Four Years Ago…

“But why do you have to leave?” Sarah asked, tears streaking down her little face. She was only twelve to his fifteen but she was always so intuitive. Sarah always seemed to understand what was happening; even when his sisters couldn’t comprehend what was going on, though they were close to her in age being eleven and thirteen. They saw the war as a dashing opportunity, a nice way to establish himself. He would come home showered in the glory of victory against the French. They couldn’t imagine that he would actually have to be on the battle field. Sarah was his favourite in the family. For the past three years, since his mother had married her father, she had been a steadfast companion. She was always following him about, trying to be a part of his world. She understood him better than his mother or sisters ever could.  

“I have to Sarah, it’s my duty,” Stephen, reached forward and brushed the tears off his stepsister’s cheek, feeling a twinge in his chest at the sight.

“But you’re all I have left,” she cried out, suddenly grabbing one of his legs and holding on tight.

“Enough now,” he said, not unkindly. “You have my mother and sisters. The four of you will be strong together.” Stephen gently pried her off his legs, trying to hold back tears of his own. He turned about face and walked out of the room, ready for his next step in life but unsure of what he was leaving behind.

* * *

1813-Present Day…

Stephen folded up the letter, tucking it back into his shirt pocket. That was over six months ago, the last letter he had received from Sarah. Her letters were always a bit vague in the actual happenings of her life, filled instead with thoughts of her future, regret over his absence, insightful comments on the status of the war and society at home. He missed her; he had missed them all so much over the past four years. They had been four long and bloody years.

As he looked up to the brick house where he was raised, he wondered what had happened. Six months, when he usually received a letter every few weeks. Stephen dismounted from his horse, handing the reins over to the head groom before making his way quickly up the steps to his family. Knocking, he waited for the door, looking at the windows to see if he could get a glimpse at the adorable face of Sarah. He had to remind himself that she was grown now. Stephen couldn’t wait to see the beauty that she had grown to be. He knew she would be beautiful, her mother had been a great beauty and her cherub face had hinted at that same beauty, even as a child.

The doorman opened the door, immediately stepping back before uttering, “Master Stephen, so wonderful to see you.”

“Dobbins, nice to see you well. Is everyone home?”

“No just Sarah, your mother and sisters went to the shops but should be back soon.”

“Oh, Sarah, where can I find her,” He said, ready to rush through the house and pull her into his arms.

“Sir, she’s in the parlour, but you should know…” Dobbin’s face had changed, embarrassment shaded his features.  But Stephen was already rushing through the house and into the parlour, shouting Sarah’s name on the way in.

A small woman dressed in rags jumped at the sound. Before whipping around she carefully put back the silverware she seemed to be polishing.

“Stephen!” the slender woman bounded forward, jumping into his arms. He pulled back to look at her face in disbelief and affront. Who was this? Stephen looked at her closely, she certainly looked like she could be his Sarah, all grown up. But how could she be? It was though, he knew it was truly her.

Sarah was so beautiful she could make a man weep. He could just make out her shining hair, tucked under a cloth to keep it out of her face. She had high cheekbones, that were made prominent by her slim face, but it did not make her look over sharp or shrew like. Stephen looked into the eyes that he knew so well and saw they were alight with excitement and happiness. He caught himself as his eyes drifted to her lips and stepped back, holding her almost at arm’s length.

“Let me look at you properly,” he said. She stepped back and smiled shyly. She carried herself with a confidence but had a hesitant air about her, like she was ready to bolt off at any moment. It was the same alertness he associated with the elite scouts of his regiment. Always ready, always watching for what might spring out next.

When the moment had grown too long, he pushed himself to speak, “My god, look how you’ve grown.” Sarah smiled widely, stepped in and hugged him tightly. Automatically, Stephen’s body reacted, wrapping his arms about her. He was a little unsettled by how much he enjoyed holding her. He pushed that thought away and focused on what had originally caused him concern. He was baffled, why his dear sweet Sarah would be dressed in rags and polishing silver, like some kind of scullery maid. For laughs? And what would make her so cautious and wary? It didn’t fit at all with the precocious and confident child he had known. What had happened to his Sarah?

Sarah held on tight, tears of relief streaking down her face, “Oh Stephen, I have missed you so much.”

“Sarah,” he said carefully. “What exactly are you doing?”

Sarah pulled back, worried that she had done something wrong and looked up into his face. No longer boyishly handsome, Stephen was all man. He had filled out from his years in the army. His face, which had once been round, had thinned out; showing off his prominent jaw. He had become the kind of ruggedly handsome she only read about in her books. They had been her life-line, the only possession Christina had allowed her to keep, not believing they were worth anything and so not seeing the point in taking this one luxury away from Sarah.

“What do you mean Stephen?” she looked down and saw the smudge she had gotten on him, automatically assuming that was what he meant. She reached to brush off what she could. “Oh, I’m sorry, I will get that washed out as soon as you change. I can’t believe I didn’t think to be more careful.”

“Sarah, I don’t care about the smudges. What are you doing cleaning?”

“My job,” she said, thinking this should be obvious, shouldn’t his mother have told him?

“You are the daughter of a viscount, you should not be cleaning,” Stephen practically shouted at her, causing her to shrink back. “Sarah, whatever made you think you needed to work?” he continued, his voice gentler.

“Christina said that since she was in charge of my trust, if I wanted to go away to school or have a debut I needed to take care of the house so they could save for it.”

“Sarah the family has more money than you could ever spend, you have more than enough money to get whatever you want. I’ll talk to my mother.”

“No, please don’t.” Sarah said fearfully. “Christina is still my guardian and as such I must do what she says, just like she must do what she thinks is best for me. I need to grow up and go to school, like my mother so that I can find someone who will want to marry me. Then I can have a home of my own.”

Just then the door opened and someone breezed in, “Cinderella! There is dirt in the hall, clean it up, don’t make me ask you again.”

“Coming Christina,” Sarah said executing a perfect curtsy and making her way to the front hall.

“Mother,” Stephen said, strolling into the hall with his fisted hands behind his back.

“Stephen,” Christina, squealed. She greeted him with open arms, approaching him before placing one air kiss on each cheek. “We did not know that you would be home today, your letter told us not to look for you for at least a week. I would have had the cook make you something special.”

“The cook is fantastic at everything she makes, I’m sure whatever is the fare tonight will be delicious.” Stephen answered distractedly. Both of his sisters had sidled up and were fawning over him, demanding kisses and hugs. He greeted them each and then followed them as they bustled into the sitting room. Sarah trailed behind, picking up the debris as the whirlwind of her family moved from the hall.

“Oh, but I am exhausted from all that sun,” Pamela said, throwing herself onto the couch.

Sarah was sure that for Pamela, shopping was quite taxing. Not exactly the slimmest of figures, Pamela resembled a sow more than a woman of seven and ten. Sarah was not surprised: she had always been known to eat vigorously, combined with a fondness for cakes and a dislike for exertion.

“Don’t complain, you got four new dresses! All I got was a new riding habit and two poke bonnets,” Daphne snapped at her sister. While Pamela was more of the swine variety, Daphne was that of a shrewd bird. With no natural curves to speak of, Daphne had to use fashion to give her the womanly body that men craved. Sarah was the one who had to tie her corset, she knew just how tight it was worn and how much padding was needed to fill it. There was nothing to be done about the neck however. It was too long for her body and made her head seem impossibly small.

Sarah thought all this as she struggled to grab the bags from their shopping trip, before cleaning up the hall floor. They were petty thoughts that she normally wouldn’t have. From her disappointment over Stephen seeing her after four years looking like scullery maid, she was a little disgruntled.

“Let me help you with those,” Stephen said, relieving her of her parcels while ignoring his families protest. He marched up the stairs to their rooms, Sarah heard him stomping down the hall and knew she would have to straighten out which bags belonged to who before her sisters went upstairs tonight. It could wait until they were sitting down to dinner though. For now Sarah stood from where she had been gathering bags and made her way to the cleaning cupboard for the mop and bucket before retrieving some water.