by Beth Elliott
Greg was about to go past them when she said, quite clearly, ‘Very well, George, but I need to see her first. Do you mean the blonde one or the dark one?’
‘The blonde.’
Greg could not mistake that voice. It set his teeth on edge, as always. His face hardened. What was the villain up to now? And surely they were referring to Lizzie and Sarah. Were they next on Percival’s list for revenge? He tried to follow the pair discreetly as they moved up towards the front of the concert hall, but another dowager got in his way. Greg continued through the knots of gossiping spectators and eventually reached his own party.
Mr Keating and his pretty little sister were talking to the girls. Greg felt a flash of irritation. He smiled politely, however and handed the girls their drinks. He stood watching as the Keatings chatted and realized that John Keating was looking very admiringly at Sarah.
So that is how the land lies, thought Greg, glancing to see how Sarah was responding. She was her usual calm self. Greg took his seat by her side and gave John Keating a cool nod. Lizzie tugged his sleeve and made a comment about the music. He nodded, smiled and looked up again. His eyes narrowed. Close by was the woman who had been talking to Lord Percival. She was walking past, seemingly to inspect the stage. Greg noticed how she took a long look at Sarah as she went by and then again as she went back down the room.
He glanced quickly at Sarah. She was translating an Italian song for Sir Thomas and had seen nothing. Greg frowned, he must warn the girls to be even more careful. Percival was obsessed with Sarah and a man of his unpleasant temper was no doubt smarting at her refusal to have anything to do with him. He watched her talking to his father in her quiet way and saw Sir Thomas smile. His father obviously found her entertaining. Greg, who knew the signs, could see that he was taking her under his wing.
As if aware of his gaze, Sarah turned her head abruptly. ‘Is anything wrong?’ she asked in a low voice. He shook his head slightly. Unable to resist, he took another survey of that lovely face, his eyes lingering on her mouth. Those pretty pink lips were soft and inviting. He twisted the ring he wore on his little finger and repressed a violent urge to kiss her senseless.
Sarah frowned. She drew back a little. ‘You look as if there is a problem,’ she insisted.
Greg noted the withdrawal. His face darkened. Why was she treating him like the enemy?
At that precise moment, the conductor appeared and applause broke out. He would have to wait to discover why she seemed determined to keep her distance from him. When the music washed over him and everyone was looking at Madame Elvira as she sang again, Greg drew a deep breath and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.
He was not sure which was the harder problem: keeping his family and the girls safe, or protecting himself from the irresistible fascination that Sarah exerted over him. At this moment, he was not even certain that she welcomed his company. Perhaps Richard was right to call her an ice maiden. Damn that infernal racket they called singing! But he remembered how she had kissed him, so willingly, so sweetly. His lips twitched. That had been fire and passion, not ice. He would persevere in the chase. He opened his eyes. The song was not so bad, after all.
Later that evening, as she sat brushing her hair, Sarah reflected that this was what life in Bath was supposed to be like. An evening of fine music in the company of kind friends. Nothing to worry about, just a pleasant society event. Part of a normal life for most girls, such as Lavinia. But Sarah was not like most girls. This evening would be one of her happiest memories. However, in spite of Greg’s advice, Sarah knew the day was coming close when she had to go back to her old school and beg for a job. She had scarcely any money left and no prospect of obtaining any more except by finding employment.
She gave herself a keen look in the mirror. ‘You fool!’ she whispered to the delicately flushed face with the shining eyes that looked back at her. ‘Just remember he is not for you.’ She closed her eyes briefly. Impossible to deny that she was glowing. For a couple of hours she had sat side by side with the man she found irresistible and that was enough to send her into a state of rapture. That was why this evening would be a happy memory, to be cherished when she was a sober teacher.
‘Fool,’ she whispered again, fiercely. She thumped her clenched fist against her heart. How hard it had been to cut him off and turn away. It was not the least of Greg’s charms that he seemed unaware of how attractive he was. Sarah was not too besotted to notice how other women’s heads turned to look at him. She yanked the brush viciously through her hair and scowled at herself. Why was fate so perverse, that the one man she wanted – and who liked her – was out of bounds?
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
‘Sarah, I need a word with you – in private.’
Sarah turned from her conversation with Lavinia Keating to see her brother, his face pale and anxious, hovering just behind her. She gave him an exasperated look. Surely he could see that this was not a good time or place for her to desert her friends. And how could they be private in the middle of Milsom Street? She hesitated and he made an impatient gesture.
‘Oh, very well.’ With a word of excuse to Lavinia and Lizzie, she left the shop window where they had been admiring bonnets and scarves and followed James up the pavement to a quiet spot. She looked around suspiciously. ‘I am not going any further, James. If you are trying to arrange a meeting with your friend—’
‘No, no!’ he interrupted, looking from left to right with the air of a hunted animal, ‘nothing like that. Have not seen him for several days. Think he is out of town. Thing is, Sarah’ – he swallowed and glanced over his shoulder – ‘someone is dashed well following me.’
She raised her brows in astonishment. ‘What? Are you certain? Why would anyone do that?’
He shook his head. ‘Dashed if I know. But I keep seeing this fellow in a drab coat. If I look round, he disappears into a doorway or some such. It is getting deuced uncomfortable.’
Sarah felt a shiver down her back. She remembered the man in the green coat. Everyone she knew seemed to be caught up in sinister events and mishaps Would James be the next person to be injured? She wished she could discuss the matter with Greg but he had disappeared as well. The last time they had seen him had been at the concert and that was nearly a week ago.
She took James’s hand in hers. ‘It is all rather alarming. Perhaps it would be a good idea for you to go home to Russeldene for a few days. Surely nobody would follow you there.’
He seemed to consider the idea but his habitual frown showed her that he was not going to agree. ‘Not at the moment,’ he said. His head turned towards the other two girls waiting for Sarah outside the milliner’s shop. She saw him smile at Lizzie. Lizzie inclined her head in acknowledgment. After all, thought Sarah, they had known each other for many years. But the look on James’s face made her uneasy.
She was now familiar enough with feeling the pangs of love to understand that her brother was nursing a real affection for her best friend. But Sarah had never seen any sign that Lizzie thought of James as anything more than an older brother. In any case, in view of his lifestyle and the way he had wasted his fortune, it was certain that General Gardiner would never consent to such a match.
She tried again to persuade him. ‘James, even if you leave town for a couple of days, that would surely be enough to get rid of this … this person. It could be a thief, or perhaps someone with a grudge against you.’
‘No,’ he said decisively, ‘the only people I owe money to are George and Monty. They would never have me followed. But if they did and I ran away, they would suspect the worst, d’you see?’ His face went grim. ‘Lord, then I would be afraid….’
Sarah’s brow wrinkled. ‘Oh dear, what a pickle you are in. It is most worrying.’ She thought of something else. ‘Do be careful where you eat and drink.’
He gave a crack of laughter. ‘You have been reading too many Gothic romances.’
‘No, indeed I have not. I mean it. Please take care.’ She was
walking back to her friends as she spoke. James raised his hat to them and wandered away down the street.
‘We have decided not to buy that hat with the feathers after all,’ said Lizzie. ‘Prue thinks my blue hat could be trimmed in a similar style.’ She sighed and walked on towards the next shop, leaving Sarah to exchange a smile with Prue.
‘Shall we call in at the lending library?’ said Lavinia, ‘I have finished the last of my novels and if this cold weather continues, I shall want something to occupy me indoors.’
‘When do you leave for London?’ asked Sarah.
‘Not for a week yet.’ Lavinia looked at her earnestly. ‘I do feel apprehensive. It will be more difficult than Bath. So many more people….’
‘Nonsense,’ said Sarah in a reassuring tone. ‘The time you have spent here has accustomed you to being in Society. You are ready now to enjoy your season in Town. There will be parties and entertainments every day. And as well as the busy social life, think what a vast range of other things there are – art galleries, museums, the theatre … Hatchards,’ she added, as they turned in at the door of Bath’s biggest lending library. ‘You will certainly find all the latest books there. Maybe even Lord Byron’s poems.’
Lavinia gave a gasp of scandalized pleasure. ‘Do you really think so? He is so much talked about. And his poems are beautiful, do you not think so?’
Sarah laughed. ‘Indeed, I could not put the book down. My sister was very angry with me for reading so late, especially when she discovered what I was reading.’
She stopped what she was saying because a smartly dressed woman came up to them and looked very closely at Sarah. This woman was perhaps a little over forty but slim and elegant, with blonde hair in an elaborate style. She was dressed in the very latest fashion and her manner was poised and gracious.
‘Do pray excuse me for addressing you without an introduction,’ she said in a pleasant, musical voice. ‘But I feel so certain that you are the daughter of my schoolfriend, Mary Wilton, who married Hugo Davenport. My sister and I were at Miss Johnson’s Seminary here in Bath for several years with her.’
Sarah opened her eyes wide in surprise. ‘It is true that my mother was at Miss Johnson’s Seminary. But….’ She looked enquiringly at the elegant woman, who smiled understandingly.
‘Forgive me. I am Caroline Bourne and my sister is Henrietta Avery. Of course, when we were at school our name was Langwell. Has your mother never spoken of us?’
‘I cannot recall,’ said Sarah. ‘She was in poor health for some time before her death three years ago.’
Mrs Bourne looked shocked. ‘How tragic for you. I am so sorry. And my sister will be devastated. She was Mary’s special friend, you understand. I was several years younger than the pair of them.’ She shook her head and gazed at Sarah. ‘You have a great look of your mama, my dear. May I know your name?’
After a moment’s hesitation, Sarah told her.
‘And are you her only child?’
‘Oh no, ma’am. I have an older sister, who is married and a brother, who now holds the title.’
Mrs Bourne nodded. ‘Well, I am so pleased to have met you. I shall tell my sister all about it. She is an invalid, you know. She only leaves the house to go to the hot bath.’ She picked up the pile of books she had laid down on the table while she talked. ‘These are for her,’ she added with another smile. ‘The days pass slowly when one is confined to a chair.’
Sarah watched Mrs Bourne as that lady left the library. She tried to recall if her mother had ever mentioned the name but gave it up and went to find Lavinia and Lizzie. They were looking in vain for a copy of Lord Byron’s epic poem.
‘It is not likely that they would have it in such an old-fashioned place as Bath,’ grumbled Lizzie, growing tired of the search. ‘When you get to London, Lavinia, be sure to send me a copy. I want to read about his travels in exotic lands.’
Sarah followed them back out into the street, where it was beginning to rain. She took no part in their conversation. Between Mrs Bourne and James’s revelation about being followed, she had enough to occupy her thoughts. She wished Greg would return. Somehow, troubles of this kind seemed less daunting when he was around. He was so large and dependable. She smiled to herself.
‘Sarah,’ exclaimed Lizzie, ‘whatever are you thinking about? You have had that smile on your face all the way home.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
‘Are you sure my bonnet looks nice?’ Lizzie almost tripped up as she twisted round towards Sarah too quickly. Sarah put out a hand to steady her friend.
‘That is the third time you have asked!’ She could not keep the exasperation out of her voice. ‘Why is it so important? You look absolutely charming.’ She turned her head to give Prue a smile. The sturdy maid nodded a little grimly.
‘Give over, Miss Lizzie. There’s no more fashionable hat in town. Not even that lady who spoke to you yesterday in the library, Miss Sarah, has anything so smart – and she was fine as fivepence, I must say.’
Lizzie did indeed look elegant in her fur-trimmed blue pelisse, and the blue bonnet with its new ribbons and three ostrich feathers. Prue and Sarah had worked all the previous evening to get it ready.
In the sharp wind Sarah was thankful that her own pelisse of dark-green velvet was edged with fur and that she had an enormous matching fur muff to keep her hands warm. She wore a neat little hat with a turned up brim and green ribbons to match her pelisse. This outfit had been bought in preparation for her comeout two years before but due to her father’s ill health, she had spent only a few weeks in London. At least now she had these good quality clothes for the winter weather. As she always preferred very simple styles, they were easy to bring up to date with fresh trimming according to the latest edition of La Belle Assemblée that Lizzie purchased each month.
They reached the Pump Room and began their daily promenade round the large room, exchanging greetings with a number of other visitors. It suddenly occurred to Sarah that there was an air of excitement about Lizzie. She had definitely become more insistent about going to the Pump Room over the last few days. Perhaps she was hoping that Greg would be there. Maybe they planned to announce their engagement soon.
The idea made her heart sink like lead. She wondered how she could face the future without any further contact with either of them. Lizzie was more of a sister to her than Alice had ever been. But it would be impossible to stay close to Lizzie when she became Greg’s wife. The attraction between herself and Greg was too strong for her to fight. She grew hot at the memory of how easily she had kissed him … and he had been quite unrepentant. Yet he did not seem to be a rake, so he could not resist the attraction either! So, to avoid further temptation and scandal, she would have to disappear from their lives.
The prospect made her feel desolate – even more so than becoming a teacher – but she was sick of always rebuffing him, of fighting herself to hide her attraction to him. And even if there were no Lizzie in the equation, how could she honourably accept any proposal from him or hope for acceptance from his family, when her brother had done them such wrong? They would never forgive James for hiding the truth about the accident to Greg’s brother. Sarah sighed, remembering how much they were still grieving.
It was difficult to attend to Lizzie’s chatter as they paced the Pump Room in search of their friends. There was no sign of Greg again today. He had not said anything about going away on business but he had been absent for six days now. As usual, they walked around until they met up with Richard. The first question was always where his brother had gone. Richard did not know. Each time they asked he grinned at them and demanded to know if he was not an acceptable substitute.
‘We have to remember that someone is very ill-disposed towards us,’ he reminded them when they protested. ‘I cannot let anything happen to you on my watch.’
Well, I suppose that at the same time, we are keeping a check on you,’ teased Lizzie, smiling back at him. He was now looking like his old self
and was once again a lively member of their group of friends. This morning they all collected in a corner and discussed plans for activities to mark Lavinia’s last few days in Bath. Sarah was still preoccupied with her melancholy thoughts and scarcely heard the lively chatter.
She jumped when someone laid a gloved hand on her arm. It was John Keating. ‘Come, Miss Davenport,’ he said in mock reproach, ‘surely you are not too busy to join in our schemes for the next few days? We want to take away fond memories of our time in Bath.’ His face grew serious. ‘Although I fear I shall have some regrets … unless….’ He gave her a speaking look and seized her hand. ‘Excuse me, but there is nowhere else where I can ask you this—’
Sarah withdrew her hand. ‘Pray do not, Mr Keating,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I am deeply honoured but … I cannot return your regard.’
He drew in a deep breath. After a pause, he said: ‘Well, I have always known that I am not first with you, but if ever—’
‘Oh, this is wretched,’ she exclaimed, looking at his white face. ‘You are most obliging, sir and I am truly sorry I cannot do other than say no. We shall all miss you and your sister a great deal.’
His mouth twisted into a wry smile. ‘Damned with faint praise.’
She shook her head, swallowed and turned away. Before she could examine her feelings at this declaration, she found herself face to face with Mrs Bourne, who stopped and greeted her smilingly. Sarah was struck by the extreme elegance of the lady’s clothes and her look of such decided fashion. She wondered if Mrs Bourne had a very wealthy husband.
‘I am so glad to have found you again, Miss Davenport,’ said the lady, extending one languid hand in its expensive kid glove. ‘My sister was delighted by the tale I told her yesterday. She longs to meet you, the daughter of her dear schoolfriend.’ Mrs Bourne sighed. ‘But she is unable to walk, although the hot bath is providing much relief from the rheumatic pains she suffers.’