Lorna had blossomed and her confidence had grown as her more dominant sister had retreated into her shell. Hopefully, a happy balance would eventually be achieved where the sisters would be equal.
Later that morning, when the baggage vehicle was leaving, the girls asked to go downstairs in order to wave them off. “I shall ask Cook to send us an alfresco luncheon. We should be spending as much time as possible outside whilst the weather is so good,” Sarah told them.
Beth insisted on taking the message. Lorna accompanied her to make sure the little girl did not get lost in the rabbit warren of passages that made up the servants’ quarters. Isobel gripped Sarah’s hand and stared up, her thin face etched with worry.
“Miss Shaw, what is to happen to me? Whatever you say, I know Lottie would not have caught the measles but for my disobedience. Mama would not have run away either. The family has fallen apart, and it’s all my fault. I think it would be better if I went away to school. At least then Beth and Lorna and Mama and Baby John could return to Bentley Manor.”
“Isobel, you must not think like this. The rift between your parents, although on the face of it caused by a disagreement over whether you should be sent away to school, is more about Sir John’s grief. It is this that has made him overly harsh.”
She gathered the child in her arms and took her to the window seat. The girl was really too old to sit on her lap, but today she needed the physical comfort of being held close by a loving adult. Sarah was shocked how light the girl was; how could she have lost so much weight in such a short time?
“Darling, listen to me. Whatever you might think, both your parents love you very much. They are grieving sorely for the loss of your sister, as are we all. The best thing you can do is get well, so whatever happens in the autumn you will be strong enough to deal with it.”
“I don’t have to go to school right now?”
Sarah hugged the child tighter. “You don’t. You need a complete break. You’re very run down after your illness. A few weeks in the sunshine at the seaside will restore you. When we come back in September, if Sir John still wishes you to go away, you will be ready to do it with good grace. School might seem like a punishment, but I thoroughly enjoyed my time there.”
“But Lorna and I have never been apart. It’s not like an ordinary girl going, is it? We are twins. We share a special bond.”
“I know, it will be very difficult for both of you. But I’m sure once your papa sees you are a changed girl, not the headstrong child you were, he will wish to have you back in the bosom of the family. I applaud your sentiments, my dear, but you must put your parents’ difficulties to one side. It’s no concern of yours, or mine, so you must go to the seaside and concentrate on getting well. Can you do that for me, Isobel?”
“I can, Miss Shaw. You’re the nicest person I’ve ever met; as long as you’re here to take care of me I know I shall be safe.” She wriggled from Sarah’s lap and knelt on the window seat to stare earnestly into her eyes. “Promise me, Miss Shaw, you’ll never leave me?”
Sarah had no choice. “I give you my word, Isobel, that as long as I’m needed I shall be there.” With this second promise, she was doubly committed.
Satisfied with this answer, the girl bounced down and ran after her siblings; this vow seemed to lift Isobel’s spirits, as if she had discarded a heavy load and could be a normal child once more. If only life were so simple. Isobel, having been reassured Sarah would not abandon them, was ready to face the world. What of herself? From whatever angle she viewed the situation, she could see only heartbreak ahead for her and Adam. Possibly she could be held to her promise until Isobel came out; as the child was only nine years of age, this meant it could be that many years before she and Adam could finally tie the knot.
What man, however loving, would be prepared to wait so long? At some point, she was going to have to break her word to either Isobel or Adam. She shuddered; her name day was next month, and she would be three and twenty. Already several of her friends from the Petersham Academy for Young Ladies had children. The thought that she might have to wait until she was past her thirtieth birthday before holding a baby of her own was not a happy prospect.
Today was not the time to brood; she must put aside her sadness. Neither Adam nor the children must ever know how torn she was between duty and love. No doubt her mother would have much to say on the matter as well. Thinking about their reunion enlivened her; it had been almost two years since they had seen each other. Exchanging regular letters was no substitute for being able to hold her beloved parent in her arms.
The time for their departure eventually arrived. Tom Coachman and the head groom were on the box of the smart new travelling carriage they were to use. Mrs. Moorcroft and her maid were to use the second, smaller vehicle. This meant the three girls could occupy one seat and Betty and Sarah the other. The necessary valise containing what would be needed on the journey was safely stowed with Mrs. Moorcroft.
Adam was there to wish them well. “The house is going to seem sadly empty when you’re gone, sweetheart.”
“I had not realised I took up so much space, my dear. Surely it’s the children and your mother you will miss the most?” Her sally had the desired effect, and his expression lightened.
“My darling, you might be small in size but our love fills the house with happiness in a way that no amount of other people could. I shall be counting the hours until I can join you in Dorset.”
They were standing a discreet distance apart; she knew he wanted to embrace her as much as she wished to feel his arms around her. Being obliged to pretend what was between them was merely friendship was becoming more difficult by the day. At least when he was absent she would have no need to dissemble.
“I do believe I’m as excited as the children. I have never seen the sea. One day I should like to sail across to France, or perhaps along the coast and into the Mediterranean.” She sighed and he stepped closer.
“I promise, my love, that day will come. I shall purchase a yacht and take you anywhere you wish to go for our wedding trip. Since we beat the French at Waterloo and that upstart Napoleon Bonaparte has been incarcerated on St. Helen’s, it’s possible to travel anywhere on the continent without danger.” His eyes burned into hers. She was captivated.
A call from the coach came just in time to avert what would have been a disaster. For them to have embraced in full view of everyone would have revealed their secret instantly.
“Miss Shaw, are you coming? Will you please sit next to me?”
Laughing, she raised her hand in farewell and ran to the waiting groom. He handed her into the carriage and neatly flicked the steps into place before closing the door. The windows had been let down; this was going to be a long, hot journey and Sarah had decided it would be better to be covered in dust than be without fresh air.
“Are we there yet, Miss Shaw? You said we had not much further to travel and that was ages ago,” Lorna said plaintively. Unfortunately, she had proved to be a poor traveller, whereas little Beth and Isobel had revelled in every bounce and jolt, screeching with laughter when the carriage lurched from side to side.
“Normally I do not approve of children hanging out of the carriage window. However, in your case I shall make an exception, Lorna. You must come over to my side, hold on to the window frame, and look forward and tell me what you see.”
Reluctantly the girl did as requested. Beth was fast asleep, her head in Isobel’s lap. A few weeks ago the girl would have tipped her little sister onto the floor and pushed Lorna out of the way in order to be first to look out of the window. She was a changed child; the shock of her sister dying so suddenly had brought the sweetness of her disposition to the forefront. There was not an hour had passed in which Isobel did not show her siblings kindness.
“I don’t like standing up, Miss Shaw, I fear I shall be ill again.”
“Nonsense, Lorna, do as I say and you will be glad that you did.” Sarah shifted forward on the squabs and pu
t a steadying arm around the girl.
The girl edged closer until she was leaning on the door itself. Cautiously she leant out through the open window and turned her head to stare to the front. Her body stiffened, and she screamed in delight. Beth jerked sideways and fell into the well of the carriage, taking Isobel with her in a flurry of arms and legs.
Lorna spun round, no longer bothered by the movement of the vehicle. “Isobel, Beth, come and look. It’s so big. It goes on forever. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Unbothered by their tumble, the other two scrambled up and joined her in the window. Sarah lifted Beth, as she was too small to lean out without assistance. The sea stretched in rippling waves as far as the eye could see, reflecting the blue sky above, making the water seem turquoise, magical. She had been watching it for several miles, entranced as they were.
“Well, girls, do you think it worth it to have come all this way?” There had been several moments over the past three days when not only the children, but she herself, had wondered if such an arduous journey was really worth the effort. One glance at the water and her doubts had fled.
Lorna and Isobel bounced up and down with excitement. Beth was becoming agitated because she could not see as well as her older sisters. Sarah was about to suggest that one of the girls gave way so that Beth could be held at the window when Isobel turned.
“Come along, nuisance, let me hold you in the window and then you can see properly.”
Beth flung herself into Isobel’s arms and was soon crowing with delight. “I can see the sea. See the sea. See the sea.”
Lorna rushed to the other side and looked backwards. “And I can see the other carriage. It’s a long way back, but I’m sure it’s them.”
Mrs. Moorcroft had also proved to be a dreadful passenger; it had taken both maids to take care of her. The girls had behaved impeccably, making Sarah’s task an easy one.
“Good, with luck we will arrive before them and that will give me time to warn the staff to have a bedchamber prepared for Mrs. Moorcroft. I’m sure she will recover from her sickness as soon as she is out of the carriage.”
“I wasn’t sick, was I, Miss Shaw?”
“No, Beth, you weren’t. Poor Lorna was the only one so afflicted, and, thank God, she was not as poorly as Mrs. Moorcroft.”
“I feel much better now I know we’re almost there. Can we go down to the beach straightaway? Shall we be able to bathe? Beth and I cannot swim, but Isobel can.” Lorna gulped and then continued softly. “Lottie was the best swimmer; she would have loved to come to the seaside with us.”
Sadness filled the carriage, the girls sunk back onto the squabs in silence. “Lottie has gone to heaven, but she is not lost to us. As long as we love her in our hearts she will be close by, sharing our lives. You will all be reunited one day. She would not wish you to be sad on such a happy day.” Sarah smiled at the children, hoping her words would help.
Three blonde heads nodded, but Isobel and Lorna slid in closer to Beth and they didn’t answer. The children would need the rest of the summer to come to terms with their loss. Sarah prayed the change of scene would be enough to begin the healing process.
The letter that had caught up with them that morning had filled her with foreboding. Adam had said that Sir John had discovered where his wife was hiding and was going to collect her at this very moment. How long this would take was unclear, but certainly it meant their time at the seaside might be abruptly cut short. An irate Sir John could descend on them, demanding they should return forthwith—or, even worse, send Isobel away to school before she had time to fully recover.
Chapter Twelve
The carriage trundled through the small market town of Poole and on into the countryside. Eventually it turned through imposing gates and down an immaculate drive to pull up in the turning circle in front of a modern edifice.
Sarah turned to her maid, who had rejoined her in the carriage. “Betty, this looks like a new building. I wonder why the owners are not living in it themselves.”
“I reckon the house was built for a newly married couple; maybe the wife died or the engagement was broken. What I do know, Miss Shaw, is that it must have cost a pretty penny to rent it. It’s easily as large as Bentley Manor, and the grounds are magnificent.”
Sarah scarcely heard this comment; her eyes were fixed on the small, plump figure waving from the top step. Her mama was there—she couldn’t wait to descend from the carriage and embrace her.
Beth grabbed her elbow impatiently. “Miss Shaw, Miss Shaw, who’s that waving to us?”
“That’s my mother, Beth. It’s she who has found this wonderful house for us. She’s going to be living with us whilst we’re at the seaside.” They didn’t need to know that her mama would be living with Adam and his mother when she and the children returned to Bentley Manor in the autumn.
“You go on ahead, miss. I’ll see to the little ones,” Betty said.
Sarah was out of the carriage without waiting for the steps to be lowered. Gathering up her skirts in one hand, she ran to greet her mother.
“Mama, you look so well. The girls are coming in with Betty; did our luggage arrive safely?”
“I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see you, my dear girl, but you are too thin. I shall make it my business to restore the sparkle to your eyes and the roses to your cheeks whilst we’re living here.”
Sarah linked arms with her mother and stepped into the capacious entrance hall. She stared in awe at the expense of the chequered floor, and at the staircase, which curved around the wall on either side of the circular hall. Light flooded in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, creating a stunning space. “I am impressed, Mama. Where did you find such a place, and in so short a time as well?”
“The building was designed for a young couple, but the gentleman was killed in a riding accident, and his widow has returned to her parents to grieve. They were only in occupation for a few months before the tragedy.”
A homely woman hurried up to greet her, her blue gown rustling as she walked. She curtsied politely. “Stubbing, at your service, Miss Shaw. The nursery floor is ready for the young ladies. Your chamber, and that of Mrs. Moorcroft, is also prepared.”
“Mrs. Moorcroft has had a wretched journey; she will need to retire immediately. Her carriage will be here within the next half an hour. Please ensure the shutters and drapes are drawn and the bed turned down.”
“I shall see to it at once, madam. Do you wish to go to your apartment?”
“No, thank you. I shall make sure the girls are comfortable and then Mrs. Shaw must show me around. I should like tea to be served in the nursery in an hour, if you please. I shall require nothing other than fresh lemonade, if that is possible.”
The housekeeper nodded, bobbed again, and vanished with a swish of her skirts. “Stubbing seems an efficient and pleasant woman, Mama. How did you find her so quickly?”
“The house came fully staffed. We have a superfluity of footmen, a pompous butler who fortunately is indisposed today, and more parlour maids and chambermaids than we shall ever have need for. But Mr. Burton insisted Dr. Moorcroft wished to take on everyone. It would seem your young man has very deep pockets, my dear.”
Sarah flushed. “I thought I explained to you, in my letter, that it’s a business arrangement between us, not a genuine engagement. I’m committed to working with the Bentley family for the next few years. I could not possibly enter into a genuine betrothal, now could I?”
Her mother smiled knowingly but held her peace. There was no further opportunity for private conversation as the children erupted into the house, exclaiming loudly at everything they saw. Nancy appeared in the hall to greet them, and they flung themselves at the girl as if they’d been parted for weeks and not days.
“Shall I take them up, Miss Shaw? It’s ever so nice upstairs. I’ve never seen the like.”
“The bathing room is a wonder to behold. Imagine not having to carry all that dirty water downsta
irs?”
Smiling, Sarah waved the girls away. “Run along, Jo is waiting for you upstairs. Make sure they change into something clean. Wash their faces and hands, Nancy. After tea, please bring them downstairs and we shall go and explore the beach.”
Chattering like magpies, the girls vanished with their nursery maid. Isobel was as vocal as the others, a pleasant change to see her so ebullient after the past weeks of near silence.
“Mama, what is all this about indoor plumbing? I’ve never seen anything of that sort. Please take me at once to view this marvel of engineering.”
Sarah was amazed at what she saw. Where the soiled water went was a mystery to her; a small plug was removed from the aperture in the base of the bath, and it would seem that the contents vanished through it, never to be seen again. Anything that made life easier for the servants was a good thing, in her opinion. Carrying buckets full of dirty water, or night soil, could not be a pleasant experience.
Her chambers were light and airy, and her private parlour even had a small balcony upon which she could sit and eat her breakfast looking out to sea. These rooms were far too grand for someone as lowly as a governess, but her mother insisted she was entitled to have the best as she was engaged, however irregular the arrangement, to the master of the house.
The remainder of the day passed pleasantly enough. The children were enchanted with the beach, but by the time they all returned from their excursion Sarah had decided that sand was not something she enjoyed having stuck between her toes. In future the girls could paddle, explore the rock pools, and build castles with the help of their maids, an arrangement that suited them all.
An alfresco supper was served, as high tea had been substituted for dinner, and Mrs. Moorcroft felt sufficiently recovered to join Sarah and her mother on the terrace.
“My dear, Sarah, I do believe you have freckles already. You must remember to keep on your bonnet if you venture to the beach again tomorrow.”
Miss Shaw and the Doctor Page 11
