by Rose Pearson
“Perhaps he can find a position of curate after he finishes his studies. One day, Mr. Putnam might well work for my brother, as he does now for my father. How strange that would be!” Sarah thought of Mr. Putnam, the gentleman who was the vicar’s steward, having taken the place of his late father. He was a quiet studious man, steadfast and reliable. She wondered what he would do if the time came to seek another position, an uncertainty that she understood all too well.
“Do you think he will want to work with someone other than your father? I always imagined Henry would take your father’s place in Cheltham when your father retired.”
“It is my father’s desire that he do so, but I have a feeling my brother has an adventurous side of him. He has often told me that he wishes to journey to the Indies, to pursue work as a missionary, but I doubt he will ever go as far as London.”
“And he is to be at Hatherley Hall this evening?”
“Yes,” Jane agreed. “He is residing there as a guest already, given that he is such good friends with George. But now, I think, we shall talk of another subject, one that I hesitate to mention,” Jane said as she peered at Sarah.
Sarah slipped her hands out of the fur muff in an effort to distract herself as she felt the unwavering gaze of her cousin. Jane was not often direct in her speech, choosing to keep her thoughts to herself more often than not. However, on the occasion that Jane chose to speak, Sarah knew that she had thought long and hard about saying whatever it was that was on her mind. Sarah admired her cousin but did not have the luxury of Jane’s dowry or her place in society to speak as she wished.
Seeing Jane’s small smile, Sarah could no longer withstand her cousin’s penetrating stare as she asked, “What is it? What do you wish to say? Is it about my silly behavior regarding Mr. Grainger? I apologize. I have never been so ashamed in all of my life.”
Jane’s voice was gentle. “You are courageous to return to Hatherley to face him again, I should not be able to if it were me. No, my dear cousin, that is not the subject I wish to discuss. I wish to offer you an apology.”
Sarah was dumbfounded, “What reason could you have for offering me an apology?”
“I am not proud of Mother’s actions earlier. She is my mother and of course, I respect her, but I do not know why she insists on treating you so condescendingly at every turn. You have done nothing to deserve her treatment of you.”
Sarah was relieved that the subject of Mr. Grainger had been supplanted by a subject which vexed her but did not cause her to feel like she would like to run away. She saw that Jane meant what she said, that she was genuinely moved by affection to offer an apology for her own mother’s behavior. Sarah decided to answer as delicately as possible.
“Jane, it is good of you to apologize on behalf of your mother, but it is unnecessary. Your mother has every reason to remind me of my place in your household. It is by her generosity that I have a home to live in and a salary.”
“You are too good, dear Sarah. It vexes me in the utmost to see my mother treat you as if you were a person of no consequence.”
“I am a person of no consequence,” Sarah stated.
“I do not believe it. Just because your mother married for love and was driven from her parents’ house does not make my mother’s treatment of you any less disgraceful.”
“It is a burden I have borne for my entire life. I have learned to live with it.,” Sarah shrugged as she tried to remain calm. If she told the truth, she truly found it a most difficult burden.
She struggled more than she dared say aloud. The circumstances of her birth were not as unfortunate as Mrs. Brookes may have judged them to be. Her mother married a lieutenant with barely enough money to pay for his commission. When he died of fever, he left an insignificant income for Sarah and her mother. Yet, Sarah knew that was not her fault, and neither was it regrettable. It was people like her aunt who reminded her that she was lowly, that she was a woman who was barely more than a servant. When she was alone in the small cottage she shared with her mother, she did not wish for riches or luxuries. It was when she was in the presence of lords and ladies, of wealthy daughters and eligible gentlemen, that she was reminded of her inferior birth.
“I do mind,” Jane stated, firmly. “I mind how you are treated. If I am rude to you in any way, know that I do not mean to be. It has nothing to do with your modest upbringing, but everything to do with my own inability to act in accordance with the slightest of decorum.”
Thinking that Jane was making herself out to be a good deal worse than she truly was, Sarah shook her head. Jane was always polite and somewhat reserved, and the fact that she wanted to apologize for her mother’s lack of respect towards Sarah spoke of her sweetness of character. “I admire your kind heart, Jane. I wish I had the freedom to be more like you in that respect,” Sarah confessed.
“No, you do not. You have no need to. You are the epitome of a lady even if you do not carry the title. With your natural grace and charm, I shall be very surprised if you do not convince a duke to wed you. If you do, where will my mother be? She will have to sit below you at dinner and address you as my lady? What a lark that would be! I pray it happens simply to see the look of astonishment on her face.”
Sarah laughed at her cousin’s suggestions. Jane had a way of always cheering her, of making her feel better.
“That would be humorous, the idea that I will become a duchess. It’s far more possible that I should become the next queen before that happened.”
Jane giggled, “You never can tell, for, after all, it is Christmas and magic is afoot.”
Sarah rolled her eyes, mischievously, knowing that Christmas day itself was still over a month away. “If only there was a way to magically mend my pride in that time, so the sight of Mr. Grainger does not affect me in the slightest,” she said as she gazed out of the carriage window.
“Do not be concerned with Mr. Grainger. I am certain that you will find that he will make every effort to offer amends when we arrive at his family’s home.”
“Which, unless I am greatly mistaken, is in the distance,” observed Sarah as she peered out the window at the vast landscape of the Cotswolds.
In winter, the bucolic country setting of the Cotswolds was a serene reflection of the season in all its glory. Snow covered the tops of the gently rolling hillsides. Ice sparkled in the late afternoon light as it encased the dark branches of the trees which lined the roadway. Snow fell gently outside the carriage framing the view of the stately Tudor mansion in the valley below.
Hatherley Hall was the name of the house. The grand residence was commonly referred to as Hatherley by the local gentry, the villagers of Cheltham, and the nearby market town of Abbeford Hills. The hall, or house as it was referred to, was a tall structure built of brick with high pointed roofs and gables. The windows were narrow stained glass at the front entrance giving the house a gothic air. With its forest of chimneys reaching into the sky and the tree-lined avenue, leading to the house itself, the effect was impressive and imposing. Sarah imagined that the first Baron Carmody who commissioned the house must have demanded that it be an imposing residence. As much as she dreaded seeing Mr. Grainger again, she looked forward to a few days of holiday revels inside this historic mansion.
“I am pleased we have arrived before sundown. I hope we are not late for dinner. I am famished!” Jane exclaimed.
Sarah did not know if she would be able to eat a bite the entire time she was a guest at Hatherley. Her own humiliation was too much to bear but bear it she must for the sake of her cousins. As Jane reminded her, she and Katie had known the heir to the title and his younger brother all of their lives. The Graingers were a good sort to be aristocrats regardless of the events of the previous summer. Sarah decided she would endeavor to forgive Mr. Grainger even if he had led her to believe he harbored feelings for her.
“I hope we will be given the rooms in the west wing. How I adore the tower, it makes me feel like an archer of old as I prepare to defe
nd the castle,” Jane exclaimed.
“What an imagination you have! If I were to find myself in the tower room, I would think of myself as a princess,” Sarah stated.
With a confident manner, Jane held her head high as she remarked, “Then you shall be a princess and I will be an archer. Together we shall do what must to be cheerful until Twelfth Night.”
“I hope we have a good few days here, but I do not know how joyous it will be for me. I will be the only woman in attendance who could be mistaken for a maid.”
“Sarah, you can wear any of my dresses if you choose. I promise that you shall have a wonderful time. Do not torment yourself about your present circumstances. Not when there is celebrating and merriment to be had. We can return to our gloomy lives, you and I, when we arrive home again in a few days.”
Reaching for her muff, Sarah slid her hands inside the cozy warmth of it, as she leaned back into the velvet seat of the carriage. She promised herself she would not be gloomy, no matter how much she wished to be. Jane was correct. It was the month of Christmas, she was a guest of the Baron Carmody. She would enjoy cards, music, a ball, and delicious food for a time before returning to her own modest life at the vicarage. She would be a fool not to endeavor to have a splendid time. With her mind on the upcoming schedule of diverting recreation, she tried to quell her nervousness. She was going to Hatherley, just as she had during the summer. She hoped that this time, she would come home with delightful memories.
Chapter Three
The housekeeper, Mrs. Dunbar, showed Sarah to her room at Hatherley. The last time she was a guest at the stately old manor, her room was down a long, dim corridor. She recalled it clearly. It was the last door before entering the servant's stairs. The room was tiny, with the barest of necessities that a guest of lowly social rank may require. The room had a tiny fireplace, a narrow bed, and a single table and chair, suited to a governess, or perhaps a tutor.
“Lady Carmody was insistent that you have a change of room since the last time you stayed here at Hatherley. I think it’s folly to waste a room suited to your betters but who am I to question her ladyship?” Mrs. Dunbar spoke with candor as she opened the door to a chamber that surpassed all of Sarah’s dreams. The room she saw before her was a chamber fit for a lady or a duchess!
“Lady Carmody arranged this?” Sarah asked as she walked into the enormous space, delighting at the luxurious furnishings.
The room was vast by her standards. It was the largest room she had ever called her own. The posters of the bed were nearly as tall as the ceiling high overhead. The bedclothes were richly embroidered in shades of crimson and blue, with gold thread entwined in an elaborate design. The floor was covered in rugs, and the window overlooked the snow-covered lawn outside. A fire burned in the fireplace, a tray of tea and sandwiches sat on a carved wooden table flanked by velvet-covered chairs. It was a room fit for royalty.
“Her ladyship arranged this, and you best not forget it. I do not mean to offend you, but we may speak as equals. You are a ladies’ companion and I am a housekeeper. If you ask me, I have every reason to suspect it was at the behest of my young master Mr. Grainger. I wager it was him who made the request of his mother for this kindness.”
“I shall thank him, though I cannot understand why he made such a request.”
“Do not be thinking any more about it. I told you so that you would appreciate the good nature of my master and mistress. I do not think badly of you, but this room is suited to a lady, not a paid companion. If we should welcome any unexpected guests, I should think you will not mind making a change.”
“No, of course not, I would not mind. Thank you, Mrs. Dunbar.”
Mrs. Dunbar made a snorting sound, “I know you have not brought a maid, as you are not of the same station as your mistresses. You shall have to rely upon yourself as there is no one available to help you dress.”
“I can dress myself, Mrs. Dunbar. I have been doing without a maid my entire life.”
“I am sure you can continue to do without one then. If you will excuse me, I have to see to the other guests. We have a house full with more guests expected,” the surly housekeeper said as a footman dressed in livery brought in the small, slightly damaged trunk that Sarah used for her clothes.
“Mrs. Dunbar,” Sarah stopped the older, wiry woman from leaving, “The tea and sandwiches. Are they also supplied at the request of her ladyship?”
“No, Miss, they are of my own devising. After your long journey, I thought you might be hungry. It is not my place to question her ladyship’s decisions or the request of the young sir, even if I disagree with them. It is not my habit to state it, yet I have done so. I do not think you should have this room, it is too rich for the likes of you. That is what I think but it does not mean that I am without a woman’s heart. I know you are poor and without means. I do not know if they feed you well at the vicarage but here you shall enjoy the hospitality of the house. There, now, you are on your own.”
Sarah smiled at the prickly old woman, “Thank you, Mrs. Dunbar. The tea and sandwiches are as welcome to me as the fire. That was a very kind gesture on your part.”
“Hmmp!” Mrs. Dunbar snorted as she turned to leave, “That was no kindness. It was the duty of a good housekeeper to see to all the guests of the house, even those like you.”
Sarah watched as the servant followed Mrs. Dunbar, leaving Sarah all alone. With the door closing behind them, Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. Mrs. Dunbar spoke without regard to Sarah’s feelings but then she saw to it that Sarah had tea waiting for her in her room, the same room she did not deserve. How strange, she thought, but oh how delicious. Eyeing the sandwiches, she quickly forgot about unpacking or dressing for dinner. She was starved! She could not remember when she had last been this hungry. Pouring the steaming hot tea into a bone china cup, she glanced around the room once more.
This room was fit for a princess. Maybe Jane was in the tower room and playing the role of an archer? Sarah laughed to herself as she thought of the housekeeper’s words while she ate the first bite of sandwich. Savoring the flavors of the simple fare, she could almost forget that she did not belong in that part of the house, with the wealthier, titled guests. With every bite, she let her distress and vexation at Mrs. Dunbar’s words disappear as she enjoyed the slabs of bread, butter, and a salt-cured ham. Mrs. Dunbar was not wrong. Sarah did not rank high enough in society to deserve a room as opulent as the one she found herself in but that did not mean that she did not deserve to enjoy this privilege while it lasted.
An hour later, Sarah waited in Katie’s bedroom as the younger woman finished dressing for the evening. Or as Jane succinctly said, her sister was being dressed by the maid.
“Do go and find my ruby earrings, I want to wear them tonight,” Katie asked the maid as Jane sighed and slumped against the bedpost of the four-poster bed.
“Katie, you look well enough, make haste with your jewelry. I am impatient to see who has arrived. Henry was due this evening. It’s been a long time since we saw him,” Jane complained.
“I am nearly dressed. I want to look my best. It is the Christmas season. Where are your ruby earrings father gave us last year?” Katie asked as she faced her sister.
“They are in my jewelry box, I suppose.”
Sarah listened as her cousins argued about the exact location of a pair of expensive ruby earrings and why Jane was not wearing them. It was strange to think that Jane and Katie were the daughters of a vicar to hear them talk about silk, satin, and rubies. Yet, they were not the average daughters of a clergyman. Their father, Howard Brookes was the second son of a viscount. He inherited a comfortable annuity. His wife, Prudence, was the eldest daughter of a successful merchant. When she married, she supplied her husband with a sizeable dowry. That money allowed the Brookes to live well above the means of the average family of a village vicar. It was often said among the daughters that their father was a vicar entirely by choice as he did not have to hold a position to m
ake his living, although that made him all the more wonderful to his parish.
The family lived in the vicarage at Cheltham. They lived in grand style which at times seemed at odds with their modest two-story residence and the profession of Mr. Brookes. Sarah was certain that other vicars did not live as her uncle, but his modesty and his devotion to his duties seem to overshadow any criticism he may have received for his wife’s lavish mode of living which she bestowed particularly on Katie. As it was often observed among the villagers of Cheltham, the Brookes were a generous sort. In particular, Jane’s charity was much appreciated by the parishioners of their congregation.
It was into this world that Sarah was thrust when her position as a governess ended. The family she served abruptly announced that they were moving to Ireland. She was given a small sum for the trouble of finding another position as the family wished to engage a governess upon their arrival in Dublin. Sarah detested being a governess, especially to the five sons of the Reardon family, who were her previous employers. It was a relief when she was released from their service although she was certain she might starve. Fortunately, her aunt had reluctantly come to her rescue.
By her aunt’s generosity, she was now enjoying a Christmas season among titled nobility and the local gentry of the Cotswolds. The Baron Carmody hosted a week of dinners, cards, and a ball every year at the start of the Christmas season. It was the highlight of the social calendar for the Brookes since their father did not wish to travel to London. Sarah was looking forward to enjoying the festivities. If she must endure her aunt’s spite, her cousin’s foibles of being rich, and perhaps the occasional censure by a well-meaning housekeeper, then so be it.
“I seem to recall your earrings being packed for the journey. I know where I placed them in the trunk. Shall I search for them?” asked Sarah.