by Anne Herries
‘But Sarah loves John and he loves her,’ Elizabeth said. ‘Surely you will not deny them now that they have an understanding?’
‘Sarah is my daughter. I think that you must allow me to know what is best for her, Lady Cavendish.’
‘Perhaps if you were to go over and speak to John yourself—’
‘No, I do not think so,’ Mrs Hunter said. ‘I believe you said that Sarah is to return here today?’ Elizabeth nodded. ‘I would be grateful if you will have her things packed. We shall go back to London immediately. I do not wish to impose on your hospitality longer than necessary.’
‘Forgive me. I see that you believe I have neglected my duty towards Sarah. I should perhaps have told you sooner, Mrs Hunter—but I believed that a happy outcome would set all to rights, which it has. They have agreed to marry. Why will you not let them have their way?’
‘If Mr Elworthy is able to prove his innocence, I may change my mind—but it is my hope that Sarah will be wed to Pentyre within the month.’
Elizabeth stared at her stubborn face. It was clear that she was very angry, and perhaps she had a right to be—Elizabeth had neglected her duty to Mrs Hunter. She ought to have made her aware of her daughter’s whereabouts before this and she knew herself in the wrong. She had hoped that John would recover and ask Sarah to be his wife, which he had—but it seemed that that was not enough for Mrs Hunter.
There was nothing she could do for the moment, but she would speak to Daniel, ask him to call on Charles and hope that he could soothe his mother’s ruffled feathers. She could certainly not prevent Mrs Hunter from taking her daughter back to town with her—but she could and would make John aware of the situation.
‘But, Mama,’ Sarah said, looking at her in desperation when they met later that day, ‘John has asked me to marry him. We are engaged. You cannot force me to marry the duke. I shall refuse him—even if he still cares to ask me once it is known where I have been the past three weeks.’
‘It will not be known,’ Mrs Hunter told her sharply. ‘Lady Cavendish will not speak of it and we must hope that it does not leak out—at least until you are safely married, Sarah. The duke means to ask you as soon as we are in town again and, if you are sensible, you will thank him for his offer. You threw away your chances in Italy, please do not make the same mistake again.’
‘But I have told you that I wish to marry John Elworthy. I have given him my promise.’
‘Mr Elworthy may have murdered his wife or at least driven her to her death,’ Mrs Hunter said, giving her a severe look. ‘The rumours are everywhere, Sarah. Had I known before you left town, I should not have permitted you to come here. I should be failing in my duty to you, Sarah, if I allowed you to marry such a man.’
‘It is a lie,’ Sarah cried. ‘I know that there is some gossip, but it is not true. How could you believe such a terrible story, Mama? John would never do such a wicked thing. I know he would not.’
‘It may be a lie or it may be true,’ Mrs Hunter said. ‘But there is no smoke without fire, Sarah. Why did his wife kill herself? Have you asked him? Have you asked yourself? There must have been a reason—perhaps some unkindness on his side. Men are not always what they appear in public. You do not truly know this man. I would not wish my daughter to end by throwing herself into the river.’
‘I should not, Mama. Truly, I should not. I love John and he loves me. I can never marry anyone else. Besides, I have given him my promise.’
‘No contract has been signed. If you wish to make me happy, you will marry the duke and put this nonsense from your mind. You know how I worry for your sake, Sarah. Have you no regard for my nerves?’
‘I do not wish to marry the duke. I love John…’ Sarah said, tears starting to her eyes. ‘Mama, you are unfair. Please do not make me choose between you and John.’
‘I have told you that a marriage between you and that man is out of the question. I should never sleep peacefully in my bed for worrying. If you care for me at all, Sarah, you will oblige me in this. Marry the duke and be sensible.’
‘I cannot marry him,’ Sarah said, her throat tight with emotion. ‘Please do not ask it of me, Mama. I do not regard this cruel rumour that John was responsible for Andrea’s death, and neither does Charles. He will support me in this, I know he will.’
‘We shall see,’ Mrs Hunter said. ‘Say your farewell to Lady Cavendish, Sarah. We are returning to London at once. It is my belief that once you have time for reflection, you will realise that I have acted for your own good.’
‘Mama…’ Sarah’s throat was tight with emotion. Why would her mother not listen? Why would she not understand that Sarah’s love for John had stood the test of time? She would rather remain unwed than marry another man—but how could she marry John when her mother was so set against it?
She approached Elizabeth, offering her hand, her eyes wide and dark with distress. Elizabeth embraced her, whispering against her ear.
‘John shall hear of this and Daniel is already on his way to speak to Charles. Have courage, dearest. Charles will talk to her and all will be well.’
Sarah nodded, her lips murmuring a silent thank you.
‘Come along, Sarah,’ her mother’s voice said sharply from behind her. ‘I want to set out immediately. The sooner we are in London the better. I shall invite the duke to call and, if you know your duty to me, your engagement will be announced immediately.’
Sarah did not answer, but she could do nothing other than follow her mama outside. She took her place in the carriage, sitting back against the squabs and closing her eyes. A tear squeezed from beneath her lashes, trickling down her cheek and into her mouth. What would she do if Charles did not come? Perhaps he would agree with her mama that she would be better married to the Duke of Pentyre.
‘Damn it, why did you let her do it?’ Charles demanded of his friend when told the news. ‘She is so impulsive and obstinate—but it was the right thing to do. Of course it was. If John was being neglected by his servants, he might have died…yes, I understand why she thought it necessary. It is exactly what I would expect of my sister, even if it was reckless. Mama is a fool. It will be much better to announce their engagement. If any of this comes out, Pentyre would be entitled to withdraw even if it had been announced—and that would mean an even bigger scandal. Besides, I do not wish my sister to marry that man. Indeed, I shall not allow it. I wish, though, that you had told me of this before, Daniel. I might have spoken to Mama, prepared her for what was happening.’
‘Yes, perhaps I should have done,’ the earl agreed. ‘Elizabeth told Sarah she must not go, of course, but after she did we both realised that there was little we could do. We hoped that it might come out all right, and of course it did. John asked her to marry him, as you would expect in the circumstances, and if Mrs Hunter had agreed to it we might have contained the gossip to our own locality. You are right, however. I ought to have written to you. Please accept my apologies, Charles.’
‘It is not necessary to apologise, I know your loyalty was to Sarah in this case. Mama is behaving very foolishly,’ Charles said. ‘I shall post up to town at once and talk to her. You know my opinion of Pentyre for it is much as your own. The man may be a reformed character—but John is worth ten of him!’
‘I agree entirely,’ Daniel said. ‘If I had thought Sarah in any danger I should have sent for you at once, but I knew she must be safe with John. He can always be relied on to do the right thing.’
‘Yes, well, let us hope that I am in time to prevent Mama from doing anything foolish.’
‘Sarah, I have received a letter from the duke,’ Mrs Hunter said on the morning after their arrival in London. ‘He will call on us this afternoon. You will receive him—and, if you do not wish to upset me, you will accept his offer. I have always done my best for you, Sarah. Surely you will oblige me? It would make me so happy to see you married to a man worthy of you.’
‘Please do not say such things to me,’ Sarah begged. ‘You kno
w that I love you, Mama—but I cannot marry the duke. I love John…’
‘You are an ungrateful girl,’ Mrs Hunter said, holding a kerchief to her eyes. ‘After all the worry over your abduction…and now you wish to marry a man of whom I can never approve. If you cared for me, you would take the duke and make me happy.’
‘Mama, you are unkind,’ Sarah said. ‘You know that I care for you, but I cannot…will not marry the duke…’
Sarah turned and walked from the room, her heart heavy. Her mother was forcing her to choose between her duty to her and her love for John. But she could not give him up, she could not…and yet, unless Charles could persuade her mother, there was no hope of her marriage taking place.
‘Ah, Pentyre,’ Charles said as he saw the duke leaving White’s club just after noon that same day. ‘I was hoping that I might find you here. May I have a moment or two of your time?’
‘Hunter…’ The duke’s brows lifted as he saw the expression on the other’s face. He was aware that Charles Hunter did not approve of him, which was why he had approached Sarah’s mama rather than her brother. ‘I have an appointment with Mrs Hunter—your mama—this afternoon.’
‘Yes, I thought you might have,’ Charles said and smiled coldly. ‘Let us walk together for a moment, sir. I rather think it might prove to be a waste of your time to call on Mrs Hunter, Pentyre. You see, I have given my permission for Sarah to marry John Elworthy. I believe my mother may have misled you, but you should rather have approached me than her—Sarah is my ward and she shall not marry unless it is with my permission.’
‘You are very blunt, sir,’ the duke said, looking offended. ‘I do not believe that I have made an offer for Miss Hunter as yet.’
‘If I have misread your intention, I apologise,’ Charles replied. ‘It was to save you embarrassment that I sought you out, for my sister would have refused you had you offered. She is in love with John.’
‘Indeed?’ Pentyre was very angry. He had let it be known that he expected to marry the girl and would lose face over the wretched business. ‘Then Mrs Hunter has misled me and I shall not waste my time in calling upon her.’ He glared at Charles. ‘I know that you do not like me, Hunter—but I should advise you not to make an enemy of me. I do not forget a slight.’
‘No, no, I have no wish to be enemies,’ Charles said. ‘My mother was at fault. She knew that there was a long-standing agreement between them—but she was flattered by your attentions to her daughter and hoped to see her elevated to the peerage. Had Sarah’s heart not been engaged, it might have done very well, sir.’ Charles was at his most charming as he soothed ruffled feathers—he had learned the hard way that it was best not to make enemies. Misplaced arrogance could lead to bitter regret.
‘I see…’ Pentyre frowned. He was not completely convinced, but saw that it would appear foolish on his part if he were to fall out with the Hunters over this business. Besides, there were other ways of paying them back for the slight he had received. A word here and there, a raised eyebrow and they would find that they were no longer invited everywhere. ‘Well, thank you for telling me, Hunter. I should not have liked to be refused by Miss Hunter.’
Charles offered his hand. He disliked Pentyre, believed that the man was of bad character and certainly not fit as a husband for Sarah, but he wanted to brush through the affair as easily as he could.
‘I am glad I was in time,’ he said. ‘I am sure you will not regret this, Pentyre.’
‘It is to be hoped that Miss Hunter does not regret her choice,’ the duke said, a spiteful note in his voice. ‘I am not one for gossip, Hunter—but there are certain tales that make one fear for her happiness as Elworthy’s wife.’
‘Lies,’ Charles said, holding on to his temper with difficulty. ‘I assure you that there is not a grain of truth in any of them.’
‘Let us hope so for your sister’s sake,’ the duke said. He tipped his hat to Charles and walked away.
Charles stared after him. He hoped that he had managed to cool Pentyre’s anger, but placed no trust in the man’s goodwill. He had saved Sarah from an embarrassing interview, but now he must calm his mama’s outrage—and he must see what could be done to scotch the rumours concerning John.
It could not matter to his friends what people said, but it might be uncomfortable for Sarah if she were not to be generally received. Daniel already had agents searching for clues as to the identity of the person who had spread the malicious lies. There must be some reason for it—but Charles could not see what John’s enemy hoped to achieve. He pushed the problem to the back of his mind. One thing at a time! He must speak to his mama and Sarah.
Sarah had been summoned to the parlour to find that her brother was already there. Her face lit up as she saw him and she ran to embrace him, a shimmer of tears in her eyes.
‘Charles,’ she said shakily. ‘I am so glad you have come.’
‘Your brother has chosen to override me in this business,’ Mrs Hunter said, looking at Sarah. ‘You both know how I feel about this matter. I cannot agree to the marriage, because John Elworthy has been accused of murder—’
‘No, Mama, he has not,’ Charles told her. ‘There are wicked rumours that his wife might not have died by her own hand—but as yet no one has dared to accuse John.’
‘They might as well have done given that everyone will think it,’ Mrs Hunter said with a tearful look. ‘I am most disappointed that you have taken against me, Charles. I think I might have looked for your support. I want only what is best for my daughter.’
‘Pentyre is perhaps one of the worst you could have chosen,’ Charles said, hard put to it to keep his temper. ‘I know for a fact that he is a libertine, a hard gambler—and there are rumours of worse. I saw him in the company of Sir Montague Forsythe some years ago, and Sir Courtney Welch.’
‘Oh, Charles!’ Mrs Hunter looked horrified. ‘This changes everything. Why did you not tell me this before? If I had known, I should certainly not have encouraged him to pay court to Sarah. You know I would not…’ She looked tearfully at Sarah. ‘I wanted you to be safe from those evil men. I have been haunted by the fear that they might try to take you again.’
‘Most of them are dead, Mama,’ Sarah said and turned to her, unmoved by her mother’s tears. ‘I shall be perfectly safe as John’s wife.’
‘Pentyre has apparently reformed,’ Charles said with a shrug. ‘I do not believe in blackening a man’s character without cause—but I would never have agreed to a marriage, Mama. You should have consulted me before giving him to understand that his suit would be acceptable. He was angry and one can hardly blame him.’
‘Yes, perhaps I should,’ Mrs Hunter said and dried her eyes. She looked at Sarah. ‘Perhaps I have been at fault, Sarah. I was very distressed when I learned that you had been living in Mr Elworthy’s house unchaperoned. However, I still cannot like the idea of your marriage to Mr Elworthy…’
Sarah looked at her mother. Mrs Hunter had sat down on the sofa and was suddenly looking deflated, her shoulders hunched defensively.
‘I am sorry to have upset you, Mama,’ Sarah replied. ‘But I could not oblige you by marrying the duke.’
‘And nor should I have permitted it,’ Charles said. ‘You acted foolishly, Mama, and should rightly have applied to me.’
‘That is unfair…’ Mrs Hunter sniffed into a lace kerchief. ‘I was thinking of what was best for Sarah—’ She broke off as a maid knocked and then entered. ‘Yes, Marlene—what is it?’
‘Mr Elworthy, ma’am,’ the girl said just as John walked past her and into the room. ‘He would not wait, ma’am…’
‘Charles! Thank God you are here,’ John said. ‘I came as quickly as I could, but I was forced to break my journey last night. I fear I am not yet as well as I should wish…’ He took a linen kerchief from his pocket and mopped at his forehead, which was prickled with beads of perspiration. ‘Forgive me, I must sit down…’
‘John dearest,’ Sarah cried and went to hi
m as he sank into an elbow chair, his face as white as chalk. She knelt on the floor beside him, looking up into his face anxiously. ‘You should not have left your bed to come here like this. You are not well enough to make such a long journey.’
He took her hand, holding it to his cheek, his eyes intent on her face. ‘Elizabeth told me how distressed you were, Sarah my love. I had to come at once.’
‘Dearest John.’ Sarah smiled at him. ‘It is all right, for Charles has spoken to Mama—and I hope she will forgive me for distressing her…’
John glanced at Mrs Hunter, who had sat back in her chair and was fanning herself as if in a fluster. ‘Please forgive Sarah for her impulsive action in coming to me, ma’am. I should not have allowed it had I known, but I was too ill—and when I recovered my senses it was too late, for the damage was done. However, it was always my intention to ask for Sarah’s hand in marriage at the earliest opportunity—and she has done me the honour of accepting. I shall hope for your approval, ma’am—and yours, Charles?’
‘You know that you have always had my approval for a match between you,’ Charles said and smiled at him. ‘I have already told Pentyre that you and Sarah are engaged, so it is too late to withdraw. I shall insert the news of your betrothal in The Times tomorrow and we shall give a small dance for you in a few days—or whenever you are well enough to attend it, John.’
Mrs Hunter said nothing, but Sarah knew that she was offended and hurt because her wishes had been ignored, and it took the edge from Sarah’s pleasure. She wanted her mother to smile and be pleased, but it was clear from Mrs Hunter’s expression that she was not happy with the situation.
