by Anne Herries
‘Sarah…’ John’s voice was a rasp, his throat dry and sore. ‘I thought it must have been a dream…the fever talking. I believed I had imagined that you were here when I was so ill.’
‘I came when I heard you had been nursing Nathaniel yourself,’ Sarah said. She smiled at him lovingly. ‘I was afraid that you might take it from him, and you did. I knew that you must have been afraid for him, which meant that you were unsure of your servants, so I was determined to care of you myself. I have been here for several days.’
‘I am very grateful for all that you have done,’ John whispered in a weak voice. ‘But it was a terrible risk, Sarah. I pray to God that you have not taken it from me.’
‘I nursed Tilda through the smallpox when we were in Italy, and also two little children who lived near by. It seems that I am naturally immune to it, John. I do not know why, but I believe I am not the only one.’
He closed his eyes, clearly too weak to remonstrate further with her. ‘I should like a little water, if you please.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Sarah said and went over to the table near the window that looked out at the back of the house. She poured some of the water that stood waiting in a jug and brought it back to him. Sitting on the bed beside him, she put her arm beneath his shoulders, lifting him so that he could drink a few sips. She smiled as he lay back against the pillows with a sigh. ‘Good. That is the first time you have taken anything from me willingly. You did not like Elizabeth’s fever mixture, John, but I believe it has done you a great deal of good.’
‘Elizabeth is not here?’
‘No, she could not come for fear of taking the smallpox to her children, but she sent the things she knew I should need. Was that not kind of her?’
‘Yes, indeed,’ John said. His eyelids flickered, but he made an effort to open his eyes again and look at her. ‘You were reckless to come here, Sarah, but I do thank you for it, my dear. I shall never be able to repay you for your kindness.’
‘I do not need repayment, nor do I care what others may say or think of me,’ Sarah said. ‘Had I not come, Mrs Beeson would have done her best, but she could not care for both you and little Nathaniel. And none of the other servants would come near you. Indeed, some of them fled to their homes in dread of it when your son first took the smallpox.’
‘Is Nat better?’ John asked with a little sigh. ‘He seemed to be recovering, but I became too ill to care for him…’
‘He is much better and beginning to be quite lively. I think that Mrs Raven has found a girl to be his nurse for she does not have the time to care for him herself,’ Sarah said. ‘The child has some scars on his face, John, but not as many as he might have had—and they may fade in time.’
John put a hand to his own face, his fingers exploring, discovering the scabs that had formed, but not yet fallen from the pustules. ‘I dare say I look less than handsome these days.’
‘Oh, you will have some scars, as Tilda has,’ Sarah said in a practical tone. ‘But there are ointments that may help you—and it does not matter. We must thank God that you are alive, John.’
‘I think my recovery owes thanks to you and Mrs Beeson,’ John told her with a wry look. ‘But perhaps it was God who brought you to me, Sarah.’
‘I hope you do not think me too presumptuous,’ Sarah said a little hesitantly. ‘I know there was nothing spoken between us and perhaps I have been a little hasty…’
‘Nothing said, but everything understood,’ John said, reaching for her hand before she could finish, and holding it tightly. ‘You knew that I meant to ask you to be my wife—and I do so now, my dearest. Please do me the honour of becoming my wife, Sarah. I have a deep regard for you and I shall be the happiest man alive if you will be mine.’
‘Oh, John, you know I shall marry you if you want me,’ Sarah said and smiled mistily. Those tiny doubts that had lingered at the back of her mind had fled as soon as he woke and smiled at her. Whatever lay behind the mystery of Andrea’s death, she did not believe that the blame lay at John’s door. ‘I did think that you cared for me—that you meant to ask. I told your housekeeper that we were engaged so that she would let me in to the house so that I could care for you, but you did not have to ask. No one else but Elizabeth and Daniel know that I have been here with you. I would not have you feel obliged to say it.’
John shook his head. He was feeling too ill to say more at the moment, but he knew that her reputation was already damaged beyond repair, making it impossible for her to stay single, but it might be rescued by their marriage. People would always whisper, but their true friends would understand.
‘I want to marry you, Sarah. You must know that I have always loved you, even before you went away to Italy. I felt a deep fondness for you when you were a child, but when we met again after your abduction, I fell in love with you and I have loved you ever since. You must believe me, Sarah.’
There was something close to desperation in his eyes at that moment. She sensed some deep underlying grief or guilt…as if he were haunted by his memories.
Then why had he married Andrea? Sarah was tempted to ask, but she saw that his eyes were closing. He was too weak to go on talking and she knew she must keep her questions for another time. After all, it hardly mattered why John had married. The past must be put behind them, as she had put the distress and terror of her abduction behind her. They had the rest of their lives to talk and to care for one another. ‘I shall leave you to sleep now, my dearest love. And when you wake again we shall give you some of the good nourishing broth your cook has had been preparing these past two days…’
She smiled as he sank back against the pillows, clearly exhausted. His proposal had granted her dearest wish, and yet she had a mounting sense of apprehension…a feeling that something was not quite as it ought to be. John’s wife had killed herself and there must have been a reason. Who or what had driven her to such a terrible act?
After that day John gradually began to recover his strength. Sarah continued to nurse him, sharing the time spent at his side with Mrs Beeson, but leaving most of the more intimate tasks to the older woman. She thought that John might have felt embarrassed if she had continued to wash and tend him as she had while he was in the fever. Now, she contented herself by tidying his room, sitting with him, reading to him and bringing his tray to the bedside; at first he needed help to eat the nourishing soup and bread that was brought up for him, but then, one morning, he took the spoon from her and managed to feed himself. He asked if he might have something more interesting than broth, and she brought him some cold beef and pickles, and from that moment on he began to make huge strides. It was a week after the fever finally broke that he was able to get out of bed and walk about. The scabs had all gone, leaving pitted scars on his face, arms and body, but he was no longer infectious and now Mrs Raven had begun to venture inside his apartments.
Now that John was so much better, Sarah spent some of her day with Nathaniel. He was a lively child and his nurse seemed to find it difficult to cope with him. She was inclined to shout at him when he was naughty, and one morning when Sarah entered the room she saw the girl slap him.
‘Please do not do that, Ruth,’ she told the girl, receiving a resentful stare. Ruth had not realised she was there and her face was sulky. ‘Nathaniel is not to be smacked. If he does something naughty, you will please tell me or his father, and we shall decide on his punishment—if any.’
‘He threw one of his lead soldiers at me. It hit my cheek,’ Ruth said, a note of defiance in her voice. ‘He must be taught manners, miss.’
‘Not by you,’ Sarah said sharply. ‘You are employed to take care of him, not to be the judge, jury and executioner. You may continue in your duties for the moment, but I shall speak to Mrs Raven about replacing you in the nursery.’
‘Are you dismissing me?’ Ruth’s gaze narrowed in dislike.
‘No. I am sure that Mrs Raven can find a place for you somewhere else, but we need a young girl who likes children—
someone to play with him.’
She left the nursery, going to Mrs Raven’s sitting room. She knocked and waited, and after a few moments, the housekeeper opened the door.
‘Was there something you wanted, Miss Hunter? I was taking the chance of a breather for a few minutes. I’ve been on the go all morning.’
‘We need a proper nurse for Nathaniel,’ Sarah told her. ‘Ruth isn’t suitable. I want a new girl—and I should like to see her myself before she is taken on.’
Mrs Raven gave her a hard stare, but there was something about Sarah at that moment that made her keep her thoughts to herself. ‘I could send to the village, Miss Hunter. I think the Vicar’s youngest daughter might take the post of nurse-governess. I heard tell as she was looking for a place, but didn’t want to go too far from home, because her mother is an invalid and she wants to get home sometimes to see her.’
‘You will ask the young lady to call,’ Sarah said. ‘Have all the maids that went home returned yet?’
‘Some of them,’ Mrs Raven said. ‘We could do with a few more, though.’
‘Well, then, I think you should put out feelers, Mrs Raven. We do not want to be short of servants. It is a very big house and it would be better to have more rather than less.’
‘Have you asked Mr Elworthy about this, Miss Hunter?’
‘Mr Elworthy is not yet well enough to be bothered with such things,’ Sarah said, ‘but I assure you that he will think as I do in the matter of his son’s nurse.’
‘Yes, miss, if you say so.’ There was a hint of resentment in the housekeeper’s expression. ‘I’ll send for Miss Harrington today—though I doubt she has any experience worth speaking of.’
‘If she is kind and patient, we shall overlook the lack of experience for the moment,’ Sarah said. ‘When Mr Elworthy is well again, I dare say he will advertise in London for an experienced nanny.’
‘I did say as he ought to months back,’ Mrs Raven said, ‘but he seemed content with the girl we had.’
‘What happened to her?’
‘Annie was the first to go down with the smallpox, miss. She took it real bad and died afore we rightly knew what was wrong with her. I dare say the boy had it from her.’
‘That is sad,’ Sarah said with a little shake of her head. She knew that it happened all too often. They had been lucky that both Nathaniel and John had recovered from the terrible disease. ‘Please ask Miss Harrington to come as soon as possible and I will see her myself.’
‘Yes, Miss Hunter.’ Mrs Raven looked at her sourly. ‘Do you want me to refer to you on all matters to do with the maids in future, miss?’
‘No, of course not. I should not dream of interfering with your authority,’ Sarah said. ‘But the child’s nurse is a different matter. Ruth is not suitable.’
Mrs Raven’s eyes gleamed, but she said no more. Sarah left her to go upstairs to John’s apartments. He had come through into his sitting room and was sitting with a light cover over his legs and a book of poetry open on his lap. He smiled as she entered, holding out his hand to her.
‘I am poor company for you at the moment, Sarah my love. I think you could return to Elizabeth’s house now. I shall ride over in a few days and then we shall announce our engagement in The Times.’ He looked at her left hand, which was still bare of an engagement ring. ‘I want to buy you a ring for yourself, Sarah. Most of the family jewels are in the bank in London, though they are heavy, old-fashioned things and will need refashioning for you. Do you mind waiting until I am able to venture as far as London? I believe there is a ring somewhere in the house, but it was Andrea’s and I would prefer not to give you that…’
‘I am quite content to wait,’ Sarah assured him. ‘I wanted to speak to you about a nurse for Nathaniel. Ruth is too sharp with him. I do not think her suitable. I have asked Mrs Raven to send for the Vicar’s daughter, who is looking for a post near to her home. I think she has not much experience, but later you can engage an experienced nanny if you choose.’
‘I am glad you have done something about it,’ John said. ‘The last girl was kind, but not particularly skilled. I believe Miss Harrington has a little experience in the nursery. She will do very well for the moment.’ He frowned as he looked about him. ‘I meant to do so many things when I married Andrea, but somehow they did not get done. This house is dark and dull and needs to be brought up to date.’
‘I wonder that you do not have a manservant, John.’
‘Bartley retired a few months back,’ John said and sighed. ‘He had been my father’s man before he was mine. After he became too old to do his duties…well, I am afraid I let things slip. Andrea had died and things were difficult. You are right, Sarah. I shall advertise for a manservant and a nanny. I dare say we shall need more than one girl once we set up our nursery. If you have any other ideas, please feel free to tell me. I once intended to refurbish the house entirely. Perhaps I would do better to pull it down bit by bit and rebuild.’
‘It is a little gloomy as it is,’ Sarah agreed with a smile. ‘But I think that a change of colours and furnishings might make a big difference. Perhaps we should see what could be done with it first?’
‘Yes, you are right. I shall set it in hand as soon as I am able.’ John smiled at her. ‘When would you wish to be married, dearest?’
‘Oh…perhaps in a month or so,’ Sarah said, blushing. ‘You need time to get well and I must buy my bride clothes.’
‘I must write to Charles,’ John said. ‘I hope he will not be angered by the situation, Sarah.’ He gave her a serious look. ‘I really think you should return to Elizabeth’s house now. The period of infection is at an end—if you had been going to take it from me it would have shown by now.’
‘I told you that I was immune,’ Sarah said. ‘I shall go tomorrow—perhaps in the afternoon. I want to speak to Miss Harrington and make sure that everything is settled here before I leave.’ She smiled at him. ‘I shall miss seeing you every day, dearest—but I think you are right. While you were so ill it did not matter that I stayed here, but now…mama would not approve.’ Her mother would not have approved of her coming here in the first place, but there was no need for her to know anything about it.
‘It might be better if you went today, Sarah. I am well enough to manage alone now.’
‘I wish to see Miss Harrington,’ Sarah said. ‘I shall stay one more night, John—what harm can it do?’
‘Where is Sarah?’ Mrs Hunter said. She glared at Elizabeth. ‘I have had no word from her in weeks. She ought to have been in London more than a week ago. I demand to see my daughter.’
‘Sarah isn’t here,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Forgive me, Mrs Hunter. I did not wish to worry you…’
‘She has not been abducted again?’ Mrs Hunter’s face was white with shock. ‘Oh, I knew that something was wrong! I wrote to Charles and told him that he should come down here but in his reply, he said that his sister would be perfectly safe with his friends.’
‘And she is safe,’ Elizabeth said. ‘I had a note from her only yesterday. She intends to return to us this afternoon.’
‘Return?’ Mrs Hunter stared at her in outrage. ‘I thought she was staying with you. Where has she gone? I did not give my permission for her to go elsewhere!’
‘Please sit down,’ Elizabeth said and took a deep breath. ‘I must explain to you. Sarah is quite safe. She went over to Mr Elworthy’s home when he was very ill with the smallpox and she stayed to nurse him. Apparently some of the servants had run off and she felt that he was being neglected by those that remained.’
‘Sarah went to the home of an unmarried gentleman?’ Mrs Hunter stared at her in horror. ‘I cannot believe that she would do such a thing—or that you would let her, Lady Cavendish. How could you allow her to ruin herself?’
‘Sarah was most insistent that she would not take the smallpox…’ Elizabeth faltered as she saw the expression on Mrs Hunter’s face and knew herself at fault. ‘She does have a mind of her own. I did
not know that she intended going, for she slipped out early in the morning. If I had demanded that she return, I do not think she would have obeyed me.’
‘You should have sent for me at once!’
‘I thought it best to say as little as possible about the situation,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Sarah told me in her letter that John has asked her to marry him, and that she has agreed to be his wife.’
‘That is the least he could do!’ Mrs Hunter said, outraged. ‘But I am not at all certain that I wish for this marriage. Sarah has behaved disgracefully. No one has consulted me—and I think Charles would have told me if Mr Elworthy had written to ask his permission.’
‘I dare say he means to do so as soon as he is able,’ Elizabeth said. ‘He has been very ill, Mrs Hunter. I am sure that nothing improper has occurred. John is too much the gentleman to allow Sarah’s reputation to suffer from his carelessness.’
‘Indeed?’ Mrs Hunter’s face was set in stone. ‘Well, that is not what I have been hearing recently. There is a tale circulating that distresses me very much. I have heard that there is some doubt about his wife’s death—that perhaps it was not suicide, but a deliberate act on the part of an unknown person. And some go further…they hint that Mr Elworthy might have had a hand in her death.’
‘That is not true,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Daniel and Charles both know of the rumours. We had hoped that they would not become common knowledge, but I can assure you that none of us believes one word of that monstrous lie.’
‘Well, you may wish to take his part, but I am not sure that I can do so with an easy heart. Had it not been for these rumours I should not have minded if Sarah married that gentleman—but this changes things. Mud clings and, no matter if he is innocent, it will shadow him all his life, and Sarah if she marries him. It will reflect badly on her. I am not prepared to let that happen. I shall take her back to London with me and hope that the news of her scandalous behaviour can be hushed up.’ She smiled oddly. ‘The Duke of Pentyre spoke to me a few days ago. He asked if I thought Sarah would accept an offer from him, and I told him that I would discover her feelings on the matter. I posted up to Yorkshire immediately. I think Sarah should return to London and do her best to make sure of him while she has the chance.’
