by Amanda Scott
No one disturbed her slumber, and she awoke much refreshed the following morning. The sky was clear, and birds sang cheerfully in the trees outside her window, so it was no wonder that she did not immediately recall the events of the previous evening. When she did, however, she jumped out of bed with a sense of dismay and a burning curiosity to know what had taken place while she slept.
Dressing quickly in a simple sprig muslin morning gown, she tied back her hair with a ribbon and sallied forth to find the new Lord Moreland in the breakfast parlor. Nicholas smiled at her and gestured toward a rather bulky gentleman standing near the sideboard.
“Good morning, my lady. May I present my man, Dasher? He has agreed to serve us this morning, since Beck is absent, and I thought it would be a deal more comfortable for you than if Tom were to do so. You may say what you like in his presence. As Darcy so inelegantly used to phrase it, Dasher’s as close as an onion. Besides, I’ve very few secrets from him.”
“How do you do, Dasher?”
“His lordship is very kind, my lady.” With these brief words he turned his attention to the preparation of her breakfast plate, while Nicholas himself rose to seat her.
“I trust you slept well.”
“Yes, thank you. But what happened? You must tell me everything.”
There was little enough to tell. Sir William Miles, the magistrate, was reserving judgment for lack of telltale evidence. Pressed, his lordship admitted that the magistrate had asked a pointed question or two regarding Sarah’s part in the affair but had accepted his request that she not be wakened. “I told him the truth,” he added, “that you were in a state of shock and needed your rest. He wants to see you sometime today, however.”
“Oh!” She had hoped never to have to think about the details again. “Must I?”
“You must. There’s nothing to worry about. He is a gentleman and won’t accuse you of anything. He merely wants to hear what you can tell him.”
“Very well,” she said meekly, thereby clearing the first hurdle of accepting someone else’s advice. Nothing further was said while Dasher served her breakfast, but once he had poured out her tea, Sarah gathered her courage to broach the subject preying hardest upon her mind. “I suppose you will be wanting to send me back to London as soon as possible,” she said; carefully casual.
VII
NICHOLAS SET DOWN HIS cup, his eyes narrowing. “Why the devil would I send you back to London?”
“Well, I certainly cannot stay here!”
“Why not?”
“I cannot believe you would ask, my lord,” Sarah declared roundly. “You, who are forever preaching proprieties, should certainly realize that it would be most improper for me to remain here with you. Or do you not mean to take up residence here?”
“Certainly, I mean to take up residence. This place is crying out for proper management. But the one fact needn’t preclude the other. You will naturally remove to Dower House.”
“Dower House?”
“Of course. Surely, you’ve inspected it. I’m sure it needs a touch or two to make it habitable, but that needn’t take long.”
Sarah had a vague memory that Darcy had mentioned a Dower House, but she had assumed it must have fallen down, or burned, or suffered some other disaster, since she had never seen it. She was very much surprised to learn that it lay not fifty yards off the library terrace. The fact that she had never discovered it for herself was easily explained, since she had rarely left the house, and the thick growth of trees between the two dwellings rendered Dower House invisible from all but the uppermost windows of the main house.
Directly after breakfast, his lordship announced that he would take her over Dower House himself. Passing through the library doors onto the terrace, they soon discovered that Darcy’s gardeners had evidently had no orders to clear the path, which was nearly overgrown. Nicholas went ahead, breaking branches in an attempt to make passage easier for Sarah, but she snagged her skirt more than once. Her curiosity overcame any annoyance she might otherwise have felt, however.
The house itself, when it came into view, was a neat, three-story, white brick and half-timber structure with broad stone steps leading up to a wide veranda and double doors of heavy, carved oak. The entry was flanked by two projecting window bays.
Nicholas pushed open the front doors, clearly astonished to find them unlocked, but a hall floor thick with dust and walls hung with cobwebs seemed to indicate that no one had been next or nigh the place in months, if not years.
“This is disgraceful,” he muttered.
Sarah could only agree as she followed him through a door on their right into what had been a drawing room in better days. Curtains hanging at the windows were so thin and faded that it was impossible to tell what their original color or material had been, and there was no furniture. Across the hall, the dining room was in similar shape. The floors were dry, cracked in places, and the whole place smelled of dust and mildew.
His lordship gazed at the peeling, green baize door leading to the kitchens and then at the cobweb-strewn staircase and announced that he had seen enough.
“So have I,” Sarah agreed. “It is clearly uninhabitable, so you shall have to send me back to Berkeley Square after all.”
“Nonsense. I shall do nothing of the sort. There is nothing wrong here that a proper cleaning, some wax, and some paint won’t cure. I cannot permit you to return to London just yet.”
“Permit! Who are you to talk of permitting me to do anything, my lord? You have no authority over me!”
“Perhaps not,” he agreed equably. “Perhaps you have resources of which I am unaware.”
“Resources?”
“Of course. Do you have money of your own, or do you expect Lord Hartley to frank you?”
“But, Grandpapa’s money! Some of it must come to me now!”
“Not unless you have misstated the facts of his will, my lady,” he said grimly. “As I understand it, the money was left directly to my nephew without qualification. Is that not so?” Sarah nodded. “Then that money comes to me, not to you. I am, as you noted yourself last night, Darcy’s heir.”
“You! But there must be something for me!” she protested. “Grandpapa never meant me to be penniless, and he certainly never meant his money to go out of the family entirely.”
Nicholas’s voice held gentle scorn. “I personally think Sir Malcolm Lennox-Matthews was missing some links here and there, and you already know what I thought of my nephew. At least, you don’t, but you may rest assured that I had little respect for him. He was a loose screw, but he did at one time or another make a will. Not only am I his heir, but he also commended his wife, should he die possessed of one, to my care and his children, ditto, to my guardianship. So you see, my lady, since I doubt he ever got round to changing things, I do have authority for my decisions.”
“I see.” Sarah gritted her teeth. “Does that mean that I shall be wholly dependent upon you, my lord?”
“I devoutly hope not,” he asserted. “I shall go up to Town immediately and speak to your grandfather’s man of affairs. Perhaps there is something or other of which we are unaware. However, should it prove to be as I fear it will, I shall settle enough on you to keep you comfortable here without having to come to me for every groat.”
“Thank you, my lord. But must I stay here?”
“Where would you go?” he countered.
“Anywhere. Oh, not London, but away from here.”
“I cannot permit it,” he repeated, holding the front door open for her. “I don’t mean to be harsh or unfeeling, and I hope you will try to understand. There will be scandal attached to Darcy’s death, and there is already gossip about your unusual marriage. At least that was nearly made respectable, since there was no flight to the border, and your uncle made his little show of approval. But you must do nothing now to give that tale the lie. If you go haring off, who will believe you the grieving widow?”
“Could I not grieve just as well i
n Paris?”
He grinned down at her cynical expression. “I doubt it. And you are much too young to try such a thing on your own. I’m afraid that you must accept me in place of a guardian, ma’am, for you are under age yourself, and willy-nilly, you are now part of my family. I am legally responsible for your welfare.”
Sarah saw that once again she would have to submit. The only person who had any power to take her side was her uncle, and she was certain he would be only too happy to let someone else accept the responsibility. “You will go up to London today, my lord?”
“Yes, and that poses another problem,” he stated as they crossed the terrace. “You must have someone with you. A female companion. I would ask Nanny Bates, but she is getting on in years and has her husband to look after as well.”
Sarah realized that Nicholas could know nothing of Miss | Penistone’s presence in the house. There had been no mention of her at dinner the previous night, and since the maids had all been told to let her sleep, she had not yet made an appearance that morning. But already, Nicholas’s air of command was beginning to irritate her, and she answered more brusquely than she might otherwise have done.
“I don’t need your Nanny Bates, sir, nor any other female whose first loyalty would be to you.” Hearing herself, she realized immediately how rude she sounded and broke off, glancing up at him uncertainly.
There was an awful silence. He had reached to open the door for her, but he straightened and looked down at her, his eyes like blue flints. “I shall grant you the benefit of the doubt, madam,” he said grimly, “and assume that your rudeness stems from lack of sleep or aftershock.”
Flushing deeply, she stammered, “I … I beg your pardon, my lord. It was childish and stupid. I should have explained that my own former governess has been here for some time now and acts as my companion. She has been laid down upon her bed since yesterday afternoon with a sick headache, and I gave orders that she not be disturbed. However, she should be perfectly recovered today.”
“I see. Well, I shall want to meet her before I agree to leave you in her care. We shall discuss the matter more thoroughly later.”
His manner was far from conciliatory, but Sarah was completely ashamed of herself and felt that she could scarcely blame him. Dismissed, she went slowly upstairs to find Penny, wondering how she could have allowed herself to be so unmannerly. What had come over her? The fact that she had automatically rebelled against his confident assumption of command over her life was no acceptable excuse. Nicholas was only trying to do what was best for her, and she ought to be accustomed to his overbearing manner by now. Would she never learn to curb her unruly tongue!
She found Miss Penistone fully dressed and on the point of leaving her room, mildly embarrassed at having been let to sleep so long.
“My dear, I can scarcely credit it. Past nine, and here I am just emerging from my cocoon. I protest, you let them spoil me.”
“Oh, Penny, you’ll never guess all that’s been happening whilst you slept. It’s been quite dreadful!”
“Has it, my love? Perhaps you had better tell me all about it, then.”
Gratefully, Sarah shut the door behind her and sat down upon the only chair the room possessed. Penny stood placidly before her, showing no sign of distress as Sarah’s tale unwound. The news of murder having taken place just downstairs was received with scarcely a blink. Sarah left nothing out, not even Sir Nicholas’s suspicions regarding her own part in the tragedy, the current state of her finances, or his dictatorial attitude toward her future. When she had finished, she looked up into the serene face before her and waited.
“Sir Nicholas … that is, Lord Moreland … seems to think just as he ought,” Miss Penistone said then with gentle, if somewhat maddening, practicality. “I hope you assured him, my love, that I shall remain with you as long as I am needed.”
Sarah flushed. The one thing she had not mentioned was her rudeness in the matter of a female companion. She did so now, staring at her hands guiltily while she spoke, adding that she feared she might have set Nicholas’s head against Miss Penistone by her thoughtlessness.
“Your behavior was certainly unwise,” Penny agreed. “But Sir Nicholas is said to be a gentleman of superior sense, so we must hope he will not hold it against either of us. The best thing would no doubt be to get the matter cleared up at once. Therefore, I suggest we find his lordship immediately.”
With a sigh, Sarah agreed, but she remembered rather uncomfortably that, according to her grandfather and, after his death, her uncle, dear Penny was quite outrageously expensive. She had no idea what arrangements, if any, Darcy had made for paying her wages, but Nicholas might be contrary enough to insist upon finding someone less costly. On the other hand, since Penny would not be required to do any teaching, she might not demand such an extortionate wage. Not that it mattered one way or another, she told herself staunchly, for Penny must stay. His lordship would simply have to pay whatever was necessary. He could afford it, and Sarah wanted Miss Penistone at any cost. Having more or less made up her mind to do battle, she led the way to the library with a nearly martial glint in her eyes. It rather took the wind out of her sails to find that no battle was necessary.
Nicholas was working at his desk when they entered, but he pushed papers aside and got to his feet, stepping forward to greet both ladies amiably.
“Penny, this is Lord Moreland,” Sarah said, watching him warily. “This is Miss Emily Penistone, my lord, who was used to be my governess.”
Miss Penistone dropped a dignified curtsy. “My lord.”
Nicholas smiled at her. “I trust you are fully recovered from your recent indisposition, ma’am. No doubt, her ladyship has told you what happened here last night. ’Tis a pretty coil, is it not?”
“Indeed, my lord. A tragedy.”
Nicholas gestured toward the chairs facing the hearth, and once the ladies had seated themselves, he took up a position in front of the fireplace in order to better his acquaintance with Miss Penistone. He exerted himself, and to Sarah’s astonishment, Miss Penistone soon seemed to blossom under his deft management and even deigned to chuckle when he made a joke. She did not so far forget herself as to gossip about her previous employers of course, but his lordship soon managed to obtain a fairly clear understanding of the circumstances of Sarah’s upbringing. Sarah herself contributed a great deal, for it was she rather than Miss Penistone who answered his more pertinent questions. So it was that when she rather firmly announced that Miss Penistone had agreed to remain as her companion, Nicholas raised no objection at all. In fact, he expressed his approval so cheerfully that Sarah ventured to mention the matter of expense.
“Are you dreadfully expensive, ma’am?” he inquired, smiling.
“So I have been led to believe, my lord,” Miss Penistone replied calmly. “Sir Malcolm made regular and contumelious objections to paying one female for the express purpose of cultivating another, declaring it to be the height of absurdity.”
Nicholas gave a shout of laughter. “So they made the old curmudgeon pay your salary, did they?”
“Yes, my lord. And he did so almost regularly until his unfortunate demise. However, my salary then had to come out of Lord Hartley’s own pocket. He is a gentleman, so he refrained from grumbling more often than not, but he could scarcely be blamed for regarding Sir Malcolm’s demise as an annoying inconvenience.”
“He could afford it, could he not?”
“Of course, but it did seem a rather vexatious nuisance, what with Miss Sarah’s come-out and the inevitable expense of a court dress rapidly upcoming, that Sir Malcolm’s money should be so ridiculously tied up.” At no time during her discourse did Miss Penistone make apology for her salary or suggest, as Sarah had hoped she might, that a companion’s fees might be rather less than those of a governess. She did not mention Darcy at all, and Sarah did not quite like to mention the matter.
When Penny had finished, Nicholas grinned. “’Tis my belief that none of your e
mployers knew what a bargain he had, ma’am.”
“As to that, I should not say, my lord,” she responded primly. “It is not my place to comment upon my employer’s knowledge or lack thereof.” She did not need to comment, Sarah thought with amusement. Penny’s expression said it all. She met his lordship’s twinkling gaze and was nearly betrayed into a laugh.
“I do know a good thing when I see it,” he said now, “and the expense will be well worth knowing that her ladyship is in good hands. I shall depend upon you to keep her out of mischief and to see she does nothing to bring the scandal-mongers down upon us.”
Sarah, opening her mouth to protest, encountered a straight look from Miss Penistone, and subsided. Nicholas laughed.
“I see I have not mistaken you, ma’am. We shall discuss the details later and privately, but for the moment you may draw the bustle as much as you like to get her ladyship rigged out with proper mourning and to get the Dower House into a habitable state. I shall be leaving directly, but you may hire whatever servants you like, and if you need anything from Town, arrange it. However, her ladyship is not to leave Ash Park for any reason.”
Again, Sarah would have liked to protest, but knowing it would be useless, she held her tongue. Miss Penistone said, “I foresee only one small difficulty, my lord, but perhaps it has already occurred to you. I presume, since her ladyship is wearing colors now, that she has nothing suitable to wear. As soon as the news is out and about, there will no doubt be a number of callers.”
Nicholas caught her meaning at once. “I believe there is a seamstress in the village,” he said. “I shall inquire when I pass through and dispatch her to you at once.”
“Perhaps if I might venture to supply you with her ladyship’s measurements,” Miss Penistone offered. “A good seamstress is generally prepared for this sort of request, you know, since it is generally a sudden and unexpected one.”