Hearts of Gold

by Janet Woods

  A deluge of rinsing water cascaded over her head and she spluttered.

  ‘Stay there a minute or two, Miss. I’m going to put some rose water in the next rinse. George gave me that tip. He told me it will make your hair shine, and it will smell nice when you’re in the bedroom and let your hair down. Men like it, apparently.’

  ‘Ada. You’re shocking! I’m not married, so I’m hardly going to have a man in my bedroom when I let my hair down.’

  Ada giggled. ‘Well, you never know. Men have a way with them that’s wickedly persuasive when the mood’s on them, and perhaps the master will take a fancy to you, or perhaps Mr Gerald Grimble will. Both of them give you the eye from time to time.’

  The kiss Magnus had stolen from her came into her mind. That had been very persuasive. She’d wanted more. ‘How do you know about such things?’

  ‘Cook told me, and she was nearly married to a French smuggler who worked for Mr Kern’s grandfather.’

  ‘Why didn’t she marry him?’

  ‘She discovered he had a wife and family back in France, but don’t tell her I told you because it fair broke her heart. Close your eyes, now, Miss.’

  The second deluge nearly drowned her and she was surrounded by fragrance.

  ‘Out you come now, Miss, else you’ll turn all wrinkly.’ Sarette’s hair was rubbed vigorously with the towel against Ada’s chest and she had a sudden, poignant reminder of making a noise in her throat while her mother did the same to her, and of her mother laughing. Lord, it was ages since she’d remembered her mother, or what she looked like.

  Stepping from the bath she found herself enveloped in the warm fluffy towel Ada held out. A hair brush was placed in her hand. You brush your hair and dry yourself off while I hop in the tub. It won’t take me long.’

  ‘You’re spoiling me, Ada. Have a good old soak. I’m quite capable of drying my own hair. It’s lovely and warm by the fire.’

  ‘Well, I can’t be too long. Mr Kern wants to leave by noon, and he gets impatient if he’s made to wait. He’s always ahead of time, and wants you to rest after the journey, and before you need to get ready.’

  The time flew by, and soon they found themselves almost out of it. ‘Just braid my hair, Ada. That will do for now. Pulling on the jacket of her blue velvet suit, she buttoned it while Ada fixed her hat in place.

  The hall clock began to chime the hour. ‘Hurry, Miss.’ Ada pulled on her coat, grabbed up Sarette’s vanity case and headed off.

  Sarette waited until the ninth chime had sounded, then made her way down the corridor.

  Bong . . .

  She reached the top of the staircase and headed down, her feet sinking into the carpeting.

  Bong . . .

  From the bend in the stairs she could see Magnus gazing at the clock then back at his watch, a frown on his face.

  Bong . . .

  I do hope I haven’t kept you waiting, Magnus,’ she said, descending the last few steps.

  His glance swept over her, then he laughed, and, as the twelfth chime quivered into silence, said, ‘Perfectly timed, but as it happens, my watch seems to have stopped.’

  She returned his smile, absorbing the warmth of it. ‘It probably died from being glared at so often. I do my best to conform to your exacting standards.’

  ‘You’re intent on rubbing my nose in them you mean,’ he growled. ‘I just happen to like things to run on time.’

  ‘What if I hadn’t run on your time, but on my own?’

  ‘I would have looked pointedly at my useless watch and growled and grumbled a lot, and you would have taken no notice and laughed at me, just as you’re doing now. That’s what would have happened.’

  ‘Just like Mr John, only he’d have walked off with long strides and smoke coming from his heels, so I’d have to run to catch up with him. At least you don’t do that.’

  ‘There’s always a first time.’ He took her hand in his. ‘Come along. Let’s be off.’

  She recalled something and came to a halt. ‘I’ve forgotten something. I won’t be long, and she scurried off up the stairs again, followed by an exaggerated sigh.

  He was tapping his fingers on the ornate silver top of his cane when she came down, but said nothing.

  The gig was waiting behind the carriage, and shafted to the black gelding, who tossed his head, snorted steam and stamped his foreleg, as if eager to be off. There were two horses to pull the carriage, sturdy, well-behaved chestnuts. Swathed in a warm coat, top hat and boots Robert beamed at them from the driver’s seat. ‘Good morning, sir . . . Miss Maitland.’

  She waved to him. ‘You look splendid, Robert. Don’t forget to wear your gloves, else your hands will get chapped.’

  ‘I’ve got them here, thank you, Miss.’

  George held the door open. Magnus assisted her in, then took the seat opposite her. ‘Ada and George will be coming separately in the gig. We have too many packages and not enough horsepower to make the journey comfortably otherwise. He leaned forward to tuck a rug around her knees, then tapped his cane against the roof. The carriage lurched forward.

  The day was cold, but bright. Most of the trees had been stripped bare by winter, and the branches scratched against the pale blue roof of the sky with bony fingers. A barn was painted green with moss, against which a naked apple tree splayed its limbs. One apple, brown and rotten, clung to a branch. Holly berries were startling scarlet clusters nestled in spikes and the brown earth was crumbled into ridges.

  The English landscape, and the unpredictable weather was a constant source of fascination to Sarette. She had a strong sense of belonging to the place. Her gaze shifted to where Magnus sat, his dark head relaxed against the corner cushions, the expression in his eyes far away, as if he was exploring his thoughts, as she’d been doing. She belonged to him, too, but in some intangible way, as though they’d been meant to cross paths at some time in their lives.

  He didn’t move, but his eyes had narrowed in on her, as if he’d become aware of her scrutiny. They gazed at each other without saying anything, but there was communication of sorts, as if she’d touched him at a deeper level of awareness. The faint, wry smile he offered set her stomach fluttering skyways. Something significant had happened between them, but she didn’t know what.

  ‘What are you thinking, Sarry?’

  ‘That your uncle filled my mind with this place that he loved, and that was his gift to me.’

  ‘You think of him a lot, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes. I don’t mean to, but every so often I see something that Mr John told me about, and I remember his passion in the telling of it.’

  ‘I know what you mean. I’ve been reading his journals.’

  ‘What did he say about me?’

  ‘He said you’d ask, and I was to tell you that what he wrote in his journal was none of your damned business.’

  She burst into laughter. ‘As if I’d listen. Tell me anyway.’

  ‘You tell me about the time you removed buckshot from his rear end.’

  ‘He told me not to look at his arse. So I said how could I remove the buckshot if I didn’t and he said to pretend I wasn’t looking. So I did that. What did Mr John say happened?’

  ‘He said you laughed and dug the buckshot out with no thought for his comfort. Then you poured iodine into the wounds, and told him not to be a baby when he winced. So he did what he was told.’

  ‘It wasn’t a wince, it was a yelp, and Mr John never, ever did what he was told. He was a rebel through and through, and I think that’s why I liked him so much.’ Her smile faded. ‘I do hope he didn’t suffer.’

  ‘He never saw the bullet coming and it was instant, straight through the heart. No, he didn’t suffer.’

  She said. ‘I wonder if it was a coincidence, his killer being Flynn Collins.’

  ‘Why should it be?’

  ‘When I’d told him what Flynn had done, your uncle said if he ever ran into him, he’d take him to task over it on my behalf.’


  ‘So you think he ran into Collins after you left, and he had it out with him, then Collins lay in wait for him and shot him in the back.’

  She nodded.

  ‘It’s quite possible, I suppose. There must have been a reason behind the shooting. I hope you’re not about to blame yourself.’

  She shrugged as something else niggled at the back of her mind. ‘That man in Dorchester the other day, the one who called himself Jack Maitland. He reminded me of Flynn Collins. The boy said his accent might have been a Scot . . . but then, he might have been Irish.’

  He smiled at that. ‘Sarry, my love, I think your imagination is running away with you a little and that would be just too much of a coincidence.’

  ‘Yes . . . yes, I suppose it is.’

  ‘Then let’s drop this morbid subject.’

  She smiled at him, trying to keep her excitement under control. ‘I’m so looking forward to this ball.’

  ‘I’m looking forward to it myself. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.’

  ‘Will there be an orchestra playing music?’

  He looked slightly pained. ‘Of course there will. It’s a ball.’

  Alarm filled her. ‘What if nobody wants to dance with me?’

  ‘I daresay I’ll manage to swing you round and crush your toes for you now and again. You’re far too excited, Sarry. Stop this, else I’ll take you back home and leave you there.’

  ‘I feel sort of breathless.’

  ‘If you faint I’ll throw you out of the carriage into the bushes.’ He moved across to sit beside her. ‘Tell me you’re not going to faint. I never know what to do with fainting women.’

  ‘Do women faint often when they’re with you, then?’

  ‘Luckily, no.’

  ‘When one does, you should loosen their corsets,’ she suggested, and poked him in the ribs. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not about to faint. I told you, I prattle when I’m nervous.’

  ‘So you do.’ When he tipped up her chin and kissed her she stopped prattling.

  Sarette had rested all afternoon. Now she wore the pale green gown Magnus had bought her from Madame Maria’s salon. She also wore the pearl set that Gerald and Ignatious Grimble had given her. In fact, her outfit had been provided by three men.

  ‘There, you can look in the mirror now.’

  A knock came at the door before she could, and Ada wailed, ‘It can’t be Mr Kern. It’s too early.’

  It was a messenger with a small box from Magnus. Inside, in a bed of pink velvet was a sparkling brooch in the shape of a crescent moon with a trembling star hanging from the bottom point.

  She turned it this way and that, watching it sparkle. ‘How pretty it is.’

  Ada pinned it to one side of her waist, then helped her hands and arms into long kid gloves. She placed the loop of a fan over her wrist, then turned her to face the mirror and said with satisfaction, ‘There.’

  The image that gazed back at her was that of an elegant woman, and she felt more grown-up than she ever had in her life before. Was this the dusty urchin that had been abandoned on goldfields? Look at me now, Mr John, she thought. I’m going to make Magnus proud of me tonight, just you wait and see.

  He came for her shortly afterwards, his smile reminding her of the small intimacy between them in the carriage. She wished he’d kiss her again, only longer and harder.

  ‘You’re exquisite. Well done, Ada,’ he said. ‘Go down to the servant’s dining room and get yourself some dinner. George will show you where it is.’

  After Ada had gone, Sarette smiled. ‘Thank you for the brooch, that was sweet of you. I have something for you, too.’

  She picked up the object, which she’d wrapped in her lace handkerchief and handed it to him.’

  After he’d uncovered it he said with some astonishment, ‘My uncle’s watch? I’d wondered what had happened to it.’

  ‘He gave it to me just as I was leaving. He said it would prove to you that I was genuine. He also told me to sell it if I ran out of money. It’s gold, you see. And it has his name in it. I know he would have wanted you to have it. I was going to give it to you for Christmas. It’s just a little early.’

  Magnus was staring down at it.

  ‘You do like it, don’t you? I’d never have sold it, and I always intended to give it to you. You’re not cross with me for not handing it over sooner?’

  ‘This was one of my uncle’s most treasured possessions. I bought it for him, for his fiftieth birthday.’ Magnus fitted the case into the pocket of his waistcoat, and the chain through the aperture made for it. Her handkerchief went into another pocket. ‘I’m pleased it wasn’t lost. I’ll treasure it, too.’

  When she reached up to kiss his cheek he turned his head and claimed her mouth. It was soft and warm, and this time he took her bottom lip between his teeth and gently sucked it into his mouth before letting it go. She could have sworn that her toes curled.

  ‘Don’t you dare kiss me like that again,’ she scolded.

  ‘Why? Are you frightened you’ll faint and I’ll have to loosen your corset.’

  ‘To be honest . . . yes!’

  He laughed, and held out his arm to her. ‘May I remind you that it was you who kissed me. All I did was respond. Shall we go? I don’t want to be late.’

  She grinned at him, feeling the excitement of attending her first ball quivering inside her. ‘No, that wouldn’t do at all.’

  Gerald was standing with his brothers when Magnus came down the stairs with Sarry on his arm.

  He hadn’t been expecting to see Magnus, and could have kicked himself. He’d had no idea that Magnus had been pulling the wool over his eyes. My God, what has he done to the girl? he thought. She’s glowing. So was Magnus come to that. Gerald was suspicious, but admiring of his friend’s ability to outwit him on this occasion.

  They were shown to their table, where Magnus greeted his partner Clive Farrington and his wife. Seated at his friend’s table was a fatuous old magistrate called James Huff, who was as deaf as a post, and his rotund wife, who was dressed in green satin frills, and weighed down with so many diamonds she appeared to be wearing a chandelier. Poor old Magnus getting stuck on a table with those two, he thought. Thank goodness he personally had a large family to hide amongst.

  ‘Who’s that with Magnus Kern?’ Jessica Fenwick asked his sister Olivia.

  ‘Her name’s Sarette Maitland. She’s Magnus’s ward, I believe.’

  ‘The woman who’s living with him at Fierce Eagles?’ Jessica sounded shocked. ‘They say the late Mr Kern found her in the Australian countryside living with a tribe of natives, and sent her here to be tamed and educated.’

  ‘Ah . . . so the ubiquitous they have singled her out, have they?’ Gerald said. ‘Poor Sarette. She and Magnus will be joining us for Christmas, so you’ll be able to form your own opinion of whether she can use a knife and fork properly. Perhaps we should cook up a dish of snakes for her to eat.’

  ‘Gerald, don’t be so churlish,’ Olivia said sharply. ‘Jessica wasn’t to know that Sarette Maitland is a particular friend of yours.’

  Jessica sniffed. ‘The gown she’s wearing must have cost a fortune. Miss Maitland is lucky she has such a wealthy patron.’

  Olivia said sharply, ‘Shush, please keep your voice down, Jessica.’

  Before I stuff a tablecloth in your mouth, Gerald thought uncharitably, because it had just occurred to him that he’d have to apologize to Sarette for withdrawing his invitation, and without being armed with the excuse Magnus had used on his behalf. But first he was placed in the position of needing to defend her. ‘Miss Maitland is a respectable and charming young woman who has been left a fortune in her own right—’ He clamped his mouth over his slip of the tongue.

  Olivia grinned. ‘I know all about it, Gerald dear. You men don’t realize how indiscreet you can be at the family dinner table.’

  ‘Then I hope you keep anything you hear private, Olivia. Now, I must go and fill in Sarette’s dance card. This
is her first ball, I understand.’

  ‘Then I do hope it turns out to be a memorable one for her,’ Olivia said, and exchanged a sly glance with Jessica.

  At that moment Sarette caught sight of him. She tugged gently at Magnus’s sleeve, something that spoke of a new familiarity between them. Magnus was not usually the type of man to encourage such familiarity.

  Gerald found himself warmed by her smile, then she whispered something to Magnus.

  His friend glanced over, his eyes as unfathomable as his smile, except for the challenge in them. They bowed slightly to each other, like a couple of fencers about to joust.

  Gerald excused himself and crossed to their table. ‘I thought you didn’t intend to come, Magnus.’

  Magnus smiled blandly. ‘I decided I didn’t want to disappoint Sarette since she’d never been to a ball before.’

  ‘And this one is full of old legal gentlemen with not much sap left in them to expend on dance.’ Picking up her hand he kissed her knuckles. ‘My profound apologies for letting you down, Sarry. The pressures of work.’

  ‘A headache wasn’t it?’ she said, and when Gerald heard Magnus stifle a laugh he knew that Sarette was aware of the truth.

  ‘You know it wasn’t. I simply forgot after family pressure persuaded me to escort someone else. They are eager to marry me off. I can only hope that you’ll forgive me the insult and allow me the honour to be the first to fill out your dance card.’

  ‘Thank you, Gerald, but Judge Huff has already done that by claiming the second dance.’

  ‘Commiserations,’ he whispered in her ear, and she giggled and handed him her card. He filled in three spaces. ‘I hope to dance you off your feet tonight, which will also give me the opportunity to grovel all evening and redeem myself.’

  ‘Thank you, Gerald. You don’t have to redeem yourself. I quite understand that you must put your family’s wishes first.’

  ‘You’re an angel, and the most beautiful woman here, Sarry,’ he said sincerely.

  Magnus gave a faint smile. ‘Your loss was my gain, Gerald.’

  Mrs Huff gently coughed and Gerald’s eyes went to her overpowering greenness. Best to get it over with early, before she began to perspire, he supposed.