“Then you are being autocratic – and foolish,” Sarah snapped back. “Stewart has nothing to do with me. If you’d but leave me alone, I would be fine!”
But there was no rejoinder as her mother solemnly quit the room. In frustration, Sarah tore at her dull, lifeless hair, a wave of nausea threatening to overcome her. My God! her brain screamed. Haven’t I suffered enough?
“My God! Haven’t I su ffered enough?” She’d said those words once before in a fit of abject misery, and the utterance had closed, locked and barred the door against any future she might have had with Stewart Chamberlain.
Herbody,ashadowy,fadingappendageof an all but lifeless soul, was experiencing the tingling, painful rising of the deep hurt once again. Sarah dug her fingernails into her palms as she tried to stifle the awful thoughts, but this time, even the drawing of blood would not make her memory recede. “My God! Haven’t I suffered enough?”
After Mary Catherine’s simple burial, the farmhouse ceased its role as a haven for either of them. Sarah and Stewart became less than strangers; it was as though both had been struck deaf and mute. The pain was so sharp, it seemed neither could bear the risk of sharing it, and as the days wore on, Sarah felt in the deepest recesses of her heart that healing depended on her leaving ... leaving this house, this country. Leaving Stewart.
Herpresencewashiscross,andSarahloved him too much to serve as a constant reminder of a dalliance gone awry. He had never misrepresented his feelings for her; yet he was willing to fulfill his obligations when they seemed inevitable. She loved him for that, and for his strength and comfort supplied so surely whenever she had needed it – until now.
The fact that he was now so distant proved his feelings of guilt, and Sarah could not bear to see him suffer so. She had to leave, so at least he could go on with his life, and she could ... exist.
So on a day that was incongruously bright and sunny, a day that marked two weeks since Mary Catherine’s birth – and death – Sarah, with fear and trepidation, forced herself to confront Stewart with her logical, immutable plans.
She joined him for breakfast, an unusual occurrence in itself, and if he were surprised, he hid it well. Sarah, on the other hand, was visibly taken aback by his appearance. There were dark circles under his dull brown eyes; his face was gaunt. Though still handsomer than most, it was as if he’d aged before her eyes. For the first time, she noticed traces of gray in his dark, shaggy locks.
Unnerved by the sight of him she plunged into her speech before she completely lost her will. “The Kempers will be returning next week,” she spoke quietly, somewhat hoarsely, watching the wake caused by her spoon stirring the cup of tea he had brought her. “I would like to be gone before they arrive.”
Heraisedhiseyes,unleashingalookofpure anguish before they glazed over with studied indifference. “Gone?”
Steeling herself, she continued, “Their daughter-in-law will have had her baby, and I think it will be difficult for them to restrain their joy in view of ....” her voice trailed off. “And I would not want them to. It would be better if I were gone.”
“It’s too soon for you to travel,” he replied through gritted teeth, studying the plate in front of him.
“The bir ... the delivery was not traumatic,” Sarah countered. “You told me yourself that very little harm was done. I feel capable of making the journey.”
replied, his voice taking on a monotonous, stubborn tone.
“There is another reason,” she “It is very unwise. I cannot permit it,” Stewart decidedly persisted, detesting the need to resort to the second volley of her carefully planned argument. “The Kempers don’t know ... about us. They think the father of the child is dead – a naval officer. I care too deeply for them to bear facing up to the truth. ‘Twould be better if I were gone to avoid ....”
“Why did you lie?” Stewart asked suddenly, incredulously. How could she explain that she’d made up the story for his sake as much as her own? The Kempers loved Stewart as if he were their own son. How much of their respect for him would have been lost had they known that the baby she was carrying was Stewart’s illegitimate child? She could not have done that to him, or to them. With her gone, it would be his choice whether to reveal the truth.
“I thought it best not to complicate matters,” she replied evenly. “Peggy and Jeremiah are the only ones who know, and I would prefer we leave it that way ... Not that it matters any longer ....”
“It matters to me!” Stewart choked angrily.
“Then tell them!” she gasped. “But I will not be here when you do!” Stewart was livid, and Sarah trembled, fearing that she’d unleashed all the recriminations that seemed to haunt this house. “Where will you be?” he challenged.
“I want to go home.”
“Your home is with me,” he uttered raggedly. “We’re to be married, or had you forgotten?” Even though she had suspected that his guilt would force him to consider this option, she was shocked that he actually meant to go through with the marriage now that she’d supplied him with an exit. Her control snapped as she fought desperately against the irrational thing he was doing.
“I don’t believe you!” she cried. “Your proposal – no, damn it – your decision that we marry was because I was carrying your child. That child is dead,” she railed, tears suddenly streaming down her drawn cheeks. “And I will not be bound to you for the rest of my life as some warped form of penance you feel you owe to me – or to her – or to God himself! Let me out of your life!” she commanded in a sobbing decree. “My God, Stewart, haven’t I suffered enough?”
As soon as the words tumbled out of her mouth, Sarah knew she had burned her bridges. It was true; she had suffered. But not because of anything he had done; rather what he had not done. He had not fallen in love with her. And for that he was not to blame.
But in her own pain, she had sought to hurt him, and saw with a deep sorrow that she had succeeded. She knew he had not been immune to her suffering but it was her only means of escape, and cowardly, hurtfully, she had taken it.
The muscles in Stewart’s cheeks were vibrating with tension, and as he swallowed deeply, his eyes reddened. Then clawlike fingers raked through his thick, unkempt hair before they slid down his face as he emitted a totally defeated sigh. “We’ll leave in the morning.”
He had arranged passage for her to England immediately after their journey to Boston. She refused to stay the one night of waiting at either his home or Peggy and Jeremiah’s, insisting that he not disclose her proximity. He honored her every request without discussion, even when she asked for a hired livery to take her to the ship. There were no words left to speak between them, and she did not want to make or hear an attempt when departure was imminent.
So, in the end there were no goodbyes. But when the ship set sail, she spied him standing off to the side of a crowd of well wishers, his widebrimmed hat crushed tightly against his chest, his jaw set to the point of glacial hardness. Her heart leapt painfully at the sight of his ruffled hair and billowing coat, and she cried for nearly three days before it was possible to begin erecting the impenetrable shell that had so faithfully served her ... until today.
CHAPTER 41
“No,no no!” Sarah screamed, covering her eyes in defiance, squeezing her lids shut until droplets sprung from her sooty lashes. “I will not see him, even if King George himself commanded it!”
For once the calm, composed participant in an argument, Lady Juliana Tremont replied haughtily, “I believe Stewart would go far beyond such measures, Sarah, if you continue to refuse. He has already convinced Father of the importance of seeing you.
“I have not come to argue with you,” she added coldly, “only to warn you that you’ll accomplish nothing by barricading yourself in this damnable fortress you’ve insisted on creating.” She gestured with a toss of her blond curls toward the center of Sarah’s pink and blue bedroom.
With resigned disgust, Juliana continued, “I never would have thought you wo
uld be the one to put this family through such agony. Do you realize you have our own mother and father at war with each other?” Seeing the sudden uplift of Sarah’s brow, she forged on. “Believe it, sister. Father thinks Stewart should be allowed to see you, and Mother is unrelenting in her efforts to protect you. From what, Sarah? Is anything worth what you’ve imposed on us?”
Sarah could not believe her ears. “You always were a selfish child,” she scolded her sister. “You know nothing about anything. ‘Throw Sarah to the wolves as long as I can have some peace and quiet and all the attention returned to me’,” she mocked her. “That is the only reason you’re here, isn’t it?”
Juliana’s beautifully shaped lips curled in a scathing sneer. “You are being loathsome. If you didn’t already look done to a cow’s thumb ....” she began, then abruptly switched her train of thought. “Downstairs,” she muttered icily, “is the only man in this world who ever treated you like a woman. I don’t know what has gone on between you two, but I’d wager the family jewels that you’re running away from your one chance at any sort of happiness in this life. You think I don’t know you love him?” Sarah winced visibly, folding trembling arms around her thin form as some cloak of protection from the truth Juliana was throwing at her. “There is only one person in this house who doesn’t at least suspect you’re shriveling from a broken heart – and that’s Stewart Chamberlain. For God’s sake, Sarah, tell him. What do you have to lose?”
“Stop it!” Sarah choked, “stop it. You do not know what you’re saying.” “Don’t I?” Juliana pursued relentlessly, moving closer to her weakening prey. “If he means nothing to you, then why won’t you see him? Why won’t you speak his name? Why are you literally wasting away? How could it be any worse to take the chance, to admit your feelings for him?”
“Becausehedoesn’tlove me,” Sarah cried out miserably, “and I cannot bear to hear him say it. Knowing it is too much to suffer.”
A satisfied smirk crossed Juliana’s lovely features and she tapped her toe on the Aubusson carpet with glee, her fist balled on the rustling silk taffeta of her day dress. “It’s true then, isn’t it? Just as I suspected. Even the detached Lady Sarah could not remain aloof in the face of the Yankee’s considerable charms.”
“You-you tricked me!” Sarah gasped, a mixture of betrayal and sheer anger welling in her breast. “Juliana, you are horrid.” Stumbling toward her younger sister, she moved to push her backward, but Juliana neatly sidestepped Sarah’s clumsy tear-blinded approach. “Get out of my room,” she sobbed, lunging onto her high, fourposter bed. “I hate you!”
Juliana, her green eyes immediately softening into a wide-eyed appeal, pleaded, “Sarah darling, I had to know, don’t you see? Mother and Father are certain you were ravaged by some pirate, and I just knew in my very soul that it wasn’t so. But you wouldn’t confide in me.” Raising her voice over Sarah’s heaving sobs, she continued, “I meant what I said about telling Stewart. Do you think he’d set foot in our home if he didn’t care? Even Father hasn’t the means to threaten a man like him. Sarah, listen to me!” she begged, reaching over the coverlet to shake Sarah’s huddled form.
Catching the misery-filled blue-eyed gaze, she beckoned, “If you have an ounce of courage left in you, for God’s sake talk to Stewart. I wasn’t wrong about you, was I?” Without waiting for a reply, she said, “I am certain he loves you. I am absolutely certain.”
“You are grasping at straws,” Sarah choked back, wiping her wet cheeks on her sleeve as she sat up on the downy featherbed. “If I even suspected that he loved me, do you think I would be in such dire straits? You don’t know anything, Juliana. You just don’t know ....” Her thoughts threatened to dwell on things best forgotten until the sharp pain of longing forced her to stop.
“You’re not going to do it, are you?” Juliana announced suddenly, her green eyes sparkling with characteristic impatience. “You’re not going to take the one chance you have left in your life to be truly happy. Go ahead and rot in your misery then,” she sniffed abruptly, turning on her heel toward the door, hesitating for a moment before turning the knob, she lashed out, “How I wish I could have made Stewart Chamberlain fall in love with me that night of my birthday party. He told me I was a coy little tease and he preferred women like you who wouldn't toy with a man’s heart. But God help me, Sarah, I never would have treated him as callously as you!”
After the household had retired, Sarah crept down the hall to her parents’ salon which her father used as an office when he could not sleep. She gazed upon his attractive, dignified features lovingly as he shuffled some papers out of his way. He was such a dear, wise man. She was ashamed of herself for the suffering she had caused him, for they had always been close ... until her return to England, after which she had become a stranger to all.
Therewasnoneedforpreliminaries,andshe gave none as she sat down in the comfortable chair beside his desk. “Did you truly ask him to come here, Father?”
His bushy brows quirked to attention, but he answered calmly, “Yes, but you must not misconstrue my involvement or my motives in this matter,” he declared with an aura of both authority and benevolence. “Seeing Stewart Chamberlain or not is your own decision. My invitation was based strictly on business.”
“But Mother said ....” and then she sighed wearily, her eyes closing in response to the aching struggle going on within her. “You know he has something to do with the way I have been acting, don’t you?”
“’Tis a logical assumption. You’ve acted peculiarly since the day you met him,” Tremont stated wryly. She could never accuse him of prying, she thought. If her father were to learn anything tonight, it would be because she had chosen to tell him.
Butshewasafraid,andashamed.Ifhewere to learn how completely she had made a shambles of her life, his disappointment would haunt her. He had not raised her to be a fool. “So how is it that Mr. Chamberlain is here? In England?”
“Not at my request, though I understand it is what you were led to believe,” Weston intoned firmly. “I saw him in Town Tuesday last, and he asked to meet with me to discuss a business arrangement. We are partners, after all. I invited him here, for I’ve yet to learn why he should not be a guest in my house.” His gray-blue eyes pierced hers deeply. “Have I a valid reason to rescind my invitation?”
She stared at him in wonder. “You would send him away if I declare? Without explanation?”
“Iwould,”herepliedpompously. The o ffer was tempting, but to say yes would unfairly incriminate Stewart in her father’s eyes. Her love would not permit that.
She changed the subject. “Has he said ... anything?” “About you?” her father asked abruptly. The reluctant nod and accompanying spark in her eyes did not go unnoticed. “Not specifically. However ....” he began, hesitating for a moment before he added a completely subjective comment. “I have observed a change in the man that puzzles me. He seemed subdued, resigned perhaps. As though he had lost his confidence, his exuberance for life. ‘Twere it the result of some disease,” he leveled at her, “I would say that you, too, are its victim.”
Ignoring her father’s insinuation, her heart went out to Stewart at that moment; she realized her love was too great to allow his misguided guilt to continue. In that millisecond, she resolved to speak with him one more time; to let him know that she held him responsible for none of her pain; to conjure up a performance that would convince him that she had survived their shared past, and that with the record set to rights, he could survive as well.
Her decision made, she smiled fleetingly at her father as she rose from the chair. “I am glad that you’ve invited Mr. Chamberlain here, Father. We, too, have some unfinished business to discuss,” she offered solemnly. “I believe I hold the antidote for this ‘disease’ you speak of.
“Mr.Chamberlainisagoodandbraveman,” she added unexpectedly, “a man worthy of your trust and friendship. You needn’t fear any longer that his presence would upset me. I will see him tomorrow.”
CHAPTER 42
Words. So much more easily spoken than acted upon, Sarah mused groggily as dawn broke slowly outside her bedroom window. A niggling, awesome tremor began in the pit of her stomach as she realized that today was the day she would see Stewart again at last. Feeling terrified, but strangely, for the first time in months, whole, she stretched her long, slender body in a nervous, vigorous gesture. Eager, surprisingly so, to begin her toilette, Sarah threw back the downy warm covers and bounded to the softly-tufted carpet. Today it will be over at last, she told herself, trying to sort out these stirrings of life that had lain dormant, seemingly lost forever.
“Armor,”shemurmuredaloudassheshook out her long, dark locks before her full-length mirror. “This scrawny body has but one more battle to fight, and then perhaps,” she sighed, disturbed at the sight, “it can begin to regain some form.”
Disgusted with her hollowed, wasted looks, her mind raced to thoughts of her wardrobe, trying to remember some gown that might aid her attempt to appear more voluptuous, and more healthy. As she mentally checked off day gowns, Sarah pulled the bell cord for the maid and within minutes, preparations had begun for a steaming bath. If anyone thought her interest in her toilette unusual, no one risked mentioning it, fearing perhaps that she would regress immediately to her former, apathetic self.
Scrubbing her limbs to a rosy hue, Sarah shook off dwelling on her bony appearance. There was nothing to be done about it now, and it would only interfere with the confidence she sorely needed this day. And despite her unusual slenderness, she felt alive, stronger, a growing excitement overtaking the months of lethargy. Raking her scalp, she washed her hair until the roots tingled, and when finally she emerged from the tub, dewy and deliciously sweet-smelling, she had decided on her attire.
Arrayed in fine white muslin undergarments and silk stockings, with the help of the maid Sarah donned a Turkey red printed day gown with cream lace around the low bodice and long-sleeved cuffs. The bodice was just narrow enough to hold her tightly, and she looked feminine and voluptuous. The small, well-spaced medallions of the print were a rich gold and blue, the latter matching her eyes almost perfectly. The maid who helped her brought wispy tendrils of shiny hair toward her face, and left the rest cascading in a loose knot from the crown of her head. Most unusually, Sarah’s vanity forced her to touch up her dark circles with a light, tinted foundation and rice flour. She then softened her mouth with rose lip salve. After pinching her cheeks to force a bloom, she took one last look at her reflection and smiled. Her appearance would be no cause for distress today.
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