Moisture welled in his mother’s eyes. She laid a hand on his arm. “You’ve had an epiphany?”
“I believe that I have. I need to go home.” Quickly, he folded the letter, jammed it into the envelope and then crammed it into the interior pocket of his jacket. Drew scrambled awkwardly to his feet. “Thank you, for everything. And know that I’m so incredibly sorry for the last handful of years.” He engulfed her in a hug. “Once I’m settled, after I give Sarah a proper wedding trip, we’ll come up to London when Parliament opens. Perhaps, if you’d like, we can host a rout as celebration.”
When he pulled away, his mother stared at him with bemusement. “I’d like that.” She waved a hand. “Go, go and win your wife. I can’t wait to meet the woman who started this change in you.”
Drew nodded. As soon as he left the room, he yelled for both Peters and Barton. If he were lucky, Sarah would receive him with open arms and a forgiving heart.
And he could begin his life anew.
Chapter Eighteen
July 19, 1817
Sarah’s nerves felt strung too tight. Her heart was being pulled in two directions. She glanced at her maid, but Tilly was busy packing one of the two trunks they would take with them. With nothing else to do, she moved to glance out of a window of her bedroom. Gray, overcast skies, clouds swollen with even more rain than they’d already received didn’t bode well for the upcoming trip to Brighton, but it couldn’t be helped.
She touched a fingertip to the window glass, traced the path of a raindrop as it raced to the bottom. It was critical that she remove from Derbyshire now, for she’d missed her menses last week and that had never happened before. A trace of excitement buzzed down her spine, but she refused to let herself hope for what it might mean. However, it was entirely possible that she’d become with child the first time she’d had relations with a man. No wonder she’d been an incessant watering pot of late.
And if was true, even if it were too early to be certain or have a midwife examine her, it was best to make a clean break from her husband and settle in Brighton so she could start her life anew—again.
Without him.
A wad of tears lodged in her throat. No amount of swallowing would disburse the blockage. Before he’d left for London, the week they’d spent together, the wonderful afternoon in the drawing room, had been some of the best days she’d ever experienced. He had made such progress, and even when he’d been in the midst of a temper when the missive from his mother arrived, he’d almost had a breakthrough.
Too bad he’d let anger get the better of him. He’d had a choice, and he’d taken it. Never would he gain control of his emotions, which meant he wouldn’t change. Not really. Perhaps the charming gentleman he’d been during his week of courting her had been false, and she’d been a woman desperate for love, so she’d believed the act.
No more. I am not foolish nor am I stupid. I won’t live with a violent, emotionally cold man.
Neither would the babe she possibly carried. How horrible for a child to grow up in a world where its father was a snarling beast most of the time. She had to protect it, insulate it from that, and instead show it love, for everyone deserved that.
Unfortunately, she would never know that from her husband.
“My lady, I’ve finished with the unmentionables and shoes. Which gowns and dresses would you like to take?”
The sound of Tilly’s voice brought Sarah out of her tortuous thoughts. She turned about to face the young woman. Perhaps eighteen, the girl had come highly recommended by a neighbor, and Sarah had been all too willing to give her a chance. She showed promise and could be trained into a vital member of the staff.
“Let’s bring a few dresses and only two evening gowns. I plan to live simply and quietly, but if fancier gowns are needed, I’ll hire a modiste.” Of course they would be regardless of whether or not she planned to entertain, for if she were increasing, she’d need roomier clothing.
“As you wish, my lady.” Excitement wove through the maid’s voice. “I’ve never been to Brighton nor have I seen the sea.”
A ghost of a smile curved Sarah’s lip. “Neither have I, so we’ll experience it together. Perhaps we’ll embark on charity work.” She glanced at the case that her flute reposed in. Or perhaps she might find a local orchestra in the holiday town that might wish to hire a flutist of some talent.
“My lady, if I may have a word?”
Sarah glanced at the open door where Mrs. Hastings stood, her expression filled with distress. “Of course.” She crossed the room and joined the housekeeper in the corridor. “What is it, Mrs. Hastings? Is something wrong?”
“Everything is wrong!” The older woman spoke in hushed tones while she wrung her work-roughened hands together. “It’s not right you’re going. We were excited when His Lordship announced he’d marry, and we’ve all adored having you here at Hadleigh Hall. You’ve brought life to this old house again.” A frown pulled at her lips and creased her round face. “If it’s the earl that’s the problem, tell him to stay in London. The staff here has really enjoyed having a lady about again. Perhaps you can roust him from this manor.”
A bit of hysterical laughter rose in her throat, but she tamped the urge to release it. Instead, she pushed her spectacles into place. “It’s a lovely property and I have grown fond of you all.” She hesitated. Was she making a mistake in leaving? Then she shook her head. No, this was for the best. Andrew would come back soon. She couldn’t bear to see him as the same man she’d first met, as if their time together hadn’t happened, for being with his family again would cause his regression.
The housekeeper frowned. “For a time, we thought…”
“So did I, Mrs. Hastings.” Sarah laid a hand on the older woman’s arm. “However, I suppose it simply wasn’t meant to be.” Another wave of silly tears filled her eyes. She looked away, hoping they’d fade. “Perhaps had he not gone to London…” If that letter had never come, they might have made a go of it.
“If it makes a difference, the earl didn’t want to leave you.”
“What?” Sarah snapped her gaze to the housekeeper’s face as her heartbeat accelerated. “Why would you say that?”
A tinge of a blush stained the older woman’s cheeks. “I overheard him speaking with Barton in the hall upstairs. He was anxious, but it was different than usual. He worried about what would happen to you, said that perhaps he should let Major Storme—his brother—do without him.”
“Did his valet convince him otherwise?”
“Oh, no, my lady. Barton said Derbyshire was the best place for him. That his time here had made a difference in his temperament.”
Sarah snorted. “But he did leave, didn’t he?” At least it wasn’t just her advice he didn’t listen to. “The earl hasn’t learned anything during our marriage.” The last was said on a sob. “He’d showed such promise a few times, but never could he let go enough to walk into that new life with me.” She shouldn’t tell a servant such things, but she considered some of them family, related to them better than she might with snobbish lords and ladies of the ton since she’d been more or less one of them, and Mrs. Hastings had been so kind to her on her wedding night…
“Oh, but he has changed, my lady.” The housekeeper nodded so vigorously, her double chin wobbled. “He also wants his family happy.”
Sarah huffed. “He wants their approval of his being an arse.” Then her eyes widened, and she gasped. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
The housekeeper chuckled. “Oh, you’re such a duck, my lady. I’m sad to see you go.” She sighed. “His Lordship won’t ever have happiness, for he’s not that himself.”
“I know.” She took a shuddering breath. “Which is why I must go. It’s exhausting to wonder and worry and hope. He’ll never love me until he accepts himself.” And at this point, I rather doubt that will happen. If she didn’t get away, she’d burst into tears. “I’ve left a letter for him on his bureau. Please be certain he sees it.”
“Of course.” Would that the staff here could come with her to Brighton. Wouldn’t that serve Andrew right if he came home to a barren house?
A knowing gleam entered Mrs. Hastings’ eyes. “Do you love His Lordship?”
Did she? After everything, she’d thought there might have been something, affection at the very least, between them. “It’s difficult to say, but I have come to care for the earl.” She rested a hand on her belly. If he knew they’d created a child together, would that usher in a permanent change? Would it make a difference if she told him?
Probably not.
“It wouldn’t matter if I did, would it? He doesn’t love anyone except himself.”
The housekeeper clucked like a distressed hen. “Men like him don’t show it.”
“They should, for the people in their lives need to hear it, see that love.”
Eventually, the housekeeper nodded. “He’s naught but a lost little boy at times, my lady. Lord knows we’ve all experienced that at one time or another.” With a mighty sniff, she threw her arms around Sarah. “We’ll miss you, and that’s a fact.”
It had been so long since she’d felt such security from another person that she gave into tears and hugged Mrs. Hastings back, propriety be damned. People should feel safe enough to share and show emotions regardless of class, rank, or social setting. “Thank you for everything, Mrs. Hastings. Please tell the staff goodbye for me.” When she pulled away, she wiped at the tears on her cheeks. “I adored the suite you had readied for me. I might miss that most of all.”
The older woman ducked her head. “I won’t give up hope he can win you back.”
“That would take a miracle, I’m afraid.”
Mrs. Hastings’ smile held a mysterious edge. “Love is like that, isn’t it?”
Then the maid called out to Sarah with a question regarding a gown, and she parted from the older woman with a wave.
Yes, it was better to leave when it was easier, and her heart hadn’t been fully engaged. It was bad enough that organ felt as if it would break in half already.
*
Three hours later, the traveling coach had been loaded with luggage, the horses hitched and ready, Sarah had been settled inside with her maid, and they’d been underway for nearly one of those hours. Though the gentle rain from earlier had turned heavier and the skies had darkened further, she couldn’t remain for one moment longer in the house where memories haunted her at every turn.
“How long will the journey take, my lady?” Tilly asked with a fearful glance out the window. Up until this point she had been silent.
“One of the drivers told me seven days. We’ll overnight at coaching inns along the way, but they’ll be comfortable, I’m sure.” Yet they wouldn’t have Andrew and that devastating grin he flashed when something had particularly amused him. Nor would any of those places have the sound of his rumbling voice or the warmth of his laughter when he let himself enjoy life.
The maid looked more closely out the window. “It’s a horrible storm.”
“Indeed.” Perhaps this was the biggest folly to insist on traveling in such conditions, but she had no other recourse. The coach wheels bumped over seemingly every rock and rut in the road. Over the sound of the rain, the ghastly slurping, sucking noise of the water and mud pulling at the wheels rang in her ears.
With each mile that slowly went by, Sarah’s unease grew. She restlessly shifted positions—again—and tossed aside the volume of poetry she’d been trying to read for the last half hour. “I’m afraid this was a terrible decision.” Perhaps it would be more prudent to ask the drivers to turn back. She could always begin the trip anew when the weather had improved.
“Don’t worry so, my lady.” The soothing tones of Tilly’s voice gave her a modicum of calm. “Think what adventures await you in Brighton. Do you ever wonder what sand feels like on bare toes?”
“I’m afraid I never have.” She hadn’t given the Brighton townhouse much thought except to post a letter to the butler a few days ago with plans of her arrival.
“I’ll wager it feels weird at first.” The maid shivered. A cheerful grin curved her mouth as she clasped her much-darned glove-covered hands in her lap. “The sunshine will be worth all the hardships of this trip, though.”
While Sarah appreciated the girl’s bright attitude, at the moment she wished she were alone, for she needed to grieve the death of her brief marriage—to mourn the separation from Andrew. Why couldn’t he have seen his future was so much brighter than what he clung to in the past? Tamping down a sob, she drew the folds of her forest green cloak about her, for the rain had turned the summer afternoon chilly.
Another few miles went by before Tilly spoke again. “My lady, are you sure this trip is wise? I’m frightened.”
So am I. “Perhaps the weather will clear soon.”
“No, that’s not what I meant.” The girl shook her head. A tendril of her mousy brown hair slipped from its knot at the back of her head.
“What did you mean then?” She truly didn’t wish to talk.
“You’re in love with the earl, so is leaving him now a good decision? He’ll worry so once he returns and finds you gone.”
“How silly.” Sarah shook her head. “Why would you think such a thing?” She certainly didn’t feel in love with him. And wouldn’t she know beyond a doubt if she were?
“When you speak of him, you have a look in your eye I saw once in a dog who really adored the stable master where I used to work.” There was no guile in her expression, just honesty. “If you look at him like that, why would you want to leave? I’d think you’d wish to wait until he returns and have a nice reunion.”
When she would have protested the validity of the statement, she sighed instead. “I’m afraid it’s too complicated to explain.” It didn’t matter how she felt, for there could be no future with him if he were reluctant to change.
Tilly shrugged. “I believe you, my lady, but does it need to be? You either love him or you don’t.” Her eyes took on a faraway, dreamy quality. “I think I might have waited for him to return, and if my heart didn’t leap when I saw him, then I would leave.”
Sarah frowned. “What difference would that make?”
“Well, if a heart leaps, that’s a sure sign, isn’t it? And it’s something to hang onto.” She shrugged. “At least that’s what my Gram says.”
“She sounds like a wise woman.” When Sarah turned her face to the window glass, she stifled a sigh. Was she doing him a grave disservice by abandoning him? She sucked in a quick breath. Running from him when she’d spoken out against him for doing the same? Perhaps she should accept him as he was and learn to work around his flaws, for every person had them. Yet… when she recalled their wedding night and the temper he’d been in at that time, she shivered. No, she refused to let him treat her like an afterthought or a doormat. He’d either tame his temper or he’d lose her, but he couldn’t have both.
I deserve to feel safe and loved, and to have my husband show me such.
*
Sarah came awake from a light doze by the feeling that something wasn’t quite right. She checked the timepiece pinned to her cloak. Two hours had passed. Since they’d left well after teatime, twilight had now fallen, plunging the interior of the coach into purpling shadows. Otherwise, nothing had changed. A quick glance about the coach confirmed the assumption. Tilly dozed on the opposite bench. Rain thrummed against the roof and windows.
Then what had woken her?
Frantic shouting from the drivers reached her ears, and immediately cold fingers of fear played her spine. Before she could raise her voice in an inquiry, a large crack resounded through the coach. She gasped and scrambled for purchase on her bench, but then the vehicle lurched violently to the left, throwing both Sarah and her maid across the interior. They crashed against the wall.
The drivers shouted. Words that sounded suspiciously like “bridge out” echoed in her head. Wild whinnies from the horses blended with the human shouts.
Tilly came awake with a cry. “What’s going on, my lady?”
There was no time to answer. Seconds later, the equipage dropped. When it came to a rough stop, presumably against the ground, both she and Tilly cried out. Water seeped into the tilted coach, confirming the assumption.
“Dear God, we’ve gone off a bridge.” Had it washed away in the deluge? All the rain over the last few days would have made the creeks and streams rise. Sarah struggled to stand. Her feet slipped in the murky water as she half-crouched on what was the window glass. Cool water saturated the lower portion of her gown and cloak, chilling her lower limbs. “Tilly, are you all right?” They needed to exit the coach, for if the water came up too high, they’d surely drown. It was seeping inside way too fast.
“I think so, my lady. Hit my head, though.” The maid clung to the door handle above her head. A deep gash at her temple glittered wet with blood.
“At least you’re alive, and so am I.” Which meant they could still survive.
A pounding of fists on the door above caught her attention. “How do you fare, my lady?” It was one of the drivers.
“Well. My maid is injured.” The water had risen to her waist.
“I’ll have you out in a jiffy.”
“Where’s the other driver?”
“Unconscious. Knocked his head when we went off the bridge. Didn’t see it was out in the gloom, but I got him to the bank.” A string of swearing followed. Then the door wrenched open and the man extended an arm. “Come, my lady, give me your hand.”
“No. Take Tilly first.” She grasped the confused girl about the waist and gave her a slight boost. “Grab onto him and he’ll pull you out.” The poor maid shivered against her.
“I’ll try.” She extended both hands. Sure enough, once the driver took hold, he grunted and then he slowly hauled her up and through the gaping door.
The Soul of a Storme Page 22