“I think under the circumstances,” Sarah gasped, “you should – you must – call me Sarah.” “Peggy,”Margaretrespondedinkind, gripping her companion’s hands as they attempted to rise together. “Careful – careful now. I don’t think I’ll be able to get up again if we fall.”
“Luckyforyou,you’vegotMikeTemplehere to help,” a jolly voice broke in. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” the driver teased as he helped them steady themselves. “The two of ye will be in bed till March if we don’t get you out of this snow bank.”
“Thankyou,Mr.Temple,”Sarahpu ffedas she dusted the clinging wet snow off her fur collar and cuffs. “Would you help Mrs. Slade into the house? She hasn’t the proper footwear to trek without slipping again.”
But by then, Jeremiah had burst on the scene and amid a blustery scolding, swooped the petite Peggy into his arms and carried his giggling bundle back into the house. Temple helped Sarah and they all finally managed to gain the foyer.
“Goodgracious,”abuxom,uniformed woman introduced as Mrs. Leland, the housekeeper, fumed as the troupe entered. “Get the both of them before the fire. ‘Tis no wonder the children have no sense when they see their mum behaving so.”
As the two women were settled briskly before the huge stone fireplace in the cozy parlor, three pairs of round, astonished eyes observed the proceedings with interest. “Children,” Peggy chided them lovingly, “don’t look so alarmed. Haven’t you ever seen snowmen before?”
Realizing their mum was all right, the children relaxed a bit and grinned shyly at the newcomer. Little Rebecca crawled up close until she could fall into her mother’s wet arms, just as Jeremiah pulled a lap robe over his wife’s shoulders. “Sarah,” Peggy beamed, her pert features glowing and moist, “I’d like you to meet our children. Jeremiah, Ethan, I’d like to present you to Lady Sarah Tremont who’s come all the way from England to visit us.”
The boys bowed politely, reluctant to take their eyes off the striking and friendly-looking woman who’d been literally dragged in from the snow. “And this is Rebecca,” Peggy added, pulling the babe out from under the blanket where she was hiding. Her dark curls and brown eyes, unlike the fair-haired boys, attested to her resemblance to the Chamberlain side of the family, and Sarah thought she’d never seen a child so beautiful. “Please don’t mind her shyness,” Peggy insisted. “Once she gets to know you, you’ll never keep her from your skirts.”
“I shouldn’t mind that at all,” Sarah responded softly, mesmerized by the
precious countenance. This is what
toddler’s Stewart’s children would look like, she found herself thinking, a flash of pain crossing her blue eyes. But she hid it quickly by lifting her hands to remove her hat. “Your children are lovely,” she beamed and turning to the boys, added, “Your father’s told me so much about you, I feel as though we’re friends already.”
The boys grinned and looked happily at their towering father, who was beaming with obvious pride, glad to be home at last.
CHAPTER 34
The Slades were a loving family; their gaiety and devotion to each other was extended to their foreign guest, enveloping her in a downy cocoon of warmth and caring. It was exactly the kind of balm Sarah needed to assuage her heart’s grief over her lost love.
Well, nearly so. After a month in Boston, the dark circles under her eyes had dissipated, the bloom was returning to her cheeks and she had regained some weight, but occasionally, when she thought no one was noticing, the pain was still apparent in her dark blue eyes.
It flashed whenever a kind word or a gentle touch was passed between Jeremiah and Peggy. Or when the children – those beautiful children – spontaneously dived into Sarah’s skirts for a quick hug, their giggles filling the happy home with a deep sense of joy.
And it was most apparent the day Peggy innocently asked Sarah to accompany her to Stewart’s home, a block away. “I just want to make sure the seasonal decorations are completed,” Peggy said as they awaited entry to the imposing colonial home on a quiet street above the Slades’ home. “Since Mama died, Papa and Stewart rather depend on me to supervise their help.” With a glittering smile, she added, “Not that anyone needs to oversee Mrs. Hubbard. She’s quite the matron here.”
And with that, the door was opened by a thin, pinch-faced woman, dressed from top to bottom in a severe black dress. “Good day, Mrs. Hubbard,” Peggy greeted the somber woman cheerfully, and, as it seemed with everyone Peggy spoke to, the mask fell way to a genuine smile.
“Mistress Peggy, come in! You just missed your father. He’s off to the club.” Sarah’s thoughts flashed back for a moment to Stewart’s father, Travis Chamberlain. He’d been a guest for dinner at the Slades’ home several times, and Sarah recalled his dominating presence, despite his obvious age.
The family patriarch was clearly Stewart’s father for both shared lean, hawkish good looks, although the senior Chamberlain’s thick hair was silvery white.
It was apparent that Travis Chamberlain, a retired maritime attorney, was fond of the Englishwoman, often teasing her about his son’s good taste. Knowing he had no idea of the hurt his ribbings could inflict, she took no offense, sweetly countering him with a nonchalance she did not feel.
Mrs. Hubbard’s greeting did not extend to Sarah, however. The two had never met, but it was obvious that the housekeeper jealously guarded her charges. She eyed the unfamiliar woman suspiciously.
Seeing the piercing gaze, Peggy added quickly, “Mrs. Hubbard, this is Lady Sarah Tremont, our guest from England. She traveled over with Jeremiah and Stewart to Charleston, where Stewart remains, as you know.”
“And how is the lad?” Mrs. Hubbard demanded suddenly. Sarah hid a smile, thinking how incongruous this woman’s concern seemed coming out of the stony countenance. And considering him a “lad.” Recalling his handsome, well-chiseled features, his thoroughly manly form, Sarah mused that Stewart was definitely a lad no longer.
“He’swell,Mrs.Hubbard.Verywell,”she offered and Sarah’s discomfort was there again for anyone to notice.
“’Tis good to know,” Mrs. Hubbard sni ffed. “He writes to his father of everything under the sun, except what his sire wants to know. The boy is much too independent. Nary a personal note as to whether he’s eating well or taking care of the body God gave him.”
Peggy clucked sympathetically, but Sarah only heard that he’d written. “You’ve heard from him, then?” she asked without thinking and instantly regretted her question, for both women looked at her curiously.
“Just this morning, it was,” Mrs. Hubbard offered, but her expression stated that she would not abide any prying. Fortunately, Peggy intervened.
“Sowhatdidhesay,Mrs.Hubbard?Willhe be home for Christmas?” Clearly disturbed by having to reveal privileged information to an outsider, Mrs. Hubbard ground out, “You should ask your father, Miss Peggy, but I don’t believe Mr. Chamberlain was specific. He never is, the rascal. Said something about having to finish up some business and then expecting to travel by land this time. The letter was posted last month, the 27th, I believe.”
Two weeks ago, Sarah calculated. So he might be home soon! But traveling by land in winter was a dicey proposition, so his arrival date could not be ascertained.
Oh God, why am I eager? Why do I care? She thought. It’s over. But she knew it was a lie. It could not be over as long as she felt this way, as if she were incomplete without him.
As Mrs. Hubbard took their wraps, Sarah attempted to repress her unbidden thoughts once more. Peggy, thankfully, was chatting away, complimenting Mrs. Hubbard on all she did to keep the Chamberlain home in such fine shape.
And it was a beautiful home, Sarah agreed, walking with Peggy through the rooms filled with the smell of pine, as they took an informal tour. Richly appointed, the rooms had gleaming wood floors covered in thick, elaborately designed oriental rugs. The lines of the furnishings were unadorned, sparse even, from a woman’s point of view. But then this was a man’
s house. Everything was sturdy, functional and meticulously cared for – a tribute to the severe and precise Mrs. Hubbard, no doubt. Expensive fabrics and sparse, Grecian lines provided a serene backdrop to the touches of Christmas greenery, dried festooning the fireplaces British, Sarah was happy to see some evidence of the special season in Stewart’s home. Christmas had been a highly controversial holiday to the early Puritans, he had told her, and had, for nearly a quarter century, been banned in Boston. Fortunately that prohibition had been lifted years before and citizens were more openly celebrating again.
berries and ribbons
and entryways. Being A portrait of Stewart’s mother graced the formal parlor and Peggy smiled as Sarah studied the beautiful woman, regal and self-possessed, but with a faint twinkle in her dark eyes, as if she had found much joy and happiness in her life.
“Isn’t she wonderful to look at?” Peggy remarked. “She was always so strong and capable.” “It seems to have been inherited,” Sarah told her. “You and your brother both strike me that way.”
Peggyeyedher,lookingasifshebadly wished to speak. “What is it, Peggy?” Sarah finally felt forced to ask, uncomfortable at being the target of her insinuating stare.
“You don’t talk much about him. Stewart, I mean,” and immediately Sarah stiffened. “I just wondered why. I mean, it’s none of my business – well, it is in a way. He’s my brother and I love to talk about him. And I’ve wanted to, but I can tell that you are not comfortable with the subject. And it’s quite all right with me, but I just thought .... Well, Sarah, I just feel so close to you, and it’s difficult for me to watch what I say around members of my family .... And ... Oh, my word. I’m so sorry. Sarah, you’re crying!”
And she most certainly was. Crying as she had been unwilling to do since that last night she and Stewart had been together in Charleston. Crying for being such a fool, such a silly, lovesick fool, having burned all her chances for any happiness by reaching too far into the fires of her passion and his. Standing here in his home, being surrounded by his things, and all these wonderful people past and present who could never, ever be a part of her future .... It had become too much to bear in silence.
Sarahwouldhavecollapsedfromhersobs had it not been for Peggy’s supporting arms moving her to the settee beneath her mother’s beautiful, satisfied face. Her grief was an ugly, jealous thing. For the Chamberlain women had it all. But Sarah could have none.
“I-I’m so ... sorry,” Sarah finally managed to gasp, trying desperately to recapture her poise. “I-I don’t know ....”
“Shh, it’s all right,” Peggy soothed, patting Sarah’s quivering shoulder. “Don’t talk until you’re ready. Here, use my handkerchief. There, there. Go ahead. Blow your nose. Come now. Everything will be all right.”
“Iambeingsucha child,” Sarah wailed. “And ... Oh my God. What if Mrs. Hubbard sees me?”
“Don’t worry about her,” Peggy insisted. “She’s very discreet. She’s closed the doors for us, see? We have absolute privacy so we can talk.” Seeing Sarah’s resistance, Peggy continued, “Sarah, you must talk to someone. I can help you, if you’ll let me.”
“No, you can’t” Sarah moaned. “No you can’t. Nobody can help me. I’ve made such a mull of everything.”
But finally, with Peggy’s gentle coaxing, Sarah told her. She began with the night she and Stewart met, at her sister’s birthday ball, and how despite her denials, she had been attracted to him. And then when she assumed her feelings were under control, her father had named Stewart her sponsor on the trip to America. And then the pirate hijacking and the subsequent charade. Sarah told how their lives had depended on the well-played game...until it was no longer a game; she realized she’d fallen irreversibly in love with him. And how to avoid that truth, she’d insisted that they resume their former roles, only to see him rush into the arms of his beautiful lady-love.
Peggy listened attentively, but clearly she was puzzled by Sarah’s conclusions. “Why are you so sure he doesn’t care for you?” she probed. “It’s not as if he expected or asked Felicia to come to America. She’s his ‘friend,’ Sarah, not his love, if you know what I mean,” she insisted but wasn’t sure Sarah caught her meaning.
“Sarah, I don’t wish to be indelicate, but it’s not all that unusual – or meaningful – that an unmarried man like Stewart have ‘friendships’ with widows like Lady Felicia. Aside from the ‘comforts’ she might offer, she is a very powerful and connected woman of the ton. I am quite sure she has given him the introductions he’s needed to be as successful as he is.”
As Peggy did not know of the ‘comforts’ she herself had provided Stewart, her observations sent Sarah into another outburst of tears and weeping. “There, there, sweet,” Peggy crooned, as the younger woman sobbed against her shoulder. “You are much too fine to let all of this overwhelm you. I wager that Stewart cares for you much more than you know.”
“No,” Sarah hiccupped, “you’re wrong. You see things that aren’t there because you’re fond of me. But I tell you, I mean nothing to Stewart and I have got to stop dangling after him. It’s making me sick,” she choked.
Something was amiss, Peggy thought silently. Sarah’s overwhelming reaction was violent to say the least. Why? And then it dawned. Her pretty face filled with concern, Peggy clutched Sarah’s trembling hands and forced her to match her gaze. “Sarah,” she whispered determinedly, “when you and Stewart were on the island, did he ... were you ... did you become ... lovers?”
For a brief second, Sarah thought she could dissemble. But Peggy wasn’t looking into her eyes; she was peering into her heart, and there was no way the truth could hide there. New tears shored up in Sarah’s crystal blue eyes as the two women stared solemnly at each other. Peggy had her answer. “Oh, my dear ....” she uttered as one who’d been forced to breathe.
Sarah jerked away, flinging herself to a standing position, her back to the woman. “I have been such a fool,” she choked, clutching her arms about her thin shoulders ... “and I am so ashamed ....”
“Sarah,” Peggy interjected sharply, coming to her side. “Do not do this to yourself. For God’s sake, don’t you think Stewart bears the responsibility?”
“No,”shewhirledaround.“No!Ibehavedlike a wanton. I let myself pretend our charade was true because that is what I wanted it to be. But he never forgot ... He never said ....” she gasped, the memories flooding her beleaguered brain. His fiery kisses, his all-consuming passion, his need of her that was clearly transitory. He had never made the mistake of calling it love. Why had she been so willing to pretend?
“Sarah, you’re as pale as a ghost,” Peggy announced. “Please sit down before you faint.” As she led Sarah back to the settee, she murmured, “You haven’t been well since we met, have you Sarah? Probably not since the ordeal.”
“I’vebroughtitallonmyself,”shecroaked, closing her eyes in a desperate attempt to quell the queasiness in her stomach. “I have missed him so, and then I hate myself for even thinking of him. I have felt so guilty. Perhaps now that I have confided in you, I can begin to ... begin to ... oh, Peggy, I don’t want to begin anything. I just want to end it all,” she sobbed.
“No, please Sarah, don’t talk that way,” Peggy urged soothingly, though underneath she was boiling mad, angrier than she’d ever been at the brother who exuded charm as easily as others breathe. One look at this young girl and he should have realized she’d take nothing he offered lightly.
“I have to leave,” Sarah was saying and Peggy snapped back to attention.
“Leave? What are you talking about?” “N-now that you know, I couldn’t possibly stay here. I-I’m not the sort of person who should ....”
“Balderdash!”Peggycuthero ff,furious. “What in the world are you talking about? You think you’re the first woman who’s ever loved and been compromised?” Seeing so clearly the pain in Sarah’s face, Peggy knew she believed it totally. “You are not! Darling, no one could ever judge you for what happened
. You fell in love with him, and my God, you were forced to live as husband and wife!”
“’Tisnoexcuse,”Sarahwailed,kneadingher delicate hands in frustration. “I knew it was hopeless, that there was not a future for us. And I didn’t care. I even thought I could deal with it, but being here, in his home, with his family ... and not belonging ... I just couldn’t fight it anymore. But,” she added hastily, seeing Peggy’s pitying look, “I can and I will. But it is only possible if I leave soon – now, before I ever have to face him again.”
“Sarah,” Peggy spoke gently. “Did you ever think that perhaps a greater bond might have been forged between you two than you realize?” Seeing her puzzled look, Peggy drew a deep breath and plunged. “Sarah, might you be – with child?”
“No.” It was a short, nearly silent rejoinder, filled with uncertainty. And then Sarah rose as if the settee had caught fire. “No!” She stared at the older woman for an eternity, as if her eyes alone could make the truth.
Quietly, Peggy persisted, seeking the evidence to support her surmise. “You’ve been ill, Sarah.”
“Lovesick ... and guilty,” Sarah snapped back.
“You seemed to have gained weight recently,” Peggy quietly persisted.
“Ihavebeenapamperedguest–andonly regained the weight I’d lost before.”
“Your time, Sarah. The last ...?” “Not since I left home. But,” she hastened, on the verge of hysteria, “I was seasick, the ordeal, the traveling, so many reasons ....”
“Oh, Sarah,” how can I tell you this?” Peggy moaned, rubbing her forehead. “The other day, Mrs. Leland helped you with your bath, remember? She asked me later if you were married. And when I said, ‘Of course not,’ she closed up and would not say why she’d asked the question. But now it makes sense, Sarah. She knows how a woman’s body changes when she’s in a family way.”
“Oh ... oh God,” Sarah whispered, frightened and humiliated. The effects of this revelation were too much to bear. They knew. They all knew what a fool she’d been and now every member of Stewart’s family and household probably thought she was nothing but a bit of muslin, worthy of nothing more than their pity and disgust.
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