The General's Granddaughter

by Dorothy Mack

  “Aunt Adelaide appeared not to have recognized her daughter’s state, although I cannot conceive how she can remain blind after the degree of particularity Arabella demonstrated last night. She sat beside the doctor at dinner, all but ignoring the Calderby lad on her other side. Everyone must have remarked her behaviour. If it had not been for Doctor Rydell’s innate good manners, which led him to circulate and pay his respects to his other friends when the men re-joined us after dinner, I am persuaded no thought of propriety or her mother’s displeasure would have induced Arabella to leave his side.”

  Lottie shook her head. “No good ever came of fixing one’s interest outside of one’s own class.”

  “Well, as to that,” Sarah countered hesitantly, “Simon Rydell is certainly a gentleman, but there’s no denying the disparity of their circumstances.”

  “Mayhap they’ll all be leaving here before the affair progresses too far,” Lottie said with an optimism Sarah could not believe was justified. She said no more on that head, however, deeming it time to go and give her grandfather an account of the party, a greatly expurgated account, she decided as she finished drinking her coffee. At least she could pass along all the kindly inquiries and messages from his neighbours.

  Following her call on her grandfather, Sarah was crossing the great hall heading for the east staircase when William came out of the dining room. Her cheery greeting was met with a disturbingly intent stare before William said abruptly, “Sarah, may I speak with you privately?”

  “Of course, William. What is it?”

  “Not here. Will you come into the library? We won’t be interrupted there.”

  Sarah accompanied her silent cousin, concealing her reluctance beneath a brief smile as her eyes skimmed his serious countenance. Already she knew that the coming interview was going to be difficult and painful.

  Her instincts did not betray her.

  William opened the library door and stood back for her to precede him inside. He did not speak immediately when he had seen her seated in a leather chair in front of an ornately carved and much-scarred desk. Instead, he took a few restless steps away, his back to her. Staring at that taut posture, Sarah experienced a wave of compassion, but there was nothing she could do to avert what was coming. Though convinced in theory that she had nothing to reproach herself for — she had always been honest and sincere in her dealings with William — there was no escaping the weight of his probable disappointment and pain. She cringed internally from the necessity of inflicting it.

  William turned a tightly controlled visage to her. “I do not suppose you can be in any doubt about the way I feel about you, Sarah,” he said quietly. “It seems to be obvious to everyone else.” He paused then, searching her compassionate features for some encouragement he did not find, for his gaze flickered, then hardened.

  “We … we have been the best of friends, William,” Sarah said, rushing to fill the uncomfortable pause.

  His lips tightened briefly before he went on with leashed emotion. “I know that, and the fear of losing your friendship has kept me silent thus far, but it’s no use, Sarah. I cannot play the coward indefinitely and let another man walk off with the prize I dared not aim for. I love you, and I must put my hopes to the test. Will you marry me? I won’t rush you into a decision,” he went on when she bit her lip and did not speak at once. “I know that Grandfather loves having you here, and there is Richard to settle into school in the next few months, but I have to know if you could care for me enough to consider marrying me.”

  Sarah was gripping her hands together in her lap, hating herself for what she was going to do but recognizing the necessity. She swallowed dryly and said, “I am so sorry, William. I do care for you, but it is not the right kind of caring, not the kind on which to build a marriage.” She stopped then, torn by an urge to explain away the pain she was inflicting, but realizing the futility of more words to the same end.

  Their eyes clung for an uncomfortable eternity, the blue ones searching the amber for signs of weakening.

  “Is there someone else?” William asked at length, as though the words were dragged out of him.

  Sarah’s lashes flickered, though her gaze did not waver. “The only thing that has any significance is my feeling for you, William,” she said gently. “I hope you know how honoured I am to receive your proposal. I am dreadfully sorry for any pain my decision causes you. I hate the idea of bringing you unhappiness even for a little while, but you deserve a wife who will give you so much more than I could.”

  William held up a staying hand, taking in a deep slow breath. “Do not go on, my dear,” he said with a wry twist to his sensitive mouth. “I cannot stand your pain at causing me pain. I think I always knew what your answer would be, and I meant what I said earlier: it was the thought of losing your friendship that has kept me silent these past ten days.”

  “You will never lose my friendship, William,” Sarah assured him, eager to make whatever small reparation was in her power.

  For the first time he looked away from her, saying at last, “May I beg a favour of you, Sarah, in the name of that friendship?”

  “Of course.”

  “I have tried to disguise my feeling for you from my mother once I began to fear it was all on my side, but I doubt I’ve been successful. She is too aware where I am concerned. You must have noticed that she cherishes an unrealistic opinion of my worth and talents.” His smile was rueful and drew a sympathetic chuckle from Sarah. “She likes you, but she can be … difficult if she believes anyone is acting against my interests. I do not wish her to know you’ve turned me down, Sarah, for her sake and for yours.”

  “I understand, William.”

  “I know there is generally some awkwardness attached to the situation in which we now find ourselves, but if we can manage to carry on for the rest of our stay as if this morning never happened, it would save a lot of strain. I’ll sound out my father on bringing our visit to a close, today if possible.”

  “Of course I’ll do as you think best, William.” Sarah was desperately eager to bring the torturous interview to a close now, before she disgraced herself and made her cousin even more unhappy by bursting into tears.

  With his usual sensitivity to her moods, he smiled crookedly and walked over to open the door for her. “Thank you, Sarah,” he said quietly.

  Sarah was incapable of more than a swift stretching of her lips in response as, eyes lowered, she passed him and headed for the closest staircase at a near run. In her room she indulged in a short, restorative bout of tears before she trusted herself enough to go back into company. Fearing Lottie’s sharp eyes, she washed her face and hands and put a dab of powder on her shining nose before deciding her appearance would pass muster.

  Sarah and Lottie were sewing in the nursery a half-hour later when Joseph knocked with a summons for Sarah to go down to her grandfather at once.

  “Is anything amiss, Joseph?” she asked, folding up her work. “When I left Grandfather scarcely an hour ago, he seemed fine.”

  “Now, Miss Sarah,” Joseph replied, smiling at her as she walked down the west staircase with him, “Somers would have mentioned it if Sir Hector had taken one of his turns.” The footman’s cheerful demeanour was most reassuring, but Sarah’s footsteps were purposeful as she parted from him at the bottom of the staircase. He headed back to his post in the great hall and she went down the corridor that led past the chapel to her grandfather’s apartment.

  She was passing the open chapel door when a strong arm in a blue coat reached out and hauled her inside. Before she could utter more than a tiny squeak of protest, Sarah found herself in Lord Eversley’s arms being soundly kissed as he nudged the chapel door shut with his foot.

  So last night had not been an aberration brought about by moonlight and a romantic setting, Sarah had time to think before she surrendered to the thrilling sensations Mark’s lips on hers produced all along her nervous system. She strained to him, untutored in the ways of passion but
gratifyingly obedient and quick to follow where he led. It was broad daylight now and the chapel, with its frescoed ceiling, could not qualify as a romantic setting, but the results were the same as on the previous night. As Mark released her lips lingeringly, he looked somewhat dazed, and his breath came unsteadily.

  “I had to make sure last night really happened, that what flared between us was not wishful thinking or a figment of my imagination.”

  A smile quivered on Sarah’s lips as she stared up into his bemused face, all shyness forgotten. “It felt very real to me,” she said softly. Looking her fill at her lover, she marvelled at the difference happiness made in his stern aspect. At times his eyes had seemed hard enough to remind her of gleaming lumps of obsidian; now they were more like melted chocolate. The harsh lines in his cheeks had faded away and his stern mouth was relaxed and beautiful. She placed a tentative finger on his lips to trace their line, and he laughed and kissed it. Then he seized her hand and brought it to cup his cheek while the fingers of the other hand lifted her chin as he returned her scrutiny with fascinated thoroughness.

  “You are so incredibly lovely,” he breathed against her lips before straightening up once more to say with some difficulty, “I have no wish to beat what I hope is a dead horse, my darling, but I’d like to think you could understand how it was with me and the woman in Marshfield.”

  “You do not have to explain, Mark.” There was no shadow in the glowing eyes that looked back at him, and somehow that emboldened him to proceed.

  “I would like to tell you.” Hearing the questioning inflection, Sarah nodded. “For the first two years after my wife died, I was so filled with rage that I would not have cared if I never saw another female for the rest of my life. I must have tried my poor mother’s love to the utmost, I was so impossible to live with. Most men, most normal men, need women sometimes even if there is no affection between them, and not just for lovemaking. A woman softens the rough edges of a man’s temper, a woman can keep a man sane. It may sound a strange thing to say, but I think we would not be standing here today if I had not kept a mistress these past three years. Certainly I’d have grown even more cross-grained and crabbed than I am. I am persuaded you’d have found me so disagreeable as to take me in irremediable dislike on sight instead of forgiving me for my severity to you at first.”

  “You are not cross-grained and crabbed,” protested Sarah lovingly. “Autocratic and dominating perhaps, but not crabbed.”

  Mark laughed outright. “I shall study to mend my ways, ma’am,” he said, gathering her into his arms once again. “You have nothing to fear on that score, Sarah, and I promise you never will. I am not a philanderer by nature. I thought I was in love with the girl I married. She was pretty and gay and fun to be with. Though I soon discovered I did not know her at all, I was never unfaithful to her, here or in Portugal.

  “Darling, I am supremely confident that you and I will build a wonderful life together. What I felt before pales in comparison with the love I have for you. I adore you, Sarah.”

  She returned his embrace with fervour but said uncertainly, “Are you so sure you really know me, Mark? Three weeks ago you were unaware of my existence.”

  His steady eyes on hers gave her the reassurance she sought. “I may not yet know your favourite colour or food, or if you are testy in the morning, but I recognized and respected your essential honesty right from the beginning. I know that you are kind and brave and generous and loyal —”

  “Oh, Mark!” Two tears slipped over her cheekbones, and he gave her a gentle shake.

  “If you are going to cry each time I tell you why I love you, you will severely cramp my style in compliments, sweetheart.”

  “Oh, Mark!” This time she laughed, and was promptly kissed.

  “You will marry me, Sarah? Soon?”

  She drew a little away from him. “What do you call soon?”

  “Tomorrow,” he replied promptly. “I’ll get a special licence.”

  Sarah laughed again, rather shakily, and blushed. “I am flattered by your eagerness, but I could not leave my grandfather on the instant like that after just… Oh, my goodness,” she cried, her eyes widening. “My grandfather! He sent for me, and I forgot everything the moment you — I mean, we —”

  This time, Mark’s laugh was young and carefree. Sarah looked at him uncertainly, then something about the impish lights in chocolate-brown eyes registered in her brain.

  “Mark,” she scolded, trying with little success to keep her lips firmed primly, “it was you who sent Joseph to me with that message. I wondered why he did not simply head down the back stairs, which were nearer the nursery. It was a trap.”

  “And an ambush,” he admitted shamelessly. “Shall I apologize?”

  The impish lights were in amber eyes now. “I shouldn’t believe you,” she declared with a toss of her head.

  “Let us go tell your grandfather our news. He can make the announcement to the others this evening.”

  Sarah had grown very still at these words.

  Mark’s hands on her arms above the elbows tightened spasmodically. She winced, and he loosened them, muttering a short apology. “What is it, Sarah? Is something wrong? Tell me.”

  The tip of her tongue made a quick nervous circuit of her upper lip. “It’s about the announcement, Mark. Would you mind very much if we didn’t make an announcement yet? May we wait until after the family leaves Beech Hill? That should be any day now, I would imagine. Doctor Rydell says Grandfather’s condition is fairly stable, and the season will be starting soon in London, will it not?”

  “Why do you wish to delay the announcement of our betrothal? Your family must know sooner or later.” His eyes were probing hers, and Sarah feared he would find her explanation inadequate, but she had to try to make him understand.

  “I think you know that the situation here has been a bit difficult. There is some resentment of our presence, Richard’s and mine — indeed of our very existence — and I do not wish there to be any shadows or dissension cast over our happiness.”

  Mark’s eyes did not cease their probing. “I do understand, darling, and I hate seeing that ill-natured Townsend woman treat you like an interloper and worse, but there is something else I understand that makes it imperative to let them all know how things stand. William Ridgemont is in love with you. The longer we delay an announcement, the more likely it is that he will declare himself. I am persuaded you would not wish to have that embarrassing situation to deal with.”

  “It is too late,” Sarah said on a sigh, accepting that only the truth would suffice now. “William did propose this morning, and when I had to refuse him, he begged me to go on as we have been in order to spare his mother’s feelings.”

  “His mother’s feelings?”

  “Yes. You know how Aunt Ridgemont dotes on William. He is sure she has guessed that he wishes to marry me. If she knew I had turned his offer down, she would be very upset, and things would be even more difficult for me. I … I promised I would go along as if nothing had happened.” Mark’s brows drew together in a thunderous scowl, and she said hastily, “It shouldn’t be for more than a few days, dearest. William is going to suggest to his father that they all wind up their visits at Beech Hill. Indeed, he may already have done so. Please, Mark, may we leave matters as they were and keep our betrothal a secret for a few days? I really cannot face the idea of more unpleasantness on top of Aunt Adelaide’s attitude.”

  Mark was extremely reluctant to postpone making his claim on her official, but he was not proof against the pleading in those lovely eyes. Before he left, they agreed to say nothing to Sir Hector under the circumstances. The general’s nature fitted his name too well to trust that he would refrain from gloating over this coup.

  Sarah went a little warily into lunch, unsure what to expect, but she need not have worried that William would permit any awkwardness to develop between them. He was already seated at table when she entered. He half-rose and patted the back of th
e chair beside him in smiling invitation as she issued a general greeting. There was actually more danger that she would reveal the happiness bubbling inside her, thus arousing curiosity. It was necessary to banish all thought of Mark and concentrate on the easy conversation between William and Richard, in which they included her from time to time.

  Lottie refused to eat at the family table except for breakfast. She and Richard shared the evening meal in the nursery and she ate at the housekeeper’s table in the middle of the day. The only other person to pay any attention to Sarah at lunch was Arabella, who chatted nonstop about the Eversley party, addressing most of her remarks to her cousin as if they’d been bosom friends in their cradles. Sarah noted with amusement that among a plethora of comments on the food and decor, and snippets of information about the neighbours, not a single reference to Doctor Rydell dropped from her ready tongue. She had seated herself at a distance from her parent and seemed to her cousin to be studiously avoiding that lady’s eye. Neither Cecil nor Vincent was present, and the elder ladies, perhaps a bit fatigued from the late evening, were more than usually silent that day.

  The only awkward moment was caused by Richard, who mentioned that he was sorry to have missed Lord Eversley’s visit because he particularly desired to ask him something about a recent news account of the campaign in France.

  “Lord Eversley hasn’t been here today,” Lady Townsend said shortly.

  “Yes, he was, Aunt,” Richard insisted innocently. “I saw Heracles in the stables this morning.”

  Sarah could sense William’s quick look at her and prayed that no rise in colour betrayed her as she addressed her brother. “I daresay he just dropped in briefly with a message for Grandfather. Why do you not save the article to show him on his next visit?”