CHAPTER SIXTEEN
As Sarah trudged up to Mildred’s stoop, her spirits had never been lower.
She felt stupid and naïve, but afraid too. There was a reason a girl’s father chose her husband and arranged all the details. Sarah was very much on her own, and she’d leapt onto the road to matrimony with no assistance from anyone who was older and wiser.
Why hadn’t she consulted with Mildred? Or visited her sisters to seek their permission? Why hadn’t she delayed until other people told her she should proceed?
Her only excuse was that she’d been in love, but it had all fallen apart as quickly as it had begun. Considering how reckless she’d been, she supposed it was a fitting conclusion. Her heart was broken, her nerves frayed, and she couldn’t figure out what to do next.
She should simply discuss the situation with Mildred, but Mildred was suddenly immersed in her own quagmire with Nicholas. Obviously, Sarah had to travel to London and meet with her sisters, but any trip to town would require her to abandon Mildred for a few days. With Nicholas lurking and asserting his claim, Mildred was vulnerable and could be coerced.
Yet Sarah’s other option was to dawdle in Bath where Nicholas would constantly be around and underfoot. She couldn’t bear the notion. Not until she had time to assess the dilemma in a critical manner. He seemed to think they would blithely continue on toward a hasty wedding, but she couldn’t imagine it.
She took a deep breath to steady herself, then she opened the door and stepped into the vestibule. The cook Mildred had hired for the summer was standing there, wearing her cloak and bonnet and about to depart. Nicholas was coming for supper so Mildred would want to serve a fine meal, and Sarah couldn’t understand what was happening.
“Are you leaving?” she asked.
“Yes. I’ve enjoyed knowing you, Miss Henley. Please give my best to Miss Farnsworth—if you ever see her again.”
Sarah scowled. “What?”
“This is a dirty business, Miss Henley.” She leaned nearer. “A very dirty business!”
The woman peeked around, appearing as if she’d like to offer a caustic comment, but she merely muttered to herself and stomped out.
Sarah went into the parlor, stunned to find Clayton Farnsworth and Mr. Winthrop searching Mildred’s desk. Their heads were pressed close as if they were conspirators in a grand scheme.
“Mr. Farnsworth,” she said, “the cook has quit.”
He straightened to glower over at her. “Hello, Miss Henley. I’m glad you’re back. We’ve been waiting for you.”
“Is your aunt all right?”
He snorted with derision. “My aunt is not all right—as I’m sure you’re aware.”
“What do you mean?”
“Her recent behavior has forced my hand.”
“In what way?”
“She has succumbed to the madness that’s been plaguing her for years.”
“She’s not mad,” Sarah fumed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Mr. Winthrop interjected, “Clayton doesn’t need your opinion, Miss Henley, and I suggest you tread carefully. In light of your complicity, you could be swept up too.”
“What are you talking about?” She glared at both men. “You could be speaking in riddles.”
“I have had my aunt committed to Bedlam Hospital as a lunatic,” Mr. Farnsworth explained.
Sarah gasped. “You what?”
“For three decades, she has been delusional. My grandfather and father thought so, and I concur with their judgment.”
“She’s completely lucid,” Sarah firmly insisted.
“You ought to be very cautious in how you converse with me,” Mr. Farnsworth pompously warned. “I won’t tolerate any disrespect.”
“I’m not scared of you, Mr. Farnsworth. Tell me about Mildred. You’ve locked her in an insane asylum? What possessed you?”
“My aunt dabbles in the occult. She consults with mystics and gypsies to where she can no longer distinguish truth from fiction. Now we have the biggest charlatan of all trying to pull off the biggest swindle.”
“Who is it?”
“As if you didn’t know,” Mr. Winthrop mumbled. “You brought Mr. Swift into our lives.”
“No, I didn’t. If he’s in your lives, it’s due to his acquaintance with Mr. Farnsworth. Don’t blame me.”
“You have a very smart mouth, Miss Henley,” Mr. Winthrop scolded.
He might have persisted with his insults, but Mr. Farnsworth stopped him by abruptly announcing, “You’re fired, Miss Henley.”
“What? What?” she stammered, not certain she’d heard correctly.
“I have fired you.”
“You can’t fire me, Mr. Farnsworth. I don’t work for you.”
“With my aunt’s mental condition so deteriorated, I have been appointed by the court to manage her affairs. From how deranged she’s grown, I’m expecting she’ll never recover.”
“I don’t believe this!” Sarah seethed. “You’re the very last person who should have authority over her.” She frowned at Mr. Winthrop. “And what is your role in all of this? Have you been spying on her and tattling to Mr. Farnsworth?”
“My relationship with Mr. Farnsworth is none of your business, Miss Henley.”
“Some friend you are,” Sarah spat.
Their quarrel might have escalated, but Mr. Farnsworth cut it off. “I will not accuse you of conspiracy with Mr. Swift. Not yet anyway, but it’s because I have no hard evidence against you.”
“What conspiracy? What evidence?”
“Nicholas Swift has pretended to be my aunt’s son in order to steal her fortune, but he will not succeed.”
She could have raged at Mr. Farnsworth over his indictment of Nicholas. She could have refuted it and declared that Nicholas would never have tricked Mildred in such a dastardly fashion, but she’d just been fighting with him over this very issue. She wasn’t about to jump into the middle of the swampy bog. There was no way to climb out unscathed.
“Why must I be fired?” she asked. “Why can’t you simply let me resign without ending this so bitterly?”
“Will you make me spell it out?” Mr. Farnsworth snottily inquired.
“Yes, I’m afraid you’ll have to. I’m confused about what my transgression has been. Your aunt was extremely pleased with my service to her.”
“Yes, but then my aunt is a lunatic.”
“So says you,” Sarah shot back. “I disagree.”
“I don’t necessarily suppose you should toss out her opinions as verification of character.”
“Why am I fired?” she pressed. “I demand to know.”
Mr. Winthrop snickered as Mr. Farnsworth said, “I am friends with Lady Middlebury.”
“Good for you. I’m sure you’ll be delighted with how that connection unfolds in the future. She’s so loyal. People love her.”
“I’m aware of her wager with Mr. Swift about you.”
Determined to brazen it out, Sarah kept herself from reacting. “They may have entered into a wager about me, but nothing came of it.”
On spewing the lie, her cheeks blushed a hot scarlet. He noticed and scoffed. “Lady Middlebury shared details about you that were too sordid to recount.”
“They’re not true.”
“It’s your word against hers, and she is a countess. By her very station, her veracity can’t be questioned. You’re fired.”
“I had no amour with Mr. Swift!”
“Miss Henley, lest you implicate yourself, you should be silent.”
“Why should I be?”
“He is in the process of being arrested.”
“For what offense?”
“For perpetrating fraud against my aunt. He should already be in custody.”
“But…but…what will happen to him?”
“I imagine he’ll be convicted and transported to the penal colonies.”
Mr. Winthrop added, “Or he might be sentenced to a lengthy term here in England, and he’ll die in prison. They’re nasty places.”
“You have no proof that he engaged in a scam,” she said.
“Don’t I?” Mr. Farnsworth appeared cruel and smug, as if he held all the cards. “He’s a confidence artist and gambler who consults with gypsies—just like my aunt. Any court in the land would deem such conduct to be mad.”
“He’s not mad,” she stated.
“I can certainly claim that he is—if the situation descends to that point—but for the moment I have been named as my aunt’s guardian. He has attempted to swindle her out of her fortune, and with his criminal tendencies so clear I don’t need to dither over his sanity.”
“I’ll find Mildred,” Sarah vowed. “I’ll help her.”
“I don’t think you will, Miss Henley. If you interfere, I will have you prosecuted with Mr. Swift. I’m positive I could convince a judge to look askance at your relationship with him. Weren’t the two of you planning to wed? If so, you could have lived in grand style on my aunt’s money. How thoroughly were you willing to debase yourself so as to aid him in his embezzlement?”
Sarah steeled her expression so her fury was hidden. Wasn’t that exactly what Nicholas had suggested? She had to get away from all of them, had to ponder the calamity and figure out the best path for herself and for Mildred.
“Where is Mildred?” she asked.
“I told you: She’s on her way to Bedlam Hospital.”
“Who took her there?”
“I had some nurses restrain her, and they’re traveling with her.”
Sarah was horrified. “You restrained your aunt?”
“Yes, and I could have ridden with them to check her in at the facility, but as she was being led away, she was quite agitated in her speech and mannerisms. The nurses felt my presence would have exacerbated her outbursts so I stayed behind to shut down the house.”
“Aren’t you a saint?” she snidely said.
“I am now in charge of her every penny, and I won’t waste funds on a summer rental or on any other of the nonsense she liked to pursue. She constantly hired companions, and it’s on the top of my list of frivolous expenditures. Your services are no longer required.”
“She was kind to you.”
“No, Miss Henley, she wasn’t. Not that it matters anymore. Now then, I had the housemaid pack your bag before she left. It’s by the front door. Please fetch it, then remove yourself from the premises.”
Sarah was frozen in her spot. She wanted to rail at them. She wanted to accuse them of perfidy. She wanted to tell them how hateful they were, how awfully they’d behaved, but why bother? They wouldn’t listen anyway.
She had no idea what would happen to Mildred. A person locked in an asylum had few avenues to gain release. It was especially difficult when the patient was female and the family member making allegations of hysteria was a male.
Clayton Farnsworth would always prevail against Mildred in any effort she implemented to free herself. And he’d have Winston Winthrop as a witness to lie with regard to Mildred’s habits and conduct.
Due to their machinations, Mildred might never escape Bedlam, and Sarah couldn’t abide their disgusting arrogance another second. Head high, back straight, she whirled away and went to pick up her portmanteau. She marched out, and she was so angry she didn’t remember to demand the wages she was owed.
She simply stomped off, and her mind was busy with how she could ultimately thwart them—and save Mildred in the process.
* * * *
Mildred gazed out the window of the jolting carriage. It was a cheap vehicle, and even though the road was dry and flat they bumped along as if they were riding over a bed of rocks.
She was so stunned by events that she could barely think. She’d finally found Nicholas, but Clayton would work to separate them forever.
After her conversation with Nicholas, she’d pretended she would have to contact her attorney, Mr. Thumberton, to have him confirm the facts that had been presented. Yet she had no doubt he was telling the truth.
The documents were genuine, the dates and other information accurate. He had receipts and letters in her father’s handwriting. They weren’t forgeries. The woman who’d been paid to raise him, Pegeen Swifton, had been a lazy, impertinent housemaid.
There had been rumors she was obsessed with Mildred’s brother, that she’d had an affair with him. Pegeen had probably thought—if she kept on sinning—she’d eventually be allowed to marry him. But Mildred could have told her that her father would never have condoned such an outrage.
He’d been a stickler for the proprieties, and he would never have let his only son marry down. He’d solved his son’s infatuation by getting rid of it, just as he’d gotten rid of Mildred’s dirty little secret.
Pegeen had been sent away, and Nicholas had been sent with her. She’d have been indignant over the conclusion Mildred’s father had orchestrated, but in spite of any resentment she’d accepted her compensation—and had spent it on herself.
Mildred’s child had been placed in her greedy hands, and his life had been a living hell. On discovering further evidence of her father’s perfidy, Mildred was more incensed than ever.
She’d known Clayton would be dangerously angry about Nicholas’s appearance, but she’d planned to have all facets of his arrival carefully arranged before Clayton was apprised. She’d envisioned a meeting in Thumberton’s office where he’d have been notified of the change of circumstance. To calm his ire, she’d decided to shower him with a gift of money so he wasn’t completely disinherited, but none of that would transpire now.
How had he learned about Nicholas? He’d moved so quickly that she assumed Winston had eavesdropped, then tattled. The disloyal rat! After all her kindness over the years! After all her generosity! Someday, she’d get even.
She stared at the nurse sitting across from her. She was much younger than Mildred, homely and fat and likely unhappy in her job.
“I’m very rich,” Mildred said to her. “Were you told that I am?”
“Be silent, Miss Farnsworth,” the nurse replied. “You’re not permitted to speak to us.”
“Once we’re in London, you shouldn’t take me to the hospital.”
“Miss Farnsworth, please! Don’t force me to be cruel to you.”
“Don’t you mean crueler than you’ve already been?”
Mildred’s wrists and legs were shackled, the ropes knotted so tightly they were cutting into her skin.
The nurse blushed so apparently she was capable of some shame. “If you don’t be quiet, I’ll have to gag you too. It’s the rules.”
“We should stop at my lawyer’s office,” Mildred suggested. “I’ll pay you handsomely to deliver me to him.”
There was a male guard with them too. He and the nurse glanced at each other, and they were calculating the odds, struggling to deduce if it might be worth it. In facilities such as Bedlam, bribes were common. The conditions were so dreadful, and the workers’ wages so low, that they earned incomes however they could.
“I’ll pay you!” Mildred insisted. “I’ll pay both of you more than you could make in a decade.”
The pair shared another glance, then the man shook his head slightly, advising the nurse to ignore Mildred. They probably didn’t believe she was wealthy. After all, women didn’t usually have their own funds, and Mildred let the topic rest. It was embarrassing enough to have been fettered, and she refused to be gagged too.
She closed her eyes and tried to relax, tried to count the passing miles. Was Nicholas aware of what had happened? She was so afraid Clayton would have him vanish as Robert had vanished.
What about Sarah? Had she observed any of Clayton’s treachery? She had to have found out. Sarah would help her. Sarah would figure out a strategy. Mildred would keep that small flame burning as she faced the tribulations that were suddenly barreling toward her like a runaway carriage.
* * * *
Sarah approached the house Clayton Farnsworth was renting. She doubted Nicholas would be inside. When they’d talked earlier, he’d told her he had errands to complete, and he’d be at Mildred’s for supper.
After she’d quarreled with Mr. Farnsworth and Mr. Winthrop, she hadn’t known where else to go. Was she still engaged to Nicholas? She didn’t think so, but over the past week or two she’d started to depend on him.
He’d be livid about Mildred, and he’d counsel Sarah as to how she should proceed. No matter what, Mildred would not languish at Bedlam Hospital. If it took the remainder of Sarah’s life to garner her release, then that’s how she would spend her time. Nicholas could guide her to the best path.
As she neared the residence, Michael Fenwick was standing on the sidewalk, a traveling trunk at his feet, a carriage parked next to him as if he was leaving Bath.
He noticed her down the block and waved. “Hello, Miss Henley.”
“Hello, Mr. Fenwick.”
She trudged over to him, her gait off balance. She was carrying her portmanteau, and it was heavy. It had been a long slog from Mildred’s, and the strap on the bag had rubbed blisters on her palms.
“I was hoping to see Mr. Swift. Is he here?”
Mr. Fenwick frowned. “No, he’s not.”
“Where is he? When I visited a bit ago, he said he’d be busy with chores, but I didn’t ask what they were.”
“He’s not busy with chores.” He peeked up at his driver, then he clasped her bag and set it down. He escorted her away from the vehicle so they wouldn’t be overheard.
“What is it?” she inquired.
“We had some excitement.”
“What excitement?”
“He was arrested.”
She blanched with dismay. Mr. Farnsworth had claimed he was having Nicholas arrested, but she’d deemed the comment a boast or a lie.
Clearly, Clayton Farnsworth was dangerous, and he could act fast. With Nicholas being seized, she was alarmed for him but for herself too. Mr. Farnsworth had hinted he might have her incarcerated for conspiring with Nicholas. It had been another remark she’d disregarded.
But she nervously studied the street, terrified the authorities were about to swoop in and accost her. If she disappeared, who would realize they needed to search for her?
“When did this occur?” she asked.
“Right after you left. We were glad you’d departed so you didn’t have to witness it.”
“Where is he?”
“For now, he’s in the local jail, but I believe he’s to be transferred to London. It will probably take a few days though.”
She glanced over at his trunk. “Where are you going?”
“I’ve booked a room at the hotel. Clayton has shut down the house. The landlord just stopped by to inform me that everyone is supposed to be out.”
“I’m so stunned,” she murmured, “and I’m afraid of Mr. Farnsworth.”
“Afraid of Clayton? Why?”
“He’s had his aunt committed to Bedlam Hospital as a lunatic.”
“Oh, no.”
“He thought Nicholas was trying to pilfer her fortune, and he threatened to have me arrested too—as an accomplice.”
Mr. Fenwick shook his head in disgust. “I warned Nicholas to be careful, but he wouldn’t listen.”
Sarah’s eyes filled with tears, and they dripped down her cheeks. There were too many of them, and she couldn’t hold them in. She was overwhelmed by all that had happened. Mr. Fenwick was younger than she was, but he was so calm, and he seemed as if he’d be steady in a crisis. She didn’t know much about him, but wondered where he came by such composure. She wished she could borrow some of it.
“I’m at a loss, Mr. Fenwick, and confused about how to proceed. Mildred has vanished, and Mr. Farnsworth fired me so my job and income are ended. I have to get to London, but I don’t have the money to purchase a ticket on the mail coach. I should assist Nicholas and Mildred, but I have no idea how to aid either of them.”
“Don’t cry, Miss Henley. I’ll see to Nicholas.”
He pulled a kerchief from his coat and handed it to her. She dabbed at her eyes and asked, “How will you help him?”
“For a start, I’ll post his bail, and he’ll be released.”
“Can you?”
“I should be able to. I’ll figure it out so don’t worry about him.”
“All right I won’t.”
“And once he’s free, he can help Mildred. I’m sure, after Clayton’s mischief, he’ll be eager for some revenge.” He grinned. “I would be.”
“What would you recommend I do? You’re so competent, while I am weary and scared, and I can’t guess what my next steps should be.”
“First, I’d like us to leave this horrid place,” he said. “Would you ride to the hotel with me?”
“I suppose I should.”
“I’ll arrange to send you onto London. We’ll figure that out too. There might be a guest there who’s traveling to town and will offer you a seat. If not, I’ll buy you a ticket.”
“I can’t have that, Mr. Fenwick. I don’t have the funds to reimburse you.”
“Nicholas can pay me. After he’s out of jail, he’ll definitely owe me, and if he’s about to receive some of Mildred’s fortune I can extract a very high price.” He grinned again. “He’ll gladly compensate me too. He won’t have any choice.”
She hesitated, worried as to whether it was the best course, but she couldn’t begin to decide. She felt as if she should tarry in Bath until she was certain Nicholas was safe, but she didn’t have the financial means to dawdle.
She was worn down and forlorn and frightened. She was anxious to talk to her sisters, and with her losing her job she had to speak to Mrs. Ford so the older woman could find a new position for her.
There was no reason to linger in Bath, and if Mr. Farnsworth set his sights on her it could bring disaster too.
Mr. Fenwick took her arm and led her over to the carriage, and she allowed him to guide her in the direction he thought she should go. He lifted her in and tossed her bag in too, then he climbed in after her. She relaxed against the squab and resolved—for a bit of time at least—she would let him tell her what to do, and she wouldn’t argue. Not once.