Forever After (The Forever Series #3)

by Cheryl Holt

  “Can you?”

  “I should be able to. I’ll figure it out so don’t worry about him.”

  “All right I won’t.”

  “And once he’s free, he can help Mildred. I’m sure, after Clayton’s mischief, he’ll be eager for some revenge.” He grinned. “I would be.”

  “What would you recommend I do? You’re so competent, while I am weary and scared, and I can’t guess what my next steps should be.”

  “First, I’d like us to leave this horrid place,” he said. “Would you ride to the hotel with me?”

  “I suppose I should.”

  “I’ll arrange to send you onto London. We’ll figure that out too. There might be a guest there who’s traveling to town and will offer you a seat. If not, I’ll buy you a ticket.”

  “I can’t have that, Mr. Fenwick. I don’t have the funds to reimburse you.”

  “Nicholas can pay me. After he’s out of jail, he’ll definitely owe me, and if he’s about to receive some of Mildred’s fortune I can extract a very high price.” He grinned again. “He’ll gladly compensate me too. He won’t have any choice.”

  She hesitated, worried as to whether it was the best course, but she couldn’t begin to decide. She felt as if she should tarry in Bath until she was certain Nicholas was safe, but she didn’t have the financial means to dawdle.

  She was worn down and forlorn and frightened. She was anxious to talk to her sisters, and with her losing her job she had to speak to Mrs. Ford so the older woman could find a new position for her.

  There was no reason to linger in Bath, and if Mr. Farnsworth set his sights on her it could bring disaster too.

  Mr. Fenwick took her arm and led her over to the carriage, and she allowed him to guide her in the direction he thought she should go. He lifted her in and tossed her bag in too, then he climbed in after her. She relaxed against the squab and resolved—for a bit of time at least—she would let him tell her what to do, and she wouldn’t argue. Not once.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “You were let go?”

  “Yes.”

  “All of a sudden? With no notice or warning?”

  “No, I had no warning at all.”

  Sarah stared at Mrs. Ford, and Mrs. Ford stared back with an animosity Sarah didn’t understand.

  They were in the woman’s London office, with Mrs. Ford seated behind her desk and Sarah in the chair across from her. Mr. Fenwick had been good at his word and had found her a ride to the city. To her relief, she hadn’t seen Nicholas or Clayton Farnsworth again. She’d simply clung to Mr. Fenwick and followed his advice. She’d been that overwhelmed by events.

  As her carriage had prepared to depart, he’d even slipped her a purse of coins to use as traveling money and to steady her circumstances once she arrived.

  Now she was in the city and desperate to regroup, but from how Mrs. Ford was glaring Sarah wasn’t sure of what the ending would be between them.

  For most of a decade, Sarah had worked through Mrs. Ford’s agency. She’d been industrious and diligent, and she’d never caused an ounce of trouble. Yet Mrs. Ford was assessing her as if she was a sluggard or a criminal.

  “What happened with Mildred Farnsworth?” Mrs. Ford asked. “I could have sworn you were a perfect match for her.”

  “I was. She and I became great friends.”

  “Then why are we sitting here in London with you requesting a new assignment?”

  “There was an issue with her nephew. He insisted she was…ah…acting erratically.”

  “Was she?”

  “No, but he felt she should be hospitalized. He sent her away, then told me my services were no longer necessary.”

  “You had no clue this was about to occur?”

  “No. I had been out running errands, and when I returned Miss Farnsworth was gone and her nephew was closing up the house she’d rented. A housemaid had already packed my bag.”

  Mrs. Ford’s expression grew caustic, and she evaluated Sarah in a spiteful way. Snidely, she inquired, “That’s what transpired? You’re certain?”

  Uneasy about the entire meeting, Sarah scowled. “Yes.”

  “Are there any other details you’d like to share?”

  “None that I can think of. I merely wanted to inform you I’m back in town and that I need another position.”

  “Your audacity is stunning,” Mrs. Ford muttered. “I’m speechless.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I might have believed you—if I hadn’t received a letter from Mr. Farnsworth as to the reason you were terminated.”

  “He wrote to you about me?”

  “Yes. You weren’t let go as you so casually describe it. You were fired. Would you care to tell me why? I’d like to get to the truth of the matter.”

  “Yes, I was fired, but it was because Miss Farnsworth had been taken away, and Mr. Farnsworth wasn’t interested in keeping me.”

  “I don’t suppose an unsavory blackguard named Nicholas Swift had much to do with it.”

  “No.”

  “I don’t suppose you’ve ruined yourself, all while pursuing a scheme with Mr. Swift to steal money from Mr. Farnsworth’s aunt?”

  “No! How dare you accuse me of such ghastly conduct!”

  “It’s quite simple actually.”

  “Clayton Farnsworth is a lunatic and a liar. He’s defamed me with spurious charges.”

  Mrs. Ford bristled. “You’re lucky you weren’t arrested and that doesn’t begin to account for the trouble created by your affair.”

  “There was no affair!”

  “Mr. Swift is a confidence artist and felon, Miss Henley. I’d like to think you’d have had more sense than to involve yourself with such a seedy character.”

  “Mr. Swift is a friend of Miss Farnsworth, and he stayed with her for a few days. I hardly know him.”

  “A likely story,” Mrs. Ford fumed. “I can’t figure out what’s plaguing you Henley sisters this summer. You were always such moral, decent girls.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Perhaps it’s your advanced age. It’s unnatural for a young lady to avoid matrimony. Perhaps your status as spinsters is to blame.”

  “You’ve insulted me and my sisters. Why is that precisely?”

  “The three of you are a trio of harlots.”

  Sarah gasped with outrage. “You have the gall to voice such a despicable slur to my face? What is wrong with you?”

  “In light of this most recent Henley fiasco, there’s no other conclusion to be reached. You haven’t the proper temperament to be represented by me. I can’t be sending you out to unsuspecting employers. Not when you’ve demonstrated such low standards.”

  “My behavior has been above reproach.”

  “Really, Miss Henley? You’re innocent as a lamb?” Mrs. Ford held up Mr. Farnsworth’s letter. “Mr. Farnsworth tells a different tale, and I can only accept that I am well-rid of you.”

  “You’re dropping me as a client?”

  “Yes—as I’ve dropped your sisters.”

  “What did they do?”

  “You have all revealed yourselves to have passionate tendencies. Although I could never have predicted it, the three of you are easily swayed by rogues. Have I—or have I not—counseled you about scurrilous libertines? Haven’t I warned you to be cautious? Haven’t I explained the dangers?”

  “Yes, and why won’t you listen to me? You’ve known me for ten years, and you don’t know Clayton Farnsworth at all. Yet you’re taking his word over mine.”

  “He advises me your cousin, Lady Middlebury, can vouch for his veracity and is fully cognizant of the details of your amour. Shall I contact her and seek her corroboration? Is that a shame you could bear to endure?”

  So…there it was. Desdemona hated her, and she would be especially jealous over Nicholas’s relationship with Sarah. She’d want to retaliate. She’d want to make Sarah p
ay, but it was all so ridiculous.

  Sarah’s affection for Nicholas had burned to ash the minute he’d claimed to be Mildred’s son. It had seemed so sneaky and underhanded. She wasn’t certain she could forgive him for engaging in such deceitful dealings, particularly when she liked Mildred so much. Mildred had been like a mother to Sarah. How could Sarah love a person who might harm her?

  “My cousin, Lady Middlebury, is a shrew and a fraud,” Sarah said, “who has problems with gambling and drink. I wouldn’t believe her if she told me the sky is blue.”

  “Everyone is lying except you? Is that your position?”

  “Yes.”

  Evidently, Sarah had exhausted Mrs. Ford’s patience. She stood and waved to the door. “Get out of my office. Get out, and don’t come back.”

  “But…but…how will I find another job?”

  “I have no idea. And don’t slither over to my boarding house to obtain lodging. I’ve notified them that they shouldn’t let you in.”

  Mrs. Ford contracted with a boarding house where her girls stayed when they were between posts. It was clean and quiet and affordable, and Sarah had intended to head there once the appointment was over.

  Not only was she out of a job, she had no place to stay either. The indignities were piling up so high that they were crushing her.

  “Where are my sisters?” she demanded.

  “I don’t keep track of whores.”

  At the comment, Sarah was so angry she was surprised she didn’t throw something. “I swear, Mrs. Ford, if you denigrate Abigail or Catherine again, I will march around your desk and slap you silly.”

  “You little tart! Don’t you dare threaten me.”

  “If you had any notion of the humiliations I’ve recently suffered, you would tread more carefully.”

  She stood too, and she leaned forward and clamped her palms on the desk, her fury wafting out for a change. Mrs. Ford lurched away as if Sarah frightened her. Good! With rage roiling through her, she was feeling very, very dangerous.

  People really needed to stop upsetting her. It was becoming blatantly clear that courtesy and polite manners were ineffective. She was about to start reacting in a violent way.

  “Tell me where my sisters are! I will not depart until you do.”

  “They were both fired by their last employers,” Mrs. Ford said, “and I can’t guess where they’ve slinked off to.”

  “Why were they fired?”

  “For moral turpitude. Why would you suppose?”

  “Where were they working?”

  “I have destroyed all their records.”

  As Mrs. Ford voiced the remark, she glanced away, providing Sarah with the distinct impression she was lying.

  On the wall, there were numerous cabinets where Mrs. Ford had files of all the girls she represented. Sarah stomped over to the first one, pulled it open, and began yanking out papers. She’d take a quick peek, searching for Abigail’s or Catherine’s names, and when she didn’t see them she’d toss the papers on the floor.

  “Sarah Henley!” Mrs. Ford bellowed. “Cease this instant!”

  Sarah glowered over her shoulder. “Where are my sisters?”

  She pitched another stack onto the floor, and Mrs. Ford rushed over and wrenched her away. They braced like pugilists in the ring. Mrs. Ford was taller, older, and heavier than Sarah, but Sarah had never been more incensed in her life.

  She was descended from a long line of aristocratic women. In any war of wills, she couldn’t be bested. Her gaze was cutting and brutal, and Mrs. Ford was immediately cowed. She eased away.

  “All right, all right, I will show you their files,” she said, “then you are to leave my office and never return.”

  “Gladly.”

  Mrs. Ford went to a different cabinet and retrieved the documents. She handed them to Sarah, and Sarah studied them. They indicated Abigail had traveled to the country to serve as governess for a man named Alex Wallace. Catherine had been a chaperone in London to a young lady named Priscilla Bolton.

  When Sarah finished perusing the information, she glared at Mrs. Ford. “Where are they now?”

  “I told you I have no idea, but they caused irreparable harm to those two families. If you knock on either door and announce who you are, I can guarantee those doors will be slammed in your face.”

  “Well, it’s my face so I’ll risk it.”

  She folded the papers and tucked them in her reticule, and Mrs. Ford bristled. “You can’t keep them. They’re mine.”

  “So call for the law and have me arrested. And while you’re at it, tell that fool, Clayton Farnsworth, he owes me a month’s wages. After I’m settled, I’ll send you my address, and you can forward the money to me.”

  “I doubt he’ll pay.”

  “Then you can pay it to me yourself.”

  “I never will.”

  “We’ll see about that. I’d be happy to take it out of your hide, and with the mood I’m in you shouldn’t tempt me.”

  Sarah spun and marched out. She’d left her portmanteau in the reception area. She grabbed it, wincing when her blisters cried out in misery. She stormed off, a stunned clerk watching her go. The girl had to have been shocked by Sarah’s ferocity. Sarah was a tad shocked by it too, but apparently she’d reached her limit with the entire world.

  * * * *

  Desdemona hurried down the stairs toward the front parlor of their town house. She was wearing chemise, petticoat and robe, her feet bare, her hair down. She’d been preparing to dress for the evening when her maid had dashed in to whisper that Sarah had arrived and was demanding to speak with Jasper.

  Desdemona didn’t like it when any of the three Henley sisters visited. They were rude and condescending, never displaying proper deference to her elevated status. They always glanced about to check if there were dust balls under the furniture so they could scurry away and convince themselves she was an incompetent manager.

  She didn’t have to be courteous to them, and she didn’t have to welcome them. And after recent events in Bath, she most especially couldn’t have Sarah sniffing around. Jasper was an accommodating husband, but he didn’t share Desdemona’s dislike of the Henley sisters. He’d be irked if she’d been deliberately awful to one of them.

  Of course any difficulties Sarah suffered in Bath were her own fault, but Jasper viewed her as a sympathetic character. He hated to hear about her struggles. Not enough to help her financially, but still…

  If Sarah was indiscreet, Jasper would discover some of Desdemona’s antics in Bath. They’d quarrel, but she didn’t have the energy. She needed to calm herself by smoking some opium, but the footman who usually purchased it for her had quit, and she didn’t know who else to approach about buying more.

  She had to ensure Sarah told no tales, and she was also desperate to find out where Nicholas was. He’d departed Bath without a goodbye, and no one was certain where he was. That charming Michael Fenwick had departed too so she’d had only Clayton Farnsworth for company.

  If Nicholas had flitted off to a house party, she had to determine where it was so she could show up there too.

  She skidded into the parlor, her feet sliding on the floor. Sarah turned, her expression icy with disdain.

  Desdemona forced a smile. “Sarah, how nice to see you again.”

  “I’m here to talk to Jasper—not that it’s any of your business.”

  Desdemona ignored the snooty comment. If she let Sarah pick a fight, she’d never win her over. “When did you get back from Bath? I trust you had a pleasant journey?”

  “If you say another word to me”—Sarah’s tone was scathing—“I will walk over and claw your eyes out.”

  “Sarah, Sarah, why are you so angry? You can’t hold a grudge over that stupid Clayton Farnsworth. I realize he fired you, but you should be glad of it. Who would want to work for him? He’s such a disagreeable fellow.”

  “Is that why you’re such g
reat chums with him? You’re just alike.”

  “You have to remember that what happened in Bath was fun and games. You shouldn’t take everything so seriously.”

  Sarah was across the room, and Desdemona tiptoed over, studying the wretched girl as if she were a snake that might bite.

  Once she was close enough, she murmured, “Let’s not tell Jasper about our little entertainments there.”

  “Shut up, Des.”

  “He doesn’t have to learn about your…trouble with Clayton. We’d upset him for no reason.”

  “You are laboring under the odd perception that I give two figs about you and Jasper.”

  “I’m delighted to hear it. Now what is it you need? Perhaps I can assist you. Is it money? Is that why you’ve come? I have some! Up in my bedchamber. Wait here, and I’ll run up to grab my purse.”

  “I’d rather choke to death than accept money from you.”

  Desdemona stepped nearer, and she laid a hand on Sarah’s wrist. “Where is Nicholas? Where did he go when he left Bath?”

  Sarah shook her away. “Mr. Swift is in jail.”

  “Jail! Whatever for?”

  “It was between him and Clayton Farnsworth, but I don’t have the faintest notion what occurred. You should ask Mr. Farnsworth. You seem so fond of him.”

  Desdemona’s mind was racing. That last day, Clayton had been insufferable. He’d bragged that he was about to inherit a fortune, how he would finally garner what he’d always craved. For the most part, she’d barely listened, deeming him a boor and a dolt. She had only socialized with him because Nicholas was his friend.

  But he’d had Nicholas arrested? She simply couldn’t fathom it.

  “What jail is he in? What town? Is he still in Bath?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Please, Sarah, when Jasper arrives, promise me you’ll be circumspect.”

  “About what facts?”

  “About…well…Bath and Clayton’s birthday party and any number of topics.”

  “Again, Desdemona, I don’t care about you, your seedy acquaintances, or how you spend your time.”

  “It’s just that you’ve never been married so you can’t be aware of what it’s like to have a husband like Jasper.”