by Anne Herries
‘Yes, I do not disagree with that,’ Sarah said. ‘But some of Mr Wordsworth’s work is so romantic…Byron is a little dark and haunted, do you not agree?’
This was bound to cause a storm of words since Byron’s poetry was always controversial. And so the afternoon was soon spent in readings and heated discussion, after which the ladies took tea in high good humour with each other, all harsh words forgotten as they reverted to their social manners.
Sarah had looked for John but he did not join them for tea, and she could not help but be disappointed as she took her leave of Elizabeth a little later. It had been an enjoyable afternoon, but her hopes had come to nothing. However, as she and Tilda stepped into the warmth of a lazy summer afternoon, she saw that John was making his way across the square towards the house and waited until he came to them.
‘Good afternoon, ladies,’ he said, lifting his hat to them. ‘Is your meeting over? I had hoped that I might be back in time to take tea with you, but my business kept me later than I had expected.’
‘We had a lively meeting,’ Sarah said, her face glowing from the pleasure of seeing him again. ‘Will you walk with us a little way, sir? Or have you further business?’
‘For the moment, none,’ John said. ‘Shall we walk to the garden? We may sit there in the sun for a little. It is warm and quite balmy.’
‘Yes, thank you,’ Sarah said, and took the arm he offered. Tilda had stopped to speak with one of the other ladies. ‘We shall not be far away, dearest.’
‘You seem to get on very well with Miss Redmond these days,’ John said, glancing down at her face. He thought that she was more beautiful now than he had ever seen her, and felt a surge of longing to hold her in his arms. ‘I did not think that was always the case?’
‘Oh, everything changed after Tilda was kidnapped,’ Sarah said. ‘She understood me better and…in Italy we became close friends.’
John nodded. They had reached the wooden bench in the garden and sat down. For a moment they were silent as they listened to a thrush trilling from the branch of a tree, feeling at ease together. Tilly had lingered on the far side of the square, and was kept talking to various ladies leaving the house.
‘I am looking forward to Elizabeth’s ball,’ Sarah said, gazing up at him. ‘You have not forgotten your promise to me, sir?’
‘How could I?’ John asked, his gaze intent on her face. He realised that he wanted very much to dance with her, to hold her close, hear her laughter and inhale the intoxicating perfume of her skin. Surely there was no sin in letting himself admit the feelings he had for her? ‘I am looking forward to it, Sarah—and I hope you will keep two dances for me. I know that you have many admirers now, but your promise was made before you came to town.’
Sarah glowed in the warmth of his smile. Her heart had begun to race wildly and she was sure that he felt something for her.
‘And it shall be kept,’ Sarah told him. ‘No matter who asks, I shall not give your dances away.’
‘Good,’ he said and reached for her hand, holding it with a firm gentle grip. His touch sent a tingle winging down her spine, making her want to melt into his arms. ‘We are friends, are we not, Sarah? We have always liked one another, have we not?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Sarah hesitated, then, ‘It might perhaps have been more once had I not been such a foolish child—’ She caught her breath as she saw the look in his eyes.
‘None of that business was your doing,’ John said and smiled at her so tenderly that her heart caught. He did care for her! In that moment she felt the barriers swept away and it was as it had been between them at Arabella’s home that last summer before she went to Italy. ‘Have you put the nightmares of that time behind you?’
‘Yes, I have. They are completely gone.’
‘I am glad of it,’ John said. He wondered if he dared to speak, but hesitated and in that moment Tilda came up to them. ‘Ah, here is Miss Redmond.’ He stood up and inclined his head. ‘I shall look forward to seeing you both at Elizabeth’s ball.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Tilda said and looked awkward. ‘If I am interrupting anything, I can walk on alone—’
‘No, of course not,’ John said. ‘It will keep for another day. I shall call one day, Sarah. Please give my regards to your mama.’
‘Thank you,’ Sarah said and smiled at Tilda. ‘You are right, we must be getting back or Mama will worry. And we have a dinner engagement for this evening. I shall look forward to seeing you soon, Mr Elworthy.’
‘Your servant, ladies.’ John tipped his hat to them and walked across the square.
Sarah linked arms with Tilda. ‘Thank you for taking your time,’ she said. ‘I think we have come to a better understanding. Mr Elworthy did not actually say anything definite, but he seemed to be more his own self—far less anxious than he was when we were staying with Arabella a few weeks back.’
‘Good.’ Tilda nodded comfortably. ‘I thought you appeared to get on well—and Mr Elworthy is a perfect gentleman, Sarah. It is only a year since his wife died in unfortunate circumstances. He could not be expected to do anything that might seem precipitate.’
‘I have thought perhaps he was afraid to speak too soon,’ Sarah said, looking happy. She had wondered if it was all too late, but now she had hope again. ‘But I believe that he will ask me, Tilda. I was afraid he might not, but now I think he may.’
‘And why not?’ Tilda asked looking at her affectionately. ‘You are beautiful, kind, intelligent and warm-hearted. Any man with half a brain would want you for his wife.’
Sarah’s laughter tinkled like bells. ‘I have not so many admirers—at least, not of a serious kind. I know it is not long since we came to London, but Julia Moore has been here about the same length of time and she has had two proposals already.’
‘Julia is quite an heiress,’ Tilda said, looking thoughtful.
‘Is that why gentlemen ask one to marry them, then?’ Sarah’s eyes narrowed in thought. ‘It seems so cold and calculating…’
‘Not all the time.’ Tilda pulled a face. ‘It is a consideration for some, especially those that need to replenish their fortunes. However, you are not without fortune, my dear. I do not think that is the reason you have not received any offers just yet. It might have something to do with your Mama’s obvious preference for the Duke of Pentyre.’
Sarah looked at her, a startled expression on her face. ‘No, do you think so? I had thought one or two gentlemen might speak before this, because they seemed interested at first and then less so—but I imagined I must have disappointed in some way.’
‘I doubt that is the case,’ Tilda told her with a smile of affection. ‘Did you wish for their offers?’
‘No, of course not. There is only one gentleman I wish to offer for me, Tilda. I would refuse any other…at least I did consider the Conte di Ceasares, because I thought I must marry. I do not think I should care to marry the duke even if he is as wealthy as Mama says…’
‘I think it would be wiser not,’ Tilda said. ‘I sometimes hear things, Sarah…things that you might not. People tend not to notice me sitting quietly in my corner. They make indiscreet remarks that they would not say if they realised they were overheard. I have heard things about the Duke of Pentyre that make me think he would not be a good husband for you, my dear.’ Tilda had also heard gossip about John Elworthy, but, knowing him as she did, she was inclined to dismiss it as tittle-tattle.
‘Oh…will you tell me?’ Sarah raised her brows.
‘Not unless it becomes necessary,’ Tilda said a little primly. ‘I do not wish to be accused of spreading gossip. Your mama would not be pleased with me and that might upset Hester—but should it be a case of your good, then I shall speak out and accept the consequences.’
Sarah squeezed her arm. ‘I dare say it will not matter. Mama gets a little cross with me because I show no interest in the duke, but if John asks me to be his wife she must agree. I know Charles would support me and he is my guardian afte
r all.’
‘And so he should, my dear,’ Tilda agreed. ‘I am sure there could be no objection to an alliance with Mr Elworthy. He is one of the nicest men I have ever met.’
‘Yes, isn’t he?’ Sarah said happily. ‘I feel so much better now that I have seen him again, Tilda. I shall pray that he asks me to marry him on the night of Elizabeth’s ball…’
John and Sarah did not meet again until the night of Elizabeth’s ball, though she found his card on the silver salver in the hall after returning from her drive with the Duke of Pentyre. She had enjoyed herself, for the duke had been all that he should be, and his groom had accompanied them, which meant that the needs of propriety had been more than met during their short outing to the park.
They had talked mainly of horses, which were one of the duke’s passions. It seemed that he bred his horses in Ireland but kept a string of them at Newmarket with a trainer. He had seemed pleased that Sarah liked to ride and told her that she was a good judge when she admired the cattle he was driving that day.
‘You seem an admirable young lady, Miss Hunter,’ he told her after they had been driving for some time in the park. ‘The kind of lady that would make a suitable wife for almost any gentleman.’
‘You are very kind, sir,’ Sarah replied carefully. ‘But should not marriage be based on affection and respect—if not love? I do not believe that true happiness can come through arranged contracts, do you?’
The duke’s eyes were thoughtful as he looked at her. She looked older than her years, because of those wings of white at her temples, and her steady manner. However, she was still quite young. He had had it in mind to approach her mama quite soon, but now she had given him pause for thought. If she wished to be wooed, it might be best to proceed more slowly.
‘It must depend upon one’s idea of happiness, I suppose,’ he said and smiled at her before changing the subject to one concerning a play that was being performed at the Haymarket Theatre.
Sarah was guiltily aware that he might have been on the verge of proposing to her; from her mama’s expectant looks on her return, it was clear that she had also hoped for it. However, Sarah parried Mrs Hunter’s questions by saying that the drive had been most enjoyable, and that the duke had said he might call on them one day.
‘Very well, Sarah,’ her mother said, but her eyes were thoughtful as they dwelled on her daughter. ‘I hope you are not keeping anything from me—but I shall say no more for the moment.’
Sarah did not reply. She felt that she was treading on dangerous ground—if the duke should speak to her mama, pressure would be brought to bear, unless she had an alternative offer. She could only hope that John might speak at Elizabeth’s ball.
She counted the days, but at last it arrived, and, as she dressed in a new gown of white silk with spangled drapery across the bodice, her heart was beating so fast that she felt breathless. In a short time she would see him, speak to him—dance with him. She seemed to have been anticipating this night for ever, and the short drive set her nerves racing.
John was almost the first person she saw. He was standing near Elizabeth and Daniel as they greeted their guests and appeared to be waiting for someone. As he saw her, his eyes lit from within and he came to greet her and her companions with a smile.
‘Lady Tate, Mrs Hunter and Tilda…’ he said and then turned his gaze on Sarah. ‘May I be permitted to say that you look truly beautiful tonight, Miss Hunter.’
‘Thank you, sir, you are very kind,’ Sarah said and her heart leaped with excitement as he bestowed a gentle smile on her. ‘I have been keeping this gown for this evening, because it is my favourite.’
‘And it becomes you well,’ John said. ‘I trust you have saved my dances for me?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she replied, a faint flush in her cheeks. ‘The first waltz of the evening, and the supper dance.’
‘They will do very well,’ he said and turned to her mother. ‘Do you stay long in town, Mrs Hunter?’
‘Oh, another three or four weeks,’ she said vaguely. ‘I have not perfectly made up my mind.’
‘You must dine with us next week, Mr Elworthy,’ Lady Tate said. ‘And you know we are always at home on Tuesdays.’
‘Thank you, ma’am, I shall certainly dine with you—and I shall remember that you are at home on Tuesday.’
‘Come along, Sarah,’ Mrs Hunter said. ‘We must move on and greet some of our other friends.’
Sarah reluctantly obeyed. Julia Moore and some others of her friends were already gathered in the ballroom, and Sarah was immediately asked if she would dance, which she agreed to with pleasure. Her card was soon filled, and before she knew it John was claiming her for the first waltz.
He gazed down at her as he placed his hand at her waist, sending a little tremor of delight winging through her. ‘You are very popular, Miss Hunter. I believe you have become what they call all the craze.’
‘Oh, no, have I?’ Sarah laughed. ‘The Duke of Pentyre said that I would. Perhaps it is his influence. I am sure that it is because of his kindness that we are invited everywhere.’
‘Pentyre?’ John’s gaze became fixed on her face, his eyes intent and questioning. ‘Are you much acquainted with him?’
‘We seem to meet often,’ she replied. ‘He is a charming gentleman—but then, there are many very pleasant gentlemen in London at the moment.’
She looked up at him so ingenuously that John was reassured. He had not mistaken that look in her eyes when they sat for a few moments in the square opposite Elizabeth’s house. He was sure that she felt as he did, and that he had only to speak to be accepted. At the back of his mind, the guilt he had nursed for months stirred, but he crushed it ruthlessly. He was innocent of Andrea’s death. Surely there was nothing to prevent his seeking happiness with someone else?
He smiled down at her, ‘Yes, I dare say you have received many compliments.’
‘Oh, yes, lots,’ Sarah said with complete frankness. ‘However, I do not regard them, sir. I think that most of them are gallantry and nothing more.’
‘Will you think it gallantry if I tell you that I think you as lovely in nature as you are in looks?’
‘Oh, no,’ she replied and laughed. ‘For you are one of the most honest people I know. Elizabeth always says it and so does Arabella. You are known for it, Mr Elworthy.’
John’s smile lit his eyes. ‘I have good friends. I am very fortunate.’
‘Lady Tate is planning an excursion to Vauxhall next week. Shall you be one of the party, Mr Elworthy?’
‘I think perhaps I may,’ John told her. ‘I had not planned to stay on above a few days, but I think I may extend my visit for a little longer.’
Sarah smiled. She sensed that he intended to prolong his visit for her sake and she felt relaxed and happy. John might not ask her to be his wife this evening, but she was sure that he would speak soon.
They finished their dance and John returned her to her friends. She was claimed almost immediately by her next partner and went from one to another happily until the supper dance. John came to her again and they danced, talking easily of various friends and the further delights the season was about to offer them.
After their dance John offered her his arm, taking her into the long room where a delicious buffet supper had been laid out. They chose a few trifles together and wandered over to sit close to the long French windows that opened out onto the garden at the back of the house. Sarah toyed with a wine syllabub, but John ate nothing, merely sipping at a glass of champagne. When he saw that Sarah was not hungry, he stood up.
‘Shall we take a turn on the terrace?’ he asked. ‘I should like to speak with you alone if I may.’
‘Yes, of course,’ she agreed, her heart beating wildly. She stood up, gazing at him with eyes that told of what was in her heart. However, just as they were about to leave the supper room, a footman came towards them. He handed John a letter on a silver salver.
John took it with a little frown, breakin
g the wax seal to scan its contents. A gasp escaped him and a little nerve flicked in his cheek.
‘Is something wrong, Mr Elworthy?’ Sarah asked. ‘Is it bad news?’
‘Yes, I am afraid it is,’ John said. ‘It means that we must postpone our talk, Sarah. I am sorry, but I have to return home at once.’
‘Oh, no,’ Sarah said, disappointment sharp in her voice. She had looked forward to this evening so much and now it was to end too soon. ‘Must you really go this very evening?’
‘My son is ill,’ John told her, his eyes dark with emotion. ‘It seems they fear for his life. I must go immediately. Forgive me, Sarah. I am not sure when I shall see you again. I can only hope that it is not too long…’
Sarah watched him walk away from her. The disappointment was so great that she did not know how she stopped herself from bursting into tears. She turned away and went out on to the balcony, needing to be alone for a few minutes.
It was there that Elizabeth found her a little later. She knew at once that Sarah was in some distress.
‘Are you ill, dearest?’
‘No, not ill,’ Sarah replied in a muffled voice. ‘John left early. He received bad news from home.’
‘Daniel told me. John took his leave of him. It was a pity that the news should come this evening—but John has been very protective of the boy since Andrea’s death. He feels responsible for the child.’
‘Yes, of course. I understand, but…’ Sarah sighed. She could not tell anyone that she had been expecting a proposal of marriage—it would look very brazen of her. ‘I had been so looking forward to this evening.’ She lifted her head, knowing that she must return to the ballroom. ‘Well, I dare say I shall see him again one day.’
Despite her brave attempt to hide her disappointment, Elizabeth knew what she was feeling underneath and it made her thoughtful. She did not say anything more to Sarah for the moment, but she believed that she might be able to come up with a plan that would enable Sarah to see John much sooner than she might think.
