Regency High Society Vol 6: The Enigmatic Rake / The Lord And The Mystery Lady / The Wagering Widow / An Unconventional Widow. Anne O'Brien

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СКАЧАТЬ looking out at the vista of sky and clouds, hands clasped behind her back and giving the air of a prisoner in a locked room. Why would the child make such an extravagant claim? She tried to keep her expression and her tone light and calm.

      ‘But why do you say that? Who told you such a thing?’

      ‘He has never wanted me with him before. Neither did my mother.’

      Sarah tried to hide her astonishment, a little unnerved by the cool acceptance of the situation, if it were indeed so, the flat statement of what might very well be true, given Sarah’s knowledge of this troubled household and the child’s solitary upbringing.

      ‘Do you miss your mama?’

      ‘No—not really. She was not often in England. I barely remember her.’

      ‘Did you not live in Paris?’

      ‘When I was a baby. I do not remember. I have visited since then—but not for long.’

      ‘I am sure that your father is very pleased to have you here.’

      Sarah tried for a reassurance she did not feel. ‘It was his idea that you should join him, after all. And that I should be here to care for you.’

      ‘Perhaps.’ Celestine made no further reply, as if the truth were clear enough without any clarification from herself.

      ‘Come and have tea.’ Sarah encouraged the girl through a connecting door into the schoolroom and then on to the door into Sarah’s sitting room, where a table was laid for tea. As Sarah opened the door John burst through it from the outer corridor, hair tousled, eyes shining, cheeks pink with effort.

      ‘There are even more horses in the stable now, Mama—but not as fine as Lord Faringdon’s. And a coach—’ He slid to a halt, chest heaving.

      The two children sized each other up.

      ‘This is Celestine who has arrived at last. This is my son, John.’

      ‘Hello.’ John grinned. ‘Why did it take you so long, Cel—Celst…?’ He blushed in some confusion, but was in no way embarrassed. ‘I cannot say it! I do not know anyone called that.’

      Sarah chuckled as she reached to draw her son to a halt at her side. ‘I think he finds your name difficult,’ she explained to the formal young lady.

      ‘It is French.’

      ‘I know. And very elegant. But John is younger than you and has not met French names before.’

      It seemed for a moment as if Celestine might sneer at such childishness, but then said, ‘I have never met a boy your age before. How old are you?’

      ‘Nearly six.’ John eyed her warily.

      ‘I have had my eighth birthday. I shall soon be nine.’ The dark eyes watched, weighing up the boy, coming to a decision. ‘I have another name.’

      ‘And what is that?’ Sarah asked.

      ‘Elizabeth.’

      ‘We could call you Elizabeth,’ Sarah ventured, ‘if you did not object.’

      Celestine flushed a little, her colourless skin warming to a hint of prettiness. ‘I think I would like to be called Beth. No one has ever called me that. Can you call me Beth, John?’

      ‘Of course I can! I have been waiting for you for so long, Beth. I have been lonely here with no one to play with. Are you hungry? I am. Mrs Beddows has made a cake for us. Come and see.’

      Sarah watched the outcome with interest. Celestine—Beth!—hesitated, but only for a moment. Then stepped out to take John’s hand with all the condescension of her three years’ maturity.

      ‘Yes. I am hungry. I would like you to show me the cake.’

      They sat down at the table, John explaining that after tea he would show Beth his own room and then…

      Sarah allowed a silent sigh of relief as she noted the surprisingly tolerant expression on Beth’s face. The way she listened as John prattled on, waving his arms about with typical enthusiasm. The girl took little part in the conversation, but nodded when John looked to her for confirmation of some trivial matter. Well! If Miss Faringdon saw herself in a maternal role toward John, it might just be the means to get this frighteningly composed young lady to settle into the household. As for her relationship with her father—Sarah had no idea. The child felt unloved and unwanted, of which sins Lord Faringdon might very well be guilty for all she knew. One more transgression to lay against his soul if he could be so cruel as to neglect his own child. Yet Sarah found herself hoping that it was not so, for how could she have fallen headlong and ridiculously into love with a man she did not know, one with a contemptuous reputation and who could be so needlessly heartless to his daughter?

      But that was a matter for the future, she decided as she allowed the children to leave the table. Enough that today Beth was here and was not averse to her new home.

       Chapter Four

      In the following days Sarah could convince herself that it would be an easy matter to keep a distance from Lord Faringdon. The only immediate ripple on the tranquillity of her pool was a note from Judith, hoping that Sarah would be able to find the time to visit for tea in Grosvenor Square. Sarah did not comply, but penned a brief apology, citing pressure of work since Lord Faringdon was now in residence. She knew that she had made the friendship well nigh impossible by her stepping across the social divide. It hurt, but she had deliberately made the decision and must not, therefore, dwell on any regrets. Judith would realise and accept—she was not so naïve as to be ignorant or careless of the situation. In private, Sarah shed a few self-pitying tears.

      Her energies were soon directed towards other matters, not least diplomatic negotiations between a number of strong-willed and self-important individuals. Lord Faringdon’s valet, a severe gentleman, was not given to personal chatter, but would hear nothing wrong of his employer, quick to depress any slighting comment with a stern frown and biting words. The Countess of Wexford’s maid, Hortense, was very different—a superior little madam, French, of course, who kept herself to herself, yet demanded the best of everything for herself and for her mistress. Celestine’s nurse, Mrs Watton, was a comfortable old body who did not regret in the slightest passing authority over her charge to Sarah. The child took too much after her mother. Not that they had seen a great deal of Marianne Faringdon before her untimely death. But even so! Blood would always out.

      The gravest problem for her was the one most unlooked for. Mr Millington, the butler, developed an unexpected and completely inappropriate tendre for Sarah and followed her with a gleam in his pale eyes. Nor was he averse to glasses of port in the seclusion of his pantry. Sarah avoided him as much as possible after an embarrassing incident in the wine cellar, when the self-controlled housekeeper made her position very plain in a remarkably austere voice, which destroyed all Mr Millington’s pretensions.

      The Countess of Wexford was demanding, thoughtless, selfish and patronising. She objected to being woken, but complained when her cup of hot chocolate did not arrive on the instant that she opened her eyes. Hot water was expected to appear at the very moment she required it, earning for one of the maids a sharp and quite unnecessary slap; the same intolerance was applied to the laundering of her beautiful clothes, with never a word of appreciation СКАЧАТЬ