How dare he behave like this, how had he successfully fooled Isobel and Aunt Charlotte? Her head was spinning with unsolvable questions. Doubts swamped her mind. Who was this man she had married, was she in fact married? Did anyone know? Robert?
Betsy tapped on the door. ‘The Mistress sent me to see if you was back from your walk miss, she was getting worried as it will be getting dark soon.’
Swiftly contrite, Sarah sent word to reassure Isobel of her safe return, but begging to be excused dinner on account of a headache which she truly had by now.
That night Sarah tossed and turned in the huge bed. No matter how she fitted the pieces of her knowledge of Jack together they didn’t make sense. Was that gypsy woman’s wild mate the same man who had held her close on the night of her coming out ball. Dawn wasn’t far away when she at last fell asleep.
All the following week the house was lashed by storms. The inactivity taxed everyone’s patience and Sarah and Isobel’s imaginative inventiveness, to its limits. By Saturday, the wind and rain had given way to a steady downfall of snow, not as yet too deep to deter the intrepid hunters.
Sitting quietly in the window seat of the library, Sarah gazed out at the falling snow putting the last touches to the completed covering. She had slept badly all week. Tottering between frustrated anger and ignorance of the man she had married. She blamed her aunt for entrapping her into this seemingly arranged marriage and herself for ever having left the vicarage in the first place.
Hadn’t her father tried to warn her. Would he forgive her if she were to return home married but without a husband. She would have packed her bags and gone home tomorrow and thrown herself on her father’s mercy, except for the unanswered questions that still haunted her.
When she slept, she dreamt of Jack and her fear was replaced by excitement and her anger by curiosity. She must find out more, but how? Where to start? She had considered talking to Isobel about what she knew and asking her to accompany her to the camp where they could confront Jack together. But what if Isobel already knew?
Drooped in dejection and deep in thought Sarah failed to hear the door open and close, so she jerked with considerable surprise when a quiet voice said, ‘I hope I am not the cause of that worried frown.’
CHAPTER TEN
Sarah spun round. Jack, tall and elegant stood in the doorway, one eyebrow slightly raised. This was an all too sudden answer for Sarah who turned deathly pale as she rose to face him.
Quickly his face straightened and his keen glance never left her as he asked, ‘What is wrong, Sarah?’
In a voice that shook ever so slightly she replied. ‘I am pleased, sir, that you have seen fit to honour us with a visit for I have just this moment decided to curtail my stay with your sister, pleasant though it has been, and decline my aunt’s invitation to resume my visit to London. I am, you see, with my father’s permission going home to stay.’
What reaction she expected from this outright lie, or what indeed had made her say it in the first place, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she must make a stand now or forever be in a quandary.
With his head on one side and his glance never wavering he murmured lazily, ‘That seems an awful lot of worry for such an easy decision. It was part of the bargain after all, that you should be free to live where and how you wished.’
‘Yes,’ she acknowledged in a small voice, her colour as high now as it had been absent before. ‘Yes,’ she said again, ‘we are both free to go our own way.’
His brows pulled down in a frown and the watchful eyes became even more so, but she had turned away and was once more looking out over the snow-covered countryside. He crossed the room to stand behind her, his great size dwarfing hers.
‘Your decision is final then,’ he queried. ‘I was hoping to have the pleasure of escorting you to London to stay with “Charlie” while I made arrangements to open up Hartford House.’
‘Do you always spend so much of your time abroad, sir?’
He hesitated for a moment then, ‘Frequently, but there is nothing to stop me from taking my wife.’
Sarah caught her breath as her heart lurched unevenly. Did he mean to take her to live with gypsies, surely not, yet she had seen him living not a mile from this very house with his other family with her own eyes.
Later that night after Betsy had been dismissed and the fire had sunk to a red glow, Sarah lay alone in her huge bed listening to the movements in the room next door. Jack had been ensconced with Sir William in the library after dinner and had only now retired.
The communicating door was still locked, so he could not use it even if he wanted to.
What made her think he may wish to, she asked herself. Was it the soft way he had said, ‘wife,’ at table, or the way his hand touched hers when he replaced her forgotten shawl around her shoulders. What if he did try the door? What if she had unlocked it? What then?
Suddenly with a clarity that both shocked and excited her she knew the answer. A slight noise drew her eyes to the door handle, had it moved? Just a little, or was it her imagination playing tricks.
She raised herself just enough to see the faint light beneath the door go out. On impulse she climbed out of bed, crossed the room, stood for a few minutes undecided, then quietly turned the key. She tapped twice on the door and asked in a hushed voice, ‘I have been sleeping badly lately, I wonder would you mind very much if we left the door a little apart.’
There was silence at first and Sarah pushed the door a little further thinking he had failed to hear her.
Then a muffled voice said, ‘As you wish,’ with a trace of barely concealed laughter. Sarah flew back to bed with a fervent wish that her parents had found a way of curbing her impulsiveness.
Next morning there was a letter from Charlotte. In it she had forwarded a letter from Sarah’s father that had arrived in Beverly Square. Charlotte had advised that they delayed informing the Reverend Littlejohn of the marriage between Sarah and Jack until as she put it, ‘everything settled.’ Sarah had agreed as she knew her father would be greatly upset at such a secretive affair.
He had written with his usual thoughtful detail of all aspects of village life and his parishioners. Then he had asked after herself, but at the end almost as a second thought he added that he and Nellie Green were to be married quietly next month and they both hoped that she would be home to wish them happy.
She lay down the letter, she was alone in the morning room, and at this moment she felt she was alone in the whole world. At first the feeling of homesickness and self pity nearly overwhelmed her.
Then with steely determination she straightened her back and lifted her head.
Jack was her husband she would go with him, keep house for him and perhaps some day they could be comfortable together. For now she penned a lighthearted note of congratulations to her father and Nellie. There was plenty of time to tell them of her own marriage.
They had been in London two weeks when Jack disappeared once more. Sarah was back in her old room at Charlotte’s house in Beverly Square. Jack had gone into Berkshire to supervise the preparation of Hartford House for their occupation. He was due back in London in time to dine with them. When he failed to return Charlotte simply shrugged off Sarah’s enquiries.
‘He will turn up when he is good and ready child, do not fret,’ and off she sailed to receive her guests ready for the evening’s entertainment.
Four days passed and still Jack did not put in an appearance. Sarah did have one caller on the morning of the fifth day, young Tom Rossingham, Isobel’s eldest son.
He and Sarah had become firm friends during her stay at Corby Manor and finding himself at a loose end, as he explained it, he had come round to offer himself as a guide to the many great sights of London.
Sarah promptly accepted his offer and they had a very enjoyable day out. On the homeward journey Tom enquired after Jack and Sarah told him that they had not heard from him.
Later that day a note was delivered f
or Sarah. It read: ‘Have heard rumours that Jack is in trouble. When he did not return I smelt a rat and am losing no time going into Berkshire. Your obedient servant. Tom.’
‘Jack in trouble, can it be true,’ cried Sarah handing the note to her aunt.
‘Most certainly,’ stated Charlotte ruthlessly. ‘What must concern us now is what has happened. Though I harbour no doubt but that he is well capable of taking care of himself,’ but she issued this statement with a frown between her eyes.
The following two days dragged by interminably for Sarah. The morning of the third day found Tom back in Beverly Square. Charlotte had not yet risen so Sarah saw Tom alone. He had not found Jack at Hartford but after questioning the staff discovered that Jack had left with a French gentleman by the name of Etienne Lebret who had arrived at the house the evening before.
Sarah’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘But I have met Monsieur Lebret and it was he I saw in the garden.’
Tom looked puzzled.
Sarah explained about the shadowy people she had seen while taking shelter in the arbour. ‘I did not at first recognise the voices though they sounded familiar. I realise now it was Robert and the other was Monsieur Lebret.’
‘They must have been hatching a plot which means if Jack has gone with the Frenchman then he really is in great danger.’
Tom’s theory was that the Frenchman had pretended to take news of Robert’s whereabouts to Jack and that together they intended to trap him, but in reality the Frenchman was leading Jack into a trap. All this had happened the day before Tom’s arrival in London. Now he was bursting with restrained excitement but Sarah was horrified.
‘Why would Robert harm Jack? I know he withdrew from our friendship when he found out . . . but that is over now.’
‘Lord what a numbskull, don’t you know that Robert is a spy. Jack and m’father have been trying to flush him for months. I shall go back to m’rooms to refurbish myself then I’m off again. Not to worry now, I will let you know as soon as maybe, duce awkward fellow to find when he goes to ground.’
After Tom had gone, Sarah sat still and thought about what had been said, ‘when he goes to ground,’ and as she thought the gypsy camp came to mind. Of course where else would he go to hide? Perhaps Tom knew all about the gypsies, perhaps the whole family did.
Sarah was running her hands up and down her arms in a distraught manner when Charlotte entered the room. ‘Why child what’s amiss?’
‘Aunt Charlotte,’ Sarah spoke in a voice full of determination. ‘I shall ask you some questions and I want the truth as far as you are able.’
Her aunt recognised something in Sarah’s face and sitting down cried, ‘Ask your questions girl.’
Pacing restlessly up and down the room Sarah asked, ‘Where does Jack’s money come from?’
The turban twitched aggressively, but Charlotte answered. ‘Why he has a small inheritance from his parents and the rents from Hartford. He also has a position with the government which necessitates him going abroad frequently.’
‘Abroad, Aunt? Or with a band of gypsies?’
‘Silly boy,’ growled Charlotte, ‘told him he should tell you, but he thought it safest for you to remain in ignorance. Warned him you were too bright a gal by half.’
‘Even to the extent of not being told he was already married,’ cried a furious Sarah.
‘Married pah! Who told you such a thing?’
‘His wife, his gypsy wife, they have a twelve-year-old son.’ Sarah shook with suppressed emotion.
‘Come here child, come sit by me and I will tell you about this man you love.’ Charlotte waited until Sarah obeyed then said, ‘The gypsies are a cover for Jack’s work with the government. I do not know what that work is, nor want to, but I do know that it sometimes becomes necessary for him to travel incognito as they say. To this end he has used his relationship with the gypsies for several years.’
Here she paused. ‘Many years ago Jack fell in love with a gypsy girl called Mara. They were married gypsy fashion and he took her to Hartford. His father had come from gypsy stock and just after the twins were born he left them and went back to his people.
‘His mother stayed on at Hartford by the grace of Sir Richard.
‘She was my friend, a gentle, well-bred person with the sweetest nature. However she was the worst person in the world for the guardianship of two headstrong tearaways like Isobel and Jack. They grew up wild and wayward. The only restraining power she had was that of their undoubted love for her.
‘It was during those early wild days that Jack met and married Mara. He brought her home with all the confidence of youth that his mother would come to terms as she always did. In this however he was to be tragically mistaken.
‘Harriet Elderton knew her husband was half-gypsy when she married him, but there had been no wildness in him. He had never had any contact with the gypsies since babyhood and had loved his grandfather for the gentleman he was. So Harriet knew her husband only as a gentleman until he disappeared. She knew her children were strong willed and stubborn at times, she also knew she allowed them too much freedom. A little spoilt perhaps, she would admit, when warning sounds were made by family and friends.
‘With her permission the children would visit the gypsy camp on their twice yearly visits to and from the great fairs in the north. But then so did most of the village children. What she did not know was the fascination these visits held for her children until the day Jack returned home with his bride.
‘Harriet, poor soul, was overcome with grief and found herself quite unable to accept Mara. Jack was always so bright and handsome and Harriet had nurtured such high hopes for him. Jack was hurt and outraged at the pain he had caused his mother, and her refusal to accept Mara.
‘This led to many outbursts and much ill feeling, until Harriet could stand it no longer and on the pretext of bringing out Isobel, came to live with me. Isobel met and married Sir William and Harriet stayed on with me.
‘Years passed and the most terrible tales would reach us of Jack’s wild ways. Then Harriet died without ever having seen Jack again, and that is all I know. The Jack you know is the Jack Edgeworth that walked into one of my card parties seven years ago. I do know though that Mara died the year after Harriet and that theirs was a childless marriage, if that is what you could call their Godless union.’
Sarah had listened in silence, her expression first one of horror, then gradually one of pity and lastly of understanding. ‘You believe Jack to have changed,’ she asked quietly.
‘I only know he has been a good and faithful friend.’ She smiled encouragingly at Sarah. ‘He has never to my knowledge broken his word, or raised a voice in anger in my presence.’
Sarah stood up and straightened her skirts.
‘Trust him, Sarah. I would with my life. You are made for each other, you are the missing element in his life, give him a second chance and I vow you will not regret it.’
Sarah bent down and kissed the quivering cheek. ‘You are right, Aunt Charlotte. Thank you for talking to me. I now know what I have to do.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
After the talk with Charlotte, Sarah lost no time. She rang for Betsy and, much to the little maid’s concern, ordered her to pack a few essentials for them both. Then for her to put out warm clothing for a journey and order the carriage brought around to convey them to Corby Manor. While Betsy was doing this Sarah penned a message to her aunt beseeching her not to worry unduly but she must go to Jack.
It was a fine day and they were making good progress. There had been a delay while Sarah argued with the groom about the wisdom of travelling unescorted, but she eventually won her point and now they were more than halfway there.
Riding toward them from the direction of their destination came a harassed-looking Tom. He had seen Jack who was with the gypsies and badly wounded.
‘Went back to the house for help but when we returned to the camp they had up and off, vanished into thin air. M’father is roun
ding up a search party but daresn’t do too much in case Jack’s in the mire, if you see m’meaning. M’mother is having fits.’
‘Where are you off to now?’ Sarah asked.
‘Well now you are in the know I shall cut cross country and follow the gypsy trails into Berkshire. I’m sure that is where they will make for.’
With that they parted company and twenty minutes later arrived at the Manor. Sir William had rounded up his party and left on his search for the gypsies. Isobel was berating the stupidity of Jack in getting himself hurt. Brother and sister had remained close despite the tragic differences that had separated mother and son. Isobel was pleased to see Sarah.
When Sarah told her of her plans to go and look for Jack herself Isobel looked firstly horrified and then surprised. ‘You are quite sure you can do this?’ Isobel asked giving her a curious look.
Sarah gave a determined nod of her head. She had just descended the stairs after changing into some of Tom’s clothes. She would ride faster in breeches and she must lose no time if she was to catch up to Tom before dark.
‘Don’t worry,’ she told Isobel, ‘I am a strong rider, I shall find him.’
‘I don’t know what William will have to say about this, but God bless you and take care.’
Isobel had given orders for a good hunter to be brought round and Sarah felt the power and eagerness of the big horse beneath her and knew she could cover the lost ground with comparative safety. The danger lay in missing direction for the country was new to her. She made cross country to where they had met Tom.
Then turning in the direction Tom had taken and watching carefully for possible trails she continued as fast as possible. The farm children had taught her years before how to ride and follow the gypsy trails when as a child she had been allowed the freedom of her father’s parish.
It was growing dark and Sarah was afraid she had missed Tom when she came to a small wood. She skirted it cautiously, coming to a drop into a quarry on the far side. Here there was a small deserted hut. Sarah decided it would provide shelter for the night. When she approached it however it was to see smoke spiralling from the chimney, and Tom’s hunter in the lean-to. Sarah gave a sigh of pure relief.
A Dark Gentleman Page 6