by Alec, Joyce
“You are just as stupid as your father was,” he breathed, as Sarah turned to look at him again. “Do you really think you can just take my wife away from me and that I am going to go without a fuss? You have the locket, yes, but that proves nothing.”
Lord Thorndyke stepped forward at once, his anger almost radiating from him, but Sarah held out her free hand to stop him.
This was hers to finish.
“Lord Andrew, my father was a great man. He was kind and generous and gave you more than enough opportunities to turn your back on your gambling ways. From what I hear, you spat that back into his face. I never knew my father because of you, even though it was not his life that you took.” Anger began to burn through her veins, making her step forward towards Lord Andrew and let go of Mrs. Avis’s hand. “As for the locket, yes, you are right, it might not be all that much in itself.” She paused for a moment, seeing the smug look on his face before allowing herself one of her own. “However, I would say that proves a great deal since I have a letter from my brother, the Duke of Brighton, that states this locket was lost on the day of my mother’s death. In addition, Lord Thorndyke has sent his steward to fetch the books from the pawn merchant that prove you were the one to hand this locket in all those years ago. I think these things will prove a great deal, Lord Andrew.”
The smile on the man’s face faded as he looked up into Sarah’s eyes. There was nothing there now but fear. Fear that she would use all she had to send him to jail, and, eventually, to his death.
Sarah felt no regret. This was justice. This was right. She had nothing more to do than to take Mrs. Avis with her and start living her life the way she should have all those years ago.
“You are done for, Lord Andrew,” she murmured, stepping back from him and looking down at him with a mixture of both relief and disgust. “You are to face the punishment you deserve for what you have done to my family.” She saw him shudder but felt no sympathy. “As for me, I am going to do what I have been hoping for these last few weeks. I shall marry the man I love and meet my brother, the Duke of Brighton. And then I shall be happy, free from fear, and free from confusion, knowing that the person responsible for all of this will paying for his crimes just as he ought.”
Without waiting to see what Lord Andrew had to say, Sarah held out her hand to Mrs. Avis, who came over to her at once.
“Come, Mrs. Avis,” she said softly. “Let us leave this place and allow Lord Higgs and Lord Thorndyke to deal with Lord Andrew. I have had more than enough of this place and that man. I am sure you feel the same.”
“I do,” Mrs. Avis replied, holding Sarah’s hand tightly as they walked arm in arm towards the door. “Thank you, Sarah. I will never forget this.”
Sarah managed a small smile, turning her head back to look at Lord Thorndyke, who nodded at her in understanding, pride shining in his eyes.
“Thank you, Mrs. Avis,” she replied, turning back towards the open door. “Without you, none of this would have been possible. I am more thankful than you will ever know.”
Epilogue
Two weeks later
“I still do not understand why you had to move back here,” Lord Thorndyke complained, as he and Sarah walked in the gardens. “We are to be wed very soon.”
Sarah laughed, feeling happier than she had ever done before. “Because it is more proper for me to do so. I cannot exactly live in your home when the ton now knows exactly who I am.”
“No longer ‘Miss Weston’ but ‘Lady Sarah Fairley’,” Lord Thorndyke sighed, shaking his head. “I knew the moment we escorted Lord Andrew to the authorities that news would spread around London, but I did not think it would be so soon.”
“It was for the best,” Sarah replied, glad that she could now take on her true title and standing in society. “Besides which, if I did not own a large property such as this, then where would my brother stay when he comes to visit? Where would Mr. and Mrs. Stanton reside?” Her voice took on a teasing tone, as he threw her a frustrated glance, more than aware that Lord Thorndyke’s home was more than adequate for three additional guests.
“I know, I am just being foolish,” he admitted, letting out another mournful sigh. “It is just that being parted from you is a torture I am struggling to bear. I had every intention of seeking a special license, as you well know.”
Sarah laughed again and shook her head. “Which you know would only have added to the scandal,” she chuckled, looking up into his face. “Besides, there was no reason for that any longer, not now when it has been revealed to the world who I truly am. The banns have only one more week to go before we can marry.”
“It is still too long,” he grated, suddenly tugging her towards a bench that sat just underneath a beautiful cherry tree. “It is painful for me not to have you by my side.”
Sarah let out a long breath and leaned into him, her head resting against his shoulder as she looked up at the tree, seeing the hints of blue trying to make their way down from the sky through the tree branches. “I know, Thorndyke, but it is worth the wait, I think. It has given us more time to get to know one another, and I am grateful for that.”
Lord Thorndyke glanced down at her before nodding slowly. “Yes, I suppose it has.”
Thinking about the last couple of weeks, Sarah felt happiness in her heart that she had never truly experienced before. Everything was behind her now, the confusion and pain and struggle gone entirely. Lord Andrew was now under arrest, with his trial due to start very soon. Although, Lord Thorndyke had insisted that they be out of the country on honeymoon during that time. Sarah was grateful for that, glad that she would not have to see his pinched, threatening face again.
Mrs. Avis had taken some convincing to remain with Sarah, seemingly flooded with guilt over what she had done—or had not done—but Sarah had not been about to part with her. The poor woman had already lived a lifetime of agony, being forced into matrimony with Lord Andrew, and had done all she could to help Sarah, even though things had not quite worked out as she had intended. From Mrs. Avis, Sarah had learned that Lord Andrew had never given up on his quest to rid the world of both her and her brother, such was his grievance against her dearly departed father. Sarah had shown Mrs. Avis that, in finding the courage to do what she had done in slipping into Mr. Stanton’s home and placing the locket under Sarah’s pillow, she had saved Sarah’s life.
Eventually, Mrs. Avis had agreed to remain with Sarah and Lord Thorndyke for the rest of her days, promising to do all she could to aid Sarah in any way she could. Sarah already had visions of Mrs. Avis playing with Sarah’s children, her heart glad that she would have the dear lady as a part of her life for years to come.
“You are not thinking of abandoning our engagement, I hope?” Lord Thorndyke teased, turning in his seat to face her a little more. “You are often lost in thought these days, although I find myself having to guess what you are thinking.”
Sarah looked up into his eyes, seeing the tenderness there and finding it filling her heart.
“I am just thinking about how happy I am,” she said softly. “How content I have been these last weeks. You have become such a big part of my life. In some ways, I owe you my life. To keep your promises, to take me on as though we have always known one another, that speaks to my heart.”
There was a moment of silence, as they looked at one another, their eyes filled with nothing more than each other.
“I love you, Sarah,” Lord Thorndyke said hoarsely, one hand lifted to her face. “I did not think that I would ever feel such a thing for you, but my affection has burst to life, and now I can think of nothing more. I swear I shall love you for the rest of my days.”
She could not speak for a moment, closing her eyes as he rested her forehead gently against her own.
“I love you, Thorndyke,” she whispered, speaking the words that had begun to wind themselves around her mind these last few days. “I have never felt such a thing before, but it grows with every moment we spend together.”
He kissed her then, gently, and Sarah responded with everything she felt. Her hands twined around his neck, her fingers brushing the hair at the nape of his neck whilst he wrapped his arms around her waist.
Her heart was so filled with love that, even when he broke the kiss, she could not breathe, could not speak, could not so much as think. Her life had turned from one of confusion and struggle to one of love and delight. There was a brother she was yet to meet, a family she could call her own. How much things had changed.
“I will love you always, Thorndyke,” she said, looking up into his face and marveling at the love she saw there. “For everything you have been, for everything you will be, and for everything you are.”
* * *
THE END
Preview: An Earl’s Agreement
Preview
An Earl’s Agreement by Joyce Alec
London 1836
Miss Lucy Donoghue sighed happily to herself and settled back a little more against the cushions of the window seat in the library. Looking out of the window at the beautiful gardens below for a brief moment, she let her mind drift to thoughts about life and love, picturing herself as the heroine in the book she held in her hands.
Her parents would be horrified if they knew she was reading such a book, considering these novels to be both unorthodox and entirely unhelpful to a young woman of quality.
Lucy could not agree.
The books opened up a world far beyond the trappings of society, where one could find someone of worth who sought love over expectation. They told her that matrimony could happen between two individuals who held a deep and long-lasting love for each other.
It was certainly not what she saw in her own parents’ marriage. There might be an affection of sorts, but nothing akin to love existed between them. Her father, the Earl of Withington, held a great deal of power within society. For whatever reason, he had a shrewd mind and could accomplish wonders within his business dealings, which garnered him a great deal of respect from the gentlemen within his acquaintance. His wife—Lucy’s mother—had the ability to look down her nose at almost anyone, even those above her own title, to the point that a great many ladies sought her favor. Lucy had heard it said on more than one occasion that to have Lady Withington’s favor meant that you were accepted within society.
Lucy, for herself, had very little interest in the subject. She attended balls and other events with her parents with good grace, but much preferred to spend her time in quiet pursuits, such as reading or discussing what she had read with anyone willing to engage with her. She had heard her mother exclaim that she had never wished for a bluestocking for a daughter, yet Lucy had not found herself caring one whit.
She was the second child, with the first, her brother Jonathan, already married and settled. Of course, he was the apple of her parents’ eyes, especially because he had done as he was expected and married well. Their father had sent him to the country with his wife, giving them one of his many holdings as a wedding present. In due course, Jonathan would inherit the earl’s title and take on all of his responsibilities.
Lucy had never been close to him. He had always been willing to do what he was asked, whereas she wished for more. She still remembered the day their mother had pressed a certain young lady’s suit onto Jonathan. On that day, she had known in her heart that her brother would marry within the year—and so it had come to pass. Jonathan had married Lady Victoria Bentson within a few months, and now, after a year, had already produced the heir to the earl’s title.
Jonathan was everything she was not: proper, compliant, and entirely respectable. She was not particularly good at the pianoforte, she shunned needlework, and she attempted to further her own knowledge through reading and discussion.
No one wants a bluestocking for a wife, she thought to herself, recalling her mother’s words and ignoring the sharp twist in her heart at the memory.
Sighing to herself, Lucy picked up her book from her lap and snuggled back against the cushions, propping the novel up on her knees. Here, hidden away in the window seat, she was able to enjoy her love of prose without anyone interrupting her. Her parents had, on many occasions, sought her out, though they had never been able to find her hidden amongst the curtains in the library. Thankfully the housekeeper had something of a soft spot for Lucy, and so never once told her parents where she might be, even if she was fully aware of it.
“This cannot go on much longer, Charles!”
Her mother’s shrill voice reached Lucy’s ears, making her jump with surprise. Slowly closing the book, she wondered whether to pull open the curtains and announce her presence, but then her parents would know one of her favorite hiding places and all would be undone.
Instead, Lucy remained entirely still, thinking that she might stop up her ears with her fingers. She did not want to eavesdrop, did not want to hear her parents’ private business, which was not hers to know.
“Whatever shall we do with her, Charles? Did you see her at the ball last evening?”
Lucy swallowed, nerves beginning to flurry through her stomach. They were discussing her. Her cheeks warmed at the thought of the last ball she had attended with her parents. Her mother had caught her deep in discussion with two other gentlemen, talking about the merits of the Scottish Poor Law in relation to the English law. What had made it worse was that both gentlemen, while titled, had been of a lower standing than her father, and Lucy knew she was expected to marry either within a similar rank or, preferably, higher.
“She is becoming wild!” her mother screeched as Lucy heard her father slam the door with his usual lack of consideration. “Discussing the Poor Law, discussing poverty, and the workhouse! That is not the kind of subject a young lady needs to talk about. She should be fluttering her fan and seeking to ensure her dance card is full.”
“Did she not dance at all?” her father asked, his voice grave. “I can scarcely believe that. Lucy is one of the most beautiful and most eligible young women at such events.”
“She did dance some,” her mother replied slowly. “But her beauty and eligibility mean nothing, Charles, not when she is so lacking in other ways.”
Lucy’s grip tightened on her book, her fingers growing white as she forced her anger back under control. She had no need to simper and smile, since none of the young men her parents favored was of any interest to her. In fact, she considered them all quite dull! They looked at her as though she were simply some kind of adornment, one they could wear on their arm, but care very little about.
No, she did not want that kind of man for a husband. Instead, she sought someone who actually had some semblance of character, someone who appreciated her desire for knowledge and wish to better herself. She needed a husband with whom she could talk, a husband who enjoyed spending time in her company instead of simply expecting her to turn up to societal events with him.
Love? She smiled softly, her parents’ voices fading into the background. Perhaps love, and if not love, then certainly affection, for she was sure that affection could, and would, grow to love.
Lucy was determined not to ever allow herself to marry someone who had utterly no regard for her, nor she for him. That kind of marriage would only turn out to be similar to the bond her parents had, a bond that was brittle and liable to snap at any moment. Her lip curled with distaste.
She was more than aware that her father had a few mistresses throughout their marriage, for he often shouted it at her mother when he drank too much whiskey. No, her parent’s marriage was a decidedly unhappy one, and certainly not one Lucy sought for herself.
“I do have a friend that would be a fine match for Lucy,” her father said slowly, his voice suddenly capturing her attention again. “I know he is keen to wed once more, but no one has caught his eye as yet.”
Her mother snorted. “And you really think Lucy might be the one to do so?”
“As it happens, the gentleman is interested in some kind of partnership with me.”
/> Lucy gripped her book tighter and tighter as the seconds ticked on. Surely he was not about to suggest that she be pushed into another man’s arms as some kind of business agreement.
“Then you think Lucy might wed him, and secure your partnership?” her mother asked quietly. “Who is this man? That does not make sense, Charles.”
“Of course it does,” her father blustered, sounding both irritated and angry that his wife had questioned him. “Have you not just finished telling me that Lucy is struggling to find a suitor? Lord Hutton is quite desperate to be in partnership with me, I believe, and will do exactly as I ask, I am sure of it. He will take Lucy off our hands, make her more than respectable, and my holdings will be more than secure with his additional funding. What issues can you foresee, my dear?”
There was silence as Lucy held back her shriek of refusal and despair. She clenched her fists and pressed one to her mouth; tears began to roll unchecked down her cheeks.
“And if she does not agree?” her mother asked, a worried ring to her voice. “What then?”
Her father chuckled. “She will have no choice but to agree. Our stubborn, rebellious daughter is about to realize that she will do as she is told, or she will be out in the cold. She will lose all respectability and, without funds, what exactly is she to do?”
Clapping her hands together, her mother let out a squeal of glee. “Wonderful! It is about time that girl learns her place.”
“I shall speak to Hutton as soon as possible,” her father finished, his footsteps carrying him across the floor. “Shall we, my dear?”
Lucy kept silent until the sounds of their footsteps died away, leaving her entirely alone once more. Putting her head in her hands, she allowed the pain and hurt she felt bubble to the surface as fresh tears began to fall. Her parents had, unwittingly, alerted her to their intentions, but she had never expected them to be so cruel. Was she really so much of a burden that they would push her onto Lord Hutton, a man almost the same age as her father?