Tomorrow he would put matters right, humble himself, and beg her forgiveness. She was a remarkable young lady, as dedicated to her profession as he was to being a physician. He should have recognized this and respected her wishes, not tried to blackmail her into changing her mind. He was ashamed of himself; he couldn’t face the accusatory stares from both matrons when they heard what he had said.
There was a horse sale being held a few miles away; he would take himself there and spend the night at a local hostelry. When he returned on the morrow he would begin to court her, to win her over and persuade her he was not the selfish dolt he appeared to be.
Sarah fell into bed that night exhausted by hiding her emotions from the ever watchful eyes of both Mrs. Moorcroft and her mother. Fortunately the girls had noticed nothing amiss, and after a hectic day, both on the beach and in the woods, all three of them had dropped asleep immediately.
She had been too fatigued to look at her supper tray. She knew she should be eating more, but emotional turmoil played havoc with her appetite.
The church clock in the village had just struck midnight when there was a thunderous knocking on the door. Tumbling out of bed, she dragged on her dressing robe, pushed her bare feet into her slippers and ran to the balcony. In the moonlight, she could see a lone horsemen standing in the portico. He had a leather satchel over one shoulder. An express delivery had arrived.
Downstairs, the housekeeper was busy opening the door. There was no sign of either Mrs. Moorcroft or her mother. Both ladies were sound sleepers, thank goodness. Such an arrival could only mean one thing: bad news of one sort or another. She hurried downstairs and the housekeeper was already opening the door.
The letter was handed over, and the man did not wait for reply. Sarah heard him cantering back down the drive moments after the delivery. With shaking hands, she took the proffered paper. Stubbing held up the candles to allow the letter to be read. The name emblazoned on the front, in untidy black scrawl, was hers. She snapped open the sealing wax and scanned the contents.
Miss Shaw,
My carriage will arrive at dawn tomorrow. My daughters and yourself will be in it.
Taking my children away without my permission is indefensible. You will regret your rash decision.
This short note was signed with scrawl she had to suppose was the signature of Sir John. How had he discovered their whereabouts so soon? Adam had been so sure it would be several weeks before they were discovered. Isobel was not ready for the upheaval. Her recovery was fragile. Being dragged away from all those she loved best could prove disastrous to her sensibilities and to her health.
The housekeeper waited expectantly. “It’s from Sir John. The girls and I must return to Bentley immediately. I must wake up their maids and set them to packing. The carriage will be here in less than four hours. Mrs. Stubbing, please arrange for a picnic basket to be packed. There will be no time to eat before we leave.”
“I shall see to it myself, Miss Shaw. Dr. Moorcroft said he won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon. I’ve no idea where he’s gone or I would send word to him.”
Too late for that. If reconciliation there was to be, it must wait until the autumn when he and his mother returned from Dorset. “I shall write a letter to Mrs. Shaw. Will you see that she gets it with her morning chocolate?”
Between them, Nancy, Jo, and Betty completed the packing, but not a moment too soon. The girls were half asleep, although dressed. They had no ribbons in their hair or stockings on their feet. Such items could be added once they were on their way.
There had barely been sufficient time to scribble a quick note to her mother. As she and Adam were not on speaking terms, she did not feel it appropriate to write anything to him. Nancy carried Beth, and Jo supported Lorna whilst she helped Isobel to remain upright. The only positive aspect of this nightmare was that Isobel was too sleepy to understand what their sudden departure meant for her.
There was yet an hour to sunrise when the coach left Poole. They were in a sad squash in the travelling carriage. This one was not nearly as well appointed as Adam’s had been. A blanket and pillow had been laid in the well of the carriage and Beth slept soundly down there. Lorna was curled up in Nancy’s lap whilst Isobel slept in Sarah’s.
Soon the only sound in the carriage was that of deep breathing; outside the dawn chorus filled the air. It should have been an uplifting experience, but Sarah, the only one unable to resume her slumbers, hardly heard it. She was preoccupied with what was to happen on her return. From the tone of Sir John’s letter, she thought it quite possible she would be dismissed.
Although this would leave her free to marry Adam, it gave her no joy. The Fenwick household would be in disarray. Scarcely more than a month had passed since Charlotte passed away. Lady Fenwick and Sir John were at odds and Isobel was in no fit state to be uprooted and sent to a boarding school.
She wanted Adam at her side. Only he could give her the comfort she craved, but he was being left far behind, did not even know Sir John had found them. She prayed when he returned later that day he would forget their differences and follow her post-haste.
The horse fair proved no more than adequate, no prime blood for sale, but what had he expected after all? Adam left the milling crowd and the overpowering smell of horse flesh and returned to his carriage. The urchin who had been guarding it held out a dirty hand and snatched the flashing silver coin from the air as Adam tossed it in his direction.
“Thank you. You’ve done a splendid job. Now, to earn yourself another silver threepenny bit, can you recommend a decent hostelry? The one in the village, The Nag’s Head, is fully booked.”
The boy scratched his verminous head. Adam stood well back in case a crawler decided to change homes. “Yes, mister, I reckon you would like the grand place what does the gentry. It’s got an assembly room an’ all.”
Directions were given, and the promised silver coin exchanged hands. Adam had been overly generous, but the child looked as if he could do with a square meal. With the sixpence he could feed himself for a week.
Fortunately he was able to extricate his carriage from the others. Leaving early was a sensible move. The narrow lanes surrounding the horse fair would be choked with like-minded gentlemen in an hour or two. The drive to The Queen’s Head was accomplished in less than a half hour. No sooner had he drawn rein than an ostler appeared at the horse’s head and a liveried boy threw open the carriage door with a flourish.
Adam had travelled without staff; one might have thought this would give the servants pause, but he was immaculately dressed, his team of matching greys superb. He was obviously a wealthy man despite his lack of attendants.
“I need a quiet room, with a private parlour, for one night only. Run and ask if such a thing is available before I climb down from the box.”
The boy tugged his forelock and raced away to return with a beaming, rotund gentleman who was obviously the proprietor of the smart coaching inn. “Sir, I have an excellent chamber at the rear of the building overlooking the gardens. It is fortuitous that you have arrived at this time. We will be fully booked by this evening.”
Adam leapt down and gestured to his bag. “I have correspondence to attend to. I shall require my dinner to be served upstairs.” The man nodded and bobbed beside him, extolling the virtues of his establishment, eager to impress his new customer. “I shall want breakfast before I leave. I understand there is to be a cockfight tomorrow morning. Will it be held close by?”
“No more than a mile away. There’s always plenty going on when the horse fairs are here.”
By seven o’clock that evening, Adam had revised his plans. Although the landlord had provided him with paper, ink, and sealing wax, they were inadequate for his purpose. The paper and pen were inferior and the ink so lumpy it made his handwriting rendered all but illegible. He would forego the cockfight; it had been a poor idea in the first place. Such spectacles no longer interested him, if he were honest; to see such noble birds tear
ing themselves apart was not a tasteful exhibition.
Tomorrow he would leave first thing and with luck should arrive in Poole whilst Sarah was still teaching. Every morning between the hours of nine and eleven the girls attended to their books. After that she would be free to speak to him. The sentiments he had intended to write in a letter, pouring out his heart, offering his most abject apologies, could now be made in person.
His lips twitched as he sipped the last of his brandy. Both this, and the claret he’d consumed with his meal, had come from France. He was certain no duty had been paid on them. Thinking of this reminded him of Sarah’s excuse for severing the connection between them; smugglers were obviously woven into the very fabric of life in these coastal areas.
Adam knew it would take no more than two hours to return to Sarah; if he left at seven o’clock he should arrive in good time. He was less than three miles from the house when a flock of sheep blocked the lane. He was obliged to sit and wait for almost an hour whilst the shepherd and his mangy dogs returned the sheep to the field. Never mind, he would now arrive when Sarah had finished her duties for the morning. He would return to his apartment and shave and change his garments before finding her. He patted his waistcoat pocket; a beautiful emerald betrothal ring had been waiting there for far too long.
When he guided his team through the arch into the stable yard he expected to be greeted by smiling faces. Although only half the staff were from his own establishment, all in his employ were cheerful souls.
Instead, Tom Coachman was waiting to speak to him, his face sombre. “Thank God you’ve returned early, sir. Miss Shaw and the girls have gone. A letter came in the night from Sir John and his carriage arrived at dawn. The house is in uproar.”
Adam bolted from the box, waved his thanks, and raced into the house. He could hear his mother crying in the drawing room. Presumably Mrs. Shaw was offering her comfort. “Mama, I am back now. Tell me what you know.”
Chapter Fourteen
The miserable, rattling journey was completed in three days, instead of the leisurely five they’d taken on the way down. However, it still gave Sarah ample time to dwell on the threatening tone of the note she’d received from Sir John. She was dreading the inevitable interview, certain he would dismiss her without references.
They had overnighted only twice, and on both occasions the accommodation had been barely acceptable, and the food quite uneatable. Sarah only kept the girls spirits up by constantly reminding them they were about to be introduced to their baby brother and see their beloved mama for the first time in many weeks.
The children became more animated when the carriage was obliged to wait whilst a colourful collection of gypsy caravans trundled past.
“I should love to live in one of those. It must be exciting taking your home with you, like a snail,” Lorna said, sinking back onto the squabs.
“So should I too,” Beth added, wriggling to get between her sisters.
“I should think they are the same family as those that were living in Dr. Moorcroft’s woods before we came away. I expect they are on their way to the next village fair or market.” Sarah was glad of the distraction. It kept the children amused discussing what they’d seen.
All of them were heartily sick of the carriage by the time it turned into the drive of Bentley Manor half an hour later. It shuddered to a halt, and three footmen appeared to open the door and collect the meagre amount of baggage they had with them. Their trunks were unlikely to arrive for several days, as they were travelling in a baggage cart.
Isobel had seemed no more subdued than the other two on the long drive; she had made no mention of being sent away to school. If she had forgotten, then Sarah’s place was not to remind her and spoil the homecoming all three girls had been eagerly anticipating.
“Now, girls, stand still whilst you are tidied up; you do not wish to meet your mama looking disreputable.”
An unexpected call from the terrace attracted their attention. “My darling girls, I cannot tell you how much I have missed you. Come at once to the drawing room; I have sent for your baby brother so that you may finally be introduced to him.”
The three girls waved. Lorna, holding tight to Beth, dashed off, but Isobel remained behind for a moment. “Miss Shaw, I’m not going to make a fuss. I have been disobedient and very bad. I shall go away to school as Papa wishes.”
Sarah embraced the child. “Sweetheart, how you have changed these past weeks. You are mature beyond your years. I pray that as time passes you will also regain your lively spirit. Off you go. Lady Fenwick is waiting on the terrace.”
With a sweet smile, Isobel ran after her sisters. Was there something about Isobel’s demeanour that raised suspicion? She was too sanguine, too accepting. Sarah knew she should be grateful there was not going to be a heartrending scene, but such an attitude was not natural. She shrugged. This was not the time to worry about it. Sir John might have changed his mind and Isobel be allowed to stay at home after all.
Sarah remembered the curt note her employer had sent. This was not the missive of a man who had forgiven anybody. It must also mean her own removal from Bentley Manor.
The sooner this unpleasant interview was over, the better. She was in two minds whether to follow the maidservants to the side door or enter via the front. A noise alerted her, and she looked round. To her astonishment Mr. Burton, Adam’s estate manager, peered through the archway that led to the coach house and stable yard.
“Miss Shaw, I was hoping to be able to speak to you privately before you go in. Do you think you could spare me a few moments?”
What on earth was he doing here? It could only be urgent news from Adam that had him skulking round corners in this way. Where could they go and not be observed?
“Quickly, we may converse by the home paddock. If we’re seen, hopefully you will be mistaken for a member of the staff of this establishment.”
She led him to the deserted spot. “Mr. Burton, do you happen to know if Sir John is in residence?”
“He’s absent on business today. I overheard a stable boy talking earlier. He’s in London and will stay at his club tonight.”
“Thank goodness, that gives us a day’s grace at least. I’m intrigued to know why you’re lurking here, and how you knew I was expected this morning.”
“You know how it is, miss, word spreads quicker than wildfire from one estate to the other. One of our grooms is walking out with a housemaid here, so that’s how I got this particular piece of information.” He stared across the lush green meadow; Sarah didn’t like to chivvy him, he obviously had something of deep matter to impart.
“It’s what I heard about Sir John. I know I should not be discussing my betters, but where it affects my employer and his future wife, I feel obligated to speak. Sir John is taking legal action against Dr. Moorcroft. It’s why he’s in Town at the moment. He wants to have the pair of you charged with abduction.”
Sarah gripped the wooden rail in order to remain upright. This was dreadful news and explained the threat in the letter. “I don’t understand. Dr. Moorcroft wrote to Sir John explaining why we’d removed to the seaside for a few weeks.”
“That letter never reached him. A man has been scampering all over the country, pretending to seek him out, in order to deliver it. However, the same girl who is supplying me with gossip knew where you were and she told someone else. When Sir John returned with Lady Fenwick he had never received the letter. I have it in my pocket. It only arrived here this morning, and Sir John had already left.”
“Surely, when he does read it, he will realise he has mistaken the situation entirely?”
“That’s what I’m hoping.” He delved into his inside pocket and pulled out an impressive folded parchment. “I thought if you gave it to Lady Fenwick, explained the circumstances, maybe she could be persuaded to send it by express to London.”
Sarah remembered the substantial amount of money she’d been given, that Adam had placed somewhere for safekeep
ing. “Mr. Burton, do you have access to Dr. Moorcroft’s study? Lady Fenwick gave me a substantial amount of banknotes. It’s somewhere in the study. If you would bring that to me, Lady Fenwick would have sufficient funds to send as many express letters as she wishes.”
“I’ll fetch it immediately. I’ll be back within half an hour. To whom shall I give it?”
“Hand it to the butler. Make sure it has Lady Fenwick’s name on the front of the package and that it’s not apparent what’s inside the brown paper.”
She should speak to Lady Fenwick at once. The girls would be eager to rediscover their own possessions on the nursery floor and give her a few minutes alone with their mother. Pausing to straighten her bonnet and retie the bow, she shook out the folds of her travelling gown, checked the matching blue floral spencer was correctly buttoned and was ready to go inside.
The happy sound of childish laughter echoed throughout the house. It lifted her spirits and gave her the courage she needed. Before she could knock on the drawing room door the officious butler, Anderson, flung it open and announced her as if she were visiting royalty. Scarlet cheeked, she stepped in not knowing what her reception would be.
“My dear girl, how ridiculous. That man is a nightmare, but he’s been here since he was a boy and it would be cruel to dismiss him now. Come in, we have been expecting you these past ten minutes. Let me introduce you to my son before he’s taken back to the nursery.”
Miss Shaw and the Doctor Page 13
