ELEVEN
Her aunt’s home was no better.
The front door was opened for her by Coddles, her aunt’s butler. A more dour man Sara had never encountered. He frowned at her as she stomped through the door.
It took a great deal of self-control for Sara not to go running up the stairs. She took a deep breath and walked slowly, in a ladylike fashion, just as her aunt had insisted. She then opened and closed the door to her bedchamber without a sound, although she was sorely tempted to slam that door as hard as she could.
Annie peeked out from the armoire, where she had been hanging the first of Sara’s new clothes, just arrived from the modiste. She stood staring at Sara for a good minute with her eyes narrowed before saying anything.
“There’s something wrong. You’re not behaving angry, but I can see by your eyes and the flush on your cheeks that you’re fit to be tied.”
“Annie, I have been neglecting my duties,” Sara said, ignoring her maid’s comments.
“In what way, Miss?”
“I have allowed myself to be diverted from my true purpose for being here in England by my aunt’s desire to launch me into society.”
“But, Miss Sara, you agreed that you would play what you called ‘the society game’ for a while before trying once again to go to Wyncort.”
“Yes, and I have, haven’t I? I went to that silly ball last night. I allowed my aunt and Lord Reath to introduce to me to all sorts of boring people with whom I attempted to have a rational conversation—against all odds, I might add. What more do I need to do before I can refocus my attention where it is needed most? When can I stop having to put up with meddlesome, interfering annoying people and do what I want—no, need—to do?”
Annie just stared at her with a rather sad look about her eyes.
“Annie, you must understand that I need to do this. If I do not, I don’t know what will happen to my papa—to us all.” She took Annie’s hand in her own. “How long do you think he can continue writing articles for money? He is getting old, Annie, and no matter how much I would like to, I simply do not have the talent he has for stringing words together on a page. If I do not find my grandfather’s jewels . . . ”
“But, Miss Sara, you don’t even know that they are truly there.”
“My grandfather gave directions on how to find them. Of course they are there,” Sara scoffed.
“Your father didn’t think so. He said your grandfather was mad.”
“Papa was simply upset at the time. I believe that the treasure is there and I am going to find it.”
“Well, and what are you going to do with them once you’ve found the jewels?” Annie said, going back to her work.
Sara stopped and watched Annie fold the last of her new fine linen shifts and place the pile of them carefully into the drawer next to her new corsets and stockings. Sometimes her maid came up with the most insightful questions or observations.
“What am I going to do with the jewels once I’ve got them? Well . . . ” Sara thought for a moment. “I’ve got to sell them, of course. But who am I going to sell them to? that is the question.
“Annie, could you do some discreet questioning of the other servants? Find out where someone would sell some jewelry if they needed money. There must be a pawnbroker that someone knows.”
“You want me to find out?” Annie’s voice squeaked.
“Yes. If I were to ask, I would simply be told to apply to my aunt for money, or get questioned about why I wanted to sell off my jewelry. But you can ask without anyone thinking it odd. I am certain of it. Oh, Annie, you’ve got to do this for me.” Sara took the maid’s hands in her own and gave her her sweetest pleading look.
Annie had never been able to resist it. She nodded her head nervously. “All right, Miss Sara. But I don’t like it.”
“Good. Now I just need to find a way to get to Wyncort.”
Sara began to pace back and forth, trying to think. But she kept bumping into pieces of furniture. Her bed, her bureau, the dressing table. She could not stand it. She suddenly felt claustrophobic.
She opened the door and went out into the hallway. A maid was passing by with a pile of clean linen. She stopped and gave Sara a brief curtsy before slipping past her in the narrow corridor.
Sara went down to the ground floor and looked toward the front door. Coddles frowned at her. She turned and walked toward the back of the house, but nearly ran into a footman carrying a tray of tea things on his way up to her aunt who Sara supposed was in the drawing room.
After letting the footman pass, she went out into the small garden in the back of the house. It was a pretty garden, as town gardens went. There was a small flower bed and a tree with a bench wrapped around the trunk, but there was little room for anything else.
The high walls surrounding the garden seemed to close in on Sara as she stood there surveying the space. And then the gardener came in through the back gate, gave her a nod, and proceeded to weed the flower beds. She just could not be alone in this place! Sara paced the walls once and then went back inside, feeling no better.
Her mind repeated the same thing over and over again, coming up with no conclusion. How was she to get to Wyncort? How was she to get into Wyncort? How could she possibly leave London when she and her aunt had only just arrived?
Was there some excuse she could give Aunt Deanna that would allow her to return to Darlington? Could she say that she had forgotten something? That she was not feeling well and needed fresh country air? Would her aunt believe such a faradiddle when she knew that Sara had lived her whole life in a city? No. No. No. And certainly not.
Sara walked back through the house, avoiding another maid and Coddles’s frowns. She stopped outside of the drawing room, caught by the sound of her aunt and Lord Alston’s voices. They had not closed the door properly.
“Deanna, what will you do if you run into Reath again?”
“Oh dear, Justin, I do not know.” Her aunt sounded quite agitated. “I cannot avoid him. He is as welcome as any in all the best drawing rooms.”
“Yes, I believe the word has very quickly spread that he has reformed his ways, so that he is now even more sought after than before he left for India.”
“So what am I to do?” Aunt Deanna asked again. “What do I say if he asks me once more about Sara’s family? He has every right to ask, you know. Why, it is what any young man would want to know before wooing a girl properly.”
“Naturally. The question is why he would want to woo Miss Whately. That is not to say that she isn’t a very pleasant girl, and quite pretty, but you must admit that her manners are not . . . ”
“Oh no, Justin, honestly. She just needs a little training, that is all. I am certain that she will catch on very quickly. Why, even Lord Reath said last night that society will merely think her an original.”
“I am very pleased to hear that he thinks so, but I cannot help but think that Reath has something else in mind other than wooing Miss Whately. Not, I assure you,” he added quickly, “that I believe his intentions toward your niece are not completely honorable. It is just that I cannot believe that it is Miss Whately herself that he is interested in.”
This last statement confused Sara to such an extent that she wished she could ask Lord Alston to clarify himself. For what other reason would Lord Reath pursue her, if not to woo her? Not that she wanted him to woo her, she quickly told herself.
A more annoying man there never was. Why, he always had to take charge of whatever situation they were in. But then again, he did usually know what he was doing. And it had felt rather wonderful having someone care for her, rather than the other way around. But no—what was she thinking? He was an overbearing rake. She did not want the man’s attentions.
Sara knew that she was perfectly capable of caring for herself. She did not need a man to take charge of her life. And besides, then she would not be able to find her grandfather’s jewels and save her family’s fortunes. She was sure that were Lord Reath to find out what she was up to, he would put an immediate stop to it—and then where would she be?
Three days later, she found herself leaving her aunt’s home to pay a morning call at Lady Merrick’s. The first morning dresses of her wardrobe had finally arrived, and her aunt, after having spent days teaching her proper behavior, had insisted that Sara join her.
Sara followed her aunt out to their awaiting carriage, and found that she was becoming rather nervous despite all of her lessons the previous week. Sara was sure that her aunt would not be able to poke her with her fan or signal her in any other way when she strayed on to some unacceptable topic as she had at Lady Bantam’s ball. No, it would be entirely up to her to do and say the right thing—and so she would, she decided.
Lady Merrick’s classically decorated drawing room was only slightly overcrowded, but not so much that it was uncomfortable. As Sara and her aunt were greeted by their hostess, she could not stop herself from looking around to see if Lord Reath was present.
She spotted him leaning against the mantelpiece beside Lord Merrick. After three days of not seeing Lord Reath, Sara was struck once again at how incredibly handsome he was. He quite stood out from the rest of the gentlemen present. Even his good friend, Lord Merrick, was not nearly as good-looking.
When he wasn’t smiling, Lord Reath had a look of the stern, forbidding aristocrat, with his slashing eyebrows, straight mouth, and steel gray eyes. But then he would smile and laugh and his entire face would change. A dimple appeared in his cheek and his eyes crinkled just a little at the corners and exuded a warmth and cheer that sent Sara’s heart fluttering.
“My dear Lady Darlington, it has been an age!” Lady Merrick said, drawing Sara’s attention away from Lord Reath. “And this must be your cousin, of whom I have heard so much.”
“Indeed, Lady Merrick, may I present Miss Sara Whately?”
Sara smiled and said all that was proper, as her aunt had taught her.
A small nod from Aunt Deanna, and Sara knew that she had done well.
“Lady Merrick, do you know of any dancing instructors for hire?” her aunt asked. “It was quite a shock to realize that dear Sara has not learned how to dance. I cannot for the world imagine what my bro . . . cousin has been about, to raise his daughter this way!”
“Indeed, I know of the most marvelous dancing instructor. Monsieur LeCarreau is most talented at teaching all the latest dances. He has been teaching my daughter, Georgette, for some time. She will be ready to make her come-out next year. Remind me, and I will get you his card before you leave.”
“I knew you would be the one who would know—so very helpful!”
“I am happy to be of assistance.” Lady Merrick turned away to greet another person who had just entered the room.
Sara and her aunt made their way to a group of ladies sitting around a tea tray. They were about to sit down when one elderly lady said very loudly, “So this is your young cousin who doesn’t know St. James from Piccadilly, eh, Lady Darlington?”
The other ladies laughed, and Sara felt her face heat with embarrassment. Even after three days away from society, they still remembered her mistake as if it had happened the day before.
Her aunt forced out a laugh as well. “Indeed, the poor dear got all turned around.”
“Hear the gentlemen got quite a good look at her as she stood outside of White’s.”
“I could not say.” Lady Darlington’s voice sounded very strained.
“Well, what have you got to say for yourself, gel?” the old lady taunted.
Sara raised her chin. “I say that the gentlemen who sit in that bow window are nothing but a group of supercilious meddlers to pass judgment on everyone who walks by. And the way they stare is extremely rude. I, personally, don’t give a fig for anything that they say or do.”
Sara immediately realized she had done it again. The shocked stares of the other ladies were enough to make her want to crawl under the rug and stay there.
Then she was struck with the most horrible thought—if Lord Reath had been at hand, he would have known precisely what to say. And he would have known to stop her before she could open her mouth, just as he had the other morning when she was speaking with Beau Brummell.
She stole a glance over at him as he stood deep in conversation with yet another gentleman on the other side of the room. He hadn’t really meant to intrude in her life, only to be sure she didn’t embarrass herself.
A wave of guilt washed over Sara for the horrible way she had treated Lord Reath when he had only meant to help her. He had been all that was kind and good—getting her a better horse and then making sure that she didn’t get herself into trouble, as she had just now. And she had raked him down for interfering in her life. Perhaps she needed someone to interfere in her life, just a little—to help her in society, since she really did not know how to go on.
She supposed she owed him an apology. It was a disheartening thought. The idea that she needed help from others was humbling. She was confident, however, that she would soon learn to deport herself properly. She only needed to set her mind to it. The problem was that she really had no inclination to do so.
Sara noticed Miss Collingwood sitting at the far side of the circle. She was one who certainly needed no assistance in how to behave properly. Aunt Deanna had pointed her out to Sara at the ball the other night as a model young lady. She was also known as one of the reigning incomparables. With her beautiful blond hair, perfect complexion, and the most unusual golden brown eyes, Sara did not wonder at it al all.
So why was she sitting there with her hand covering her mouth, desperately trying to hold back a fit of laughter and not entirely succeeding? Sara moved over toward her, fully aware that every eye was still on her, and sat down next to the beautiful creature.
The young lady looked truly pleased that Sara had sat down next to her. She swallowed her giggles, set her mouth into a proper smile, and said, “You are Miss Whately, are you not? I am Julia Collingwood.” She held out her hand and Sara was pleased to shake it.
The older ladies had by this time all put their heads together and were probably whispering furiously to each other about her impertinent speech. Sara deliberately ignored them.
“I appreciate that you are willing to speak with me after I thoroughly embarrassed myself. If ever I would wish to turn back the hands of time, it is now.”
“Oh, no! You simply said what everyone else has been thinking for the longest time. I quite admire you for being so brave as to speak your mind.”
“Really? You are not just saying that to be kind?”
“Oh no, truly,” she said with so much honesty in her voice that Sara had no choice but to believe her.
“But I know that I should not say such things. I am surely going to get myself into quite a lot of trouble if I continue to do so,” Sara said with a certainty she wished weren’t true.
“Yes,” Miss Collingwood said slowly. But then a large grin covered her face and her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Either that or you will become known as an original. Would that not be wonderful? Then you would have all the gentlemen swarming around you like flies to honey.”
Sara couldn’t help but laugh at the excitement in Miss Collingwood’s face. “It would be wonderful . . . if I wanted to attract gentlemen.”
Miss Collingwood looked completely confused. “Do you not?”
“No. Honestly, I have no interest in marrying. I am only here because my father and my aunt insisted I have a season. Do you want to marry?”
“Of course I do. I thought every young lady wanted to marry.”
“Oh, no. I was quite happy living with my father the way we were and truly wish my aunt had never convinced him to send me here.” She paused, realizing once again that she had said too much.
“Please, Miss Collingwood, I should not have told you that,” she said quietly. “Lady Darlington would be most upset if she found out that I have no intention of marrying—especially after all the money she just spent on buying me a new wardrobe and the time she has given me trying to teach me to behave properly.”
“Oh no, I would not dream of telling anyone, honestly.” She looked up from their conversation and nodded to a woman across the room. “You must excuse me, Miss Whately, that is my mama. I believe she is motioning for me.”
Sara looked over at the slender woman who had been speaking with Lady Sefton. It was clear that she was Miss Collingwood’s mother, for the similarity between the two was striking.
“It was very nice meeting you. I do hope that we will have an opportunity to meet again,” Miss Collingwood said as they stood up and began slowly walking over to the two ladies.
“I hope so as well,” Sara said earnestly.
Miss Collingwood stopped and turned back to Sara. “Will you be at home tomorrow?”
“I believe so. I’m unsure as to what my cousin’s plans are.”
Miss Collingwood took a quick look over her shoulder at her mother and then turned back and leaned close to Sara. “I will try to pay you a visit tomorrow and we will talk further then. I have never met anyone as brave as you,” she said, her eyes twinkling once again. She then quickly turned around and schooled her expression into a polite, bland smile.
Sara stood stunned by Miss Collingwood’s sudden confidence. She was going to pay her a visit? She thought her brave? Sara nearly laughed. If only she knew that it was stupidity, not bravery, that compelled her to act as she did.
”She is lovely, isn’t she?” Merry said quietly, almost to himself.
Reath had his eyes on Miss Whately. She was trying to locate her cousin, after the young lady with whom she had been speaking had moved away. Without moving his gaze, he readily agreed with his friend’s assessment.
“Her hair is such a pretty shade of blond. Almost red, and yet most definitely blond. And her eyes—have you ever seen such lovely golden brown eyes?”
Reath looked over at Merry, as he lounged against the side of the mantelpiece. “Who are you talking about?”
“Why, that young lady over there, talking with Lady Sefton.” He nodded his head in the direction of Miss Whately’s friend. She did indeed look to be a model of feminine beauty, in her white morning dress with a wide blue sash around the high waist. “Who did you think I was talking about?”
“Oh. I was looking at Miss Whately.”
Merry looked over toward the center of the drawing room, where his mother now stood conversing with Lady Darlington and her young cousin.
“Ah, er, yes, she is pretty enough, I suppose. But much too petite for my taste. Now this young lady is definitely a good height for me, and a good everything else as well.”
Reath laughed.
With a sigh, Merry turned from admiring the young lady. “How goes your wooing of Miss Whately?” he asked.
Reath stood away from the mantelpiece and raised an eyebrow at his friend. “I am not wooing Miss Whately.”
“Oh no? Then what do you call it when you dance attendance on a young lady constantly for two days running?”
“I have not seen her at all for the past three days, and I call it assisting her as she is new to London and society. Besides which, it was your idea and Huntley’s that I escort her and Lady Darlington the other night.”
“Ah, right.” Merry nodded his head wisely even as his lips twitched with mirth.
“You may stop that immediately. I can assure you that I have no intention of wooing her. I am not ready to get caught in the parson’s mousetrap just yet, and even if I were, Miss Whately is not one I would consider to be a pleasant lifelong partner.”
“Didn’t insult you again, did she?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact she did. When I ran into her while riding in the park the other morning, I saved her from making a cake of herself in front of Beau Brummell.”
“Not exactly grateful for your help?”
“No.” Reath scowled in Miss Whately’s direction. She was still conversing with Lady Merrick, but the expression on her face looked more like a grimace than a smile. She was clearly at pains to appear pleasant and amiable.
“You know, Merry, it is very rare that I’ve ever seen her really smile,” Reath said thoughtfully after watching her for a few minutes. “And I don’t believe I’ve ever heard her laugh or seen her truly happy. She is a very serious young lady.” He pushed his hair back off his forehead, where it had fallen as usual. “She never seems to have any fun.”
“What are you getting at? You are planning something, my friend. I can see it in your eyes.”
Reath tried to look as innocent as he could. “I? Planning something?” Then he smiled. “Yes, perhaps I am.”
The young lady Merry had been watching followed her mother to where Lady Merrick was standing. It looked as if she was about to leave. Miss Whately’s smile immediately changed to a true smile as she and the blond girl exchanged a few words.
Merry quickly set down his cup of tea on the mantelpiece. “You will excuse me, Sin. I must be introduced to my beauty before she disappears out of my life forever.”
Reath laughed as his friend made straight for his mother and the young lady.
He moved to the tea tray that was set out near a group of older ladies and helped himself to a piece of buttery cake.
“I wonder if she is related to the Whatelys of Sussex. With behavior like that, I would not be surprised at all,” Lady Farmingham was saying to Mrs. Saxton in a voice just loud enough to be heard only by those close to her.
Reath moved a step closer so that he could hear her friend’s reply.
“She must be. Surely you remember the scandal with that other young Miss Whately?” Lady Farmington continued, not waiting for Mrs. Saxton to reply.
“When was that?” Mrs. Saxton asked, her rheumy eyes straying toward her friend.
“About . . . I suppose twenty years ago, it must have been, wouldn’t you say, Clorisse?”
A bland-looking middle-aged lady nodded her head. “It was precisely twenty years ago, in 1791.”
“Clorisse remembers everything. She is so useful to have about,” Lady Farmington said.
Mrs. Saxton squinted her eyes in thought and then dabbed at them with her handkerchief. “You mean Elizabeth Whately, the one who ran off with, who was it, to America?”
“Yes, that’s the one. She ran off with Wynsham’s son.” She sat back with a self-satisfied smile. “Never heard from them again, not even when Wynsham died.”
“Surely with manners like that . . . ” Mrs. Saxton clucked her tongue. “ . . . this young one is certainly related.”
Reath moved away, leaving the ladies to their gossip. Was it possible that Miss Sara Whately was related to Miss Elizabeth Whately, or Lady Wynsham, as he supposed she was now? It would explain why Miss Elizabeth Whately would have been willing to run off to America, if she already had cousins living there. And it would explain Miss Sara Whately’s connection to Lady Darlington. They must be cousins by marriage.
This was all fascinating, but none of it helped Reath find out any more about the current Lord Wynsham’s direction. He needed to speak with Lady Darlington again. She had not been very helpful when he had mentioned her brother at Lady Bantam’s ball, and then they had been interrupted before he could get to the heart of the matter. He would definitely need another opportunity to speak with her.
Sara noticed Lord Reath had moved to stand once again by the fireplace, but Lord Merrick had abandoned him. She quickly moved to his side before he could strike up a conversation with anyone else.
“Lord Reath, might I have a word with you?” she asked nervously.
She was rewarded with a bright smile that she knew was completely unwarranted, considering her behavior toward him the last time they had met.
“Of course, Miss Whately. Would you care to take a turn about the room?”
Sara nodded and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, which he held out to her. “You are exceedingly kind. I do not deserve such kindness, especially after what I said to you in the park.”
“Do not even consider it,” he said lightly, with a wave of his hand.
“But I do consider it, sir. I have considered it a great deal since then, and I have come to realize that what you did was much more than I deserved. You could have let me make a fool of myself once again, but you did not. I am deeply indebted to you.”
A small smile played on Lord Reath’s face—not quite enough to cause his dimple to appear in his cheek, but enough to warm Sara right down to her toes.
“I . . . I am afraid that I am not used to needing any assistance from anyone in any form,” she said hesitantly. “But you have shown me nothing but kindness and . . . ”
“Please, my dear Miss Whately, say no more. I entirely understand. It is difficult to be in a new situation where you are unsure of the rules. I encountered the same thing when I first arrived in India. I knew nothing of the Indian rules of behavior, and even the Englishmen I encountered there seemed to live by different rules than those we have here. I, too, managed to make a fool of myself on more than one occasion. But I quickly learned what was acceptable and what was not, and I am sure that you will as well. You are an intelligent woman.”
Sara felt a lump form in her throat, but swallowed it firmly. “Thank you, sir. You are very kind.”
She then quickly excused herself before she began to truly make a fool of herself.