed the man a shilling. “Rub him down well and keep an eye on the left front leg.”

  “Yes, your lordship.” The man nodded, pocketing the coin and led Bacchus off toward the stables. Byron strode up the steps wondering if and when Sarah would make her appearance. Once inside he headed for his room to bathe off some of the hunt dust and change into dinner attire.


  Lady Livington stepped out from the shadows of the hall as he topped the stairs leading to the guest rooms in the west wing. “There you are, my lord. I have been so bored here all day long without your company,” she crooned, leaning into him in a suggestive manner, pursing her lips in an exaggerated pout.

  Byron sighed and held her at arm’s length. “I am just on my way to bathe off the dirt, Lady Livington.”

  She gave him a seductive smile and lowered her voice, “I could help you.”

  Byron cleared his throat. Does the woman have no morals at all? “No, thank you,” he said as firm as he could without being rude, “I have a valet for these things.”

  “Darling, it would be much more rewarding if I were to attend to your many … needs.” She looked down at the barely concealed lump in the front of his riding breeches with open lust.

  My God, if I do not get out of here quickly, the woman might accost me right here on the stairs! His rattled mind strained to come up with an excuse. He finally found his voice when she stood on her toes and ran her tongue along his ear. He stepped back, pushing her from him. “As much as I appreciate your offer, Lady Livington, my valet probably has my bath ready and is waiting to assist me. I would not like us to be the center of any gossip surrounding daytime trysts this weekend.”

  Lady Livington giggled. “You are so shy it is sweet. I shall wait until later tonight to be discreet.” With that she flounced off with a seductive wiggle down the stairs leaving him to continue on to his room alone.

  Byron entered his room, glad to note his valet did indeed have his bath and a clean change of clothes ready and waiting. He poured himself a brandy, stripped off his dusty riding gear and slid into the hot bath water. A whole weekend trying to fend off Lady Livington was going to be a challenge. It was only the first day and already his patience was wearing thin.