Lady Disdain

by Michelle Morrison

  Sam kept his eyes closed—she imagined they still burned from all the smoke—but he reached his hand out and found hers easily, pulling her to him gently. Despite the chill air and the fact that she still had his coat, his body radiated heat. She nestled in the crook of his arm and draped herself against him. Within minutes, she was toasty warm and despite the terror of the last hour, she found herself dozing off.

  She awoke to find Sam lifting her out of the carriage.

  “I can walk,” she protested and he chuckled hoarsely.

  “You don’t have any shoes, sweetheart.”

  Having no response to that—and quite enjoying being in his arms—she glanced around, surprised to see they were at the Chalcroft’s home, though she didn’t know why she should be. She supposed if she’d thought about it, she would have assumed Sam would take her to…wherever he was staying.

  As he carried her up the stairs and pounded on the front door, Sarah was simultaneously disappointed that he hadn’t done just that and embarrassed that her thoughts should take such a scandalous bent.

  She knew that in a moment she would be engulfed by the efficiency of Lady Chalcroft’s servants. The countess herself would probably be awoken to see to Sarah. She pressed her face into Sam’s neck and clung to his shoulders, trying to impart the smell and feel of him into her body.

  The door swung open and Sarah allowed Sam to handle all the explanations as the butler efficiently ordered rooms and medical supplies to be prepared.

  Sarah felt Sam ascend the stairs, carrying her with ease despite the fact he coughed every few steps. Before she was ready to relinquish her grip on him, she felt him lowering her to a soft bed. She forced her eyes open and tried to read his expression beneath the layers of soot and weariness. He smiled and seemed about to say something when Lady Chalcroft burst into the room.

  “Good heavens! Sarah? What is this I hear about a fire?” Lady Chalcroft rushed to the bed and laid a soft hand on Sarah’s forehead, which brought a smile because it seemed like such a maternal thing to do, even though Sarah had escaped a fire, not a fever.

  Lady Chalcroft sat on the edge of the bed and peered closely at Sarah. “Do you have any injuries?”

  Sarah shook her head and croaked, “No.”

  “She inhaled a bit of smoke as we were getting out of the building,” Sam said in his own smoke-husky voice.

  Lady Chalcroft turned to him. “I understand we have you to thank for saving Sarah’s life, Mr. James.”

  “I was glad to be of assistance.”

  Though Lady Chalcroft turned back to Sarah, her next question was still directed at him. “What on earth were you doing in Southwark so early in the morning?”

  Sam seemed at a loss for words and though Sarah desperately wanted to know as well, she could tell he was rather embarrassed to speak in front of Lady Chalcroft so she faked a cough which, given the smoky state of her lungs, turned into a real coughing fit. As a diversionary tactic it was effective, although it did leave her rather gasping for breath.

  Lady Chalcroft filled a glass with water and held it for Sarah as she drank. “I’ve sent for the doctor. He’ll be here soon. Mr. James, do you require medical attention as well?”

  Sarah glanced up from the glass of water to find Sam’s gaze on her. He started at Lady Chalcroft’s question.

  “No, my lady. I am fine, I assure you.”

  “I imagine you’ll want to go and change then. Perhaps we might invite you to dinner later this week to thank you for your assistance this morning.”

  Sam seemed to regain himself, for he smiled at Lady Chalcroft’s obvious dismissal and bowed correctly. “I would be honored. My lady. Sar—Miss Draper.” And with that he turned and left.

  A series of housemaids brought pails of steaming water and proceeded to fill the tub in the adjoining room. As soon as they left, Lady Chalcroft said, “I shall leave you to your ablutions and then I am sure you will wish to rest until the doctor arrives.”

  Sarah nodded, feeling exhausted even though her only exertion had been being carried downstairs and sitting in a cold coach.

  “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Will you let Eleanor know I am well? She was to meet me in Southwark this morning. I should hate for her to worry.”

  “Of course,” Lady Chalcroft replied. “I shall send a note round later this morning.”

  “Er…if you wouldn’t mind sending it now, my lady, I fear it may miss her if we wait too long.”

  “But it’s scarcely seven o’clock in the morning.”

  “Eleanor is usually at work by eight.”

  “Eight o’clock? In the morning?”

  Sarah clenched her teeth to prevent her smile from showing. Lady Chalcroft had uttered that question in the same tone she might have asked of the cannibal, “He eats people?”

  When she had her features under control, she said, “Indeed, my lady.”

  Lady Chalcroft shook her head as if amazed by the knowledge. She finally said. “How many times have I asked you not to call me that?”

  At that Sarah did smile. “I’m sorry, Cousin Elizabeth. I fear the shock of waking up to a house on fire has affected me.”

  “Of course it did!” Lady Chalcroft said, standing quickly. “A nice soak will help restore you, I am sure.” She crossed the room but paused at the door. “I may not wish to know the answer to this, but how was it that Mr. James was at your…home this morning?”

  Again Sarah suppressed a smile and was glad to be able to answer honestly. “I’m sure I don’t know. I awoke to his pounding on my door yelling that the building was on fire.”

  Lady Chalcroft’s face cleared and she smiled. “Well we shall have to interrogate him when we have him to dinner.”

  Sarah nodded, wondering if she should warn Sam before he accepted Lady Chalcroft’s invitation. The elegant woman sounded positively ruthless.

  But as she bathed and put on a clean nightgown, Sarah couldn’t help but wonder herself just why Sam was in London and why he’d been at her building so early this morning. They’d not spoken in the carriage, but it was obvious their bodies didn’t need words as they’d fit together like two pieces of a puzzle as they’d shared warmth and solace after the terror of the fire.

  Clean, though still smelling faintly of smoke, she sank into the pressed linen sheets and pulled the covers up to her neck. As she allowed sleep to pull her into its embrace, she imagined herself back in that carriage, safe in his embrace.

  Sarah awoke suddenly a couple of hours later, worried about her neighbors. She forced herself to take a deep breath, reminding herself that Sam had mentioned Dr. Kendall. Surely, he would have made sure everyone was well cared for. She did a quick physical inventory and realized that she felt completely restored, aside from a bit of residual sore throat. She feared Sam would have suffered greater effects and wondered if anyone else had been injured or killed. Fires were all too common an occurrence in the crowded slums of Southwark and Sarah had treated innumerable patients with burns from minor to fatal. She knew how lucky she was and knew she had Sam to thank for her life, for she’d been too deeply asleep to have awoken in time to save herself. The odd thing was, she never slept that late. She was always up before dawn, even on days she didn’t have to be at the kitchen. Shaking her head in wonderment, she threw back the covers as a maid was entering.

  “Oh miss! I hope I didn’t wake you!” the girl said.

  “Not at all. I was just getting up. What have you there?” she asked, for the girl’s arms were full of fabric.

  “My lady sent word over to Lady Worthing and Lady Reading asking to borrow a few clothes until you could have new ones made,” the girl explained.

  “That was very kind of everyone,” Sarah said. “I take it Eleanor, er, Lady Reading was informed why I had need to borrow a gown?”

  The girl’s eyes were wide as she said, “I’m sure I don’t know, miss.”

  Sarah realized the girl herself probably wondered how she came to be here without a single gar
ment to her name. “I escaped a fire last night. Unfortunately the circumstances were dire enough that I was unable to collect any of my gowns. I simply had to flee.”

  The young maid gasped. “In your unmentionables? In front of everyone?”

  Sarah suppressed a chuckle. “Are nightgowns considered unmentionables? Very well then, yes, I did. But I doubt anyone noticed seeing as how many of them were in similar attire.”

  The girl’s eyes widened further, if that were possible. “Blimey!” she said, clearly fascinated and appalled at the notion of a bedclothes party.

  “We were all fleeing for our lives,” Sarah felt compelled to remind her. “One doesn’t worry much for rules or modesty when one is facing a fiery death.”

  That seemed to reach the maid and she rushed forward to spread the gowns on the bed. “Of course, miss. I’m so very glad you weren’t harmed!”

  Sarah smiled at the girl’s obvious sincerity and turned to look through the gowns.

  “You don’t know me, miss, but I know you.”

  “Oh?” Sarah said, glancing at her warily.

  “You helped me mam a few years back. Me da had died and we couldn’t work our land, so mam left us with a neighbor and came to London for work but she had no references and no skills to offer, ‘cept one and she didn’t hold for that.”

  Sarah nodded. It was a brutal choice forced on many women at their wits’ end in the uncaring streets of London.

  The girl continued, “She found your kitchen, she did. And you let her sleep there at night, taught her about cooking for loads of people, helped her get hired as a scullery maid. Right here in this house!”

  Sarah had a hazy memory of the woman. “What is your mother’s name?”

  “Alice Parsons,” the girl said proudly. “She’s the cook now. Moved right on up ‘cause she was such a hard worker and so good at cookin’, thanks to you.”

  Sarah smiled. “I remember her. But her talent is her own. I merely showed her the basics—we haven’t fancy ingredients in Southwark.”

  “That may be, miss, but mam says she’d be nowhere if it weren’t for you. She even got me and my sister hired on, her ladyship sets such a store by her skill.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Sarah exclaimed, seeing Cousin Elizabeth in a new light. “I shall look forward to seeing your mother again.”

  “Shall I help you dress, miss? Many of these gowns fasten up the back.”

  “Do they?” Sarah asked. “How very impractical. I suppose you’d better, then. But first, please tell me your name.”

  ‘It’s Martha, miss.”

  “Very good, Martha. Let’s see what you’ve brought.”

  When she was dressed, Sarah made her way downstairs and sought out the butler to ask for a carriage or hired hackney to take her as soon as possible to Southwark. With a precise nod of the head, he informed her a light luncheon had been laid out for her.

  “Lord and Lady Chalcroft are occupied, Miss Draper, so I took the liberty of setting a place for you in the yellow drawing room. It overlooks the gardens, which are still quite lovely, even at this time of the year.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Dawson. That sounds far less lonely than the formal dining room.”

  “Indeed, miss,” Dawson said, leading her into the yellow parlor. “Will there be anything else you— “

  “Sarah!” Eleanor exclaimed, bursting into the room and rushing to embrace her cousin. “Good heavens, what happened? Mother said there’d been a fire. Are you all right? How did you escape? When—“

  Sarah held up a hand to stem the rush of Eleanor’s questions and turned to smile at the butler. “Thank you, this is lovely.”

  Dawson bowed and withdrew, and if he had any natural curiosity himself about Sarah’s adventures, it remained firmly hidden behind his impassive butler’s expression.

  “Sarah!” Eleanor demanded impatiently.

  Sarah lifted her eyebrows and gestured to the table. “Would you care to join me? No? I’m sure you won’t mind if I eat then, seeing as I haven’t had a bite to eat since yesterday’s luncheon.”

  Eleanor regained herself. “Of course. I’m sorry, I’ve just been a bit frantic since mother’s note came. I, er, couldn’t make out some of her writing.”

  Sarah nodded in understanding.

  “Well at least have a roll while I eat and I shall tell you everything.”

  It didn’t take long, when all was said and done. It had been a remarkably short time from when Sam first pounded on her door until Lady Chalcroft was tucking her into the guest bed.

  Eleanor stared in amazement as Sarah finished her account, the half-eaten roll forgotten in her hand.

  “But…I don’t understand. How did Mr. James come to be there? I thought he’d returned to America months ago.”

  “And so he had. I’m not sure when he returned. I saw his sister, Lady Trowbridge just last week and she certainly gave no indication that she was aware of any travel plans.”

  “You saw Caroline Trowbridge? Last week? Why?” Eleanor appeared flummoxed and Sarah couldn’t blame her. Sarah had ever been a bit of a social recluse before Eleanor’s arrival and even since then, she’d been hesitant about her forays into society.

  “She and I have become…friends. She wished to volunteer at the kitchen but as she is expecting, her husband has requested she limit her volunteering to things she can do from her home.”

  “How on earth can she assist from her home in Mayfair?”

  Sarah smiled. “She has been making bandages for us and putting together packets of herbs and simples for the families in The Mint. She’s been quite helpful, really. I needn’t spend hours tracking down all the supplies and you know we are forever short of bandages. “

  Eleanor looked grudgingly impressed but came back to the original subject. “Very well, but then what did Mr. James say had brought him back to London so soon after his departure?”

  “He really didn’t say,” Sarah said.

  Eleanor frowned. “Did you ask him?”

  “Well, no,” Sarah said, thinking again of their drive into Mayfair. “We didn’t really talk.”

  Eleanor’s eyebrows lifted and a small smile curved her lips. “Do tell.”

  “No! Eleanor, it wasn’t like that. It was—well, you just can’t imagine the terror of fleeing a burning building. Once we were safe in the carriage, we just couldn’t talk. We rather collapsed to be truthful, and actually, I believe I dozed off.” She didn’t see the need to mention that she’d done so in Sam’s arms. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about that. No, that wasn’t accurate. She’d loved it. It had felt so right to give and take comfort in a simple embrace. What she was unsure of was how she felt about Samuel James’ return and certainly how he felt about her.

  Eleanor sat, deep in thought, her fingers absently tearing the rest of the roll to crumbs.

  “You need to call upon Caroline Trowbridge,” she finally said, coming out of her reverie.

  “What? Why?”

  “She and her brother are purported to be quite close, despite his apparent lack of communication about his travel plans. She will know what has brought him back to England.”

  “I told you,” Sarah said, distinctly uncomfortable with the idea of visiting Caroline simply to gain information about her brother. “Lady Trowbridge is expecting. I’m sure Mr. James simply wishes to be near for the arrival of his niece or nephew.”

  “Mmhmm,” Eleanor said, with an unconvinced expression. “And he was so worried about missing the event, he arrived, what, five months early?”

  “Perhaps four and a half,” Sarah mumbled.

  Eleanor gave her a speaking glance. “You must call on her. This afternoon.”

  “I can’t! I must return to The Mint and take stock of the damage, see if anyone needs assistance.”

  Sarah could tell Eleanor wanted to argue but she also was obviously worried about their neighbors, none of whom had a Mayfair house in which to seek refuge.

  “Very well. I�
��ll go with you.”

  “Thank you,” Sarah said.

  “Let me raid mother’s linen closet first. We’ll need as much bedding as we can get our hands on, I’m sure.”

  They set out shortly after under the disapproving gaze of the housekeeper who eyed their armload of linens as if they’d stripped them from her bed.

  They spent the afternoon tracking down neighbors, making sure everyone had found shelter, and treating the few injuries Dr. Kendall had not yet attended—generally mild ones that hadn’t required immediate attention.

  “It seems your Mr. James was remarkably effective in waking the other residents in addition to carrying you to safety,” Eleanor remarked as they left their last stop where they had heard tales of Sam pounding on doors and urging people to flee as he made his way to Sarah’s door.

  “He’s not my Mr. James,” Sarah said, but she was incredibly proud of him as well as thankful he’d been there.

  Eleanor gave her a sideways glance accompanied by a small smirk, but forbore from commenting.

  They made their way to their kitchen where dinner was being served. Sarah felt almost like a stranger as she watched the team of employees and volunteers serve the food. It had been just her and then just her and a couple of assistants for years before Eleanor came along, but now there was a full staff working and Sarah felt almost superfluous.

  Eleanor linked her arm through Sarah’s and guided her through the tables.

  “It’s still yours, you know.”

  “What?” Sarah asked.

  “All of this. The whole institution. It’s still your baby, your creation.”

  “Oh I don’t want credit,” Sarah protested and it was true; it just felt strange to be removed from the actual work of the place.

  “I know you don’t. But I also know how vested you are in these people. I just want you to know that they realize it too.”

  And as they made their way through the room, Sarah was greeted by men and women alike. She was hugged by small children. Everyone expressing relief and thanks that she was not harmed in the fire.

  “How silly of me,” she said as she dabbed at a tear that escaped her eye. “It’s not like I haven’t seen most of these people every day for five years!”