David tried to focus on her words, wishing she had waited for him, but her fiery independent streak had obviously felt the need to do this herself.
“I’m sorry,” he said, attempting to diffuse her anger, which was likely hiding most of the hurt she felt. “You say you were told this. By who? Torrington himself?”
“His wife. Lord Torrington had no wish to speak with me.”
David mulled over her words in his mind. He didn’t know Lady Torrington well, but he had a feeling that she wouldn’t be enthralled by the thought of a long-lost daughter visiting her husband.
“I would suggest you speak with Torrington himself before you… before you leave,” he said, forcing the words out.
“No need,” she said, sitting on her bag as she attempted to flatten it enough that she could fasten the buckles on top. “I do not require his approval nor his presence in my life.”
“I wish you had waited for me,” he murmured, but she shook her head.
“I am capable of doing much on my own.”
“I realize that,” he acknowledged, beginning to become frustrated himself at the hostility emanating from her toward him. “I thought I could help.”
“You have done more than enough.”
“But Sarah, how could you just leave? You have all of your friends here in England.”
“I have written them letters as none are currently within London. They have their own lives to live. The ship I would like to take home will be leaving very shortly, within a few days, so I would have no time to visit them.”
Tears started to flow from her eyes once more, and David felt like shaking her, to return some sense to her, to make her see that it was not necessary to get on that ship and leave all behind.
“There will be other ships.”
“Yes, but I need to leave now.”
“Why?”
“To get away from this—all of this.”
“What about us? What you and I have?”
She snorted slightly, startling him. “What do you suggest, David? That I remain as your mistress?”
“Of course not!” he said, indignant that she would think such a thing. He was willing to give up everything for her, and this is what she truly thought of him? “I’ve told you how much I care about you—”
“I know you care for me, David, I do not question that,” she said. “But how would you continue to care for me while you are married?”
“Married? What are you talking about?”
“I have been informed of your upcoming nuptials, for which I simply must congratulate you,” she said, and despite her apparent efforts to remain nonchalant, he could hear the pain laced within her words. “I hope you are very happy. She is beautiful.”
David stared at her.
“I am not getting married—at least, not to anyone else. Sarah, I lo—”
But Sarah was too upset to listen to what he was saying.
She strode to the door, placed one hand upon the knob, and waved her other toward it.
“Goodbye, David.”
“Sarah, I am not leaving,” he said, raising his voice now in order for her to hear just what, exactly, he had to say. “You must listen to me—”
A knock resounded at the door, loud enough to interrupt him, and David sighed, exasperated, as Sarah tugged the door open.
A man stood outside, holding the hand of a small child, a girl whose eyes were full of tears.
“Miss Jones?” he said quizzically, and Sarah nodded. “I’m sorry, but my daughter fell today, and her arm doesn’t look quite right. She’s been complaining of it something fierce, and I was told that you could help. But if I’m interrupting—”
“No, of course not, do come in,” Sarah said, ushering them into her room. “It’s best to set the bone as soon as possible if required. This man was just leaving.”
David shook his head to tell her that no, he most certainly was not leaving, but the look she gave him was one that told him if he didn’t, there would be consequences.
Very well. If that was what she wanted, he would leave—but he would be back shortly. And this time, he would make her listen.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sarah made quick work of the little girl’s arm. It was a clean break, and easy to set. The girl was a tough one and made little protest considering what Sarah had to do, for which Sarah was grateful. The man told her he had a stall in the market from which he sold vegetables, and if Sarah would like to come by, he would be happy to provide her with anything she’d like in payment for her services. Sarah smiled, thanked him, but then informed him that this would be one of her last days here. Her ship was to sail very soon, and she would have neither the time nor the need to attend the market if she was to make it before departure.
She took a deep breath once she shut the door behind them, finally able to process David’s visit, all that he had said and all that she knew to be true. Sarah realized she had been abrupt with him, but if she hadn’t, if she had allowed him to become close in both body and mind, then she would be doomed. She couldn’t allow his words of charm and comfort, words she clearly unable to resist. This is what had led her to the situation she was currently in, and she would not allow it to happen again—of that, she was determined.
She looked around her now, at the rooms that had been her home for far longer than she could have ever imagined. She had been happy here, in a sense. She had become closer with three women than she could have thought possible, and her heart ached at the thought of leaving them. She sealed the letters she had written to each of them, lovingly running her fingers over the names of her friends. She would write them again, to be sure, and she knew she should tell them of her decision and her plans in person—but if she did, they would likely convince her to stay, at least for a time. In all actuality, had they been in London, she wouldn’t have been able to help but to see them, just for one last time. But Phoebe and Elizabeth were each residing at their country estates for the moment, while Julia was at a racetrack elsewhere in England—likely Newmarket, though Sarah had to admit she had a difficult time keeping up with their schedule.
She would miss them—oh, how she would miss them. But they all had their own lives now and their own families. They might miss her, but it wouldn’t be the same. They had much to keep them occupied and she had only been a part of their lives for two years—they would soon go back to the way things had been before she had ever arrived.
Sarah wiped the tears from her eyes as she gathered her belongings. She would pack the remainder of her things, those she was leaving behind, and give them to another woman who might need them. Perhaps Emily—she was a new mother, and she and Billy had little to their name. Sarah hadn’t come to own much, not having the funds to purchase much of anything, but if she could help someone else a bit, that would be best.
Sarah wrote a note to affix to the door for any potential patients who came her way, with directions to where they could find another who could help them. One more night here, she thought with a nod. Then she would be gone. But first, there was one more visit she had to make before she left.
*
Sarah had visited Lady Alexander’s London townhome often enough, but she had never been invited any further than the front drawing room, where she would often await Lady Alexander to prepare herself to attend an event. Today, however, the butler led her into a back drawing room, which was styled in rich colors of red and gold, almost oriental in its look. She remembered that Lord Alexander had been interested in all things foreign—in fact, he had died while on a tour of Asia. Sarah was surprised Lady Alexander had kept the room as such, for it might remind her of memories she may not otherwise want to entertain.
“Miss Jones,” Lady Alexander appeared in the doorway, elegantly dressed. It was mid-afternoon, so she would have been prepared to receive callers, though Sarah was unsure how much socializing the woman typically partook in. Sarah waited for her to ask why she was visiting when they had no previously scheduled ap
pointment, but Lady Alexander surprised her by leading her into the room, sitting down on the chair across from her and folding her hands in her lap as she gazed upon her studiously.
“I have heard that you are leaving England.”
Sarah’s eyes flew up to meet Lady Alexander’s in astonishment. She had told no one that she was leaving—no one but David. How had she—
“At least, that is what I assume following your conversation with Lady Torrington.”
Sara opened her mouth to respond, but no words emerged. She had forgotten that Lady Torrington and Lady Alexander were acquainted.
“She told you of our conversation?” Sarah asked, hearing the hollowness of her words.
“She told me and others within our circle of what she called ‘your accusations’ and your attempt to discredit her husband’s name, coming after their family money. She called you a fraud.”
Sarah gripped the arms of the chair in which she sat. “That is not the truth at all!” she said, her words heated, though she knew Lady Alexander should not be the recipient of her anger, but another woman, one not in this room.
Lady Alexander held up a hand. “I know.”
Sarah slightly loosened her grip.
“I am aware of why you came to England,” Lady Alexander said, her tone devoid of emotion, much more matter-of-fact than Sarah could ever manage.
“Of course, to find my father,” said Sarah, as she had told Lady Alexander all of this on their voyage over the Atlantic. “You must know, I only did so in order to find a family connection. I never had any intention of requesting more from him, nor of his family. In fact, I would not have involved his family at all, but Lady Torrington seemed to already know the particulars of the situation and it was she who greeted me.”
“I understand,” said Lady Alexander, her nose raised high in the air as though she disapproved, though of whom, Sarah had no idea. “However, I know more than you are aware.”
Sarah tilted her head at her, confused. “Whatever do you mean?”
“There is someone I would like you to meet,” Lady Alexander said, then rose and knocked on the door, as though there was someone awaiting her signal.
The door opened and a woman walked in. She was dressed in far less finery than Lady Alexander, and Sarah wondered for a moment if she was a servant. But she was not dressed as a servant—no, she wore what a woman in the country might wear—a woman who belonged to the lower classes, likely where Sarah herself would fall into were she to remain in England.
The woman’s face was pinched, her eyes narrowed as she studied Sarah as though she were some type of specimen. Yet there was something… familiar about her.
Sarah rose in greeting, but the woman said nothing, remaining standing where she was until Lady Alexander took her by the elbow and helped her to the settee.
“Miss Jones,” Lady Alexander said, “I would like you to meet Mrs. Baker.”
“How do you do?” Sarah asked politely, but the woman said nothing. She only continued to stare at her.
“I should have known,” Mrs. Baker finally said, and Sarah reared back as though she had been slapped at the vehemence in the woman’s tone.
“Pardon me?” she managed.
“I should have known that after all I prepared for you, you would not be able to follow this through. You’re just like your mother—in looks and, apparently, brains or lack thereof.”
Sarah looked between Mrs. Baker and Lady Alexander.
“Excuse me? I have no idea of what you are speaking.”
“Everything was ready for you. I sent you the letter, I paid for your bloody ticket to come here—do you know how long it took me to save up for that? And all you have managed to do is get yourself removed from his home.” She shook her head. “I always have to do everything myself.”
“Lucy,” Lady Alexander leaned over and placed a hand on the woman’s knee, shocking Sarah, for Lady Alexander had never shown her any bit of tenderness. “Perhaps we should first explain to Miss Jones who you are and why you are here.”
She turned back to Sarah.
“Mrs. Baker is your mother’s sister—your aunt,” she said, and Sarah gasped in shock as she returned her gaze to the woman to study her more closely. She did have a similar look to her mother, which was why she had seemed so familiar. Yet her mother had had a much softer countenance, more joy in her gaze than this woman, who seemed angry and bitter.
“Mrs. Baker is also the woman who sent you the letter you received so long ago.”
Sarah stared at Lady Alexander. “And you knew?”
Lady Alexander nodded. “I did.”
“So you…” as it all became clear, betrayal began to creep into Sarah’s soul. “You knew who I was. On the ship. It was not a coincidence that we became acquainted.”
“It was not,” Lady Alexander said unapologetically. “Lucy and I have been friends since we were children. I knew your mother as well, although we were not… close. I was the daughter of the local magistrate. I actually met my husband while he was in the country with his family visiting the Earl.”
“We spent an entire summer together, the four of us,” Mrs. Baker said bitterly. “However, years later, one of us became Lady Alexander, the other Mrs. Baker.”
“I’m afraid I do not understand,” said Sarah, her mind whirling and a swirl of emotions roiling within her belly. “I thought my mother and the Earl were together. Was that not how… I came to be?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Baker said. “Because your mother was willing to spread her legs.”
Sarah gasped, and Lady Alexander held out her hands between them.
“That’s enough, Lucy,” she said, then returned her gaze to Sarah. “As Mrs. Baker explained, she and Lord Torrington spent much time together, though it was not romantic.”
Mrs. Baker began to protest, but Lady Alexander shook her head.
“I am sorry, Lucy, but that is the truth, as you well know.” She turned her attention back to Sarah. “Through Lucy, the now-Lord Torrington met your mother and he was captivated by her. They began a love affair, one which, as an observer, I can tell you was felt equally by both sides. Each summer they came together at the estate, until one day, your mother just… left.”
“She was pregnant with you,” said Mrs. Baker, “And knew the Earl’s family would never allow such a relationship.”
“You knew of me?” Sarah asked, her voice slightly breaking. Her entire life, she had family and had no idea.
“I did,” said Mrs. Baker. “Your mother wrote to me.”
“So why… why am I here? Why did you write me such a cryptic letter, and not tell me of all that you knew?” Sarah brought a hand to her forehead as she thought of how much time she had wasted looking for the man when her aunt—and Lady Alexander—had known of his identity all this time.
“Because it quickly became apparent that you were just like your mother—that you would not be out for revenge, as I was.”
“Revenge for my mother?” Sarah asked, confused.
“No,” Mrs. Baker said sharply. “Revenge for me. The Earl had his fun with two country girls—sisters—but it wasn’t right. Not at all. It has been years, but he should get what is coming to him—a bastard daughter, to ruin the perfect life he has created. Once you showed yourself to him, I planned to pay him a visit to arrange a deal of sorts. If he provided you with the fortune to which you should likely be entitled to anyway, you would leave his life forever. And, for creating the deal for you, I would receive part of that fortune in turn.”
Sarah brought her hand to her breast, rubbing a fist against the place where her chest was beginning to ache. She had come to England to find family. Having none before, she now knew the identity of both her father, as well as her aunt. And neither had proven to care at all about a family connection. One wanted her out of his life, the other wanted to use her for her own gain.
“Mrs. Baker,” she said slowly. “I am sorry you feel this way, that you have been slighted by the
Earl. I do understand why you must feel so hurt.”
Mrs. Baker snorted. “I am not hurt. I am angry.”
“Very well. I understand your anger. But you must know, I will not ask the Earl for anything. All I wanted was his acknowledgment that he was my father, even if it was only privately to me. I wanted to know what he was like, to have that connection with him. I have been disappointed—by him, and now by you. Do you have no wish for the two of us to better come to know one another? I am your niece.”
She heard the break in her voice, but no longer cared. “Do I have cousins? An uncle? And other aunts or uncles?”
“I was not able to have children,” Mrs. Baker said bitterly. “My husband is dead, and it was always just me and your mother as our parents died young. I am alone in the world.”
Sarah stood, walking over to the woman’s chair. She knew what it was like to feel that there was no one else to rely on, and now it began to make more sense why she was so angry.
“I am your family, Mrs. Baker, if you will allow me to come to know you better.”
She placed her hand on the woman’s, but Mrs. Baker flung it away.
“I have no wish for you in my life, unless it is to bring me my fortune,” she said, her eyes so accusatory that Sarah nearly flinched. “You seem to me to be exactly like your mother, and she brought me nothing but pain.”
“My mother spoke little of her past,” Sarah said softly. “But I do recall her mentioning a sister once. She said that you disapproved of her choices.”
“That is an understatement.”
Sarah hardly knew what to say. She was shocked at all she had heard since she had walked into Lady Alexander’s drawing room. She looked to the woman now, who maintained her stoic countenance, although if Sarah wasn’t mistaken, she was looking at her with some pity.
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