A Lady in Hiding

by Amy Corwin

  “There you are,” Archer said. “Now let me get some sleep. We can plan how to approach this delicate matter during the next few days. There’s no rush now that we have our girl safely in our hands. And Mr. Trenchard has time to make whatever inquires he sees fit.”

  “Thank you.” William nodded. A few more ends to tidy up and he would never see Sarah, or the Archers, again.

  The future looked unbearably bleak, but he had made his choice.

  “And if you’ve any charges that need payment, Lady Vee can give you something on account,” Archer said, settling back among his pillows.

  “I’ll pay him,” Sarah objected. “It’s my debt.”

  There it was. He was a paid servant and could not forget it.

  “Nonsense. Mr. Trenchard has already gone to considerable expense on our behalf. And you are part of our family now, Sarah.” Lady Victoria smiled and held out her hand to the girl. “Lady Sarah, I should say.”

  Sarah took her hand and suffered her embrace, although her eyes strayed to William. She looked confused and sad.

  “I don't see how this is possible—” Sarah gave one last, soft protest.

  “A nunnery. In Switzerland,” William replied savagely. “You were sent away after the tragedy. Now, you're ready for your presentation. It's all very easy.”

  “There you are,” Archer agreed, although his sharp gaze made William uncomfortable.

  Mercifully, Lady Victoria took charge of them after her husband closed his eyes in dismissal and ended the depressing conversation. She sent Sarah to her room and took William down to the library. There, she pulled a box out of the desk and began counting out bank notes.

  “You must regret ever hearing the name of Archer,” she said with a smile. “And you still don’t trust my husband, do you? Even now?”

  “Lady Victoria—”

  She cut him off with a laugh and a fluttering hand. “He does not make it easy. However, you can trust him to care of Sarah.” A catch in her throat made her stop and swallow. “We had not expected—had not hoped that anyone—that she had survived that terrible night.” She leaned forward and grabbed his hand. “We are so grateful to you, you have no notion of what it means to have her here. To have Lady Sarah back after all these years.”

  “It was my pleasure,” he replied with a slight bow.

  She pushed a stack of bank notes forward. “I am so sorry, this is dreadfully awkward, but we hold you in our hearts as a dear friend. Never doubt that.”

  Jaw clenched, William nodded and picked up the money, folding it and tucking it into his pocket without counting it. “Would you please tell me what happened that night? Sarah, that is, Lady Sarah, can’t remember. It might be important.”

  “I don’t see what I can tell you. I am sorry.” Lady Victoria’s thin face paled.

  “Please—what happened?”

  “We were not there during the fire.”

  “Where were you?”

  She covered her face with her hands, hunching over the desk. “We should have been there. Our daughter, Mary, was staying at Elderwood with her cousins. I thought it was the best place for her—with Sarah and Samuel. They had a wonderful governess, you see. And the children were so happy together, and she was so lonely by herself, at home. Truly, it seemed best for her to stay there.” She rubbed her face and stared at him, her gray eyes rimmed with red. Her gaze was so much like Sarah’s that William reached out and took her hand, rubbing the fragile, cold fingers between his palms.

  “What happened the night of the fire?” he persisted.

  “That is just it, is it not? If we had been there, perhaps we could have saved Mary…and my brother. And his children.”

  “Where were you?”

  She gripped his hand and gave a shaky laugh. “I—I have never forgiven myself for that. It was a wager. A silly wager that we could steal the pewter candlesticks from the local squire’s dining room.” She laughed, although the sound was torn by gasping tremors of tears.

  No wonder they had never said where they had been that night. It also explained Lord Dacy’s comment about Lady Victoria's attempts to quell her husband’s gambling. She had developed a habit of slowing him down by having young relatives escort him. Her grief over the events surrounding their wager apparently drove her nearly mad with the need to prevent him from doing anything so foolish again.

  Studying Lady Victoria, William felt a rush of pity. She was still sick with anguish over that night over thirteen years ago.

  “If we had been there, we could have saved them. What a dreadful way to die. I cannot bear to think of it.” Her voice shook.

  He squeezed her hand and gave it a little, encouraging shake. “If you'd been there, you'd have died, too. And Lady Sarah would have no one.”

  “No. John would have—”

  “You’re wrong. You would have been inside with the others. You would have been trapped, just like they were. There’s nothing you could have done.”

  “I cannot—”

  “You have to forget, Lady Victoria. You're not to blame for what happened that night. And thank God, you survived, for Lady Sarah’s sake. She has desperate need of you.” He smiled while she wiped her eyes. “And thank you for trusting me. It eases my mind about Lady Sarah's situation.”

  A tremulous smile lit her face. “I was correct, was I not? You did not trust John?”

  He laughed. “I’m afraid I don’t entirely trust him now. But at least I know Lady Sarah will be safe in your care. And I’m relieved to think we have John Archer on our side and not against us.”

  “Yes, that is a relief, is it not?” She finally managed a light laugh and wiped away the last of her tears.

  There seemed little more to say. William took his leave.

  Lady Sarah was beyond him, now.

  When he got home, he emptied his pockets and counted the notes Lady Victoria had given to him. Three hundred pounds. She had certainly paid his fee generously. And by doing so, she had put him neatly in his place. She was already protecting Lady Sarah with consummate skill.

  Finally crawling into bed, he felt the cold dampness of his sheets against his skin and a sense of loneliness he could not shake. It was a long time before he fell asleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  During the next several days, William ignored the loneliness dogging him and concentrated on the investigation. However, he could not, in good conscience, ignore Sarah’s existence. So each day, he’d face the Archer’s disapproval and visit their townhouse to inform his client of his progress.

  But as the days passed, and Sarah grew into her role as a lady, their meetings grew ever more painful. In a sense, she reminded him of a loose tooth he’d had as a child. It hurt when he touched it, but he couldn’t resist toying with it. When it finally fell out, the gaping hole had bled so copiously that it ruined his favorite jacket.

  Apparently, he had not learned that lesson as well as he should have.

  And once more, William was knocking on the Archer’s door.

  “Here again?” Mr. Archer asked when the butler led William into the sitting room.

  He nodded, his restless gaze searching for Sarah. She sat on a window seat with her aunt, industriously trying to embroider some long, white piece of linen. As he watched, she pricked her finger and cursed under her breath as she sucked on the wound. Lady Vee frowned and shook her head.

  “Miss Sanderson,” he said, striving not to laugh at her furious expression.

  She glanced up. He noted the dark circles under her eyes and pinched look between her brows. She did not appear very happy about her situation. His heart clenched in sympathy, but he straightened his shoulders. She’d grow accustomed to her situation and so would he.

  “Have you made any progress today?” she asked with a frown as she threw the piece of embroidery down next to her. “I certainly have not.”

  “Sarah!” her aunt interrupted, clearly taken aback by her niece’s churlish tone.

  “Some,” W
illiam interrupted. “I’ve been researching the duke’s shipping activities. The period from 1804 until 1805 is particularly interesting, especially when you consider the events in 1801.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes while her aunt maintained an almost painful look of forced interest. “1801?”

  “One of Sarah’s invoices was dated April 3, 1801,” he explained. “There was a brief military action in Copenhagen on April 2 of that year. The 95th regiment was involved. Well, surely you remember? They acted as marksmen on Nelson’s flagship during the destruction of the Danish fleet.”

  “And this is important to me?” Sarah asked.

  “It may be.”

  Sarah snorted inelegantly. She reminded him so much of the old Sarah that he smiled.

  “Hush, dear, and let Mr. Trenchard speak.” Her aunt patted Sarah’s wrist.

  “And you had another invoice dated at the end of November, 1805.” When Sarah opened her mouth to speak, he continued, “It involved the transport of supplies and injured men during the north Germany campaign. And that engagement also involved the 95th regiment, as well as the Brigade of Guards. They occupied Bremen. Then, in 1805, the 95th was sent to Germany as part of a joint force with a few other European armies to fight the French.

  “However, the green jackets—er, 95th—returned home by the end of the year. They didn’t achieve much—”

  “And from the sound of it, neither have you,” Sarah interrupted, abandoning her ladylike behavior with an expression of relief. After a quick glance at her aunt, she added, “But I sincerely appreciate the history lesson.”

  “I am sure Mr. Trenchard is doing his best,” Lady Victoria assured her niece.

  Sarah scowled at him. “Well, I wish he’d find the murderer and be done with it. And maybe when he does, Mr. Trenchard will have the courtesy to allow the devil to finish his job and put me out of my misery before he takes him off to Newgate.”

  “Sarah!” Mr. Archer and Lady Victoria exclaimed simultaneously. They stared at her, mouths agape.

  Sarah looked at them, burst into tears, and ran out of the room. She slammed the door behind her so hard the sound reverberated for several seconds.

  “I must apologize for my niece,” Lady Victoria said after the echoes died. “It has been very difficult for her.”

  “I understand,” William said, stifling the urge to go after her. “I’m sorry to intrude—”

  “Not intrusion per se,” Mr. Archer said. “Though it might be just as easy to send round your reports in the form of a brief note every day or so.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” William bowed and took his leave when Sarah failed to reappear.

  Once outside, he hesitated. He had to stop worrying about Sarah. She would adapt to her new life, and he would become just another hazy memory. In the meantime, he had an inquiry to finish.

  The sergeant’s comments about the Resurrection men bothered him and represented another avenue to explore. It seemed a little unlikely that anyone would have bothered to bring back the bodies just to sell them illegally to the physicians’ college. However, the duke’s ships carried supplies to the military and brought home those wounded too badly to continue fighting. Some would have perished on the journey.

  So he spent the day and part of the next visiting several physicians’ colleges. He found that the small amounts listed beside the names on the list were slightly less than the price paid for bodies used for anatomical lessons. And names were never given during such transactions.

  The ugly notion appeared to be just one more valueless rumor.

  Several bribes and false leads later, he had no additional information. He’d almost given up when he managed to convince a clerk to find the records from one of the return trips in November, 1805. A passenger list of the wounded from the German campaign had survived.

  William’s heart hammered as he matched the first few names on his list against the passengers. By the time he was halfway through, he knew he had found the connection. All the names on his list were passengers on the ship, the Victorious, although the names comprised only about two-thirds of the passengers.

  The ones who had died on the passage home?

  Ironically, as far as William could tell, Carnaby’s son truly had been on the ship the French had sunk. At least his body had not been sold as an anonymous corpse for use as a physician's teaching aid.

  What a grotesquely pathetic way to improve one’s finances, though. William strongly suspected the sale of spoiled food to the military was the real basis of the duke’s fiscal recovery. He couldn’t imagine any peer being interested in the miniscule amounts garnered by selling bodies to the physicians’ college.

  Tired and wary of the political ramifications of his inquiries, William returned to Second Sons. He hoped to consider the implications, but he discovered guests awaiting him.

  “Lady Victoria and Lady Sarah!” he greeted the pair before ushering them into his office. His gaze rested repeatedly on Lady Sarah, shocked at her elegant appearance.

  The change was extraordinary. A poke bonnet trimmed with lace framed her square face and hid her short hair. And she wore a deep blue walking gown with a severe Spencer shaped rather like a man’s jacket. A stock, edged with frothy lace, curled around her neck with the ends tucked into the neckline of her jacket. Pale ivory gloves hid her hands. Only her brown cheeks remained as a reminder of her previous life, and even her tan had started to fade. The sunburn on her nose had already disappeared, leaving just a light dusting of pale freckles.

  But her face was wan and stiff with desperation. The golden glow was gone. The skin around her clear eyes was taut. He couldn’t stop staring at her, noting the changes only a few days had wrought. When she met his gaze, a tremor rippled over her features.

  “You didn’t visit for days, and I must speak to you,” she said abruptly, her voice harsh and frantic.

  “Of course,” William replied above the hammering of his heart. “Shall I ring for refreshments? Coffee or tea?”

  “Lady Sarah has been exceptionally anxious to speak with you. Concerning the inquiry and your progress, I suppose—”

  “No!” Lady Sarah cut off her aunt. She cast a swift glance at Lady Victoria’s surprised face. Then she swallowed and spoke again, more softly and controlled. “No. I—I left something here—in my room upstairs.”

  “What was it? I can ring for the maid to bring it down for you.”

  “No—no, may I go up and fetch it myself?”

  “Of course,” William replied, alert to her tension.

  “Could you help me, Mr. Trenchard? I’ll need your assistance. I hid it behind a piece of furniture. It’ll be too heavy for me to move on my own.”

  William gazed first at Lady Sarah and then at Lady Victoria.

  Lady Victoria frowned at her niece. “It would not be appropriate, as you well know Sarah, dear. Let him send the footman to retrieve it.”

  “No—no, no need to do that. It will only take a moment. The footman won’t be able to find it. We’ll leave the door open while we look. Just a few minutes, that’s all.”

  Lady Victoria smiled and settled back into her chair. “I suppose that will be acceptable. But do hurry, dear.”

  Leaping from her chair, Lady Sarah left the room. She hesitated at the doorway with a pointed glance at William. Wondering at her air of near panic, he got up and followed her. She ran up the stairs staying well ahead of him. After tripping several times over her long skirts, she grabbed the banister to pull herself up.

  “Lady Sarah,” William called before catching her arm when they neared the top of the stairs. “What’s amiss?”

  Surely, he had not been wrong about the Archers? Were they treating her badly? He examined her face again, searching for traces of tears or bruising.

  “I can’t stand it!” she exclaimed, her voice breaking against her clenched teeth. “I just can’t!”

  He put an arm around her shoulders and drew her quickly up the last few steps. On the
landing, he wavered, but Sarah pulled him to the right, toward her old room. True to her word, though, she left the door open after they entered it.

  “Lady Sarah—”

  “Don’t call me that!”

  “But—”

  “I tell you, I shall go mad if you make me go back there! Let me stay here with you. Please! I beg of you—at least until this is all over, and I can go back—em—go back to Mr. Hawkins. If there’s still a position there. I thought I could become a lady, but I can’t.”

  “Lady Sarah…” He stopped when he caught her glare. “Sarah, you know that’s impossible. You can’t stay here.”

  “Why not? I stayed before.”

  “When I thought you weren’t safe elsewhere.”

  “I’m not safe. Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said? I’m going mad! Lotions on my face day and night, gowns, fittings, dancing lessons! I can’t take much more of it! I tell you, I’ll go mad!”

  William struggled to suppress a chuckle. Keeping his voice low, he said, “But you knew this had to happen someday, Sarah. Lady Sarah. You’re the daughter of a marquess.”

  “No!” Her voice cracked. She hit William on the shoulder before rubbing the star-shaped scar on her temple. “No. Maybe once—I don’t remember clearly before the fire—but I haven’t been her for thirteen years! I don’t want to be her. I hate it! You have no idea what it’s been like.”

  “Surely the Archers have been kind to you? They’ve done their best to help you, haven’t they?”

  “Of course they have. I just—I just can’t do it. I can’t be the woman they want me to be. I thought I could, but I can’t. Not anymore. Please, please let me stay here with you. I was happy here. I won’t cause any trouble—I can help you.” She laid her hands on his chest, raising her face to his. “Please don’t send me back!”

  Her huge, luminous gray eyes caught at him, but there was no going back. He gripped her hands with his and lowered them. “Sarah—”

  “Don’t send me away. You know me. You know what I’m like. Please!” she begged, tears streaming over her cheeks.