“Give her to me. It’s too far for you to carry her.” Tenderly her companion reclaimed his burden and, murmuring softly, strode off, leaving Sarah to follow as best she could. He said nothing further to her.
When Isobel was safely restored to her sisters, Sarah waited for him to say something that would bridge the gulf between them. Instead he nodded coldly and marched out. He had made his feelings clear; his love had been a transient thing. This would make it easier to break the betrothal; she would never let him know how much she was sacrificing for the children.
Chapter Eight
Sarah did not have a moment to herself for the rest of the day. Eventually the three girls fell asleep, Isobel on one side of the large bed, Beth between her and Lorna. Leaving their bedroom door ajar, she retreated to her parlour where the supper tray had been waiting for an hour or more. She was shocked to discover this was not the only thing waiting for her.
“Dr. Moorcroft, you startled me. I did not expect to find my private quarters occupied.”
He didn’t beg her pardon for intruding. “Are the children asleep?”
She nodded. He stepped round her and pushed the door shut. “What I have to say to you, Miss Shaw, would be better said in private.”
“Please, I know what it is you’re going to say. There’s no need for you to feel embarrassed; I release you from your obligation.”
His eyebrows shot into his hairline and something that could have been regret flashed across his eyes. “That is not what I wished to speak to you about. However, in the circumstances I believe you have made the correct decision for both of us.” He turned away, giving her a few moments to recover her composure.
“In which case, sir, what is it that has brought you here looking so somber?”
He pivoted, and his mouth narrowed. “I wish to take you to task about your foolhardy promise to Isobel. How could you tell her that if she behaved herself her father would change his mind? How do you think she will feel when the other children return home for the Christmas holidays and she is obliged to remain where she is?”
Her eyes flashed. “She must have something to hope for if she is to get through these next few weeks. It would be cruel in the extreme to let her go away believing she will never return, never see her sisters or her mama again.” He might be a man of medicine, but he knew nothing about children if he believed that honesty, however brutal, was always the correct way forward.
“So, Miss Shaw, lying to children is part of your curriculum? I had thought better of you.” He rubbed his eyes as if he was in need of sleep. “I believe it is my duty to inform the child of the truth—”
“You shall do no such thing, Dr. Moorcroft. It’s none of your concern. The children are my business, and I will brook no interference.” She glared at him, daring him to contradict.
He shrugged as if the matter was of no account to him either way. “As you wish, Miss Shaw. Pray excuse me, I have better things to do than bandy words with you.”
She watched him walk away, taking all possibility of reconciliation with him. “Stop. Have you told your mother we have changed our minds, and that our betrothal is at an end?”
Only then did she see the devastation in his eyes. She had mistaken the darkness for anger at her temerity in disagreeing with him. “I was unaware until five minutes ago that you had changed your mind. I shall, of course, break the news.”
The door closed softly behind him. She wanted to run after him, to call him back and tell him that she loved him, that she had only broken the engagement because she thought that was why he had come to see her.
Ignoring the supper tray, she retired to bed. Her pillow was sodden before she eventually fell asleep.
Adam leant against the balustrade. He scarcely knew how he’d managed to hold back his misery. Sarah had been right. This afternoon he had all but decided to suggest they end the arrangement. Only when she asked to be released did he realise how much he loved her. Waiting for her would have been hard, but to be without her was going to be even more difficult.
What had possessed him to berate her when they were both still raw from grieving for the loss of the little one? Matters should have been left for a few days until they had both recovered their composure. He had made a sad mull of things, behaved like a complete nincompoop, and a pompous and bad-tempered one at that. She was lost to him, and he might as well get used to the idea. How could he explain what had happened to his mother?
He was sorely tempted to reverse his steps and retire to his chambers without returning to the drawing room. Mama would give him a bear-garden jaw and he would deserve it. Better to get it over and done with than have it hanging over him all night.
His mother looked up with a smile as he entered. “At last. Would you prefer tea or coffee, my dear?”
“Coffee, please.” His abrupt answer made her purse her lips but she said nothing until he was settled with the dark, bitter brew on the table in front of him.
“Well, Adam? What is it you wish to tell me? Have you upset dear Sarah already?”
“Far worse. She has broken the betrothal. I behaved like a buffoon. I cannot believe I have let her slip through my fingers.” He dropped his head into his hands and could not hold back the groan of despair. To his astonishment, instead of offering sympathy, she laughed.
“My dear boy, of course she did. She will believe it wrong to hold you to your promise when she is not able to honour her side of the bargain, possibly for several years.”
“Are you telling me she did this for me? That it doesn’t mean she realised she didn’t love me enough to marry me?”
“Silly boy, you know nothing about women. You’re a doctor; I am surprised you did not work this out for yourself.”
His mouth quirked. “That’s the second time tonight I’ve been told that. I had not thought myself an insensitive man, but if the two women in my life believe that it’s so, then I suppose I must reconsider.”
“Adam, there’s no such thing as a sensitive man; we womenfolk do not expect it of you. Now, drink your coffee and let’s talk about how you are going to mend the fences you have broken down tonight.”
Sarah gathered the girls around her in what had become her refuge. A selection of old toys had been fetched from the nursery floor and three boxes of books brought up from the library. The chamber had once been used as a private parlour attached to the guest bedrooms the girls were occupying.
“Girls, it would not be appropriate to be running around in the garden today. So I propose that together we make a suitable tribute to Lottie that can be sent to your parents. Do you have any idea what she would like us to do, Isobel?”
“A picture, something like the ones you did for us when you came.” The child was sitting with one arm around Beth, the other around Lorna. “Would you like to do that, Beth?”
“I would, but I can’t draw or write my name properly.”
“What if we draw the flowers? Then you can colour them with your paints, and then all of you can cut them out. We can make a picture. I’m sure Mrs. Moorcroft will have a box of odds and ends and perhaps some beads and buttons we can use as well.” Sarah hoped to keep them occupied and their thoughts away from the tragedy.
This suggestion was received with a modicum of enthusiasm. Satisfied the task would distract them for the majority of the day, Sarah left Nancy and Jo to prepare the room whilst she ran downstairs to make her request to Mrs. Moorcroft. She would not have done this if she hadn’t already seen Adam…no, she must not think of him in that way anymore…had not seen Dr. Moorcroft leave in the gig.
Sometime during the previous day, the undertakers had brought a coffin, and Lottie’s mortal remains were now resting in the Bentley chapel. The funeral was to be held tomorrow. Only the gentlemen would attend, as was customary. Although it had been stipulated mourning was not to be worn by the children, she had fashioned armbands from black crepe for them all. She noticed, as she walked to the morning room where she hoped to find her hostess
, that the servants she saw were also wearing black bands around their sleeves.
The house was unnaturally quiet; the death of a child was a dreadful thing even when the little one was not a member of your own family. She could hear voices coming from the open door ahead of her, but she was not ready to be questioned by strangers. She would ask the housekeeper to find the materials she required.
Whilst she hovered uncertainly a few yards from the door, it opened and the very person she least wished to meet stood before her. “Dr. Moorcroft…I didn’t think you were here. I saw you leave on your round some time ago.”
His cheeks flushed, and he smiled uncertainly. “I apologise for startling you, Miss Shaw. I had forgotten something I needed and was obliged to return.” He then ran his finger around his neck cloth as if it had become unaccountably tighter. “How are the girls this morning?”
Flustered by his closeness, she could only mumble a response. “Oh, they are much recovered…”
Then Mrs. Moorcroft came to her rescue. “My dear girl, come along in, don’t let Adam keep you standing around in the corridor when you have obviously better things to do than talk to him.” She waved in his direction. “Away with you, I wish to speak to Miss Shaw, and you have patients to see.”
He half bowed and strode down the corridor. Sarah’s pulse slowly returned to normal, and she hurried into the room. “I apologise for disturbing you, ma’am, but I am on an errand for the girls.”
In less than twenty minutes she was back in the makeshift school room, followed by a maid with an arm full of bits and bobs to make their tribute. She had been relieved nothing had been mentioned during her brief visit about her relationship with her son. Indeed, Mrs. Moorcroft had been most affable, as if nothing untoward had taken place at all.
“Here we are, girls. Mrs. Moorcroft has kindly raided her treasure store; we have enough lovely things to make a perfect picture.”
The afternoon passed without incident and that night it took slightly less time to settle her charges. Her supper tray was not waiting in her sitting room. She had almost expected to find him there for her once again and wasn’t sure if she was disappointed or relieved he was not. She wished with all her heart she hadn’t spoken so hastily, had waited until he had spoken first.
She smiled wryly; after he had delivered his tirade no doubt she would not have wished to continue the engagement anyway. Perhaps this was for the best. However much you loved a person it would be no pleasure for either party if they were constantly arguing.
The rattle of crockery approaching made her stomach rumble. She had barely eaten since Lottie’s death and was now quite ravenous. Betty had moved the pretty octagonal table so it stood by the open window, giving her an uninterrupted view of the gardens. There was an hour or so before sunset. When she had eaten she would take a stroll outside.
She placed her cutlery on the plate. “Betty, I have finished. Kindly tell Cook how delicious the meal was.”
“I will, miss. She’ll be glad you’ve cleared your plate. Do you wish me to come with you for your stroll?”
“No, thank you, Betty, I shall come to no harm in the garden.”
Not bothering to put on her bonnet and gloves, for after all she was not leaving the grounds, Sarah slipped outside taking the back stairs. She had no wish to have an unexpected encounter with either Dr. or Mrs. Moorcroft. Dusk had fallen. The blackbirds sang their final song before they settled for the night and the nightingales were not yet filling the air with their delightful chorus.
The air was heavy with the scent of roses, lavender, and stocks. She inhaled deeply, then recalled the events of yesterday and was ashamed she’d forgotten, even for a second. Touching the armband sobered her and brought fresh tears. Botheration! She had not thought to bring a handkerchief; she would have to recourse to using her sleeve like an urchin instead of return prematurely to her chamber.
She sniffed and from a hidden arbour a ghostly hand appeared waving a large white square.
“Good heavens, sir, you frightened me half to death.” Crossly, she plucked the handkerchief from his fingers, wiped her eyes and blew her nose loudly. She was sorely tempted to give him back the soiled item but restrained the impulse. He uncoiled from the stone bench. “Miss Shaw, I do apologise for disturbing your solitude. I shall leave you to your contemplation…”
Something made her reach out and touch his arm. “Please, don’t go on my account. This is your house, your garden. I am the intruder here. I shall return to my chambers at once.”
“Could you not bring yourself to join me for a while? I wish to apologise for my churlish behaviour. I had no right to berate you in that fashion. My only excuse is I was overwrought by what happened earlier.”
“That’s the third time you have apologised to me today; please, sir, could we not forget we are at odds and begin again?” No sooner were the words out then her hands flew to her mouth in horror. Would he think she was suggesting they renewed their betrothal? That was not what she had meant at all. “I did not…I mean…you must not think…”
“Miss Shaw, I know exactly what you meant—that we can be good friends as we were before. I give you my word as a gentleman I will not speak of the other matter again.”
Fresh tears brimmed. Until he spoke she had not fully understood how much she wished him to ask her a second time to become his wife. He could not have made it plainer; he no longer had any wish to marry her. If he only regarded her as a companion with whom he could spend time, she wasn’t sure she could do this without revealing her feelings. She would not become a watering pot; she was made of sterner stuff and could hide her broken heart if she had to.
“Thank you, Dr. Moorcroft. If that is the case, then I should be delighted to sit with you and chat for a while before I retire. Tell me, do you know how the girls’ tribute was received at Bentley Manor?”
Once she was comfortably settled he replied. “I’m afraid I have no idea, but I can tell you that my mother and I were deeply moved by the lovely item. I handed it in myself, but for some unaccountable reason I was not admitted. I should liked to have made sure Lady Fenwick was not suffering undue strain from the tragedy. I left my card, and told the butler I intend to return tomorrow morning.”
The heady perfume of the roses, which scrambled over the arbour, made it difficult to think of sad things. She sighed and leant back, grateful he had left a suitable distance between them. “Sitting here listening to the birds and breathing in this wonderful aroma makes me think that little Charlotte has indeed gone to a better place. It’s as if the Almighty is reminding us that life does not end when the spirit leaves the body, but begins a new and wonderful existence elsewhere.”
He didn’t answer immediately; she could hear his rhythmic breathing, wanted to stretch out her hand and seek the comfort of his strength, but this was no longer her prerogative. She must snatch what pleasure she could from these brief interludes, enjoying his friendship and count herself blessed to be able to spend any time with the man she loved.
Adam couldn’t speak; he couldn’t remember when he had been so moved by the loss of a patient. Sarah’s words struck a chord deep in his soul. Sometimes he found it hard to believe there was a benevolent god taking care of humankind. He saw too much suffering, too much death, in his profession to hold to his faith with any certainty.
He had so much love to give her. She was only a few feet from him. It would be so easy to reach out and draw her closer. But he would listen to his mother’s advice, and keep his feelings to himself until the loss of little Charlotte was less painful.
He cleared the obstruction in his throat. “That was a wonderful thing to say. Most uplifting, exactly what we both needed to hear.” He swivelled so that he was half facing her in the almost darkness. “You must remember, however difficult things are in the next few weeks, that there’s always hope. You will be happy again. I give you my word.”
He could not remain sitting so close without offering her the comfort she so
obviously needed. Abruptly he stood, scattering petals over both of them as if they were emerging from the lych-gate at the village church as man and wife. He raised his head and sent up a heartfelt prayer. This was surely a sign from God that one day he would have his heart’s desire.
“Shall we stroll around the garden, or do you wish to return to the house?”
“I must get back. I have been gone quite long enough. The nightingales are singing. It is hard to be downhearted when listening to them.” She shook out her skirts, sending a further flurry of rose petals into the still night air.
Chapter Nine
Sarah had enjoyed her brief exchange with the doctor; she would treasure these meetings and hold them to her heart when she was obliged to leave The Rookery in a week or two. There was unlikely to be much contact with him when she was re-established at the children’s domicile. Although there would only be two girls to teach, she would have to use all her tact and expertise to keep them focused and prevent them from dwelling on their missing sisters.
She bid her companion goodnight and hurried upstairs before he could suggest she join him for tea in the drawing room. Mrs. Moorcroft had been particularly kind to her this afternoon, had donated expensive beads and scraps of lace with which the girls were able to complete their picture. His mother must be aware of the situation between herself and the doctor. How strange she had not mentioned it.
The three girls were sleeping peacefully, and Nancy and Jo were talking quietly in the schoolroom. Sarah went to join them there. “I am back now. I do not wish you to remain on duty any longer.”
Jo carefully folded the petticoat she was stitching and placed it in the mending bag. “If you have no objection, Miss Shaw, we should like to go downstairs to the servants’ hall. We could both do with a bit of banter, if you know what I mean.”
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