The Kent Heiress

by Roberta Gellis

  “Please proceed,” Leonie laughed. “If you are thoroughly filled by the time I must present you at dinner to our guests, they will not receive the impression that I have raised a vulture. Eat now so that Lord Ellenborough and Sir Samuel Romilly will be deceived and think you properly delicate.”

  Sabrina raised her brows. “Ellenborough and Romilly?”

  “Lord Ellenborough is the new chief justice, and Romilly has been appointed the solicitor general.”

  Having absorbed this, Sabrina continued to feel puzzled. Although Roger was a barrister and had close ties in the legal community, most of his government connections in the past had been with the Foreign Office. He had been most closely aligned with Pitt, but his impartiality, experience, and knowledge had made him acceptable even to Addington, Pitt’s enemy.

  “The chief justice and solicitor general? Is Roger working with them on some legal bill?” Sabrina asked.

  Leonie put down her tea. “Oh, my dear, you cannot know what has been happening since Mr. Pitt died. None of his friends felt able to form a government, and the king was obliged to call on Lord Grenville to be the new prime minister. That meant Mr. Fox would also hold office, since he and Grenville are friends and political allies. Of course, Fox insisted on having the Foreign Office. It will mean quite a change in England’s policy. Fox has always been against the war. He has always believed that worse was said about the republicans than was true.”

  “Including that bloody lunatic Robespierre?” Sabrina commented caustically. “Well, he’s dead and can’t do any more harm, but if Fox feels the same about Bonaparte, we may be in serious trouble.”

  “Bien sûr, and that is why Roger is no longer connected with the Foreign Office. Harrowby suggested that Fox speak to Roger. He did, but what Roger said did not agree with Fox’s notions.”

  “Good heavens, can no one make Fox understand?” Sabrina cried “Bonaparte will swallow all of Europe. The tsar is sitting in a corner sucking his thumb. He cannot believe in the people who could accomplish something, so he will not support their plans, and the others are so incompetent he cannot trust them, either. If England does not animate him, Alexander will do nothing.”

  Leonie shrugged. “Fox insists that Bonaparte attacks because he is threatened, that if we offer peace seriously, he will accept.”

  “Boney very well might,” Sabrina replied, “but only because it would give him more time to consolidate his gains and build up his army.”

  “But is it true, petite?” Leonie asked anxiously. “Or do you and I and Roger and Philip believe this because what happened to me during the French Revolution has poisoned us all?”

  “Well, it certainly hasn’t poisoned General Bagration or Marshall Kutuzov, both respected commanders of the Russian army. They believe it,” Sabrina pointed out. “And so does Perce.”

  Sabrina had said the name without thinking but the moment it was out of her mouth, color flew into her face. She got up hastily and turned toward the mantelpiece, where an elegant marble clock sat ticking. Leonie had looked away when she mentioned her fear that she had infected her family with a hatred of French republicanism. Sabrina’s sudden movement drew her eyes. Although the girl’s face was not visible, Leonie could see her throat and part of a cheek, and they were rosy. She was startled, but the color could have been caused by a number of things.

  “Gracious, how the time has flown,” Sabrina remarked before Leonie could think of a way to ask tactfully for the cause of the blush. “Roggie must be awake by now. Let’s go up, because there isn’t much time. If we aren’t going to be en famille, we must dress for dinner.”

  Leonie blinked. She had been warned off. It was rather painful, but she knew she must accept it. Sabrina was fully a woman now, and although she would never complain nor offer a single word of recrimination, Leonie knew she had made a botch in the matter of her cousin’s marriage. Sabrina had good reason not to trust her judgment.

  “But what shall I say to Roger?” Leonie cried.

  “Nothing, I think,” Sabrina replied. “He has enough to worry him, and I am quite sure that, whatever Fox thinks about making peace with Bonaparte, William will want to discuss matters with Roger. It would be hard for him to act naturally—you know how protective Roger is.”

  “Will William be able to act naturally?” Leonie asked, relieved that Sabrina was not cutting her off completely. To her surprise, Sabrina laughed.

  “William is not aware that there is anything to be unnatural about,” Sabrina said. “Oh, he knows I am displeased with him, but if he has given the matter any thought at all, he expects that I will yield to his wooing, as I have done several times already. It depends on what happens at the Foreign Office.”

  “At the Foreign Office?” Leonie asked, completely at sea.

  “Yes. If Fox relieves William of duty and we must remain here, I will have to make a decision. Or if William is kept in England for very long… I don’t know. But if he is sent back to Russia quite soon, I want to go with him, so I would rather nothing was said.”

  Leonie nodded. She agreed that Roger should be spared further worry if possible, and it was quite clear that Sabrina was in control of herself and believed she could control the situation. It was also clear that she was deeply troubled, but there seemed to be as much eager excitement as pain in that trouble. Leonie concealed a sigh. There was nothing more she could do for Sabrina now, except love her and assure her that whatever decision she made, she would be supported. But why did Sabrina want to return to Russia? Duty? Perhaps Sabrina had a fine patriotic fervor and took great pride in her responsibilities as a diplomatic wife. But that would not account for her tense excitement when she spoke of going back.

  “Yes, let us go up and play with Roggie,” Leonie said.

  It was not her business to interfere, Leonie told herself firmly. When she should have interfered, she had taken utterly the wrong course. If Sabrina asked, she would speak the feeling of her heart this time. She had stood up and started toward the door when Sabrina threw her arms around her and kissed her. Leonie returned the embrace with joy and relief. She had a good part of her thanks already. The only thing that could make her happier was to see her beloved Sabrina happy herself.

  It was almost impossible to worry about anything in Roggie’s presence. He was an extremely happy baby, so accustomed to love that he greeted Sabrina with crows of delight, even though he could not possibly remember her. Nor did Weeper make them feel unwelcome, as many nannies did. She was not at all like her name, being plump and jolly and obviously quite accustomed to invasions of “her” nursery. In fact she seemed glad to leave the baby to his “grandmother” and “aunt”—neither of whom was really related to him at all—and get on with some other chores.

  They had a lovely time, crawling about on the floor to the everlasting detriment of their gowns, feeding Roggie a pretea or postlunch, showing him pictures and laughing over his antics. Weeper came back to find both ladies sitting cross-legged on the floor, inducing Roggie to toddle a few steps from one to the other.

  “That’s right kind of you, madam,” the nanny said. “He’s proper wore out and he’ll be glad to play quiet a while. I’m not bidding you go, but it’s near dinnertime.”

  “Oh, ma foi,” Leonie cried, snatching Roggie into her arms to kiss and catching a glimpse of the sky as Weeper drew the curtains, “it is growing quite black outside.”

  Even as she spoke they heard the sound of a carriage coming up the long drive to the house. Leonie thrust Roggie into Sabrina’s arms and fled. Sabrina kissed the little boy and spoke soothingly as his face crumpled in indecision whether or not to wail at “Gamma’s” sudden departure. However, he was easy to distract. Sabrina played with him a few minutes more, a quiet game of pushing colored blocks into a line and then a circle. She wondered amusedly whether Leonie would stop to put herself to rights or would greet her guests with her hair all anyhow and the marks of Roggie’s sticky fingers on her dress.
Leonie was not at all conventional about such things.

  When she had made the blocks sufficiently interesting, Sabrina bent over the child and kissed him, saying, “Au revoir, Roggie. I’ll come back soon. You be a good boy and play with Weeper now.”

  There was another momentary indecision, but Weeper was there with a bottle and a cuddly blanket. Roggie went willingly into the familiar arms, and Sabrina stepped out of the nursery. She hurried toward her room, partly soothed, partly envious. She wanted children. However, when she inevitably thought of her miscarriage, it was relief she felt. If she had borne that child, she would have no choice. She could never have left her baby, and no woman who left her husband, no matter how valid the reason, would be allowed to take his child.

  As Sabrina dressed she considered her desire for a child in and around Katy’s conversation. It was rather frustrating, for her thoughts were broken, but by the time Katy carried away the soiled clothing, Sabrina had decided without the smallest doubt that she didn’t want William’s children. He would be a dreadful father, not cruel but totally uninterested. She paused a moment, her hands upraised to pin a long curl so that it would fall gracefully over her shoulder. No wonder he was so pleasant about that miscarriage. He didn’t care. Sabrina set her pin and shook her head. She was being unfair. William was kind.

  On the other hand, Sabrina thought smiling into the mirror, she would love to have Perce’s children. She knew just what kind of father he would make. Hadn’t he endured her, read to her, played with her, tied his handkerchief around her knee and kissed her when she skinned it? But that could never happen while she was married to William. And what if Perce didn’t want her to be the mother of his children? Nonsense, she told herself, focusing on the beautiful countenance that looked back at her from the mirror. Why shouldn’t Perce want her?

  Deep inside, not in specific words but in feeling, something said, No one wants you. Mama and Papa and brother William and sister Alice went to heaven and left you behind. Roger and Leonie let you marry the wrong man just to be rid of you. And now William doesn’t want you. Sabrina stood up abruptly. It wasn’t the same thing at all. Her family had drowned. They had not deliberately abandoned her. Roger and Leonie had yielded to her arguments and pleas. And William was just different from most men. He never wanted any woman for long. Surely that was true. Surely it wasn’t anything she had done that had driven him back to his old ways. She had asked! That first time she had begged him to tell her if it was her fault, if she had displeased him in some way. All he would say was that she was imagining things, and when she would not accept that answer, he glibly announced that it had nothing to do with her at all and if she looked the other way everything would be fine. But what if it was her fault?

  However, all that happened after the dinner gong sounded was calculated to make Sabrina laugh at her own self-doubts. Roger’s joy in seeing her was too deep and warm to misunderstand, and after all, Roger had lived with her far longer than had William. If there was some fault of manner or speech she displayed that had rubbed William raw over time, it must be something William alone noticed. It was apparent she was a total joy to Roger. His guests showed no distaste for her company either—far to the contrary—and she had accomplished that over an initial reluctance, too.

  Their reluctance was not personal, of course. However, Ellenborough and Romilly had come to discuss business and were rather put out when they found their host’s nineteen-year-old foster daughter a surprise guest. Neither gentleman really wanted to make conversation suitable to a frivolous young woman. But Sabrina had not been a diplomat’s wife for three years in vain. When Romilly politely asked her about her stay in Russia, expecting a spate of nonsense about balls and gowns, he heard a brief, womanly, but totally political remark on the effect of the defeat at Austerlitz on the Russian government.

  Surprise faded into interest and interest into pleasure. Sabrina was neither strident nor opinionated. She let the men lead the conversation and answered their questions, but not with her own interpretations. After all, to give most men a woman’s opinion could only convince them the concept was silly. Nonetheless, her opinions were carefully selected to create the impression Sabrina wanted to produce.

  The subject did not follow them from the drawing room into the dining room since it was not of deep importance to Ellenborough or Romilly. By the time the first course was removed, they were deep in a discussion about a proposed act to abolish the slave trade, quite at ease with the knowledge that serious talk would not bore Sabrina.

  From the attitude of these distinguished guests, it was difficult for Sabrina to think of herself as repulsive in any way. Her company and conversation were sought with eagerness rather than mere politeness. Altogether, when the evening was over, she went to bed in a far happier frame of mind than she had enjoyed since she left Russia.

  The next few days did nothing to change her mood, although on the fourth day she received a sheaf of hothouse flowers and a most loving note from William.

  Leonie raised her brows at this, but she made no remarks. Sabrina was somewhat amused at how easy it was for her to interpret William’s gestures. The note, despite its loving terms, said nothing about Sabrina coming to London or William coming to Stour. The loving terms and flowers indicated that William had not yet found a woman he wished to pursue, but neither had he decided to set about rewooing his wife.

  Sabrina was relieved, as well as amused. For a while longer she would be able to avoid a confrontation with her husband. Moreover, the London social season was beginning. Company would be flooding into town. With any luck at all someone new would cross William’s path, or an old love, now indifferent, would recall his attention. Sabrina resolved to delay her arrival in London as long as possible to give him every opportunity to find fresh prey.

  Chapter Seven

  Sabrina was still at Stour Castle when Perce’s letter arrived in the middle of March. It was beside her place when she came down for breakfast, and she barely repressed a cry of joy. Leonie looked up at her as she started to open the letter before she sat down, but Sabrina was too busy to notice the attention she had attracted. She found that she was almost as excited as if Perce himself had appeared. He had never written to her before.

  The weeks at Stour had been so calm, peaceful, and happy that Sabrina had begun to wonder whether her sudden passion for Perce had been real or nurtured by the hothouse atmosphere in which she had been living. No question arose about her indifference to William. On that subject she grew more certain with every note and gift she received from him. Significantly, none of the notes urged her to join him.

  Sabrina had recast her initial analysis of this dichotomy. She no longer believed William was undecided as to where to bestow his attentions. Now she was convinced that the loving letters and trinkets that came every few days were designed to convince her—and more important, her family—of his devotion. William, she was certain, was either on the hunt again or was simply having so good a time in the fleshpots of London that he wished to ensure her noninterference without making her family suspicious.

  In the latter, he had failed Roger was livid, although he said nothing to Sabrina. Leonie had conveyed this information as well as the fact that Roger chose not to confront William. Any breath of scandal would have been sufficient excuse to discredit the entire Russian diplomatic mission. No matter how ridiculous it was that one man’s differences with his wife should reflect dishonor on a whole diplomatic staff, it was a common enough occurrence. Roger was far too aware of the serious problems in relations with Russia to add even a single straw to the fire.

  What was most significant to Sabrina was that William’s behavior left her feeling totally indifferent. She had agreed with Roger’s decision that no issue should be made of William’s infidelity, but she had not felt any special anxiety about it. The peace of Stour Castle seemed to insulate her against any strong emotion, and she had unconsciously avoided anything that could disturb that peace.
She had never visited the schoolroom, where in inclement weather Philip and Perce had joined her to read and talk, play games, and roast apples and nuts. Equally, she had avoided the room in which Perce had customarily stayed. She had had thoughts of remaining in the passive, contented state in which she was enwrapped.

  Perce’s letter destroyed the placid, imaginary cocoon even before she broke the seal. The moment she saw his handwriting, every emotion she had felt at their last meeting—the hunger, the joy and the despair—gripped her again. It did not matter that she knew there could be nothing revealing in the letter. Perce would never take the chance that it might be delivered when she was not at home. Husbands had a perfect right to open their wives’ mail and many husbands did so. Her hands trembled as she pulled the letter from the cover, and her breath sighed out in pleasure when she saw that there were three thin, closely written sheets rather than a single thick piece of paper containing a polite scrawl.

  He began, skirting safety, with “My very dearest Sabrina,” and went on to give his excuse for writing to her—that they had parted in such haste he had no chance to thank her for her kind attentions in St. Petersburg. “I find the atmosphere here much changed,” he continued, “so much so that I have decided not to stay longer in the city.” Sabrina’s heart fluttered. He could come no closer to saying that he missed her too much to remain where every ball and theater party reminded him of her.

  “I have obtained an introduction to and an introduction from Princess Dashkova, who, I understand, is very pro-English,” the letter went on “I will stay as her guest for a month and then pay my promised visit to General Bagration. If Philip wishes to reach me a letter under cover to the prince will come into my hands safely. I hope he will write, since I believe the prince will be interested to hear any news from the English point of view.” Sabrina flushed slightly. It was not Philip from whom Perce wanted to hear.

  From there, the letter concerned events and rumors in Russia. Sabrina read it with devoted interest, although she had already heard most of the information through diplomatic channels. Roger might be ignored by the new minister Fox and his immediate appointees, but the long-term civil servants at the Foreign Office were eager to keep him informed since, to a man, they thought Fox grossly deceived by his own long-held opinions.