Authors: Susannah Merrill
The Duchess smiled to herself when she first beheld her daughter in the dress, for it was one that Sarah had vowed never to wear. She had ordered it made in serviceable fine white muslin and was completely miffed when it was delivered in its present state. The Duchess urged her to keep it, never letting on that she had changed the specifications herself.
Sarah’s luxuriant chestnut hair was held in place by bejeweled combs on either side of the crown and her ears were adorned by tiny marquiscut diamonds her father had given her as a birthday gift.
Despite the fact that she had not decided whether to meet Stewart in the gardens later, she found it easy to forget her qualms amidst the gay banter around the table.
“But Mr. Chamberlain,” Juliana’s lilting voice cut into the conversation Stewart was holding with the Duke. “You and my father talk all the time about business in your little country. I want to know what in the world you do for amusement? I’ve heard that there is a dearth of culture in the Colonies,” she quipped, diffusing the sting of her insult with a lovely smile.
Stewart, ignoring her taunting tone, smiled engagingly at the younger Tremont. “On the contrary, I think you’d find America holds the same degree of sophistication you’re accustomed to here ... though without, of course, the history. We have the theatre, fine musicians, painters, fashion, exotic restaurants and shops,” he answered, and with a mirthful tone, added, “though fighting off the savages curtails the amount of time we have to spend on life’s more refined pleasures.”
Juliana’s jade eyes widened in excitement. “So ‘tis true! How positively horrifying. Wild Indians a constant threat. How have you managed to survive?”
Weston bellowed with laughter. “My darling daughter. I am afraid Mr. Chamberlain’s ribbing too closely conforms to your romantic notions about America.”
“So you’re teasing me, Mr. Chamberlain?” Juliana pouted prettily, not taking her beguiling eyes from the man across from her. “And here I thought you were giving credence to the wicked stories we’ve been hearing.”
“There are Indians in my country, but they pose no threat in Boston,” Stewart consoled her. “Their savagery is much exaggerated, you know. The race has been sorely provoked by settlers disrupting their homes and hunting grounds. After all, we are not, as some insist, the original inhabitants of the country.”
“On occasion,” Stewart answered plainly. “We do conduct business with some tribes. They are unusually fine and fit people to gaze upon and their clothing is wildly impressive. They have a great respect for each other and the forces of nature. I think there is a lot we can learn from them, and I hope someday there will be a more felicitous peace between our peoples,” he added, his voice deepening.
“I doubt that,” the Duchess interjected dryly, “though the chances of meeting one in Town are rather slim.”
“Who knows?” the Duke voiced mysteriously. “Perhaps we shall have a chance to view this new country and its people.”
“Your Grace?” his beautiful wife addressed him formally, with alarm. “You are not thinking of a voyage, are you? Surely you know that is not possible.” Her gleaming green eyes warned him that despite the presence of a guest at their table, she would argue the point, and use all her resources to do it.
It was a well-kept secret that the Duke of Weston was subject to bouts of ill health brought on by a weak heart. The Duchess had made it her role in life to protect her beloved husband from his frailty by rigid adherence to a quiet lifestyle. A voyage to America would be a dangerous test of the Duke’s stamina, and he was much too precious to her to risk it, no matter how much the idea appealed to his adventurous spirit.
The Duke shrugged sheepishly, saying, “Calm yourself, dearest. ‘Twas merely the germ of an idea our good friend Mr. Chamberlain planted in my gambler’s heart. He has invited us to visit his country, and the thought intrigued me.”
“Well, I for one am relieved to know that you are not seriously considering it,” the Duchess returned, pointedly. “Perhaps Mr. Chamberlain would be so kind as to enlighten us on another subject,” Sarah’s mother servant refilled her wine toward the far end of the table informed her husband that she would brook no discussion, and Stewart did not miss the warning.
ordered politely as a glass. Her stern gaze
“That is enough, Lady Juliana,” her father cut in, his eyes telling his wife he had received her message clearly. “Forgive me, Your Grace. The subject is closed.”
Sarah, who had been studying the exchange rather breathlessly, was suddenly deflated. She had often dreamed of sailing to unknown shores, but always believed the idea was out of the question. But there, for a moment, her father’s interest had opened the floodgates of her wildest imaginings. And now, in the blink of an eye, the dream was again completely unattainable. Realizing her mouth was gaping; she blushed and hurriedly took a sip of wine.
Stewart had not missed the play of expressions on Sarah’s lovely face and knew that she had been excited by the idea of seeing his beloved country. He smiled inwardly at her fascination and hoped she would appreciate the news he had for her later, in the garden. Perhaps her gratitude might compel her to please him with another kiss.
Later in the evening, following aperitifs and conversation in the parlor, Sarah rose from the chair she had been occupying by the fireplace to announce her intention to retire. Stewart, who had been drawn by Juliana into a friendly game of faro, quickly excused himself and rose just as Sarah began to walk past him.
“LadySarah,Ishouldbidyoufarewellnow since I shall be gone at first light.” He casually reached for her hand and gently placed his lips against the back of it. As he raised his dark head, he added, “It has truly been a pleasure visiting you and your family. The Duke warned me that I might find this arrangement much too enjoyable to be called merely business. And after getting to know you and your sister,” he smiled lazily, “I quite agree. I have enjoyed your generous hospitality and I look forward with anticipation to our next meeting.”
The gentle pressure of his hand on hers confirmed that he was not referring to future visits, but the one he had proposed for this evening. Unable to impart a scathing glance in the presence of her family, Sarah instead smiled sweetly as she pulled her slim fingers out of his grasp. “You are too kind, Mr. Chamberlain, but I am pleased that your business went well here. Do have a safe journey.” She then turned to kiss her parents goodnight and bid farewell to her sister, whose expression resembled that of a very satisfied cat.
“Pleasantdreams,mum,”herespondedas she made her way up the stairs, already lost in thought.
As she walked soundlessly down the upstairs hall to her room, Sarah pondered the decision before her. Did Stewart really have something important to tell her? Or was he merely testing his influence over her? Could she trust him? Or herself? Should she be as careless as to risk her reputation on such a rendezvous?
She entered her candle-lit room and walked to her dressing table, sitting down to study her reflection in the mirror. The face that stared back at her belonged to someone Sarah had never really seen. The cool, clear gaze above the mature gown bespoke a sophistication that Sarah had never felt before. The person in the fashionable blue gown was a woman; no longer a timid, easily maneuvered young girl.
Thisheadyfeelingofconfidenceallowed Sarah, for the first time, to ponder her feelings for Stewart Chamberlain with insight and honesty. She had to admit that he was the most exciting person to have ever entered her life. But more than his appearance, his poised and confident manner, his intelligence and his interesting past, it was his effect on her that forced her to see how useless it was to try to maintain disinterest. For the first time in her life, she had a man – and one who intrigued her very much.
Stewart was right: The attraction was mutual. And though their purposes might be at odds, Sarah decided that this was no reason to keep resisting. They had already achieved one compromise. Perhaps, she mused, this is how happy endings begin.
Resolute, she rose from the vanity, took a deep breath and walked to the bedroom door, picking up a pale blue shawl from her bureau as she passed by. Looking both ways for any sign of a presence in the hall, she stepped quietly out into the corridor, closed the door and tiptoed quickly to the back stairs.
From the empty kitchen, she moved down a short, darkly-lit corridor to the ballroom, where French doors led onto the low balcony that surrounded a large area of the mansion. Furtively walking toward this side terrace, lit by torches on this summer night, her eyes peered down into the darkness of the gardens, hoping for a glimpse of Stewart before he should see her. But the moon was clouded over and Sarah could make out no tall shape that would mark the man’s presence. With a growing sense of anticipation, she tiptoed down the garden steps, making her way toward the old oak tree where their first spontaneous meeting had taken place.
Suddenly at the same time the moon chose to peak out from behind the cloud, she heard a delicate, high-pitched voice. With a soundless gasp, Sarah hurriedly stepped back into the shadows. More cautiously, she again moved forward, using the tall boxwoods to avoid observation. The lilting voice continued, though she could not make out the words.
As Sarah inched closer to the voice, she was abruptly struck by the low, gentle murmur of a second, much deeper utterance. All at once it was clear to her that Juliana was the first person she had heard, but who was the man? Jack? Had she stumbled onto a lovers’ rendezvous? Father would be furious, she thought to herself, but smiled as she crept closer for a peek.
The smile froze on her face as she silently parted the branches of the tall bush not more than a pace from the oak tree. For there, in the midst of a passionate embrace, were Juliana and Stewart Chamberlain.
CHAPTER 10
Thepainandshockofherdiscoveryhit Sarah like a physical blow. Uttering a single, short gasp, she released the branches, turned and flew back toward the mansion, mindless of the rustling sound that trailed in her wake as her gown skimmed by the bushes. Over her shoulder, she heard Juliana’s petulant voice cry out, “Who goes there?” but Sarah did not hesitate.
Not until she had escaped to her room, torn off her garments, thrown on her nightgown and plunged beneath the covers of her bed did Sarah let the hot, angry tears flow. Muffling her woeful sobs in the pillow, she cursed Stewart’s deception and her own vulnerability.
As her wrenching sobs subsided, Sarah tried to picture the sight of Juliana in Stewart’s arms as a reprieve from making the worst mistake of her life – but the shocking scene was still too hurtful and her tears sprung anew.
It was not long after her tears had mercifully come to an end that Sarah heard a rustling in the hall followed by a discreet knock on her bedroom door. Sarah burrowed herself deeper in the covers, attempting heavy, even breaths, for there was no one in the world she cared to face. The door opened and she heard Juliana’s voice whispering, “Sarah? Are you awake?”
Sarah sensed Juliana’s presence closer to the bed. She knew her younger sister was peering into the darkness to see if she really was in bed and asleep. Satisfied, Juliana turned and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
Sarahletoutalong,shudderingsigh, wondering what Juliana might have wanted. To boast about her encounter with Stewart? To see if she had been their intruder? With a small measure of vengeance, she was pleased to know that Stewart would never know whether she had decided to meet him. She pounded her fist in to the damp pillow, and curled herself up into a tight ball in preparation for sleep ... sleep that on this eventful evening was a long time in coming.
Sarah awoke early the next morning after a fitful slumber. Her dry, puffy eyes burned; she felt exhausted and morose. Straining to pull the bell cord at the side of her bed, she cursed under her breath at the prospect of facing this day with Stewart Chamberlain’s damnable behavior still a sharp wound to her pride.
Several minutes passed while Sarah sat motionless amongst her covers, staring into space. When the door opened, she turned to see Tegan ushering in two serving girls laden with buckets of steaming water. “Good morning, mum,” Tegan said sweetly as she passed by the bed on her way to bring out the porcelain tub from its closet.
“How did you know I wanted a bath?” Sarah asked numbly, after watching the sudden flurry of activity.
“Hadafeeling,”Teganrepliedcasuallyasshe pulled fresh linens from the closet. “Thank you, girls. That’s fine now,” she said, dismissing the maids. As the two young girls departed, Tegan moved toward the bed and began folding back the covers. “All right then, mum. Here’s a nice, hot tub for you. Can I get you something to eat as well?”
Sarah, who had been eyeing the red-headed maid critically ever since she had entered the room, ignored Tegan’s entreaties. Showing no sign that she was prepared to leave the bed, she crossed her arms stubbornly and spoke.
“Teeg,” Sarah signed impatiently, using the younger girl’s nickname. “I can read you like a book. You’re pampering me this morning – and for what reason, I surely do not know.”
“I spoke with Mr. Chamberlain this morning,” Tegan blurted, and seeing Sarah’s face contort painfully, hurried on. “He asked me to give you this.” And with her words, she pulled a sealed envelope from her apron pocket and held it before her mistress.
“It’s a letter,” Tegan said firmly, as if talking to a bumpkin. “Mr. Chamberlain said you must read it. He said I must make sure that you do.”