Sacrament

by Susan Squires

  Sarah wanted to hurry away from all those eyes. But she did not. She placed her hand on Julien's arm, mustering her dignity, and let him lead her from the floor.

  Several of the unattached males pushed their way to meet her.

  "I hate to gloat, Lady Clevancy, but I did predict this," Julien murmured as he dropped her hand. "Your dance card will be filled tonight."

  "Thank you, Mr. Davinoff, for the dance," Sarah said, ignoring the room of people, the boys behind her clamoring for dances. How she longed for the privacy to call him Julien again.

  "I will, by tomorrow, be accounted one of the fortunate few. I leave you now to your role as a lioness of fashion." He bowed crisply.

  Sarah wondered if she dared ask him if he would take some air with her, or get her lemonade, or at least if she could place his name next to a country dance later.

  Julien shook his head, as if guessing what she could not say. "You belong to the room now, Sarah." With eyes she could not read he bowed again and strode away.

  Sarah turned toward her male admirers with some dismay.

  For the next two hours, there was hardly a moment she wasn't dancing or telling some young buck she was promised. She barely had time to catch her breath and was forced, on several occasions, to cut short the dance in a search for refreshments or air. The waltzes were apparently especially prized, as each man imagined his own arm encircling that provocatively accentuated waist.

  All the time, she watched for Julien. She saw him talking to Countess Delmont, then a moment later to Mr. Wilberforce. But he did not dance. When she could no longer pick him out, she thought he must have retreated to the card rooms for an evening of deep play.

  George pointedly ignored her, and Corina was nowhere in sight. Sarah was relieved on both counts. At midnight the dancers moved to the windows to watch servants light fireworks in the garden. Ooohs and aaahs were replaced by cheers for 1819 and kisses shared among the lovers of the crowd. Sarah was acutely aware of Sir Kelston standing stiffly beside her, anxious in case she might require his services in this regard. She dared not hope that Julien would appear. He did not, and she went unkissed. Finally Lady Beldon announced supper in the grand dining room. Julien emerged from a drawing room where card tables had been set.

  But it was George who appeared at her side. "Am I being presumptuous if I assume that you may deign to accompany your host to dinner?" he asked tightly.

  "Yes, George," Sarah answered. "But I shall accommodate you just the same." He was fairly bursting with outrage. He put out his arm, and she laid her hand along it. She wondered how long it would be until his feelings found vent.

  The party formed couples. To her surprise she saw Julien bowing in front of Madame Gessande, as the general escorted Mrs. Piozzi through the double doors. With everyone engaged, George was free to vent his spleen. "I cannot say I approve your choice of an escort. You knew I could not abandon my mother to escort you myself," he began in a lowered voice.

  "I could come with Davinoff or come alone," Sarah noted. "Not much of a choice."

  "I have not seen you lonely this evening at all," George remonstrated.

  "No, your party has been quite delightful." Sarah knew she was annoying him.

  "I thought you would have saved the first dance for me." George was a model of hurt pride, which put Sarah out of charity with him entirely.

  "You were nowhere in evidence. Perhaps you weren't sure you should be seen with me."

  "I vowed I would never bring it up, but since you have done so, I must say that I think it is too shabby of you to come to my mother's ball dressed like… like I don't know what."

  "Some people seem to like my dress," Sarah returned.

  "I'll wager I know just who likes it." They were forced to stand in line for the buffet.

  "And who is that?"

  "You know nothing about him, Sarah," George hissed. "He is more dangerous than a young person like you can know, and hardly suitable."

  "George, I really don't think you know what is suitable for me," Sarah remarked, as she chose a filet of sole for the plate George held for her. The people around them were engaged in their own conversations, but still glanced furtively in their direction.

  "I see the influence of Corina Nandalay." George's brow wrinkled in consternation.

  Sarah looked up, startled. After a moment she said, "I think, George, that for the first time, you do not see Corina's influence upon me."

  "Then this behavior is even more disturbing. I am only thinking of your reputation."

  "Please don't, George. It isn't worth your effort."

  "How can you say that, Sarah Ashton, when it is my reputation too?"

  "Why would it be your reputation?" Sarah asked, her voice steady.

  They were coming to the end of the long and bounteous table. "Well, everyone knows," George sputtered. "I mean one assumes…"

  "Never assume." Sarah was shocked that she had said it. But it was inevitable.

  "Lady Clevancy." Sir Kelston bowed. "I am sent by the table in the corner to ask you and Upcott to make up our party." He poked a thumb toward a table where Lady Varington and Paulette Cantonfield gestured, and Edgar Kerseymere, sitting next to his brother, John, waved a forkful of beef cheerily. Sarah was relieved to be spared further conversation with George.

  When Sarah and George joined the table, John and Edgar Kerseymere made extravagant compliments on her dress. Paulette Cantonfield looked dubious. But Lady Varington greeted her shyly. "Lady Clevancy, I wonder if I could ever have the courage to dress so boldly."

  John turned to her, obviously besotted, and patted her hand. "Of course you would, Lady Varington. Why, I think you would look famous in a dress with a waist."

  Sarah saw a note of resolution come into Lady Varington's doelike eyes and felt for the first time that Julien might be right. She was beginning to enjoy herself, at least until Corina was announced by the footmen. People around the room looked up to see who came so late.

  The woman who stood in the door was neither disheveled and incoherent, nor the old Corina, gay and devil-may-care. She was in total control, real or feigned. Her proud disdain floated over the room, daring anyone to remind her of past indiscretions. Her blue eyes glowed cold as she stepped down into the room. She wore cream-colored satin with golden ribbons down her back and run through the top of the tiers of the lace that graced her hem.

  Corina shot like an arrow to Sarah's table. "You are back," she accused. "You must tell me about your journey." She grabbed Sarah's elbow and dragged her to an unoccupied corner behind the refreshment table, careless of her rudeness to those at the table. Glancing at Sarah's dress she said, "Why, Sarah, whatever are you wearing?"

  "A new dress," Sarah responded, a little startled.

  Corina frowned, then waved away the distraction. "Why did you not come straight to me upon your return?" she asked. "I have been on pins and needles. Did you have any trouble?"

  Sarah bit her lip. How could she tell Corina the truth without risking a scene in the middle of Lady Beldon's ball? "It was a great deal of trouble."

  "But were you successful?" the blonde whispered.

  "Yes, Corina, but not in the way you might think."

  "He is dead, then." Corina sighed, looking up to the lovely plaster ceiling. "I knew it."

  As Corina turned her eyes toward Sarah's face, Sarah, who had her back toward the room, saw them grow big. Shock washed over Corina and then fear. She raised her hand to her mouth. Sarah glanced behind her, knowing whom she would find.

  He came in from a balcony with Madame Gessande on his arm, all languid power, a devil in evening clothes. Sarah saw him as Corina must, obviously free of the drug, obviously a betrayal. "Corina, don't panic." She pulled her stunned friend into the passage from which a servant was emerging with a punch bowl.

  "You bitch!" Her once-friend wailed. "You didn't take him away at all."

  "How could I condemn him to death, Corina?"

  "He isn't even drugged."
She found enough control to resume her whisper. "He'll kill me, you fool! I trusted you!" Corina ran on, impervious to interruption.

  "Stop!" Sarah cried. To her surprise, Corina subsided into frightened silence. Sarah began again in a whisper. "He will not take revenge, not even legal recourse. He promised that."

  "Promises from such as him are worthless." Corina calmed. Her eyes narrowed. What was she thinking? The door to the ballroom opened and a servant came through with an empty punch bowl. He glanced at the two women, pressed against the wall in earnest conversation.

  Sarah waited until he had passed. "He cannot tell the story, Corina. It does not redound to his credit that you drugged him and held him prisoner." Sarah strove to seem reasonable. "He stops only to clear his affairs and he will go. Hold your head, and you will clear this obstacle." Corina's calculating blue eyes gave her a nauseating distaste for her onetime friend.

  "How did he get free of the drugs, Sarah?" Corina asked.

  "He is strong, you know that."

  "Did you take him to the hospital? Did George Upcott help you free him? Does everyone in Bath know what happened?" Sarah could feel the hysteria just beneath her friend's surface, and her own began to rise as well. If Corina couldn't master herself, everyone would know.

  She took a breath. "No one knows. It is a secret among us three. I took him to the Dower House at Clershing. He went through withdrawal there."

  Corina looked at Sarah, speculating. "Servants spread tales like this only too rapidly."

  "No servants." Sarah knew what she had betrayed. It didn't matter. They both held loaded guns. Corina could not gossip about Sarah without betraying a crime far worse than indiscretion.

  The woman blinked. Sarah knew she saw the problem clearly. "Help me, Sarah," Corina pleaded. "You must help me, as you always do. We must stop him. He will kill me, Sarah."

  "You are mistaken, I swear," she vowed.

  "No, Sarah. I know what he is. Do you?" Corina examined Sarah's face.

  "Yes."

  Corina paused, turning over that one word in her mind. "I believe you do," she murmured at last. "You are in league with the devil himself against me."

  "Not against you, Corina, not against you," Sarah repeated in her most soothing voice.

  The door to the passage opened again. Sarah prepared for another round of servants, but it was George who stood there. "Sarah, several young men are asking after you."

  "I'll be there directly, George," Sarah said, grateful for an exit to this painful interview.

  George could do naught but nod stiffly to this dismissal and back into the main room.

  "I beg you not to get into a pelter over this, Corina. He will go. This will pass. No one will know." Sarah squeezed her former friend's arm briefly and pushed back into the hall, wanting only to escape the party. She searched the room, and saw Julien in one corner. He was talking with several men but he bowed out of the conversation with a murmured excuse and came to Sarah. "Is it time to take you home?" he queried lightly.

  "Yes." She sighed. "If that is agreeable."

  Downstairs, they met Madame Gessande waiting for her carriage. "Well, mes petites, that was quite the most exciting waltz I have seen danced this side of Vienna."

  Sarah felt herself coloring. Julien nodded his agreement and smiled as he placed Sarah's cloak about her shoulders. "Are you ready?" he asked, and at her nod added, "You will excuse us, Madame. I believe Lady Clevancy is tired." He bowed and guided Sarah to the door. As she glanced back, Sarah could see conclusions forming in Madame's smiling eyes.

  The carriage was a comforting retreat. Sarah settled herself gratefully as Julien stepped in behind her. She wanted to banish the cutting remarks, the admirers, Corina and George.

  "How did Mrs. Nandalay accept the fact of my return?" Julien asked.

  Sarah was only too aware that the ride to Laura Place would be only a few minutes at best. "Badly." She did not want to talk about Corina in the few moments she had left.

  "She blames you?"

  "I suppose. She is afraid of you."

  Julien thought a moment in silence. "She will be better soon."

  He meant when he was gone, Sarah thought bleakly. Gone. He seemed gone already. She felt like Cinderella at midnight, except she had not had the foresight to leave behind a slipper. The carriage pulled up in front of Laura Place. She was shrinking. She was too small, too small for a man like Julien. He leapt from the carriage and handed her down. His fingers burned her in the crisp air. Their breath smoked around them.

  She watched helplessly as he leaned over her hand. "I return you to the world," he said. "I will allow there to be no consequences for your kindness to me." Her looked down at her with an unfamiliar expression she could not read. "You have restored my faith in humanity, Sarah. At least, in one human." He smiled. "I will never forget that."

  Sarah felt her eyes filling. She would never have the courage to watch him turn and walk back to the coach. She turned herself and rushed up the steps to her door, pushing past Jasco as he opened it. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she headed for the stairs.

  Julien waited in the shadows of the portico until Corina appeared. Servant boys sprang to get her coach. The woman looked distracted. Her features would sharpen with age, her beauty crumble. He had seen it a thousand times with women like her. He waited until the yellow landaulet was rolling to a stop before he called the darkness. When Corina settled herself in the seat, he was already there, in the shadows. "We must have words," he said and watched her start.

  "What… what do you want?" she gasped, terror seeping into her eyes.

  Let her be terrified. "I will be brief. You will not breathe a word against Lady Clevancy. You will take no actions against her. Do you understand me?"

  "What right have you—" she started to reply.

  "Rights you gave to me with your misdeeds," he barked. "You are not truly human."

  "I? I am not human?" Corina cried, outraged. Then fear pulled her back into the cushions.

  Julien leaned toward her. "Know this," he said through clenched teeth. "You deserve retribution. It is only that she does not want you harmed that saves you. You might be foolish enough to try to ruin her, in spite of the consequence to your own reputation. But if you so much as whisper her name, you will have me to deal with. Do you understand?"

  Corina could only nod. She was immobilized. Just what was required. Let her remember what he might do to her each time she saw Sarah. He opened the door of the moving coach and prepared to step out. Corina sat forward, shaking. "I… I know how to stop you," she threatened, fear still disfiguring her face.

  "I will drink no tea with you," he sneered, and melted out into the night.

  Hysterical laughter echoed behind him.

  Sarah sat in the study at Laura Place and watched the storm lash the darkening streets of Bath. She had toyed with a copy of The New Monthly Magazine all afternoon, wondering if Julien had gone to Thornbury Abbey to remove his treasures yet. It had been a difficult day. Amelia had ample time since her return to hear the gossip about Sarah and Julien and was most put out. When she saw Addie adapting dresses from the trunks upstairs, Amelia was scandalized. It was a pretty puzzle for her, really. She wanted to forbid Sarah to act in this hoydenish manner, but she was dependent upon her niece's good graces and generosity.

  An insistent rapping at the front door interrupted Sarah's thoughts. Within seconds George was upon her in the study, bursting with excitement. "Sarah, dear, you are safe!" he said, his blond locks dripping from the weather.

  Sarah looked up with an unfamiliar impatience. "Do sit down, George. Of course I am safe. Whatever do you mean?"

  George did not take her advice, but paced the room. "I am sorry for this unseemly interruption, but I had to reassure myself of your well-being. I do not know how to tell you this, my dear." He paused for drama. "There has been another murder, clearly connected to those horrible murders in London, very close to Bath."

  Sarah felt t
he blood drain from her face. She put a hand out to the arm of the chair to steady herself. "Near Bath?" she managed to query.

  "Well, more properly out at Chambroke," George amended.

  Sarah's throat closed around any words she might utter. In spite of his promises, Julien had taken his revenge. "Who?" she whispered, waiting for the name that echoed in her mind.

  "Corina Nandalay's butler, Reece." George paused for shock value. "The blood was drained from his body."

  It was not the name she expected. "Reece?" she echoed.

  "He was killed some weeks ago and buried. Luckily, at this time of year much evidence was preserved. Mrs. Nandalay called on Snelling, that Bow Street runner, and me to gather the evidence. We dug up the body in the middle of that horrible storm this afternoon." George stopped pacing and examined her. "Are you all right, Sarah? I know this must be terrible for you, and I am afraid there is a greater shock yet."

  "Reece." Sarah sighed, trying not to let her relief show. Of course it was Reece.

  George sat in the companion chair to her own. His eyes gleamed, but his mouth was prim and solemn as he took her hands in his. "I know you will never credit the fact that I am sorry about what I am about to reveal. Yet I must put you on your guard."

  "What do you mean, George?" Sarah asked, wary.

  "Mrs. Nandalay and her maid say that Davinoff killed Reece. That links him clearly with the murders in London. Snelling thinks he is the perpetrator of those dreadful crimes as well."