Even without a mirror to watch Sarah’s face, the way she tugged and jerked the brush through Barbara’s curls was evidence enough her friend had something on her mind as they prepared for bed. The ritual had extended beyond the responsibilities of station years ago, but rarely had Barbara longed for it to come to an end. Usually, the brushing soothed her and eased the day’s tensions.
Unable to stand it a moment longer, Barbara raised a hand to catch the offending brush and spun to face her friend. “Out with it, then. Whatever you’re keeping bottled up, my scalp cannot take more of this.”
A flush colored Sarah’s neck, but she didn’t turn away as she marshaled her thoughts. “I know you don’t want to hear my opinion. You made that clear enough this morning.”
Barbara should have known the problem. Through unspoken agreement, the girls no longer mentioned Aubrey once they returned to the farmhouse, a conspiracy grown out of a romantic notion that her uncle was the only barrier between them. While the cousins knew Aubrey had been deceived as to her station, only Sarah understood the full of it, as well she should being its mastermind.
“You might as well speak,” Barbara said, rising to drop her brush on the chest of drawers “I’m hearing it anyway though not in words.” To emphasize her point, she rubbed a sore spot where Sarah had pulled too hard. The country air and wind had much to answer for in the state of her hair, but Sarah’s usually gentle ministrations could untangle the most distressing of knots if she but tried.
“You’ve grown too close, too comfortable with him. This has to end or you’ll wind up compromised no matter what your intentions. You need to tell him the truth and have him seek your uncle’s permission in lieu of your father.”
Barbara stared at her friend. “I will not. Can you imagine Uncle Ferrier’s response should he discover what I, what all of us, his daughters included, have been about?” She pressed a hand to her breast and acted a swoon.
Sarah scowled back, no sign of amusement on her features. “Better that than you returning to London more broken than when you were sent off, and under his watch. Don’t try to make this into a fun little game. It’s long gone beyond that. I’ve seen the two of you together, and I know you too well. You need to tell him before it’s too late.”
Unable to meet her friend’s gaze, Barbara twisted to stare out the window, this time lifting the curtain though she saw no more than before. “I won’t tell him.” Sarah might know her well, but not so well as to realize Barbara had passed beyond the bounds of safety long ago though it took Barbara until today to admit it.
When she told Aubrey, he’d hate her for playing him the fool—more even than she’d hated him upon hearing his cutting remarks. She couldn’t suffer that. Not now. Not yet.
She needed to hold on to every connected moment she could for she feared those memories would be all to comfort her through a loveless marriage to any one of the suitors she left dangling in London. Her parents would see to it, and they’d be confident she needed only time for love to grow. They’d never perceive her heart had already been claimed, claimed by one who rejected her once and would do so much more harshly the second time. He’d thought her frivolous for dancing. What would he call her upon learning her schemes?
Sarah caught Barbara by the arm and turned her round. “If you won’t tell him, I will. There is nothing to be gained in continuing on this revengeful path, and much to lose.”
Barbara barely heard the rest of Sarah’s statement as she saw her life crumbling before her. It was far too late to save her from harm. Whether Sarah told or she did mattered not. The game had gone on too long to recover his regard.
She drew herself to her full height and pulled on every moment her mother had taken charge for inspiration. “You will not,” she ground out in a low, commanding tone. “You will not speak of this to Aubrey. I forbid it. Do you understand? I forbid it.”
In the stunned silence that followed, Barbara did not know which of them was more surprised. Never in all their years together had Barbara so mistreated her maid, never before had she dismissed Sarah as though she were nothing more than a servant rather than a lifelong friend.
She raised a hand to break the silence and rub out her words, but Sarah only gave her a tight nod, not a sign of interest in reconciliation but rather an acknowledgment of the offense.
“Please,” Barbara whispered, wanting nothing more in that moment than to have her friend again.
Without a word, Sarah pivoted and walked to the door. She closed it a little too firmly as she left.
Barbara sank to the floor and stared at her hands.
Perhaps it had been Aubrey who’d seen her character clearly when he spoke what she’d overheard.
First she deceived the man she’d given her heart, and now she stabbed the girl who had been her companion since as far back as she could remember.
She’d trapped herself in a situation where any attempt to change things would mean she’d lose. Her blissful plan to teach him a lesson had resulted in a lesson for sure, but Aubrey remained unaware of his part in it, just as he’d had no way of knowing how he’d destroyed her world with his sharp words.
This time, though, she had none but herself to blame. Sarah might have made the suggestion in jest or through some other motivation, but Barbara had been the one to decide to put it into play. She’d kept the pretense, lying to herself as much as to him.
Now she stood in a disaster of her own making where every path only led to a greater tangle and none offered hope of a better outcome.
THE SOUNDS OF A BUSY household woke Barbara to a difficult day.
Her curtains were still drawn.
She’d fallen into a sleep of exhaustion still in her clothes though no longer on the hard floor because she’d moved to the bed to wait for Sarah’s return.
The other pillow remained untouched, nor had Barbara any memory of her friend sneaking in.
“There you are,” Marian exclaimed when Barbara made her way to the kitchen, but she said nothing further, pulled up short by a sharp glance from Charlotte.
“You’ll have to grab some bread and cheese for breakfast, though there might be some warm tea left in the pot if you hurry.”
Barbara stared at her oldest cousin, surprised her tardy arrival would provoke such a cool response, especially since no one had been sent to roust her.
“We’ll be heading out shortly. Sarah has volunteered to help Cook sort the pantry and so will not be joining us.”
Suddenly, Barbara understood Charlotte’s behavior after all.
Sarah had not returned to their room no matter how long Barbara had managed to wait for her. The girl must have gone somewhere, and now Barbara had the answer. She’d gone to Charlotte.
Barbara’s shoulders slumped as she turned to follow her cousin’s directions, pouring a cup of over-steeped and lukewarm tea on her way to collecting some bread and cheese from the pantry.
Though she’d hoped to find Sarah there, to apologize and beg for forgiveness, her friend proved absent from here as much as she’d been from their room.
This would be her punishment for her sharp tone the night before.
Charlotte’s ice seemed nothing in comparison to the absence of her friend, or worse, the burden of injuries given then left untended.
Sarah had done nothing to warrant her ire, wanting only to keep Barbara safe both in reputation and heart. How broken had she become already that she would cast off a lifetime of care for a moment longer with a man who would be sure to despise her for the rest of his life.
Barbara made up the tail end of their wild strawberry gathering expedition, her thoughts on more than the hoped for glimpse of bright red.
She searched half-heartedly as she considered what she could do to repair the breach between her and Sarah. They’d had squabbles before, but never of this magnitude, and never such that Sarah felt it necessary to involve someone else before they could mend things.
A twinge of anger flashed through Barbara at how Sarah had turned Charlotte against her, but just as quickly it vanished under the weight of her responsibility. She’d had no other choice, unless she meant to bed down in the straw of the cow barn, and that would mean more than just Charlotte would discover their falling out.
No, if any were to blame for Sarah needing to seek Charlotte’s assistance, it fell on Barbara’s shoulders alone. Maybe if she’d chased after Sarah rather than waiting passively for her friend to return, Charlotte would never have known. Had she acted, perhaps Sarah would be at her side now, laughing as they proved incapable of hunting down the rare, but delectable fruits.
Barbara gave a harsh chuckle as she realized Sarah had succeeded in her aim after all.
The break between them consumed Barbara’s every thought, leaving none for wondering whether Aubrey would chance upon them this day as he had the other times. When she longed for company, it was Sarah who came first to mind.
But thought of Aubrey, once risen, would not slip quietly away.
There’d been a time when she would have laid the blame for this mess on his shoulders along with the rest. Her parents may not have intended this type of growth, but Barbara had indeed learned something of her own agency.
Whereas she’d thought herself in command before, having secured her parents’ promise to choose her future husband, she’d been no more in control of her own self than a newborn calf in Marian’s stories as it struggled to stand. She’d let an overheard comment turn her into the worst of offenders, both in London and now here, practicing a deceit Charlotte had warned would only bring harm to herself and others. And it had certainly done that.
She’d lost Sarah as well as any chance with Aubrey.
With none but herself to shoulder responsibility, her future seemed bleak.
That thought, more than any other, opened her eyes to the sole path before her.
If she were to recover her own nature and cast aside her childish revenge, she’d have to stand up to her failings. To win Sarah’s regard once more, she’d have to do the one thing she’d rejected, the very thing she’d ordered her childhood friend not to accomplish.
She had to tell Aubrey herself.
The thought brought with it a wash of peace followed by anguish.
The tale told, Aubrey would be quit of her presence, of her life. She’d never have the chance to laugh with him, to discuss poetry, plays, or even pigs. To regain her friend and her true self, she would have to lose the man who had taken hold of her very heart.
“One last day. Surely Sarah would not deny me that much. Just for today, and then I will.”
“Will what?” Jane said, coming up on her side. “Will finally concentrate enough to find some berries? You seem a bit distracted.” She glanced at the basket on Barbara’s arm. “And your weave is empty of a single one. Don’t think we’ll be quick to share when you did none of the labor.”
“Perhaps you’ll walk with me and show me how to find them?” Barbara asked her cousin, grateful for the distraction. Aubrey had so far been absent, but if she were to keep up the pretense for even one short day, she needed to know what a country girl would. Seeking a flash of color seemed much too simple a direction for her to have any success.