Chapter Four
The gray sky produced a deluge of rain and added to the mood that hung over Sarah as she rode in the carriage as it made its way to Buckthorn House, the large and lavish estate in which James lived and, soon enough, Sarah as well—as his wife. The thought brought a coldness to her body. Just the idea of being married to that man brought on a sliver of fear that left her shivering in her seat. She did not want to marry, at least not to him, though her opinion on the matter when brought up moments before was quickly dismissed.
She glanced over at her parents sitting on the opposite bench from her. How could they smile when such a travesty was forced upon her? That alone baffled Sarah, and her mother’s insistence that all would be fine in the end did nothing to calm her nerves.
Her mother had told her the previous night that, once she was married and had children, she would be so overcome with joy that there would be nothing but fondness to look back upon. Sarah wondered if her mother was suffering from some sort of illness. For Sarah to have children, it would be necessary to participate in what she knew as ‘the act’, a ritualistic ceremony which she would be required to complete with James. She would rather remain alone and work on her family's grounds for the remainder of her life than endure such a primitive act, especially with James Foxworth.
The journey was about two hour’s ride, the location of the estates near grounds Sarah had ridden before on horseback. In fact, a few times when they were children James had accompanied her, the countryside theirs to explore. Though he was fascinated with bugs and she with the trees, they had always enjoyed their time together. But that was a long time ago, back when she was innocent and naive. That young girl had been through too much now and a woman of the world now took her place.
“Oh, look at it,” her mother exclaimed as she pointed out the window. “Is it not spectacular?” It was at that moment that Sarah realized that, although her parents had entertained Lord and Lady Foxworth at Greystone Estate, they had never been invited in return. How peculiar, Sarah thought. However, she could not contain her sense of wonderment any more than her mother, for the house was quite awe-inspiring. More a castle than its namesake, it boasted a round turret-like entrance with large arched windows looking down on a crescent-shaped drive, a large fountain standing guard in the middle. On each side of the entrance was a row of windows that led to a square tower at either end.
“There must be as many as fifty rooms,” Sarah gasped before she could stop herself. She did not want to be impressed with anything that James had, but even she had to admit that the house was much grander than she could have imagined. How was it she had been so close and yet had never seen it? If she had taken the time to truly think on it, she would have realized that James had always steered away from it.
The horses slowed and finally came to a stop in front of the entrance of the massive mansion known as Buckthorn House, and a few moments later, a footman opened the door and set the steps for first Sarah and her mother, and then Mr. Crombly, to alight. The double doors opened and James came hurrying out to greet them.
Sarah allowed her eyes to roam over the tight black trousers, the white shirt and dark blue coat. She was shocked he had the decency to fix his hair, let alone dress appropriately. Well, it would make no difference in the least as to how she viewed him as far as she was concerned. He was, and always would be, a scoundrel and a rogue and no amount of tailored clothing and boarding school training could cover up or remove that.
“My sincerest apologies,” James said as he bowed before Sarah and her mother and shook Mr. Crombly’s hand. “I hope you have not been waiting long. Please come in.” He offered Sarah a smile, but she refused to give one in return. Let him keep up this playacting that would most certainly stop once they were married. She certainly would not fall for it as her parents had. This cordial man would be gone and she would be left with the real man in his stead. The spoiled child she knew was still there, albeit well-hidden at the moment.
As they climbed the stone stairs, James said, “I hope you are well, Sarah.”
Sarah forced a cough into her gloved hand and then removed her kerchief and blew her nose loudly. “I may have caught an illness during the night, but we shall see,” she said, attempting to make her nose sound stuffed and her throat hoarse.
Her mother gave her a warning look with a shake to her head. “We are well, thank you, My Lord,” she replied. “Your home is lovely.”
“Yes, quite the place you have here,” Mr. Crombly said.
“Thank you,” James said in his humble facade. “I have asked to have a tray brought up to the drawing room by three.” He glanced at his watch, his smile telling Sarah he was pleased his guests were on time. “Afterward, at four, I can give you a tour of the house and gardens, and then dinner is scheduled for six.” He pulled out his watch again, and Sarah wondered if the metal had been worn down by the constant scratching against his coat pocket. The man certainly had a preoccupation with time and schedules. But how he wore that coat…
Sarah reached up and pulled at the shawl around her shoulders, once again enduring that flushed feeling rushing through her. “It is much too hot for tea at the moment,” she said, although it was in reality a cool day, “and tea would only make it worse. Perhaps we could see the house and by then the day will have cooled enough for tea.” Then she caught her mother’s eyes and quickly added, “If it pleases you, of course.”
He paused for a moment, pulled out his watch one more time, and then nodded. “Let us begin the tour then. I trust your trip went well? I hope you did not get too much rain to make the journey uncomfortable.” He spoke as if they had traveled for days on end and that some sort of deluge had accosted them when, in fact, it had only been a few droplets. Was it so difficult to find a subject worthy of discussion? If this was the best he could do, Sarah sensed that once they married, her life would be as dull as a bleak winter’s night. Not that she had expected much more but being a Duke’s wife had to be more exciting than this.
“Indeed,” her father replied as he walked up to stand next to James, leaving Sarah feeling conflicted as to whether or not this made her feel better or worse. “The roads have not washed out, but I suspect it will take more than a sprinkling to do that.”
“I would guess so,” James said, clearly amused. By what, Sarah had no idea.
As they entered the main hall, Sarah could not help but echo her mother’s gasp. The floor on which she and her parents stood was of a light green and white marble framed in a darker green marble trim. Not one, but two separate staircases, one on either side of the hall, led up to a common second landing which looked down over the room, and Sarah imagined what it would be like seeing the grand entrance hall from such an advantage point. However, what Sarah found most remarkable was the white domed ceiling supporting a massive chandelier that held so many candles Sarah could not count them without becoming confused as to where she began.
They approached a large set of heavy wooden doors, and James grabbed the handles and swung them open in a grand sweeping motion. “This is my library,” he said as he stepped aside to allow the Crombly family to move past him.
Despite her unwillingness to allow anything this man showed her to impress her, Sarah once again found herself looking around in amazement. There was a large rounded window that looked out across the gardens with chairs set up so one could read and look out and see a scene, perhaps one that was much like the one from the book she was reading.
And the bookcases! They were made from oak, stained a dark brown so their lines appeared bold, and displayed so many books, the room could have easily been mistaken for a bookshop. She walked over to the first case, which was lined with books on travel. Some she had already read, but many were new to her. Moving to the next case, she read the names of great philosophers she had heard of and so desperately wanted to read.
“As I mentioned before,” James said, causing her to jump when he had moved up to stand next to her without her noticing, “all of these are yours to read at your leisure.”
Sarah had to find her breath before she was able to speak. “I have read all of these already,” she replied haughtily. “I found most of them a bore, to be quite honest. They hold absolutely no interest to me whatsoever.” She then walked back to stand next to her mother, but her eyes moved back to the books of their own volition. She just hoped James did not notice.
James said nothing in response. Instead, he turned to Mr. Crombly and struck up a conversation about the wool trade, and Sarah found her mind wandering. Although she knew that it was grander than anything she had ever seen before—to have such a library was beyond belief—he could not, and would not, tempt her with such trivial things. She would be strong!
As the two men talked, Sarah sneaked glances at James only to catch him sneaking glances at her. When she knew her parents were not looking, she waited for him to glance at her once again, and then she stuck out her tongue, causing him to grin widely.
“What is so funny?” Sarah asked, unable to stop the grin that crossed her face.
“Nothing,” he replied. “Please, forgive me. It is a smile and laugh of happiness.”
Her parents smiled and nodded their approval, but his reply only rekindled her ire. It only reminded her of the fact that he was happy about his distasteful actions, even as he told her he was not.
“Now, let us continue, for there is much more to see,” James said.
Her parents followed him to the door, and then James looked at her. She was ready for a sharp word from him, but instead he gave her a smile and a wink.
She walked out of the room with an exaggerated sigh. Secretly, she was quite excited to see the rest of the house; however, she was determined to display only disdain and disinterest in anything he had to offer. Though, it was not an easy task with him walking so closely beside her. Well, she would fight it, even if it took every bit of energy from her body to do so.
***
The dining room had four windows, each spaced about ten feet apart, though there was little reason to look out of them with what little of the sun that could be seen from the now heavy rain that fell. The party had to rush inside as the first drops descended from the sky, and they made it to the doorway just before the downpour hammered the now empty path they had just vacated.
Sarah and her parents were to dine at Buckthorn House, and the good news was that once they finished their meal, they would return to Greystone Estate and what little time Sarah would have of life as she knew it.
The bad news was that she would have to endure a meal with the brute. Any time spent with James was torturous, even if he did not seem as cruel as Sarah recalled. Granted, his words were kind and his laugh sweet, and at times she found herself smiling as he spoke of his time spent in India, but she would stop and remind herself of the type of man he really was. Plus, she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her enjoy what he had to say.
“I must ask,” James said as a footman took Sarah’s plate away, “what do you think of the house thus far?”
“I expected something grander,” Sarah replied in the same haughty tone she had used in the library earlier. “Though it is quaint.”
Rather than draw his ire as she had expected her words to do, he instead nodded. “Then I hope you will enjoy it once we are wed. I am optimistic the weather will be better for a stroll the next time you visit. As I said before, I believe you will enjoy the gardens.”
Sarah would never admit to him her disappointment in not being able to make the complete rounds before the rain came in.
He snapped his fingers and a footman walked over to a small table and returned with three small packages wrapped in brown paper. “I brought you each a gift,” James said, passing a package to each of them. “I hope you enjoy them as much as I did selecting them.”
Both of her parents praised him and Sarah wanted to scream at them. Did they not see past his games? Were his cunning ways so great that they could be so easily fooled? They had always been so intelligent, but somehow they had lost all of their senses when it came to this man.
As James placed one of the packages in front of her, he leaned over and whispered, making her heart race as his breath caressed her ear. “I tried to find the perfect gift. I hope you like it.”
She tried to find a witty reply, but none came to mind. Instead, she watched as her father opened his gift, his face breaking into a smile.
“That knife was hand crafted by an armorer in India,” James explained as Mr. Crombly pulled the large knife from the box. “The handle is made of ivory from the tusks of the greatest elephant that ever lived, or so I was told.”
When Mrs. Crombly opened her gift, she gasped as she pulled out a red silk handkerchief.
“The women of India have needlework that rivals our own,” James said as Sarah’s mother held up the piece of cloth.
“It is beautiful,” her mother gushed. “Thank you very much.”
Sarah wanted to strangle her parents. If all it took to win their favor was cheap gifts, she would have done it long ago.
James went to his seat, and then Sarah glanced over at her mother, who motioned at the unopened package before her.
“Sarah, it is rude to keep him waiting.”
“Oh, I am sorry,” she said, though she was nowhere near sorry. Her eyes went wide despite her attempts to remain stoic.
“A blind man made it, his craft renowned,” James explained. “The finest silk was used to prepare that for you.”
Sarah looked down at the scarf, running her hands across it and savoring its soft and smooth texture. It was exquisite, blue with white lilies so beautifully stitched one would have thought they were real. In any other circumstances she would have been honored to receive such a gift. However, she had to remind herself that she would not allow this man to woo her.
“It is beautiful.” Then she gave him a sly smile. “I cannot wait to place this under my saddle.” This drew a gasp from her mother and a cough from her father.
“She loves to tell a joke, does she not, Jane?” her father said nervously.
Her mother nodded, echoing his words, the two of them with petrified looks on their faces, much like two children who had been caught stealing one of cook’s pies from the kitchen window and knew they would be beaten for the thievery at any moment.
However, a glance at James told Sarah that he was neither worried nor angered. In fact, he appeared quite happy as he gave her a wink and a smile that was filled with amusement, much to her chagrin.
“We were very sorry to hear about death of your father,” Mr. Crombly said in a feeble attempt to change the topic at hand. The man had a knack for broaching subjects in quite an untactful manner.
James’s countenance changed, which in all reality should have made Sarah ecstatic. However, because the causation was so tragic, she simply could not allow herself to rejoice in his mourning.
“Thank you,” he replied. “Unfortunately, carriage accidents happen all too often these days. My father lived for his weekly rides to the docks to check on his ships, a habit he had insisted upon for as long as I could remember.”
“And what of his driver?” Sarah’s mother asked.
“He must live without one of his legs, I am afraid. My mother saw that he and his family were well taken care of and he will have enough to live comfortably. However, to live without a leg is not truly living, is it?”
“I imagine it was devastating for your mother, as well,” Mr. Crombly said. How Sarah hated that they continued to torment the man with their questions, but James seemed to be taking it all in stride.
“She is a strong woman,” James replied. “However, she was so deeply troubled by his death that she has gone to stay with my aunt, her sister, in London.”
The party became solemn and quiet, and Sarah found herself on the verge of tears hearing the tragic tale of the former Duke of Pillberton. Try as she might, she could not stop the feeling of condolence she felt toward the man who took his father’s place. No person should endure such a loss.
“Well,” James said with a light slap on the table that brought everyone back to the present and away from the melancholy that had befallen the group, “we have more uplifting topics to discuss, do we not?” He turned his gaze to Sarah. “We must discuss our upcoming wedding.” How could his face look so smug when it had just been so deeply sad?
Sarah said nothing, but her parents, especially her mother, had more than enough words to say about the subject. She ignored the conversation, only nodding from time to time so the others would think her engaged. Her mother would plan the entire affair anyway, so why should she bother to add her input now when anything she were to suggest would be negated anyway?
They returned to the sitting room. James made an offer of coffee, which Sarah and her mother accepted. Mr. Crombly, on the other hand, preferred a glass of brandy.
As the conversation continued on to topics of which Sarah found boring, she found her mind wandering. Soon she was off on a pirate ship, the wind blowing through her hair, which was not required to be styled in any particular fashion but rather flowed around her in beautiful waves, much like the waves of the ocean. Her handsome pirate, the one who had masqueraded as a Lord to convince her parents to allow him to take her way, would be shouting orders at the crew one minute and then sweeping her into his arms to plant an abrupt and deep kiss on her lips that would cause her to swoon.
Then James said something which snapped Sarah from her daydream.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” she asked as she attempted to keep the shock from her voice.
“The house…it was wonderful growing up here, and it will be perfect for our children. Do you not agree?” The glint in his eyes told her that she had been aptly caught not paying attention.
“I cannot wait to have little ones around us,” Mrs. Crombly said with a sigh as she often did when the subject of babies and children was broached. “They are such a joy.”
Sarah stared at the pair and quickly closed her mouth when she realized that it had been hanging open. She had not even thought about children; she still needed to acclimate herself to the fact she would be a wife without jumbling her thoughts with children.
However, before she could speak and give them both a firm tongue-lashing, James stood. “Would you like to take in some air before the sun in gone?”
Sarah glanced at the window and saw that the rain had cleared, the ominous clouds now gone.
“I’m afraid we must be going,” Mr. Crombly said, pulling out his silver watch Mrs. Crombly had given him as a wedding gift all those years ago. “I detest traveling at night.”
“No, no, I could not agree more,” James replied as he led the trio to the front door where the butler met them with their coats and wraps.
“It was a great pleasure to be here,” Mr. Crombly said as he buttoned his coat. “And if you have any questions concerning our wool agreement, please feel free to contact me at any time. I am excited to be doing business with you.”
“The pleasure was all mine,” James said. Then Sarah felt a chill run through her when his gaze fell upon her. “And all of our business will be finalized quite soon, I assure you.”
Sarah was glad when her parents rushed her out the door because if she had stayed even a moment longer, she would have called him out for a duel. That was how men handled things, and she could do just as well. Although, she had to admit that perhaps a duel of the tongues would be a better choice in her case than pistols.