Chapter Nineteen
The doorway stood empty and James could do nothing more than stare at it. The woman he loved had just stormed out in a fit of anger, and his mother wobbled to and fro as if at any moment she might faint to the floor. She could be quite dramatic that way.
“Well, I have never…” she mumbled as she brought her hand to her chest.
James took the woman’s arm and helped her retake her seat.
“I know not what has come over her,” Mrs. Crombly said in a panicked voice. “She is usually such a good woman, but lately, she has been acting quite strangely. I cannot apologize more profusely for her actions, Your Grace!” The woman looked as if she were on the verge of collapse herself, her face was such a fantastic shade of white James had never seen on a person unless they were bedridden with some sort of malady.
Mr. Crombly, on the other hand, sat sipping at his tea, his head shifting slightly from side to side, which was the only outward indication that what had just transpired had affected him in any way. Or perhaps he was so stunned he could not think how to respond.
James looked down at his mother. He was unsure as to what to do. Just as surprised as everyone else in the room, his first reaction was to run after Sarah and demand to know why she had presented herself to his mother in such a fashion. However, seeing his mother so upset, he felt obligated to see to her first. His week had been full of surprises, beginning with the early return of his mother two days prior. Fearing she would learn from another party about the engagement and that in turn it would somehow ruin what he had built so far with Sarah, James had no other choice than to inform his mother as soon as she arrived. One more week still remained before Sarah was to make her decision, and now James realized that this wager was just another which would cost him dearly in the end.
Not only was Sarah gone, but his mother had spent the entirety of their visit casting disapproving looks at the woman he was to marry. From the moment Sarah walked into the room it had gone badly and continuously grown worse. What on Earth had caused her to present herself in such a manner? She was certainly hotheaded, but he had not realized how far she would stoop to get her way.
“Mrs. Crombly, I am shocked,” his mother snapped, demonstrating that she had more strength in her than she was letting on, “that after all these years for which we have known each other, and how often the Duke had spoken so highly of your family, you can allow your daughter to speak to me in such a manner. And my son,” —she placed her hand on James’s arm as if he were deserving of everyone’s sympathy— “what has he ever done to deserve such treatment?” She sat up on the edge of the chair, her moment of weakness suddenly gone. “No, I will not allow this marriage to happen. I must demand that it is stopped at once.”
Mrs. Crombly gave her a beseeching look. “Please, I ask you to reconsider. They are meant for each other. And think of the children they will have together.”
Mr. Crombly spoke for the first time since all had transpired, and his voice squeaked as he spoke, much like a man who was in a panic and too much a coward to be involved. “Now, let us not rush into decisions that will hurt us all,” he said. When James looked into the man’s eyes, he saw a pleading much like the night they had played cards together and he wanted a chance to win back his country house.
It was then that James saw clearly for the first time why Sarah had run away. The offenses were many, and all here were culpable. James using wagers to get what he wanted, and she was at the top of that list of that which he desired. Mrs. Crombly living her life through her daughter in hopes Sarah would have children that she herself could not have. Mr. Crombly wishing to use the union of his daughter to a titled man as a way to expand his business. To that man, money was his driving force. His mother, the Dowager Duchess, insisting they show up unannounced as if her schedule superseded that of others and then using her position to look down upon anyone she felt was beneath her. When he had first announced to his mother that he was to marry Sarah, she had been livid.
“I realize that you and that girl have been childhood friends; however, she is not…one of us. I doubt very highly that she would know how to conduct herself as a Duchess. I was trained since birth to take my rightful place next to your father, but she comes from such ignoble stock. One finding a way to acquire wealth a nobleman does that not make.”
James was so angry that he yelled at his mother for the first time in his entire life. “Mother, I love her. I am now the Duke of Pillberton, and I have the say as to what happens with myself and this family. I will marry Sarah Crombly, and there is little you can do about it.”
“Son, I do not mean to take away from you something you wish to have. Think of the poor girl. She will be ridiculed for her lack of titled roots. The gossip mongers will place her in such poor light, how will you feel when she hears what they have to say?” His mother’s voice had softened, but James recognized her feeble attempts at finding a way to get him to change his mind. She had used this tactic all too often for him to be fooled by it any longer.
“Sarah is a strong woman. Plus, if anyone has anything to say, I will demand that they say it to me.”
His mother sighed. “Very well. You are the Duke after all.”
He was a fool to believe she would give in so easily. Her actions this day proved as much.
Yes, they had all contributed to Sarah’s behavior in one form or another, and now that James could see clearly for the first time since he and Mr. Crombly had sat at the gaming table, he knew he was the one who had to put them all in their place.
A large mirror hung from the wall next to a window which looked out onto the gardens—the gardens Sarah loved so much. He walked over and looked at his reflection, truly looked, and for the first time in his life, he saw the man he really was. Yes, he was a Duke and his inheritance and wealth would only grow to be greater than it already was. He had been well-educated, not only academically but by being placed straight into the fray of it all. He had earned his position and title through hard work and discipline, and he had never lost in any business venture he had undertaken. And because of this, he was never denied a thing in his life. If he wanted a new horse, he was presented with the finest stallion. If he wanted the latest novel, it was on his desk by the end of the week. Everything he wished for, he received.
Except Sarah.
And he wanted her more now than ever. If he lost everything and they both had to work at the Horse and Plough in Weymouth for the remainder of their lives, he would accept it just to be with her. She was what was important to him.
He turned back to the group who spoke animatedly amongst each other, and with renewed vigor, he spoke, his anger also renewed. “We sit here,” he said, his voice raised to be heard about the squabbles before him. He paused until all three sat silent and then continued. “We sit here and argue about marriage when a woman is out there,” —he motioned to the window— “the woman I love, I might add, and she is hurt. Why is she hurt, you might ask? Well, she is hurt because we all want something from her and have not given her even the slightest chance to speak to us about what she wants.”
“James,” his mother said in that soothing voice that had come to grate his nerves, “I realize that your father is not here to explain to you, but are you not aware of how these things work?”
James let out a frustrated sigh. The woman truly saw him as incapable of thinking and rationalizing. It surprised him at how open his eyes had become this day. “I understand how these things work, more than you know, and I will keep to most customs because of my position as Duke of Pillberton—save one. Sarah will make the final decision as to whether or not she marries me. Not her parents, not I, and certainly not you.”
The Dowager Duchess gasped and clutched her chest in mortification. Mrs. Crombly jumped up to attend to her. James shook his head and rolled his eyes. His mother had always been one to attempt to turn everything back to herself when things were not going her way. She had mastered the art of the faint and possible apoplexy like no other woman he knew.
“My Lord,” Mr. Crombly said as he pulled himself from the chair. “Come, let us have a drink and leave the women to themselves.” He put his hand on James’s back and led him out of the room, down the hallway and into the library. When they arrived, he shut the door behind them and walked over to a decanter of liquid amber. “I am unsure where to start, but I do apologize for my daughter’s actions this day.” He offered James a glass, and James took it without plans to consume any of the fiery liquid. He needed his senses about him. Not to mention it was much too early in the day to be drinking. “I do hope that this…incident…does not damage the agreement we have made.”
James had to hold himself from tossing the brandy in the man’s face. The man had not heard a word James had said, his only concern was his wool. “We made a gentleman’s agreement that had nothing to do with your daughter,” he lied. It had everything to do with Sarah, but not in the conventional sense. He had used it as a reason to see her as often as he could. Yet, he was not one to back away from any agreement, unless it would lose him a substantial amount of money or the other party had given false promises. “However, I cannot speak of such matters at this moment. I have much more pressing matters to which I must attend.”
He set the untouched glass on a nearby table and stormed to the door. He was angry at the man for caring more for his business than his daughter, but any words spoken to him in anger would surely be a waste of James’s time, for he doubted rather highly the man would even hear what he had to say.
Before James walked out of the room, Mr. Crombly spoke. “Please find her and bring her back quickly.”
James nodded. He would find her, but would she be willing to come back?
***
When James had bought Thunder several years ago, the man from whom he purchased the horse assured him that there was no finer horse to be found. His stock was strong, the muscles in his legs powerful. The horse, he was assured, would never tire. James found himself hoping more than he ever had before that the man was true to his word as he urged Thunder across the fields, the pounding of his hooves on the earth loud.
Less than an hour had passed from the time Sarah had stormed out until James left the stables in search of her. Another hour had passed as James took what he hoped to be the correct trail after her. He groaned in frustration as he passed the spot they had stopped to water the horses only a few days earlier.
Though Thunder rarely had the chance to gallop so hard, James had pushed him almost beyond his limits. The horse was lathered when James came to his senses and brought him to a stop at the top of a large hill. The sun had gone into hiding behind a large heavy cloud that threatened rain, and James had a new sense of urgency. However, he could not push Thunder further without allowing the poor horse time to cool off. So, he walked the horse down the hill at a slow pace and then back up under the tree with the large expanse of branches where they had shared so many memories. Thunder partook deeply of the water in the nearby brook, apparently quite content after the hard ride.
No sign of Sarah could be found, and James shook his head as he stared at the tree. How could one feel such elation while standing under that tree one day to utter despair a few days later? How was it she could have such an effect on him? It amazed him that, for all his organization and planning and his ability to observe any situation from every angle, he never once considered her lack of those qualities to be a deficit. Nor had he wondered how she would fit in with his way of life. He simply knew and understood that what they had was right. He needed her dramatic and flitting ways. Indeed, they were contrary to how he viewed everything around him, but she made life that much more exciting.
As he contemplated how the woman would only make him a better man, his eyes fell on a small white piece of fabric caught on the branch of a small bush. The pattern was simple, and James recognized it immediately. The commoner’s dress would have easily torn on the jutting branches if she rode past it without regard for where she traveled. So, the question now was, in which direction did she go from here? And did she have a destination in mind?
She might attempt to ride to London, the city so large anyone could lose herself in it, never to be found again. Had she not told him she wished to go back and visit there? Yet, she was defiant and stubborn, and quite angry. James had a very good idea now to where the woman he loved had run. She would be returning to Weymouth, perhaps even to the pub where she had gone before and more than likely attempt to return to the job she had acquired while there. The coast was where her dreams would come true, or so she said, and since they were not being met here, she would surely return there.
A new question formed in James’s mind, though it was less consequential than the former. Would she continue to ride across the countryside or eventually make her way to the road? Regardless of which path she chose, James was certain Sarah would end her journey once again in Weymouth. And he would meet her there.
He mounted Thunder once again. This time he would allow the horse his head rather than pushing as he had the past hour. He pressed his heels into the horse’s flanks just as the first drops of rain began to fall.