by Rose Pearson
“Perhaps you are right, Katie,” Sarah offered, although she did not believe it. She knew very well that she wished she would never see him again, not after she made the mistake of presuming he felt more for her than he declared. If she could only return to the summer when she last visited Hatherley Hall, she would never act so ridiculously.
“You are simply fatigued from the added responsibilities mother has heaped upon your shoulders. It really seems unfair when we have the maid to see to our wardrobes. Why mother demands that you oversee the ordering of new clothes for the holiday is a mystery and wholly unnecessary,” clucked Jane.
“I do not mind. Your family has been generous to take me in and give me a position. If I must do an additional task to earn my keep, I am prepared to do all that your mother would ask of me,” Sarah replied, as she tried to smile.
A sudden rapping at the door announced the entrance of Mrs. Brookes, Jane and Katie’s mother. She was as unremarkable in her appearance as Jane, but her face had thinned over the years. Lines crept around her eyes and her mouth, leaving her expression practically a permanent frown, most likely the result of scowling at servants and her family. As she bustled into the room, she turned her attention to Sarah, her expression as dour as ever as she demanded, “Sarah, are the trunks packed and loaded? Have you made every effort to ensure that we have included all of the gloves we will need? What of the jewelry?”
Sarah was quick to jump to her feet. In her despair, she had forgotten her duties as a companion. As she thought of an answer, her cousin Jane replied in her stead, “Mother, we have everything we require, packed and on the carriages. It is not as though we are going for a prolonged stay! There is no need to question Sarah about it, it is already done.”
Mrs. Brookes glared at her eldest daughter, “I will bother her as much I choose, who are you to answer for her after all I have done for her? Sarah, why are you here in Katie’s room? If the trunks are loaded, you should be downstairs seeing that the cook and the maid understand their duties while we are away.”
Sarah bristled at her Aunt’s reminder that it was her generosity which sustained her and kept her living under the roof of the Brookes house in Cheltham. Despite the urge to reply that she would do well without anyone’s charity, she recalled that she did rely on their kindness. Resigned to her status as poor cousin and companion, she answered, “Yes, Aunt, I will see to it this instant.”
“I hope so, slovenly behavior will not be accepted. I doubt that this laziness was addressed at your last position,” Mrs. Brookes remarked.
As Sarah left the bedroom, she overheard her cousin Jane defend her as Mrs. Brookes dismissed her objections to fawn over her youngest daughter. The door closed behind her. She was alone in the hallway of the vicarage, as she was alone in life. She was a woman who had no prospects other than to be a companion or a governess. With her head hung low, she made her way down the narrow corridor of the vicarage, descending the stairs to the kitchen.
2
Aside from the usual amount of jostling and shimmying along the snowy roads leading from Cheltham out into the countryside, the carriage ride from the vicarage to Hatherley was pleasant. The interior of the carriage was reasonably warm despite the cold of mid-December. In her hand-me-down pelisse lined with fur, her gloved hands in the matching second-hand fur muff, Sarah found the journey not altogether uncomfortable. She rode in the second carriage with Jane and the maid that would attend her cousins, as Katie rode with her parents at her mother’s insistence in the first carriage. There was no question in Sarah’s mind that Katie was her mother’s favorite of all three of her children, an observation that she did not share with Jane whom, she was sure, was all too aware of it.
“I hope Henry arrives tonight. He said he was coming to Hatherley.” Jane murmured, half to herself, as she spoke of her brother, the eldest of the Brookes children and the only son.
“That would be wonderful. How are his classes? Is he doing well?”
“He has not written otherwise, so I can presume that he is first in his studies and examinations. If he was having trouble, I have no doubt he would have written to tell me about it.”
“What will he do after he finishes university? Does he still wish to enter the clergy?” Sarah asked, even though she knew that was the plan for her cousin, Henry Brookes.
“Will father give him any other choice?” Jane asked, with a tired air, “He is the son of a vicar, He will follow suit, as is expected, else I shall be greatly astonished.”
“As will I. He seems suited for the role as vicar. He has your father’s compassion and charm.”
“I have often thought that as well. If only our Mother was not disappointed in his interest in pursuing an honorable profession. She was hoping he would become a solicitor or find an heiress to marry for her money.”
Sarah did not say anything in response to Jane’s comments about her mother. How well Sarah recalled her aunt’s invitation for her to come live at the vicarage as a companion. It was the single gesture of sisterly affection Mrs. Brookes showed Sarah’s mother and one that she never permitted Sarah to forget. Sarah pushed that unpleasant thought away as she replied, “Henry knows his own mind. If he wants to join the church, he will not be dissuaded.”
“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 defend 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.
3
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 outsi
de. 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?”