Henry & Sarah

by Kadrak, Suzanne

  Upon seeing Lady Partridge approach, Damian momentarily let go of Sarah, quickly rose from his seat, and gallantly extended a hand towards the lady in order to help her climb inside the coach without destroying the storkʼs nest on her head.

  It was then that Sarah slowly raised her head and secretly peered over to Henry who was still standing in the door.

  Henryʼs heart missed a beat when their eyes fused together. He became aware of a mixture of sadness and longing in Sarahʼs glances, just as if she was silently begging him to save her. She appeared so forlorn that he desperately wanted to run over to her and say something which might have comforted her. But he guessed that even if he had had the chance to talk to her, he would not have known what to say in this hopeless situation. Still, he found that he could impossibly let her go without giving her some kind of sign. And so he quickly winked at her.

  She didnʼt wink back at him, nor did she smile in return. But the color of her face turned slightly pink which caused Henryʼs heart to hammer excitedly in his chest.

  Shyly, Sarah lowered her gaze. After having managed to squeeze Lady Partridge in the coach, Damian got hold of the girlʼs hand again. Then the coach began to move whilst Henry was standing in the frame of the door, staring after Sarah as if he would never see her again.

  * * *

  “You look sad, my friend,” Dr. Scott remarked, a worried expression on his face.

  Henry had felt the doctorʼs observing glances on him for quite a while and guessed that Dr. Scott was surely wondering why he was so utterly quiet and also unwilling to accept one of the cigars which the doctor had offered him.

  For the past thirty minutes, they had been sitting on the train, heading towards London, and Henry felt sorry for not having been the appropriate company he had originally intended to be. He found that Dr. Scott had most definitely not deserved to see his moody side. After all, he seemed to be the only reasonable person within the clan of the Partridges, and Henry didnʼt want to risk this secret companionship.

  “I am utterly sorry, Doctor, I—” Henry began, but Dr. Scott cut him off.

  “Please, do call me Oscar. I find titles awfully annoying. They interrupt the flow of the sentence, donʼt you think?” he said.

  “Thank you, Oscar. Well, as for my current state of mind, I am afraid I feel a little...” Henry answered and broke off, desperately looking for the right words to describe the mood he was in without giving too much away of the true reasons behind his quietness. But to his utter surprise, Oscar already seemed to guess.

  “... Jealous?” he finished Henryʼs sentence, a mysterious smile on his lips.

  Dreading that his face was getting red with embarrassment, Henry quickly turned his head away from Oscarʼs curious gaze and towards the window. It had not been his intention to show his feelings so blatantly, especially not in front of Oscar, who was still part of the Partridge family after all. But the doctor seemed to be rather amused.

  “My dear friend, you wouldnʼt be the first man whose head Sarah turned.”

  Oscar stuck yet another cigar in his mouth and lit it after having finished the previous ones at record speed. He closed his eyes, sucked at the cigar with relish, inhaled, and blew out the smoke.

  “I actually think the girl has quite a liking for you,” he added.

  “And what makes you believe so?” Henry laughed in a pointless attempt to appear indifferent in the face of Oscarʼs assumption which, in fact, made his heart beat slightly faster.

  “Well, she has not thrown anything at you yet, has she?”

  Oscar grinned. Then his voice got a more pensive note.

  “Seriously, Henry, I believe to see it from the look in her eyes whenever your name is mentioned in her presence.”

  “You are fooling me...” Henry chuckled hysterically, his heart beating even faster than before.

  “I am not. Last night I asked her what she thought of you. And she meant that you were ʻalright.ʼ And in her own strange language that comes as close as to saying that she fancies you. Trust me, I know her well enough.”

  Henryʼs heart by now threatened to jump out of his chest with excitement. He was positive that his delight in response to Oscarʼs words was written all over his face. Still, he made an effort to appear serious and reasonable.

  “I am old and wise enough to weigh up my chances when it comes to a girl of her status,” he replied.

  Oscar pulled an earnest face.

  “Without wanting to come across as too direct... but yes, I am afraid you are right,” he said, making Henryʼs heart sink again. “I donʼt want you to jump to the conclusion that I entirely share all of my relativesʼ opinions, but I know for sure that a liaison between Sarah and a teacher does not really come up to their expectations. It is their intention to get this girl married to a man of very high ranking, preferably Damian Cox, in order to restore the once good reputation of their house. But it also has to do with the fact that Damian is a very influential man. It all serves a purpose, you know, mainly the one of strategic business alliances. Oh dear, have I said too much? I probably have...”

  Oscar sighed, took another puff at his cigar, and then absent-mindedly stared out of the window.

  “May I ask why their reputation is so bad?” Henry began. “I mean it can hardly be due to the mere fact that Sarah is a nuisance at times.”

  “You are quite right,” Oscar answered. “Of course, it is not due to Sarahʼs behavior alone, although the latter has fairly contributed to it by causing a lot of amusement and gossiping in high society circles. But in order to understand Sarahʼs rebellious soul, one must know her past.”

  “Would you mind telling me a little bit about her?” Henry asked carefully. He didnʼt want to come across as impolite or nosy. Still, he felt that he had a certain right to know something about Sarahʼs background if he was to deal with her in the future.

  “I take it that I can trust you that this conversation is just between you and me...” Oscarʼs voice sank to a whisper.

  “You have my word on it,” Henry answered firmly.

  “Of course, I have,” Oscar mumbled, a little rueful smile appearing on his lips. “Please do forgive me for being so suspicious. I know that you are a good man. There are only few people around like you. And I am glad that you have decided to take this trip to London with me to have some fun. God, my life has become so utterly boring ever since I moved out to the countryside...”

  Oscar broke off and remained silent for a moment. Henry didnʼt force him to keep talking. He wanted to give this gentle man a chance to tell the story at his own pace.

  Finally, Oscar looked at him again, taking a deep breath.

  “First of all, you must know that Sarah is not the daughter of Lord Partridge and Lady Partridge,” he said.

  “She is not!?” Henry exclaimed, genuinely surprised.

  “Priscilla Partridge is my sister, as you are aware of,” Oscar explained. “But we also had another sister. Her name was Melissa. Our parents, Jonathan and Mary Scott, were reputable middle class people—not very rich compared to others, but not poor either. Priscilla had always strived for an even better life, though. Nothing had ever been good enough for her. She had quite lofty ambitions; she practically wanted to live the life that she is leading now. She used to work in Horatio Partridgeʼs factory. Back then, the ploughs he sold were not as modern as they are these days. Still, the business was going exceptionally well. Horatio Partridge had a lot of money—one of the major reasons why Priscilla so terribly fell for him. At first, he wasnʼt really interested in her, but after a while he took a certain liking to her and her stubbornness to attract his attention. Well, ultimately she got what she wanted: Horatio married her. Our parents highly welcomed this liaison. After all, Melissa and I had pretty much let them down in terms of marrying and getting children. Melissa took her time in this regard. And as for me, I have always been kind of a confirmed bachelor, if you know what I mean. I simply can not bring myself to get married...”


  Oscar smirked.

  “Anyway, our parents considered Priscilla as kind of a role model for Melissa and me. They would have loved Melissa and me to marry into wealthy families as well. One day Melissa met Anthony Farringworth, a diplomat, at one of Priscilla and Horatioʼs popular dinner parties which would be attended by many important people from the region. Melissa did not particularly love Farringworth, but as he kept wooing her by sending her innumerable bouquets of red roses, she realized that she could somehow envisage a marriage with him. And in an attempt to make our parents happy, who considered Farringworth as a brilliant catch, she agreed to become his wife. But it all was doomed to failure...”

  “What happened?” Henry asked.

  “Well, Anthony Farringworth spent the best part of his married life going after his duties as a diplomat—which meant that he was abroad most of the time. Melissa felt terribly neglected. She was alone and unhappy—not only because her husband was never there, but because she couldnʼt get any children. She and Anthony had tried ever so hard, but she simply wouldnʼt become pregnant. Their marriage suffered immensely because of this. Anthony claimed that he could not be at the root of this problem and that it was surely all Melissaʼs fault. I do not know what made him so convinced about it. I suppose it was his pride and his fear of losing his face in front of everyone if the truth came out that he really was to blame. As for Melissa, she simply believed him and spent her years in guilt and misery. But then one day, she met this soldier... It didnʼt really come to me as a surprise when Melissa secretly began to have an affair with this man. I was the only one who knew about it, the only one she confided in. I must admit, I even sort of supported her as that soldier was a truly wonderful man. He was the kind of person I would have wished for her to marry. He was caring, loving, gentle, and he managed to make her laugh again. And no one would have ever found out about this affair if fate had not wanted it that Melissa suddenly got pregnant after having spent only a single night with that man. Isnʼt it ironic...?”

  “Is... is Sarah the child of that soldier...?!” Henry asked.

  Oscar nodded.

  “She surely is. She bears an incredible resemblance to him. By looking at her, everybody immediately saw that she could impossibly be the offspring of Anthony Farringworth. You surely can imagine what a disaster it was when it all came out... But despite Anthonyʼs pride being deeply hurt, he generously told Melissa that he would forgive her and forget about it all if she promised to entirely break off contact with that soldier. Melissa was devastated and torn. She knew that she truly loved that soldier, but she also knew that she expected a child and that this soldier would not have the means to promise her a safe future like Anthony. Apart from that, our parents put her under a lot of pressure. Of course, they did not want their daughter to run off with some penniless stranger. They were so much more in favor of this marriage with Farringworth. And so Melissa continued living with Anthony. And as you can imagine it wasnʼt a picnic. The thought of his wife expecting a child from another man terribly wounded his honor. After all, he had tried for ages to make Melissa pregnant. And now some soldier should come along and manage what he himself had never succeeded in? No way. Apart from that, this soldier never gave up wooing Melissa. He kept writing letters to her, from Germany, Austria, Italy... Wherever he went, he would write to her and swear that he loved her, begging her to come and live with him in Austria where his roots lay. Again Melissa confided in me and told me about her fears. She was so unsure about what to do and wondered what the future might have in store for her if she followed him, but she couldnʼt bring herself to abandon her husband. She was glad enough that Anthony had not thrown her out of the house. He had a lot to offer, moneywise at least; hence, the prospects for Sarah would be much better. And Melissa put the well-being of her child above everything else. Still, she suffered endlessly, because she had lost the love of her life.”

  Henry thought about the little flower, the Edelweiss, in Sarahʼs book. Had it been a present from that soldier to Melissa? A token for her to demonstrate his love? And had her mother given it to her daughter so that she would have something to remember that she had a loving father somewhere out there who cared for her?

  “After having given birth to Sarah, Melissa was all over her,” Oscar went on. “And what a truly beautiful baby she was... Melissa spent so much time with her that it soon gave Anthony reason for complaining again. He felt neglected, which only added fuel to the fire, as you can imagine. Anthony and Melissa hardly spoke to each other anymore. And Sarah had become Melissaʼs only purpose in her miserable life. She raised that girl with so much love… One might say she loved her too much, but she did it without ever spoiling her. The two of them would often come to visit me, and then Melissa and I would play with Sarah in the garden, and then little Sarah would giggle, and laugh, and chase after the dogs. Even then she already climbed on trees.”

  Oscar beamed at the memories.

  “She was such a joy, such a delight... Whenever I felt depressed for some reason, she managed to make me smile again. But then..., well, Melissa got ill. Terminally ill.”

  Oscar took a deep breath. It was obvious to Henry that what was to come was not easy for Oscar to tell.

  “What... what did she suffer from...?” Henry asked hesitantly.

  “She had scarlet fever. I was the unfortunate one to diagnose it. And when Sarah was eight years old, Melissa died. My dear sister... It was such a tragedy... It was a tragedy for me, but God, it was even more tragic for the poor child. Sarah was beyond herself with despair. She was devastated. It was a horrible turning point in her life...”

  Oscar pensively stared out of the window as the train kept rushing past the seemingly endless cornfields, whose grains were gently thrown to and fro by the breeze. The serene landscape stood in no relation to the dramatic stories which were told within the walls of the carriage.

  “How come that Sarah is now living with her aunt?” Henry asked, feeling that it was his turn now to distract Oscar before the latter got entirely lost in his gloomy memories.

  “Anthony Farringworth did not make life easy for Sarah. As she was a ʻbastard childʼ, Farringworth did not have any interest in having her around after her mother had died. After all, she presented a permanent, vivid memory of his wifeʼs affair. Back then, I agreed when Farringworth decided to send the girl to live with Priscilla and Horatio Partridge. I thought that it would be fantastic for her to grow up in the countryside, to have a father and a mother of some sorts, and even brothers with Harold and Adrian around. I knew that she would have the possibility to go riding. And to my relief she even brightened up a little bit at the prospect of a life like this. I promised her to be around whenever she needed me, as she had a strong connection to me and was afraid of leaving her home in London. What I had not born in mind, though, was that my sister Priscilla would not be keen on having her in her house at all. She threw a massive tantrum right from the start. Priscilla is a woman of very high standards and morals, and the presence of Sarah kept reminding her that her sister Melissa had been what she calls ʻa loose womanʼ, a whore, the black sheep of the family. And the offspring of that black sheep that she would rather dismiss from her memory was now supposed to live under her roof, causing people to ask questions. They wanted to know, of course, where Sarah suddenly came from and why she lived there. Horatio was not that happy either, but he already saw some strategic marriage chances looming up on the horizon, even with Sarah being that young. And as his will ultimately counted, they decided on taking Sarah. Still, the golden rule was to keep Sarahʼs background by all means a secret. Nobody was supposed to ever find out that Sarah was the bastard child of Priscillaʼs sister Melissa. It would have shed a bad light onto Horatio Partridge. The official reason for Sarah being there was that her mother had died and that Farringworth was too busy to look after her—which wasnʼt a lie. It was just important that nobody knew that he was not her father. Both Horatio and Priscilla hoped—and are still hopi
ng—that with the time dust will completely settle on the story so that nobody will remember and will believe that Sarah is indeed their own child.”

  Henry couldnʼt shake off the thought that Oscar was somehow glad to have found someone to talk about it all. As if it was a burden for him to keep quiet about it all the time.

  “Does Damian know it?” Henry asked.

  “Damian knows, alright,” Oscar answered flatly.

  “If her background obviously matters so much to everybody else, why does it not matter to him, and why does he so desperately want her?”

  “I suppose that the main reason for him to chase Sarah is money. He wants his share in Horatioʼs plough company. It is as simple as that. No major mystery behind it. And no love either, I am afraid.”

  Oscar finished his story by throwing the remains of his cigar out of the window.