Chapter Fourteen
They had pressed on, and true to James's words, they arrived at the gates of Greystone Estate just before night fell. Her defiance was now gone, the worry of what her parents would do and say now consuming her. Part of her wanted to turn Molly about, to ride back to Weymouth and attempt that new life once again, one about which she knew nothing. However, the woman inside her scolded the child and told her it was time to face her parents. Besides, she had listened to the sea and it had told her to return.
“We made it,” James said, his horse beside her own.
She nodded as she stared off at the house in which she had been raised. Yes, they had made it. However, despite the self-scolding, the thought of pressing on terrified her still. Her parents had never beat her or treated her unfairly. Quite the contrary. They had always supported her, even indulged her at every turn. So, why then was her stomach attempting to jump out of her body and run as far away as it could? She shot James a glare, knowing he would not see it. This was all his fault and she would pay the price of his actions. She was sure of it.
James turned toward her and she quickly looked away, lest he see the scowl on her face. Although she blamed him for her predicament, they had come to pleasant terms. If he was still the scoundrel he once was, he would revert to that behavior in no time. It would not be on her head if he showed his true colors. “Do not worry,” he said with a confidence Sarah did not feel, “we shall see if my influence can put everyone at ease.”
Sarah closed her eyes for a moment. It was not his bragging she found so insufferable, but that he had the audacity to read her mind. Not once during their journey had she voiced her concerns over her the reaction her parents might have, so how on Earth did the man know exactly what she had been thinking? She was about to walk into more turmoil than she had ever experienced in her life, and here he was boasting of his title and wealth and acting the mind reader in the process.
“But it will never put me at ease,” she snapped. “Please, let us just go.” Under her breath she added, “to face the lions.”
They rode up to the front of the house, and before they could even dismount, one of the footmen came hurrying out exclaiming something Sarah could not make out for the pounding that was resounding behind her eardrums. Sarah almost fainted from the hustle and bustle that followed. Her mother came to the door sobbing, her father pushing past her and working his way towards Sarah as she dismounted. Before her feet hit the ground, he picked her up and hugged her so tightly she had trouble breathing. Perhaps that was what had brought on the near-fainting spell. She certainly was not one to give into bouts of hysteria, so that had to be the cause of her light-headedness.
“My child has returned!” her father cried as he set her on the ground.
Her mother fell weeping against a column and James ran up the steps and caught her before she fell.
“Come, your mother has been in bits since you disappeared,” her father said as he guided her up the stairs as if she were now an invalid unable to walk on her own.
“My dear child, you are alive,” her mother said as she pulled Sarah into her arms and kissed her cheek. “I had feared the worst!”
Before Sarah could respond, the woman pulled her into the house and led her straight to the sitting room and all but pushed her into a chair. Then both of her parents voiced a chain of questions without giving Sarah a chance to respond to even one, and she soon was so overwhelmed, she truly did almost faint.
“You had us worried,” her father shouted at her, his previous affections now gone, replaced by anger. “Your poor mother was nearly bedridden!”
“It is true, the worry was that great,” her mother replied as she fanned herself. “Why did you run away?”
“Where did you go?”
“Did any man accost you?”
“Were you injured in any way?”
Sarah struggled to keep up with the barrage of questions, but she found it increasingly difficult to do as the two continuously talked over each other. Finally, James cleared his throat, and much to Sarah’s relief, her parents stopped their barrage of questions and turned to James.
“It has been a long journey,” James said in a calming voice that somehow even calmed Sarah’s flustered soul. “It was one filled with excitement and also one which was quite tiring. Would it be too much to ask for a bite to eat and perhaps a drink? I think stories are better told on a full stomach.”
For once Sarah was thankful for his presence, for her parents quickly nodded, uttering their apologies. Sarah’s father summoned a footman and asked the man to have the cook prepare a light meal. She glanced over at James as her father barked his orders, and James gave her a wink. And for the first time since she could remember, Sarah gave him a genuine smile.
***
James sat back in the wingback chair with his foot crossed over one leg and a brandy glass hanging from the tips of his fingers. “Then I asked myself one question. Where would a lady brought up in one of the finest homes under the most careful eye of her parents go?”
“I must admit, I know not,” Sarah’s father said, as awestruck as her mother, the two staring at the man as if he were the Messiah himself.
“Why, the most upstanding inn in town. Not only did I find her there, but she had the admiration of those who sat enthralled with her stories. Of course, her constant boasting of her father’s business grew a bit dry,” James said, causing them all to laugh and her father’s cheeks to redden, though the look he had was more of pride than embarrassment.
Sarah watched James as he unfolded his tale, his eyes alight and his face showing his excitement, much like Sarah imagined herself to appear when she shared her stories with others. What she had expected was a man who joined in her parents rejoicing at admonishing Sarah for her foolish actions, not this man who wove a tale almost as good as she.
“Sarah, your father asked you a question,” her mother rebuked.
Sarah shook her head to clear her thoughts. She had not realized her mind had wandered, which was strange since James had been telling such a wonderful tale about her adventures while away. She turned to her father. “I am sorry,” she said and forced a yawn to cover her inattentiveness, which turned into a real one once she started. Granted she was tired, but her parents would not allow her to go to bed until they knew all of the details of her travels to Weymouth.
“I asked why you left as you did in the first place,” her father stated. “That still has not been established.” Her father had that look he often had when he became irritated with her storytelling and would broker no more misbehavior.
In an attempt to give herself time to think of an answer that would appease her parents, she took a sip of her tea. Then she set her cup down and stood up. All three sets of eyes were upon her, and she let out a sigh that would have impressed the greatest of actors.
“Well, you see, with all the talk of marriage and the planning for the wedding, I became overwhelmed,” she began as she walked over to her father and placing a hand on his shoulder. She shot a glance at James, who continued to sit back in his chair, amusement now on his face. “I thought it would be the last time I would have to myself, and a notion came over me to enjoy my final moments on an adventure.” She found her story creation lacking, to be horrible at best, and she looked over at James, pleading with her eyes that he would take up the story in an effort to aid her. She must be extremely tired if she was unable to use such an opportunity to concoct a wonderful story to explain her disappearance.
James grinned at her, and she found herself wishing she had requested time to rest before she explained herself. Or perhaps she should have taken time to create a story on her way home rather than batting her eyelashes at James like some sort of lovestruck woman.
“It may have been my fault,” James said. “I spoke of our future together without regards to how all of these sudden changes had been affecting her. “
“My boy…em…that is, My Lord,” her father stammered, “you are not at fault with my daughter’s disappearance. She was the one who made the decision to run off and leave her parents in distress.”
“Still,” James said in reply, “I have put too much on her in such a short amount of time. I believe that with Sarah now returned safely to her home, we can once again look to the future and what it has in store for us.” He looked directly at Sarah, his eyes narrowing, and added, “And leave the past where it belongs.”
Sarah was aghast. How dare he? Even in her most fragile moment he had to play his games. Before she could get a word in, however, her father spoke up. “Very well, then. Sarah, you need to get some rest. Have a bath drawn, and then go straight to bed. Tomorrow, you will rest and recover from your experience. Then, the following day, you and your mother will begin the planning for your wedding.”
James sat up in the chair. “About the wedding…” he said, his tone causing everyone to remain still.
Mrs. Crombly let out a short gasp and clutched at her chest. “Surely you will not call it off?”
Mr. Crombly shot his wife a harsh glance. “Jane!” he hissed.
“No, we still will be married,” James assured her.
Her mother sighed in relief, but Mr. Crombly’s cheeks were a bright red—from anger or embarrassment, Sarah was unsure, but either could be just as terrible as the other.
“There is one request I must ask before the engagement is announced,” James said.
“But of course,” Mr. Crombly said emphatically. “Whatever you deem, we shall abide.”
“My mother is due back in a month’s time. What would be more fitting than to have her present, at Greystone Estate, to hear the good news?”
Mrs. Crombly went to speak but her husband spoke up, his voice booming over hers. “Another excellent idea. There shall be no more talks of weddings or planning thereof until the Dowager Duchess returns. Come, My Lord, let us have a drink.” He stood up and grabbed James’s arm, practically pulling the man from the chair.
Sarah looked over at James, and though he did not say a word, his eyes said it all. They told her that, as promised, he would take care of the situation. He was true to his word, and Sarah felt gratitude that he had done so while at the same time the old feelings crept back into her mind. He might be taking care of the situation, but he was also doing it without consulting with her, just as he always did.
She found herself unable to stymie the anger that threatened to boil over. Where that anger came from exactly, she did not know or understand, but she knew it stemmed from a feeling of lacking control of her own life. And for whatever reason, Sarah latched onto it as a woman who was drowning in that sea that had misguidedly counseled her into returning home.
***
Sarah closed her eyes, allowing the hot water to sooth her aching muscles. From her neck down to her toes, every part of her body was sore. The excessive amount of riding she had done over the past week had drained her physically, and the realization of having her dreams at the coast crushed had drained her emotionally. For a moment as they had traveled back together, a thought had crossed her mind that perhaps James was the prince she had been looking for. He did arrive at the seaside, though not by boat, and he had remained at the house rather than returning to his home. His actions tonight of saving her from the scorn and shame of her parents was a heroic act indeed.
But that was all part of his way to win her for his own gain, much like he did winning her in the game of cards he had played. For the next weeks she would have to remain on guard, ignore his smiles, his eyes, the sound of his voice. They had already taken hold of her, his manipulation was that great, and she would not fall into his arms at the end. No, she would not lose who she was simply because she was acting the love-enchanted child.
Letting out a sigh, she wondered what would happen if she failed, that at the end if she did want to marry him. Then what? She would be the one to sire him children while he was out enjoying the women of the countryside or at the various portal villages much like Weymouth. Would he make her work as a footman by day and then parade her around to his guests as his wife at night? She put nothing past him.
A shiver went through her body, imagining the horror of it all. She would have to find a way to make him want to run as far away from her as possible. She silently swore to herself that she would do everything in her power to make him turn and leave and never come back to Greystone Estate before the thirty days were up. In the long run, it would be best for them both. He did not truly love her, for he lacked the heart to love anyone other than himself. He would be free to find another woman more willing to become the slave he wanted, and she would be free to wait for her prince to sweep her off her feet.
The water began to cool by the time Sarah stepped out of the bath, her fingers and toes clean but looking as prunes. Anne had set out a shift, and Sarah looked forward to donning the soft material after wearing the coarse common dress these past days.
She was just pulling the covers over herself when a knock came to the door, and it opened without Sarah’s invitation. Her mother stepped in and closed the door behind her. Though her mother was old—she was approaching her fortieth year—she was still quite beautiful. Her hair still shined a vibrant auburn, no signs of silver showing as many women her age had. Where other women suffered sagging skin and darkness under their eyes, her mother maintained her youthful good looks and bright eyes.
Mrs. Crombly pulled the blanket up to Sarah’s chin and sat on the side of the bed and gazed down at her daughter. “You seemed to have had quite the adventure,” her mother said. “And of all the places to go, you ended up in a Weymouth. How did you know to go there?
Sarah's heart raced as her mind tried to find an excuse, but before she was able to concoct a story, her mother’s soft voice continued.
“It does not matter now. Though, I must admit I wonder about how you spent your time away. However, judging from the state of your clothes and the look on your face, I would be better not knowing.”
“Mother, I…” Sarah started to say, but her mother raised a finger to stop her.
“You have a wonderful life ahead of you,” Mrs. Crombly continued. “See that your own stubbornness does not ruin it. James has title, wealth, and most importantly, the look he gives you, many women, even married, would give anything to have.”
Sarah thought about her words for a moment. “Do you think he really cares for me? Am I not just a piece of property he desires to own?”
“No, my dear, I believe that he does truly care for you. A man of his position could have easily brought shame to you, and deservedly so, for your actions.”
Her mother’s words brought tears to Sarah’s eyes. Had she been wrong all this time? It did not make sense. James had shown her long ago the man he would grow to become. How could anyone change so much? Perhaps it was her mother’s way of ensuring Sarah was married. To women of her standing, those without title, having a daughter wed to a Duke would set her up for life in the ton. She would be invited to the best parties and to exquisite dinners, something for which her mother had on more than one occasion expressed her desire.
Then her mother said something that Sarah did not expect. “Life is better than you think, Sarah. Dwell on that before you sleep. Goodnight.” She then leaned in, kissed Sarah’s forehead and then left the room.
For some time, Sarah lay in bed staring up at the ceiling. Perhaps her mother was right; her life was better than she thought. Her thoughts went to Ingrid back at the Horse and Plough, the sailors she had met, and the old man who had kissed her hand. Each had their own life; a life Sarah could not live. Yes, her mother was right, she had a life to live.
With that, she closed her eyes and allowed sleep to take over. Tomorrow would be another day.