A Worthy Gentleman

by Anne Herries

  ‘I love you very much, dearest. You must know that?’ His words carried the ring of sincerity, the look in his eyes seeming to caress her.

  Before she could answer, Mrs Hunter came into the room. She saw how close they were standing and frowned in disapproval.

  ‘John has just given me my ring,’ Sarah said, holding out her hand for her mother to see. ‘Is it not lovely?’

  ‘It looks very well,’ Mrs Hunter said in a grudging tone. ‘Are we ready? We do not wish to be late.’

  ‘The carriage awaits, ma’am,’ John said, smiling easily at his future mother-in-law. He was aware that she was not completely reconciled to their marriage, but determined not to allow her attitude towards him to spoil things for Sarah. ‘Shall we go?’

  Mrs Hunter swept out ahead of them. Her expression was one of resigned martyrdom. Clearly she had not forgiven any of them for going against her wishes. Her attitude threw a shadow over Sarah’s happiness, for although she was marrying the man she loved she could not be completely happy while her mother continued to show her dislike of both John and the marriage.

  Sarah took John’s arm, smiling up at him. She was delighted with her beautiful ring and the prospect of marriage to the man she loved. And, however much it might hurt, she would not let her mama’s disapproval—or the unknown writer of that wicked letter—spoil her pleasure.

  It was a very pleasant evening despite Mrs Hunter’s reserved manner. They met several of their friends at the theatre and Sarah could not detect any change in their manner towards either her or John. She said as much to her mother before she went to bed that night.

  ‘Julia Moore told me that she would come for the dance and our wedding,’ she said. ‘Do you not think that shows people know these tales are scandalous lies, Mama?’

  ‘Perhaps,’ her mother replied with a shrug. ‘Your friends may ignore the gossip—but you may find that you will not receive vouchers for Almack’s unless these tales can be disproved.’

  ‘I should be sorry if that were the case,’ Sarah acknowledged. ‘But it changes nothing. I can be happy at home in the country with John. Indeed, I believe I shall not want to visit London often. I can buy almost everything I need in York and send to town for anything else. I enjoy meeting my friends, Mama, but I do not care so very much for large society gatherings.’ She smiled and changed the subject. ‘You know that John is taking me to Scotland for a few days, Mama? A friend has offered us his hunting lodge.’

  ‘Would you not have preferred to visit France or Italy?’ Mrs Hunter’s brows rose.

  ‘I have only just returned home after more than two years abroad, Mama,’ Sarah reminded her. ‘Italy is beautiful and perhaps John will take me there one day. He asked me where I should like to go and I told him that I wanted to be at home for a few months. His house needs a great deal of attention and it will give me much pleasure to choose the silks for our new curtains, and the new colours and furnishings, for he has given me carte blanche to do as I please. When we have created a home to be proud of, we shall hold a large house party for our friends and neighbours.’

  ‘Well, I suppose you will have your own way,’ Mrs Hunter said darkly. ‘Do not blame me if things do not work out as you hope, Sarah.’

  ‘What can you mean, Mama?’

  Her mother’s gaze narrowed. ‘Supposing there is some truth in this rumour, Sarah? There must surely be a reason for it having spread as it has. What will you do if you discover that your husband was in some way responsible for his first wife’s death? How will you feel then?’ She gripped her daughter’s arm, suddenly intent. ‘Will you not reconsider, Sarah? I know you think I am deliberately spoiling things for you—but I am frightened. I cannot shake the feeling that if you marry him your life may be in danger.’ Tears stood in her eyes. ‘I do love you, Sarah, even if you do not think it…’

  ‘Oh, Mama…’ Sarah said and shook her head. She felt that icy chill at her nape again, for, combined with the threatening letter she had received, her mother’s doubts were enough to make her uneasy. ‘Please do not worry. John would never harm me.’

  ‘But something made that poor woman kill herself. What if you discovered that he was in some way responsible?’

  ‘I shall not discover anything of the kind, for it is not true,’ Sarah replied, her head high. ‘John could never do anything so wicked. I do not know how you can think it, Mama. It is most unfair of you. You know how kind he has always been to us—how much he helped Charles when I was lost. I know Charles thinks highly of him, as do Arabella, Elizabeth and the earl.’

  ‘Yes, I know he was a good friend to your brother, but…Oh, I do not know what to think,’ her mother said and sighed. She gave a little shake of her head. ‘Perhaps I have been wrong over this affair, Sarah. I am haunted by this fear and…perhaps I am foolish as your brother says. All I want is for you to be happy.’

  ‘I shall be happy as John’s wife.’ Sarah moved towards her, her hand stretched out in supplication. ‘Please do not let us quarrel any more, Mama. I know that you wanted to see me safely wed, because of what happened when I was abducted—but I shall be safe as John’s wife.’

  ‘I pray that you will be,’ Mrs Hunter said, but her face was shadowed by doubt. ‘I am sorry if I was unkind to you, Sarah. I was so angry at what you had done. Did you not think of what would happen if John had not asked you to marry him? Your reputation would have been lost. As it is, you may find that you are not welcome everywhere even after your marriage.’

  ‘I know that I took a risk,’ Sarah said honestly. ‘If John had not asked me, I should have had to retire from public life completely, perhaps gone abroad for good—but if he had died I should not have cared what became of me. He is the only man I could bear to marry, Mama. I am sorry if you wanted me to become a duchess, but I could never have married the duke.’

  ‘Oh, Sarah…’ Mrs Elworthy looked at her in distress. ‘I wonder if it is wise to love so completely. I fear that you will be hurt one day. At least John did the decent thing, though he could not have done less in the circumstances. Any gentleman would have done as much in his place.’

  ‘John loves me, Mama. It was his intention to ask me to marry him even before I went to his home.’

  ‘Yet he did not do so,’ Mrs Hunter reminded her. ‘He had opportunity enough, I think, before he was called to his son—but there, it hardly matters. He did as he ought in difficult circumstances and you are to be married. I must be content with that and forget my doubts.’

  ‘You have no need to doubt him, Mama,’ Sarah said, raising her head proudly. ‘John loves me. I know he does.’

  And yet, as she lay down to sleep that night, her mother’s words came back to haunt her. Why had John not spoken when they were both staying with Charles and Arabella? She had believed he meant to ask her on the night of Elizabeth’s ball, but he had rushed home. And he hadn’t wanted to give her Andrea’s ring.

  Was it possible that he had simply done the decent thing as her mother was suggesting? It was true that she did not know him well. Could he still be in love with Andrea despite his denials? Sarah had proved her love for him by going to his side when he was ill, nursing him and arranging a new nurse for his son. Had he decided that he ought to marry for the boy’s sake? Had he believed it his duty to save Sarah from the scandal she had brought upon herself by her rash behaviour?

  It was a small pinprick of hurt. Sarah struggled to put it from her mind. John loved her. He had kissed her so tenderly and told her that he had always loved her.

  If that were true, why had he married Andrea? Why had Andrea taken her own life? It seemed strange that a young wife with a small child should be so unhappy that she could no longer bear her existence. There must be some secret in her past, some mystery that had caused her to throw herself in the river that day…unless she had not died by her own will…

  Sarah tossed restlessly on her pillows. It was a while before she managed to sleep, but at last she subdued her doubts. John loved her
. He had sworn it and she believed him. To believe anything else was impossible—it would mean that he had lied to her and then he would not be the man she loved.

  ‘I am so happy for you, dearest Sarah,’ Arabella said, embracing her. ‘I have always thought John was the man for you, and I know you will be happy with him.’

  ‘Yes, I shall,’ Sarah agreed for she had managed to put her doubts aside. She would have been foolish to allow them to mar her happiness, because everyone was doing so much to give her pleasure. ‘You and Charles have been so good to me, Belle. I am really looking forward to the dance and then of course my wedding.’

  They were alone in Sarah’s bedchamber, and the room was cluttered with boxes and parcels, most of them gifts from friends and relatives. Sarah had hardly begun to unpack them yet for she had been too busy having fittings for her wedding gown and other items of her trousseau.

  ‘Are you pleased with your wedding gown?’ Arabella asked. It was at that moment lying on the bed, a fragile creation of white silk, lace and ribbons. ‘I think it is beautiful and it looks well on you, dearest.’

  ‘Yes, it is lovely,’ Sarah said. ‘I was not satisfied until your dressmaker adjusted the waist, but now it looks just as it should.’ She noticed that Arabella was looking tired. ‘Are you feeling unwell? You are a little pale, Belle.’

  ‘Oh, no, I am not ill,’ Arabella said, ‘but I think I ought to lie down for a few minutes. My doctor told me that I should rest in the afternoons.’

  ‘Then you must do so,’ Sarah said. ‘It is too nice out for me to stay in. I think I shall go for a little walk if you are going to rest.’

  ‘Yes, you do that,’ Arabella said. ‘I think Daniel and John will be back later this afternoon. They said that they would not stay more than one night in York.’

  ‘Yes, I know. John said he had some business there and I believe Charles also needed to see someone on business?’

  ‘Oh, yes, it will have been business of some kind,’ Arabella said. ‘Go for you walk then, Sarah. I shall see you at tea.’

  Sarah picked up a paisley shawl and draped it over her shoulders, following her friend out into the hall. Arabella turned away to her own apartments and Sarah went down the stairs.

  She left the house by means of the French windows in the small back parlour and walked across the lawns. Beyond the formal garden was an expanse of open parkland with specimen trees arranged in artful carelessness to look as if nature had always intended they should stand just so. The park had been landscaped during her grandfather’s time, and the trees had grown to great heights, their branches dipping down to sweep the earth majestically.

  At the far edge of the vista the lake gleamed in the sunshine. Sarah had always loved to visit the lake, sometimes to feed the swans that glided there so gracefully, at other times just to stand and watch the water as it rippled in the breeze.

  That afternoon the water looked especially inviting as it reflected the blue of the sky overhead. It was not as blue as the lakes in Italy or the Mediterranean Sea, of course, but in its own way it was just as beautiful. On the far shore there was a haze of blue-green from the dense wood planted there, also by her grandfather. Pausing to shade her eyes from the sun, Sarah looked towards something dark moving at the edge of the wood.

  A little shiver ran down her spine. Someone—a man—was standing in the trees. He wore riding breeches and a dark coat, his head bare. As she stood motionless, reminded of the morning that she had been so brutally abducted from her family, the man emerged from the trees. He came nearer to the opposite bank of the lake and stood staring across it at her. His action was deliberate, somehow threatening, as if he were somehow accusing her—but of what?

  Sarah felt coldness spread all over her. She did not know why, but she sensed menace in the man. He was not from the estate, of that she felt certain—and from the way he dressed, she thought he might be a gentleman…or perhaps a soldier. There was something bold in his stance, something challenging, as if he were warning her, though of what she had no idea.

  For a moment Sarah considered calling out to him, asking him what he wanted, why he was on her brother’s land, but then he turned away, disappearing into the woods as if he had never been. Sarah had goose pimples all over. Someone must have walked over her grave!

  The old saying made her feel uncomfortable as it popped into her head, and a little frightened. Yet what was there to be frightened of? It was a beautiful day and she was quite safe. No one had thrown a blanket over her head. She had not been abducted.

  Yet somehow the pleasure in her walk had dimmed. She turned and walked back towards the house. Who was he, the stranger who had stared at her from the other side of the lake? Why had he stared at her that way? Or perhaps she was imagining it?

  But he had certainly not been one of the estate workers. The woods were private property and he must have scaled a high wall to enter them—for what purpose?

  As she neared the house, she saw that a curricle had drawn up and two men were getting out. She gave a little cry of pleasure, forgetting the odd incident at the lake as she ran to greet them.

  ‘Charles! John! You are back…’

  She ran to John, who caught her in his arms, holding her as she clung to him, his smile warm and gentle as he gazed down at her.

  ‘Is something wrong, Sarah?’ he asked, for he sensed that she was disturbed about something.

  ‘Oh, no,’ she said and laughed up at him. ‘I am just pleased to see you.’

  ‘He has been away for one night only,’ Charles said, giving her a mocking smile. ‘It is as well that you are to be married soon, Sarah!’ He was laughing as he walked into the house ahead of them, leaving them to look at each other in delight and snatch a stolen kiss.

  ‘I am foolish,’ Sarah said. ‘But I was just so pleased to see you.’

  ‘I hope that you will always greet me as eagerly,’ John said, and for a moment there were shadows in his eyes. ‘But tell me, did something happen…something that bothers you?’ He searched her face anxiously.

  Sarah hesitated, wondering if she should tell him about the man in the woods—but what was there to tell really? She had seen a stranger on her brother’s land. That was not so very unusual after all. People did occasionally stray on to the estate by mistake.

  ‘No, nothing,’ she said and reached up to kiss his cheek. ‘Nothing at all, John. I had been for a walk and it was just so nice to see that you and Charles were back, that’s all.’

  There were only a few days until her wedding. Sarah was keeping her fingers crossed that nothing would go wrong. When they were married and nothing could prevent her being John’s wife, then she would tell him about the stranger.

  It was a happy evening. Arabella had invited some of her friends and neighbours to dinner and the company had blended well, Sarah receiving many warm wishes and congratulations on her coming marriage.

  After dinner, when the gentlemen had finished with their port and joined the ladies in the parlour, Sarah was asked to play at the pianoforte. John came to stand at her shoulder, turning the pages, and then, when she had finished, he suggested a duet and sat down beside her on the stool. They gave a spirited performance, which was greeted with enthusiastic applause and cries for more at the end. They obliged for they were enjoying themselves, and rose only when the tea tray was brought in.

  After this the gentlemen disappeared to the billiard room, and the ladies went upstairs to their rooms. Mrs Hunter came to say goodnight to Sarah as she was undressing.

  ‘You played very nicely, Sarah,’ she said. ‘I was pleased to see that everything went well this evening. I have my reservations about your marriage, you know that—but I must admit that Mr Elworthy has very good manners, and he seems generally liked.’

  ‘He is, Mama,’ Sarah said. ‘Please try to like John for my sake—and forgive us for going against you in the matter of the ceremony. I know you would have liked a grand affair in town.’

  ‘Well, you are my o
nly daughter,’ Mrs Hunter said with a little sniff. ‘But I suppose it will do well enough.’

  Sarah smiled as she went out. She could only hope that her mama would be reconciled to the marriage, for she did not like to be at odds with her. Being a generous girl, she had forgiven her mother for her unkindness and all she wanted now was for everyone to be happy.

  ‘Oh, what a lot of cards and gifts you have,’ Tilda said as she entered Sarah’s bedchamber the next morning. She and Lady Tate had arrived the previous evening for the dance that was to be held that night. ‘I found these on the hall table, Sarah, and so I thought I would bring them up for you.’

  She deposited half a dozen small packages on the bed. Sarah was sitting up against the pillows. She had been drinking hot chocolate, which her maid had brought up for her earlier, because she had decided to stay in bed a little longer so as to be fresh for the evening. She reached out for the letters and smiled as she saw that one small package was from John, but the others were messages from friends who were coming to the wedding. She opened several, including John’s latest gift, a pretty ruby pendant on a fine chain, and then picked up the last, a shudder running through her as she saw the writing.

  Tilda had been looking at some of the gifts that had been set up on a table at one side of the room. They had arrived in the last week or so and would be displayed downstairs on the day of the wedding.

  ‘What a beautiful little clock,’ she said, touching a tiny enamelled carriage clock with her finger. ‘I think that is French…’ She turned and saw the expression of apprehension on Sarah’s face. ‘Is something the matter, my dear? Something in one of the letters I brought up to you?’

  Sarah offered her the unopened letter wordlessly. She took it, broke the plain wax seal, and read the few lines with a frown. ‘This is wicked, Sarah,’ she said and read aloud, ‘“I have warned you before. Draw back now before it is too late. He does not love you. He will never love you. Marry him and you will never cease to regret it. A well wisher.” How could anybody send you such a wicked letter?’