by Ted Bader
“You have done so. Have you not?”
Madame Duval stood by, silently watching this exchange. She smiled a bit as she saw Sarah was not allowing herself to be bullied by the man.
“Indeed. I have met your children and learned more of your character since we came here.”
“Fine. Then let us plan the wedding.” The count turned to Madame Duval. “I have looked at my schedule and believe the 14th would be an acceptable day for the wedding.”
Sarah stood aghast. “Just a fortnight away!”
“Yes. As you can see. The children need a mother and I need someone to manage the household and act as hostess.”
“I have heard nothing about the other duties of a wife,” Sarah said.
“That is all that can be expected. I have all the children I care to. The room you slept in last night would become yours. I do not want a lover, just a wife.”
“What of the scriptural injunctions for a man to love his wife as his own body?”
“Do not bring scripture into this matter. As my wife, you may teach the children whatever nonsense you wish regarding religion. I will hear none of it.”
Sarah pressed her lips together, afraid even to begin to respond to such a statement. Does he not care anything for his children? Surely he has some sort of religious beliefs he would like to see instilled in his offspring.
“May I ask what your beliefs are?”
“I do not believe in organized religion of any sort,” he snapped. “Now, let us discuss more pleasant matters.”
Not to be so easily diverted from a topic that was so important to her, Sarah asked, “Do you believe in God?”
“Children and weak-minded people need to believe in an all-knowing deity, I do not. I have no objections, however, to a church wedding ceremony since that is what people expect.” Returning to his courtly manner, he smiled and said, “But, let us talk now of our wedding. The dressmaker will call later today to take your measurements and let you select the style of your dress. Please do not consider the cost. It is important that my bride wear the finest materials available so people know. . . .”
Sarah turned to Madame Duval, “Would you leave us alone for a moment please.” As her chaperone left the room, Sarah turned back to the now broadly smiling count. Does he not have an inkling of my feelings? she thought. Taking a deep breath, she began, “I am honored that a man of your stature would seek me to be his wife.”
The count nodded, pleased that she recognized he was stooping beneath his level to offer marriage to her.
Looking directly into his eyes, she said, “I have had opportunity to closely observe Sir Thomas and Lady Staley’s marriage. By being part of their household, I have come to the realization that when I wed I want the kind of relationship they have.”
“Of course, your experience in a diplomatic household is one of the reasons I selected you,” he said, taking her hand.
She pulled her hand back. “You mistake my meaning, Sir. I have learned much more from the Staleys than proper etiquette. They have taught me, by example, that when I wed I want a relationship like theirs. . . based on shared beliefs and a deep love. I am sorry; but, I cannot marry you. Madame Duval and I will be leaving as soon as we can complete our packing. Thank you for your hospitality.”
The count was stunned. He did not even ask for further explanation.
In the coach, on their way back home, Madame Duval said, “As much as I enjoy making a match, I am glad you refused him.”
Sarah glanced at the matron, “I thought you believed we would be a perfect match.”
“I knew a lot of facts about the count before our visit and those details made me think he would be good for you;” she shuddered a bit, “but, being in his home, seeing his temperament, I knew you were not destined to be together.”
“Then you are not terribly disappointed?”
“No, indeed. I shall find some young woman who wants no love or emotion expressed, cares little about her religion, but desires security and social position.”
Sarah relaxed and laughed then. “You were right, though. I think parts of our little visit will one day be found in one of my novels.”
The remaining years in France were very quiet for Sarah, affording her time to write a novel incorporating many of the events which took place at the embassy residence. Her story included a duel over a lady’s honor. . . an event her critics said “so seldom occurred as to not be a legitimate activity for a novel. However, the details were so well-written, that one could almost envision such an absurd scene taking place between two hot-headed young men.” One of her stories included a gruff English baron in a haunted castle. At first Sarah was afraid the count might recognize himself; but, then, with a laugh she recalled his disdain for women writers and realized the count would never read such a story.
Many events were hosted at the English Embassy. Sir Thomas was valued for his wit and honesty and Lady Georgiana was often requested to play her harp at state dinners. The peaceful atmosphere which suffused the embassy following Georgiana’s performance provided the perfect setting for the diplomacy which followed.
One evening, several months before the Staley’s departure, Madame Duval and General D’arbley were present at the English Embassy for the early evening meal. Conversation flowed around the table pleasantly. Madame Duval quietly turned to Sarah and asked, “My dear, where have you been keeping yourself? I have not seen you at the balls over the past year and you have not visited me for six months or more.”
“I have been watching Anna,” and with her color heightening with embarrassment, she added, “and writing my book.”
In a friendly tone, her inquisitor continued, “Must writing a book make you live in a nunnery?”
“Not at all,” Sarah said, relieved that Madame Duval was not condemning her for striving in the unladylike field of literature, but was merely chastising her for not participating in social activities. “I have little desire to be in society at the current time.”
“For someone like yourself, to be seen is to be courted,” the hopeful matchmaker said.
“I have no matrimonial desires that could be fulfilled by my attendance at local balls.”
“Tush, tush, my lovely young friend, You do not want to become an old maid like myself?”
“I try not to think too much about my marital state.” Looking at the elder woman she asked, “Why should celibacy be so contemptible? For now, Anna, Edgar and the characters in my stories comprise my children.” Stiffening her chin she added, “They seem sufficient for me.”
Madame Duval smiled conspiratorially and said, “I dare say, if the right man appears you will be willing.”
“Indeed, you are probably right. I wonder, though, how many men would appreciate a woman with a heart and mind. As you know, the count was abhorred the thought of an authoress. . . I fear most men have the same prejudice. I surely could not marry such a man.”
“The man was a fool! There are many that would esteem a woman for such talents, and have high approbation for her.”
“I hope there is one at least,” Sarah quietly said.
Thomas left the room soon after Madame Duval and General D’arbley left. Sarah asked Lady Staley, “Why did Sir Thomas seem so ill at ease this evening?”
Quietly Georgiana explained, “The foreign office has asked Sir Thomas to misrepresent His Majesty’s intentions regarding a plan of great import in the Mediterranean.”
Sarah nodded knowingly, “And Sir Thomas is unwilling to initiate and maintain such deceit.”
“You are right. Despite his four years as ambassador, the foreign office said they will ask for his resignation if he does not follow their plan.”
“And?”
“He spent this evening purposefully avoiding the subject with General D’Arbley. He refuses to lie to his friend, even in the name of national duty. He realizes deceit is sometimes necessary in wartime, but France is not our enemy now and we are not at war. He is upstairs, draftin
g his resignation. We will soon be going home to Staley Hall.”
Chapter Seventeen
Arriving in the front parlor of his ancestral estate, Thomas exclaimed, “It is good to be home at Staley Hall. Four years away has been too long.”
Georgiana declared, “I have missed our garden and roses.” Slipping her arm through her husband’s, she added, “I have grown to love Staley Hall even more than Pemberley.”
Edgar turned to Lady Staley, “Mother, may I go up to the playroom?” He barely waited for her nod of ascent before dashing up the stairs.
Anna grabbed Sarah’s hand and exclaimed, “Let us go see if my room is still the same.”
“I do not think anyone has redecorated since we left,” Sarah said as she attempted to keep up with her young charge.
The little girl skipped to a small table, with two chairs, placed in front of a tall window. She sat in one of the chairs and her perpetual smile drooped a bit.
“What is the matter?” asked Sarah. “Are you not feeling well, Anna?”
“I feel fine,” she said. Looking content, she asked, “Do you remember the private tea parties we had?”
Sarah returned the child’s smile, “Yes.” Carefully lowering herself into one of the tiny chairs she added, “I think this table set has shrunk while we were gone.”
Anna smiled fully now. “Indeed! That is just what I thought.”
“On our return trip home, your mother suggested that we might need to purchase a few new furnishings for your room.”
“Did she? That would be grand.”
Sarah thought, “This dear child always seemed surprised that anyone, even her loving parents, would want to buy things for her.”
Lovingly, Anna stroked the small table top. “If we buy a larger table set, may we keep this one in the playroom?”
“Of course, but is there a special reason you wish to keep it close by? We could always store it in the attic.”
“The attic would be all right. I think it would be nice to have if a very young girl should visit.”
Sarah smiled at the girl’s thoughtfulness. “Indeed, that would make a young girl feel at home.” Turning to leave Sarah said, “I will be across the hall, in my room, if you need me for anything.”
After dinner that evening, Sir Thomas sat back in his oversized chair and lit his pipe as he spoke to Georgiana. “Oh, to be a gentleman farmer again. . . . We will need to repair the estate road and begin worrying about crops and weather more than affairs of state.”
“Yes. Now, no more worry about a stream of Parisian socialites.”
At that moment, Mr. Hand entered the room. “Good evening, sir.”
“Hello, Mr. Hand. We have received the news of your marriage to the good woman, Miss Reston. I am sorry Lady Staley and I were unable to get home soon enough to see the marriage of our foreman.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“From what I see, you have done an excellent job of maintaining our estate during our absence. May we visit your cottage tomorrow and bring our wedding gift then?”
“Yes, sir. . . would you be kind enough to bring Miss Sarah Bingley along, also? The Mrs. and I wish to ask her something.”
Sir Thomas replied, “We will extend your invitation.”
As Mr. Hand was leaving, a servant entered and announced, “Miss Darcy to visit.”
“Let her come in,” Georgiana replied. “What were we saying about not having a stream of visitors?”
“Ma’am and Sir,” she curtseyed as she entered. “I am delighted to have you in residence once again. I have sorely missed my forays to your house. I would like to talk, but I came to speak with Miss Sarah. Is she in?”
“She is upstairs in her sitting room.”
Quickly, Maria made her way to the small suite of rooms. Sarah was pleasantly surprised to see her guest.
Maria came in and sat down and talked of meaningless things for a few moments. Then, twisting her handkerchief in her hand, she said shyly, “I suppose you wonder at the true reason for my visit.”
“I always enjoy chatting with you about any subject.”
Looking down at her shoes, Maria softly said, “I wish to ask you about a young gentleman who is pursuing me.”
“Oh?”
“Mr. James Johnson, a respectable and rich young farmer has begun to pay attention to me.”
“How would you have me advise you?”
“Oh, Sarah,” she blurted. “I am beginning to believe myself simpleminded. I have none of your good sense.”
They were quiet for a moment and Sarah asked, “As you probably realize, I do not know Mr. Johnson.”
“Do you not see? While he is a gentleman, he is so far below my status that I wish he would stop paying attention to me. I have always wanted men to be attentive, but not to become serious.” She continued on, “Oh, he is a good sort of man; however, I have become aware of my ignorance lately and would not only like to marry a gentleman, but an intelligent and clever one to help make up for my own deficiency. Mr. Johnson is neither wise nor clever.”
“Then why ask me what to do? I am not married, nor have I had a good deal of experience in warding off ardent admirers.”
“You are the most intelligent woman I know.” Maria said. “Indeed, you write novels.”
“Characters in a novel can be manipulated at will; however, living creatures are not so pliable. Perhaps you should talk with your mother.”
“She might think me silly.”
“If you do not wish to talk to your mother, Aunt Georgiana is a good listener.”
“How could I ask her?” Maria said. “If it were not for my playing matchmaker, she and Sir Thomas might never have gotten together.”
Here they paused for a few moments and Sarah finally said, “What is it you wish from me?”
“How can I tell Mr. Johnson to leave me alone?”
“Why not say it in a forthright manner?
“I do not wish to hurt his feelings.”
“That is kind of you. However, sometimes untarnished truth, told in a sympathetic tone, is the gentlest approach of all.”
“Why?”
“I believe we must discover truth and then adjust ourselves to it. I find the sooner I try to do this, the happier I am.”
They were then quiet again momentarily. This time Maria broke the silence. In an awed voice she said, “You deserve a very wise husband.” Her face glowed as she added, “You would be the perfect match for my brother Andrew. He is the wisest man I know, apart from my father.”
Sarah was taken aback for a moment and then replied in a strained manner, “While I greatly esteem your brother, I am afraid such a notion is impossible.” With a forced smile, she added, “Maria, you are beginning to remind me of Madame Duval.”
Maria waited a moment, studying Sarah. “Mother says I should not pry into other people’s affairs, so I will not ask you further about Andrew. . . . For myself, I need an intelligent and wise gentleman. Do you have any suggestions?”
“I am afraid not. In my absence, I have forgotten all the gentlemen in the neighborhood; but, I promise to keep my eyes open and I will let you know if someone seems appropriate.”
“That is exactly what I wished for,” Maria said delightedly. “In two weeks, there is to be a ball at Pemberley. Come and peruse the gentlemen then.”
“On your behalf, I shall do my best.”
The next morning, the Staleys and Sarah set out for the foreman’s cottage a quarter of a mile from Staley Hall. Sarah enjoyed the crisp early October day with the brightly colored leaves.
As they approached the cottage, she noticed six small trees with their root-balls wrapped with cloth, ready for planting. When the newlyweds opened their door, the visitors were ushered in amidst dozens of roses festooning the sitting room.
Lady Staley exclaimed, “I love roses. Where have you found all of these?”
Mr. Hand replied, “I guess you wouldn’t know. While you were gone, Mr. Andrew Darcy resu
med his grandfather’s tradition of sending fruit trees and roses to every newly married couple in the parish. Indeed, my father told me that Grandfather Darcy was responsible for most of the fruit trees in the area.”
“How lovely,” Sarah exclaimed to Mrs. Hand as Mr. Hand continued, “Mr. Andrew Darcy is becoming quite a favorite around these parts. What a fine young man–just as dependable as his father. While you were gone, he often came to see if he could help in any way. Some of the new species you see in the flower beds were given to us from the Darcy nursery; looking at Lady Staley, he said, “You must be proud to have him as your nephew.”
“Indeed,” was Lady Staley’s reply.
Sarah found herself listening quite intently to the discussion. Why did Andrew Darcy spark an interest in her that no other man did? Oh well, she thought, he is unobtainable to me.
As they sat down to tea, Mrs. Hand, a handsome young woman about Sarah’s age spoke up, “Miss Sarah, my husband and I were wondering if you would help us start a Sunday School. Most of the worker’s families on our estate have become interested in Methodism. As you know, the purpose of such a school is to teach the children to read and write. The circuit Methodist minister encourages literacy so the children can read the Bible and other helpful books.”
“Oh, I don’t know if I should,” was Sarah’s first reply.
She then looked at Sir Thomas, who said, “Sarah, Mr. Hand has already spoken to me about this. While Mrs. Staley and myself continue to attend the parish church, I have also had and interest in Methodism. They are doing a fine job uplifting the poorer folk – many of whom do not feel comfortable with the higher classes who attend the Anglican communion. It is your choice, of course, but we would support your effort and time in doing so.”
Eight-year-old Anna piped up, “Can I help you, Miss Sarah?”
“Of course, you are an excellent reader. . . well, it appears I have already made a decision – let us give it a try.”
