The General's Granddaughter

by Dorothy Mack

  “Is ‘farce’ the word you are seeking? Why did I allow your pretence of being a housekeeper to continue?”

  “Yes,” she said humbly.

  “I do not intend to answer until Eversley does some explaining. What was your role in all this charade, Eversley? And don’t think to gammon me that you did not know more than you told, because I watched your face when I dropped my bombshell, and you were not in the least surprised either to learn who Sarah was or that I also knew who she was.”

  The viscount withstood the general’s intimidating stare with commendable aplomb. “I wondered when it would be my turn, sir,” he said with a grin. “I realized at our first meeting the other day that Miss Ridgemont was not the person hired by my agent, and I charged her with it immediately afterward. I said nothing to you at the time for fear of disturbing you. I thought only to spare you aggravation if she turned out to be the adventuress Lady Townsend has suggested.” Mark’s face was carefully expressionless as he permitted his eyes to run over the avidly listening face of that lady.

  “When Sarah told me who she was, I exacted a promise that she would make an opportunity to tell you the truth as soon as possible and went merrily on my way. It was not until this morning that I learned that she had been unable to see you to tell you her story despite numerous attempts to do so. At that point, General, I might say that my curiosity was aroused as to why it was suddenly so difficult to secure an interview with you. Do not credit me with any unusual prescience, however. It wasn’t until Somers said just now that you were expecting Miss Sarah and me that curiosity turned to suspicion and, shortly thereafter, suspicion to conviction.”

  “I see.” The general nodded and directed a calculating stare at his friend. “So Sarah Boston told you she was Sarah Ridgemont. And you believed her without any proof, did you?”

  “I did, sir.” Behind the urbane mask, Mark’s teeth went tight in annoyance. The old war-horse had him nicely boxed and was preparing to enjoy his discomfiture.

  “The young are so credulous,” murmured Sir Hector, rubbing salt into the wound. “So you left me to my fate and went merrily on your way — to use your own words.”

  Though not phrased as a question, Mark was aware that he was not alone in hearing the question in the statement. He hesitated, knowing the cost already, but reluctantly told the truth. “I did write to Coke in London to … to check on Sarah’s story,” he said evenly. “I felt I must do that for you, sir.” He could sense that Sarah flinched at this report, and something in her face closed up against him as she avoided his glance.

  “I see,” the general repeated. “And what was Sarah’s story? And has Coke confirmed it, for the sake of her aunt’s peace of mind?”

  Lady Townsend’s lips pressed together angrily at this piece of sarcasm, and Sarah shrank further into herself.

  Mark said, somewhat more aggressively than was quite polite, “Perhaps you will first tell me, sir, why you refused to let Sarah confess the simple truth, that she had been so afraid you would turn her away that she seized on Joseph’s error in thinking her the new housekeeper in order to gain access to you. She tried to explain right from the beginning, did she not?”

  “Yes,” admitted the general readily.

  “Did you not realize what a false position all the members of your family would be placed in if you allowed Sarah to meet them in the guise of a servant?” Mark persisted, trying to phrase the question as gently as he could.

  “Oh, yes, I realized it,” said the general, refusing to accept any mitigation of his offense. “It was too rare an opportunity to miss,” he explained simply when Sarah turned disbelieving eyes on him.

  The viscount disciplined a smile as Lady Townsend’s bosom swelled in anger at the Turkish treatment her father had meted out to his family so knowingly.

  “Well, Father, you’ve had your little joke at our expense,” Horace Ridgemont said. “What next?”

  “Next I wish to hear Sarah’s story. Eversley is ahead of us there. Yes, do sit down, child, before you fall down,” he urged as the viscount brought a chair forward for the drooping girl. “Where is your mother? Did she send you here?”

  “My mother?” Sarah gaped at Sir Hector in amazement. “Mother died in Boston nine years ago. Father wrote to you when it happened.”

  For the first time the general looked discomposed. “I never received that communication, Sarah,” he said gruffly. “You may think what you please about my treatment of your father — that was between him and me — but I hope you will believe that I would not have ignored you and your brother this past year had I known you were alone in the world.”

  “A brother too?” This from Lady Townsend.

  Mark noted that some silent understanding was reached between the general and his granddaughter before Sarah removed her gaze from his regretful face to explain for the benefit of her uncle and aunt, “I have an eleven-year-old brother, Richard.”

  “How have you been living since your father died?”

  Sarah swallowed with difficulty, and her eyes fell before the demand in the shrewd old eyes commanding hers. Lady Townsend leaned forward, hoping no doubt to hear something discreditable, Mark thought savagely as he dashed to the rescue. His voice was cheerful as he declared, “Sarah is afraid you will consider she has abased the fair name of Ridgemont by operating a hat shop in London to augment the inadequate annuity that is all she and Richard have to live on, but I am persuaded you will applaud her courage and tenacity instead.”

  The viscount felt a strong rush of sympathy as he watched the general absorb this additional blow to his pride, and he was moved to admiration by the old man’s quick recovery. Ignoring his daughter’s scandalized repetition of “a hat shop,” Sir Hector gave Sarah’s clenched hand a pat in her lap and said stoutly, “I have nothing but respect for such evidence of enterprise in one of my blood, but all that must end now. I won’t have my grandson reared in a hat shop,” he added, then moderated his voice, which was again escalating toward a military bark. “I presume your presence here means you have come to me for assistance?”

  Sarah nodded. “I cannot afford to give Richard the kind of education that will prepare him to earn a good living.”

  “You may drop that care from your mind as of today. And what of yourself, Sarah? What future do you envision for yourself? Have you never had the opportunity to marry?”

  “I was betrothed at seventeen to a young man in Massachusetts, but my mother became ill and died quite suddenly before my marriage could take place. I could not leave Richard then — he was only two years old — so I ended my engagement. As for the future, once we are assured that Richard’s is provided for, Lottie and I will be able to manage. Without the hat shop,” she added with the first real smile Mark had ever seen. It was full of promise like sunshine after rain, and he wished suddenly and with an unnerving hunger that it were directed at him instead of an old man of eighty-six.

  “Who is this Lottie?” asked her grandfather sharply.

  “She was my mother’s abigail before she married, then my nurse and Richard’s, and always and forever our dearest friend,” replied Sarah, a hint of steel in her musical voice, as if she sensed an undefined threat.

  “Harrumph!” The general cleared his throat and began again. “You have been fortunate to have had such a faithful friend, but I want you all here now. My grandson shall grow up in the home of his ancestors.”

  “Here? But, Father, you cannot possibly accept the charge of a child at your time of life,” protested Horace. “Madeleine and I will be happy to —”

  “Fustian! Oh, I know you mean well, Horace, but I’ve decided not to die quite yet, after all,” Sir Hector announced casually to his stunned audience. “In fact, that is partly why I have denied myself to everyone these past few days. I’ve been in that damn bed so long I’m weak as a kitten, and I needed to practice walking about a bit if I was ever to get out of this room again and confound that know-it-all doctor of mine.”

 
“Poor Somers,” the viscount remarked out of the blue.

  “Actually, Somers enjoyed himself immensely, except that he had a tender conscience about Sarah,” said the general with a malevolent grin.

  “Did Somers recognize me too?”

  “That miniature of your grandmother has stood on my bedside table for close on a half-century. Like Horace, Somers had a disturbing impression that he should know you, and when you left this room after our first meeting, he noticed my mental state and put two and two together.”

  At that moment Somers appeared in person at the door. “I am very sorry to interrupt, Sir Hector, but Mrs. Medlark insists on seeing Miss Sarah — Mrs. Boston, I mean. Says it’s quite an urgent matter.”

  As Grace herself could be seen behind his shoulder, hovering anxiously, both Sarah and Lady Townsend rose.

  “It is I Grace wishes to see, I believe, Somers. I sent for her earlier,” said Lady Townsend.

  “Is it your little girl, Grace? Is she worse?” Sarah’s face mirrored Grace’s concern.

  “No, no, Sa— Mrs. Boston; she’s some better. It’s not that, but I must speak with you.”

  “Well, come in, woman, and get it off your chest. A crisis in the kitchen?” boomed the general.

  “I must speak privately with Mrs. Boston, Sir Hector,” Grace insisted.

  “What, secrets from the master of the house?” roared the general with a heavy-handed playfulness so out of character that all save Sarah gaped at him goggle-eyed.

  “It’s all right, Grace,” Sarah said soothingly. “I’ll come with you now, if you will excuse me, sir?”

  “Not yet. Out with it, woman, what has happened?”

  Grace looked at Sarah in alarm. When that young woman only repeated Sir Hector’s question, she swallowed and stammered, “There is a woman at the door who claims to be the new housekeeper. I’ve told her she is mistaken, but she says she won’t leave until she sees Sir Hector.”

  “Mrs. Glamorgan,” cried Sarah and Lord Eversley in unison.

  The general seemed to comprehend this situation immediately. He turned to Sarah. “Well, you brought this on yourself, my girl, so as your last official act as my housekeeper, you may exercise whatever store of diplomacy you possess in dealing with this person, and then see about transferring yourself to one of the family apartments. There is one still free, is there not?”

  “Yes, sir, the one above this,” Sarah said, sounding like a person in a daze, which was no more than the truth.

  Grace was in no better state than Sarah as her puzzled eyes darted from person to person in search of enlightenment. Sir Hector waved the two women off. “Go about your housekeeping business now. You may as well tell Grace what just happened here. If you talk fast, you may be allowed to finish the telling before the news drifts up from below to meet you, complete in all details.”

  “I beg your pardon, sir?” Sarah was growing more confused by the moment.

  The gentlemen wore broad smiles now, and even Lady Townsend looked wryly amused as Sir Hector explained, “It is one of the eternal mysteries of the universe how the servants always know everything that happens in the family almost as soon as it transpires.”

  As Sarah and Grace prepared to leave the room, the general dismissed his son and daughter and requested that Lord Eversley remain for a few moments as he had a favour to beg of him. Sarah glanced back once to see Lord Eversley watching her with a pensive look. On catching her eye he gave her a farewell smile, but she could not seem to make her lips curve upward and she turned hastily to catch up with Grace.

  He hadn’t really believed her despite his comforting support through her recent ordeal. He had written to his agent in London directing him to “check” her story. Somehow, despite all she had gained today, there was a cold little sensation of loss in the region of her heart, which was quite nonsensical, she told herself bracingly. He would be married, of course, with a quiversful of children in his nursery. How could it be otherwise for such an attractive man? At a guess she would put his age in the middle thirties, though he looked much younger when he smiled. Ah, well, Lord Eversley was not her business. With her grandfather being such a recluse, it was unlikely that she would be on calling terms with the neighbouring families.

  Sarah was unaware of Grace’s silent scrutiny while they walked through the antechamber behind Lady Townsend and her brother, but when the other two headed across the great hall toward the Ridgemont’s suite, Grace halted Sarah before she could follow them through the door.

  “I left that woman waiting in the hall to see Sir Hector,” she said in low tones. “Come into the chapel for a moment so you can tell me what is going on before we have to meet her.”

  Obediently Sarah changed course, and the two women left the antechamber by the door that opened into the corridor leading past the chapel to the west staircase. As soon as they slipped into the empty chapel, Grace turned to her companion. “What is going on, Sarah? Do you know who this Mrs. — Mrs. —”

  “Mrs. Glamorgan.”

  “Who this Mrs. Glamorgan is?”

  “She is the housekeeper Lord Eversley’s agent engaged for Beech Hill.” Grace’s eyes flickered, but she stood in silent expectation while Sarah hesitated, seeking the least hurtful words for her explanation. She took a deep breath and plunged. “I am Gerald Ridgemont’s daughter, Grace. I am truly sorry that I lied to you that first day. It was a cowardly thing to do, but I was so afraid my grandfather would refuse to see me that I jumped at the chance Joseph’s mistake in thinking me the new housekeeper gave me to get inside Beech Hill. You were so helpful and friendly that I hated myself for piling lie upon lie, but once started, there seemed no way to end the deception, at least not until I had told my grandfather the truth. And he wouldn’t see me after that first brief interview when I couldn’t quite find the right words.

  “Actually, he recognized me immediately from my resemblance to my grandmother, but for some reason, perhaps to punish everyone a little, he preferred to let the deception continue until today. I hope you will forgive me, Grace. I would not like to lose my first friend at Beech Hill.”

  Grace’s fine grey eyes had studied Sarah’s contrite face during this difficult confession, and now her generous mouth widened into an unforced smile. “I was fairly certain you had never been a housekeeper before, but you seemed so … so troubled that I wished to help you. Is your name really Sarah?”

  Sarah nodded. “After my grandmother. And Mother had Sarah for one of her names too.” Sensing the curiosity that Grace was too well-mannered to attempt to gratify, she amplified her remarks to clarify the situation. “My father was used to say that I was a combination of his mother and mine. Both my parents are gone now. My mother died while we were living in America and my father last year after we had been back in England about a year. There is just my brother and myself now and our good friend Lottie Miller, who has taken care of us since we were born. Richard is only eleven, and my grandfather has just decreed that we are to come here to stay. Richard will love living in this beautiful country, but I am not entirely certain it is a wise move. My aunt and uncle…” Her voice trailed off.

  Grace finished briskly, “Your aunt and uncle will learn to accept the situation in time. It will be wonderful to have young people at Beech Hill once again. Was that what Sir Hector was talking about when he referred to the empty suite?”

  “Yes. My goodness, we’ve forgotten about Mrs. Glamorgan cooling her heels in the hall all this while. Come help me pacify her, Grace. Perhaps for now we might simply say I have been acting as housekeeper pending her arrival. She’ll hear the whole story soon enough, in any case.”

  As the women left the chapel and headed for the great hall and the understandably irate Mrs. Glamorgan, Sarah said hesitantly, her voice pleading, “Grace, I hope I’ll always be just Sarah to you — please?”

  Grace smiled gently. “When there is no one around to hear or criticize, you’ll be Sarah. Will that do?”

  “Thank yo
u, Grace.”

  And for the second time that day, Sarah’s rare smile illuminated her face.

  CHAPTER 8

  With Sarah’s departure all the general’s vitality seemed to drain away, the viscount noted with distinct unease as his eyes returned from following her graceful figure through the door. Her grandfather maintained his upright position in the chair by sheer force of will, but the hands resting on the chair arms were shaking, and Mark did not care for the rapid rise and fall of his chest in shallow breathing.

  “Why not let Somers put you to bed for a while now, sir?” he suggested, concealing his concern under a matter-of-fact air. “It’s obvious you’ve been conducting yourself these last few days in a manner not prescribed by your doctor. If you wish to enjoy your family’s visit, you’d be wise to slow the pace a bit. I’ll come by tomorrow for a talk.”

  He made to rise, but the general removed one hand from the arm of his chair in a brief staying gesture all the more compelling because of the effort involved, an effort that was costing him strength. Mark subsided, wishing Somers would return.

  “Must talk now, then I’ll rest this damned disobliging body. I won’t allow it to deprive me of my triumph.”

  The viscount was silent as the general paused to recoup his strength after this defiant speech. Better perhaps to let him get whatever it was off his chest. It would only disturb his rest to have it worrying him.

  “I want that boy brought here immediately, before that independent miss —” by which description Mark had no difficulty in recognizing Sarah — “takes a long look at her loving relatives and gets cold feet and tries to cut and run.”

  His lips twitched once at the general’s dispassionate summing-up of his family. Before the proud old man should have to frame a request, he said, “I shall write to Coke at once directing him to make travel arrangements for the boy and their old nurse.”