
Only In Her Dreams
© 2007 by Veronica Towers
All rights reserved
First Edition March 2007
DCL Publications
36 Monash Street
Melton South
Victoria
Australia
3338
ISBN 978-1-921347-03-0
PUBLISHED IN AUSTRALIA
"Here now, Miss, I'm sorry but we be all full up," the grubby sailor at the dock said without looking up from his ship's manifest.
Sarah Montague paused on the crowded foul smelling dock and set her bags down. She reached up and smoothed a lock of her curly, light brown hair back into her battered bonnet and straightened herself to her full five feet, five inches and looked straight into the man's eyes. "I paid for my passage on this ship," she said with a quiet dignity. A meager cabin on any ship in Calais was hard to come by these days after Waterloo, she thought. This enterprising American ship, looking to turn a quick profit from transporting British families home, was Sarah's last hope to go home to England.
"Well, Miss, it seem that we be overbooked," the man said gruffly his eyes shifting so that they did not meet hers, "I'll refunds your blunt, never you mind."
Sarah looked up to the satisfied face of Captain Harriman's wife who was standing at the railing of the boat. She had never been overly fond of Sarah, but since the incident with Lieutenant Wilbur she had seemed to go out of her way to cause trouble for Sarah. Sarah dropped her gaze determined the woman would not see the tears of despair that welled in her eyes.
In all her years following her father with the Seventy-third of Foot from Australia, Ceylon, Edinburgh and finally Waterloo, Sarah had never felt such despair. When her mother and brother had died of fever she'd at least still had her father. Now she had no one. Her father had made so many friends as the quartermaster but they were either dead or seemingly avoiding her. She had no money to spare for even the cheapest accommodations here in Calais. She would need every shilling she had to make her way to London. There were funds in the bank in London, but London is not Calais, she thought in despair.
"What seems to be the trouble here?" a deep male voice said.
Sarah turned to look at the man. The late afternoon sun shone around the man who spoke, highlighting his chestnut brown hair. Sarah recognized the tall broad shouldered man as Captain Marcus Derning, the man her father died saving from looters. A glare from that rugged green-eyed visage had been known to make battle hardened soldiers stammer. Sarah noted that the glare was now being directed at the hapless sailor refusing to board her.
"Well, you sees Cap'n, I jist tol' this woman here that we be overbooked an' she'll needs to take the packet tomorrow," the ship's mate looked up to Captain Derning trying for sincerity.
"Miss Montague can have my cabin," Captain Derning said swiftly, "I shall sleep on deck."
Mrs. Harriman chose to speak up, "Captain Derning, you could not possibly allow that woman to be on the same ship as my young, impressionable daughter. The creature obviously would be in her element down here at the docks."
The inference was plain and Sarah felt her face flush as she turned to look towards the water. A tear threatened to spill from her light blue eyes.
"Madame, I do not believe that this is any of your affair," he turned back to the ship's mate. "You will board Miss Montague at once, or I shall take steps to remove you from your position."
He stepped up and started to pick up the small amount of baggage holding all of Sarah's pitiably few possessions. Sarah tried to stay his hand, "Captain Derning, I do not wish to inconvenience you, I could see if a passage is available tomorrow."
"Nonsense, do you want to go or not?" he glared at her. A vein throbbed in his forehead next to the scabbed bullet graze he sustained at Waterloo.
"Oh, of course, I do," Sarah had begun.
"Then let us get you on board," he resumed gathering her bags.
"Captain, you have been wounded---I can carry my own things..." Sarah might as well have been talking to the air. The Captain ignored her and left her to trail after him up the gangplank and across the deck. Sarah followed him down a well worn set of steps to a well-appointed, though small, cabin.
"Captain," she said hesitantly. "I thank you for your intervention. I do not know what I would have done...I believe that man would have kept my fare as well. I have few friends now. She turned towards the small porthole and looked out at the bustle of the dock. She really did not see the activity, she thought of all of the families she knew over the years that had lost a loved one in battle. She had always tried to help but it seemed that when she was in need everyone looked the other way. She shook off her self-pity and turned back to the waiting Captain.
"I will put your bags here," he indicated a spot near the end of the bunk. "Do you have any more bags on the dock?"
Sarah looked at her possessions and wrapped her arms around herself and replied, "No, this is it. Most of the things we had in camp belonged to the army. The pots and camp equipment we did own, I sold to another family who was staying in Belgium. Not much to show for a life spent in the tail of an army, is it?"
Captain Derning raised his eyebrows at the last question not deigning to answer what was a rhetorical question. Instead he asked, "Is there anything else I can do for you?"
"Yes, if you would, I don't think they should get paid twice for this cabin," She said thoughtfully. "Could you please see to a refund of at least part of our money?"
She saw his mouth twist in some semblance of amusement; she knew that he did not think he would be successful in obtaining their money. "I'll see what I can do," he replied and touched the brim of his hat as he left the room.
Sarah remembered the first time she saw him in Edinburgh when she and her father were leaving camp. Her father was escorting her to school. Captain Derning, then Lieutenant Derning, treated her as being equal in station then as well. She noticed that even though he'd lost his boyish eagerness and had become battle hardened, he never lost his ingrained sense of courtesy.
In an army camp there was a distinct pecking order: officers and their families did not associate with common soldier families, and then there were the common camp followers who were considered whores. Hardly anyone associated with the camp followers except for randy soldiers looking for a night's entertainment. Sarah knew that many of the women who fell into the latter category were widows and orphans of fallen soldiers who had no choice if they did not want to starve.
Sarah's father emphasized the importance of thrift and hording every coin on the chance that she might be left alone. She had learned her lessons well and did have funds set aside. But, it would have done her no good at all if the captain had not stepped in and helped her. She now, not through her own fault, was considered to be less than a common camp follower.
\*\*\*
An hour after sunset, a storm blew up with torrential rain. Sarah worried about Captain Derning on deck getting drenched. She opened her valise and found her father's rain slicker and wrapped it around her. Sarah opened her cabin door and holding the railing for balance padded up the stairs in her bare feet. She spotted him almost immediately sitting on the deck, with his large shoulders hunched forward. She watched as he opened a small, silver flask and took a drink.
She hurried over to him, her bare feet splashing on the rain washed deck. She spoke loudly to be heard over the wind, "Captain Derning, I insist that you come into the cabin with me."
He looked up at her dismissively and looked back away determined to ignore her summons.
"I refuse to let a man my father gave his life to save die of lung fever," Sarah shouted firmly, attempting to take his arm.
"Miss Montague, please go back to your cabin," Captain Derning said pulling her arm down so that he would not have to shout to be heard, "I have weathered much worse than this as a soldier."
Sarah set her jaw stubbornly, "Very well, I shall join you here on the deck."
She started to arrange her father's slicker around herself when Captain Derning abruptly stood and hoisted her over his shoulder. Sarah gasped in surprise as he carried her down the steps. Captain Derning might have been a sailor instead of a foot soldier, the uneven pitch to the deck as the ship road the waves, made no problems for him. He walked the few steps over to the cabin opened the door and set her on the floor. He turned her to look at him, "Now, stay in your cabin."
"No, it won't work you know, I shall simply leave the cabin again," she fixed her own baleful glare at him. "The only way you can ensure that I stay in my cabin is if you are in here with me."
"All right," he said grudgingly, "You win."
"Good, here is an extra blanket, now take off your wet things," she handed him the blanket after removing her slicker.
He looked at her with astonishment at her cheek. She again glared at him and started to tap her bare foot on the deck. He gave a sigh of resignation and motioned with his hand that she should turn her back, which she did.
With the light of the brazier casting his shadow on the wall, Sarah could see him undressing. As a young woman well used to the lack of privacy in an army encampment, she should not be moved by the shadowy motions of a man disrobing. Yet there was an unfamiliar intimacy in the small room. The isolation of the silent cabin was reinforced by the creak of the ship and the patter of the rain outside. When she saw by shadow, that he had wrapped the blanket around his form she turned.
"Now get into the bed," she said next. He looked at her with surprise.
She walked over to a long cupboard and pulled out a large plank just big enough to fit in the middle of the built-in bed. "When I realized that this ship was actually from Boston I hoped that one of these was probably in this cabin."
"What in the world is that?" his curiosity getting the better of him as he took it out of her hands.
"It is a bundling board. Sergeant Buchanan's American wife told me about them," Sarah said briskly referring to a mutual acquaintance from a unit that had been stationed in the Americas. "A courting couple or siblings could share a bed with perfect propriety using this."
"We are neither," he said suspiciously.
"Oh, for heavens sake!" she exclaimed stalking over and pushing him from behind. "Your virtue is safe with me, any man's virtue is safe with me."
He glanced at her, amused in spite of himself, "How do you know your virtue is safe with me?"
"Captain Derning, I have known you since you joined the 73rd as a raw lieutenant and know you to be an honorable man," she said staunchly as she attempted to push his large frame over to the bed.
He reached behind him and grabbing her arm he pulled her forward and tilted her head up to look at him, "Why are you so concerned about where and how I sleep---what business is it of yours?"
"As I said before my father lost his life saving your life, I would not want his sacrifice to be in vain," she replied not meeting his eyes, "besides you gave up your cabin for me."
She pulled away from him and gestured impatiently towards the bed.
"No, you get in first. I will place the board and then I will sleep on the outside," he said tiredly.
She stalked over to the bed and got between the covers. She looked up at him from the pillows with an unconscious allure, "What if I need to, ahem, get up in the middle of the night."
"Hold it 'til morning," he said grimly, "This was your idea, I have to admit it has much merit. I am just setting a few rules."
As he lay there he thought to himself--she does not act like a wanton, she acts like a practical woman used to making the most of things. He knew she was still awake by listening to her breathing, "I should think that you would want little to do with the man who caused your father's death..."
"You did not cause his death, I did," she said quietly turning to face the wall of the cabin.
"The rumors about you and Wilbur---they were true," he asked wearily.
"No, they were not," she lifted her head and pounded her pillow dismissively.
"Tell me," he said quietly, "And then tell me how it is your fault."
She sighed, "I thought all of the soldiers had left camp and I went down to the stream to get some water. Lieutenant Lord Edward Wilbur, younger son of the Marquis of Bremerton was waiting for me. Papa came back to camp in time to here my screams."
"Wilbur raped you," he said hesitantly.
"It did not get that far," she said resignedly, "He had thrown me on my stomach and was trying to unfasten his breeches."
"Your stomach?" he prompted.
"Papa called him a damned buggerer, and then he got the horse whip and laid into him."
"So how is it your fault that your father was in a position to defend me," he pushed.
"If I had been more careful then his bloody lordship would not have caught me and Papa would not have been broken in rank and given the meat wagon detail," she said finally her shoulders stiff.
"I am sorry that you were attacked, and I am sorry that your father lost his life," he said, "When I next see Wilbur, I shall call him out and shoot the bastard, because it is his fault that your father was where he was and able to save my life."
She smiled to herself with real amusement, this was the strangest bit of male logic she ever heard. She closed her eyes and tried to let the rocking of the boat lull her to sleep. She was tired but her mind kept whirling like a top. She remembered the occasion she had met Captain, (at that time) then Lieutenant, Derning. He had just joined the 73rd in Edinburgh. His custom tailored uniform was all shiny and new. Obviously he had been and still was, a man of some means. I'm surprised that he had not joined a more prestigious horse unit, Sarah thought in retrospect. He had come to see her father just before he and Sarah left camp to go to school in Bath. Lieutenant Derning had assisted Sarah to ascend to the coach taking her and her father to Bath. Sarah was very surprised because not many gentlemen would deign to assist a lowly sergeant's child. His strong patrician features had made quite an impression on her seventeen-year-old heart. She made up fantasies about him to entertain herself the entire long trip to Bath. Funny really, she thought as she drifted off to sleep, the one about him as a knight errant come to rescue her as a damsel in distress was almost coming true...
The next day dawned clear. Sarah woke up and noticed that the bundling board was gone as was Captain Derning. She had slept last night but it was a disturbed sleep in which she kept having strange dreams about Wilbur screaming at her that she must choose Captain Derning or her father. She stretched and shook her head--dreams are dreams. The good captain must have left very early to avoid the further tarnishment of her good name. Sarah sat straighter in the bed and rubbing her eyes she smiled wryly, as if he could do more than that vile man. She crossed over to her portmanteau and removed the second of her two dresses and laid it onto the bed. She put on her chemise and tied on her front fastening corset. She then fastened her petticoats. As she brushed out her hair and washed her face and hands with cold water from the ewer, there was a knock at the door.
"Miss Montague," she heard the man say with an American nasal twang, "We are docking in Portsmouth in thirty minutes, you might want to gather your things and wait up on deck."
Sarah needed no other invitation as she looked into the faded mirror and pinched her cheeks before she finished dressing and pinning her hair.
\*\*\*
Up on deck, Captain Derning was approached by Mrs. Harriman. "Captain Derning, will you be going to stay with your uncle the Duke?"
Captain Derning raised his eyebrows at her effrontery, he answered her dismissively, "Madame, the Duke of Allendale is a distant relation, I haven't seen him since I was a boy."
Emboldened by his answer, however brief, she pressed, "I suppose you have many noble connections..."
The battered bonnet and cloak of Sarah Montague as she carried her baggage up the last of the steps to the deck came into view. "Excuse me, Mrs. Harriman duty calls, her father entrusted me with seeing to her safety."
Mrs. Harriman mumbled, "One such as her always lands on her feet."
He ignored her comment and strode over to where Sarah was settling her bags. "Miss Montague, I trust you had a restful sleep."
Sarah looked up at him questioningly. She replied, playing along with his statement, "Yes, I rested quite well and yourself? I imagine it was quite damp on deck, I hope you do not take an ague."
He raised an amused eyebrow at her comment, "I imagine I stayed dry enough, is anyone to meet you here?"
"No, my cousins have no idea that I am coming, Papa's death was so sudden," she said with asperity, "I would be grateful for your escort to a coaching inn."
"Miss Montague, I could not possibly allow you to weather the hazards of a young lady traveling by public conveyance alone," he said frowningly, "Tell me where you must go and I will hire a post chaise."
"No, really," she stammered her thrifty little heart stopping at the expense, "I can not afford a chaise. I am sure you would wish to see your mother; I had heard that you were unable to get leave when your father died and she must be anxious to see you..."
"I could not face my mother knowing I left you to go by common coach to...where was it you were going?" he persisted.
"Your mother does not even know me," Sarah insisted ignoring the question.
"Come now, Miss Montague," he said exasperatedly, "Where shall you be going?"
"London, my cousins have a church in one of the less reputable sections," she said finally.
Marcus Derning secured a post chaise and a private parlor at the nearest respectable inn as well as a room so that he could change from his still damp clothing and shave. He did not get much sleep last night. Though resting in a berth and not on a rain washed deck was much more comfortable, he thought. He kept thinking about how he had not had a woman in several months and here he was with a bit of sweet smelling fluff sharing his bed. Unfortunately, contrary to all rumors, she was also virtuous. Every time she turned in the bed a fresh waft of her womanly scent drifted over to him and he would think all he had to do was remove the damned board thing, lift her nightgown and he would satisfy them both. Obviously she had some of the same yearnings and also the moral fortitude to resist, judging by her restless sleep.
After he cleaned himself up, he thought perhaps he should have asked Miss Montague if she needed to freshen herself as he walked into the private parlor. He found her seated in the private parlor in front of a large pot of tea and eggs and ham. She swallowed the portion of egg she had just forked into her mouth and took a sip of tea, dabbed her lips with a table linen and looked up at him, "I have arranged for some bread, meat and fruit to be placed in a basket as well as some ale---enough for a coachman and a post boy and ourselves. It would be less expensive and timelier than stopping for a long lunch along the way."
"Since I am paying the shot, why do you worry about expenses?" he asked curiously.
She looked up at him earnestly, "Even a captain's pay halved does not stretch very far, we have seventy-four miles to cover and I would soon as not have to spend a night on the road. The expense of a room on a much traveled road as this would be ruinous and meals for us and servants---it would be so much better if I were to go to London by myself. Bath is all together in the opposite direction. If you would lend me the difference in my fare I could take the mail to London."
He looked into her sincere face and without hesitation, "No, I must go to London anyway to report at the war office. Since you have let down that stiff necked pride of yours enough to ask for a small loan, you may allow me to do my duty and escort you without complaint. I am not going to shirk in my duty to you or your father."
Though the berth had been comfortable compared to the wet deck or a pallet on the floor, he'd rested little last night. Marcus hoped that she was not a talker; he wanted to get some sleep. He was thankful that she insisted upon bringing a basket of food along. Seventy miles in one day would be a stretch but he did not think he could pass another night like the last. The road to London was well traveled and fresh horses should not be hard to acquire. After assisting Sarah into the coach he settled himself down on the bench opposite her and knocked on the roof to signal their readiness for departure. He saw Sarah settle herself and remove her bonnet and cloak to catch a bit of rest. After a while the rocking of the well-sprung coach helped Marcus to sleep.
Marcus woke with a start, confused that a young woman had flung herself upon him. He noted the odd angle of the coach. Sarah was ineffectually struggling to remove herself from atop him. He set her, flushed and apologizing, back onto the other seat and left the carriage to see what the problem was.
The coachman was trying to calm the horses alone because the post boy had fallen off of the top of the carriage and was holding his arm. Marcus looked at the carriage wheel, it seemed that the axel had broken with the stress of making a turn. Upon closer examination the axel had appeared to be partially cut.
"I be jist that sorry, guvnor, I al'ays check the coach over before takin' it on a run, I do," said the Coachman after seeing to the horses, "But I never seed that there part of the axel."
Marcus frowned, "I imagine you would check the coach over as you are more at risk riding up on the box than we are in the coach."
"Jem here has been goin' out wi' me on trips for nigh onta two year now, he be like family, he be," the coachman handing the reins over to Marcus and walked over to help the post boy to stand.
Sarah had exited the coach and had gone over to see to the post boy herself. After examining him she said, "You are lucky, young man, it is just a sprain."
The boy looked suspiciously at her, "You a doctor, Miss."
"No, m' lad, I know'd 'er roight away," the old coachman said with asperity. "I was with the 73rd in Ceylon. This be Miss Sarah Montague, daughter of the best quartermaster in his majesty's army. Seems this be your husband here?"
Sarah started to correct him but a look from Marcus stayed her, "My lady would help with the wounded after a battle. She is very experienced in such matters. If she says it is a sprain, it is a sprain."
The old coachman turned back to Sarah, "By the by, Miss, I be jist that sorry that your mother and little brother was took in that fever, I heared about it jist a'fore I shipped back to England. How is yer da' Sergeant Montague? He must be jist that proud you bein' married an all to a captain..."
Sarah felt the tears prick her eyes and fumbled in her sleeve for her handkerchief and was abruptly handed one by Marcus. He spoke for her, "My...wife lost her father at Waterloo, looters."
The old coachman's face showed his dismay and he hurriedly changed the subject, "Well, then I guess we needs to walk these here horses to the next station luckily it be not mor'n a mile away. Tis fortunate that I slowed down considerable to take the turn, no tellin' what shape we be in if I was goin' full speed. I be fair certain that these old nags would not mind a lil' mite as yerself perched on 'em ..."
Sarah looked at the great beasts which were the carriage horses with alarm; she had never been on a horse in her life. Her father, though the quartermaster, was still just a foot soldier. Sarah said hesitantly, "I am grateful for your thoughtfulness, but I have never ridden on a horse in my life."
"Come now, my dear, you have been around supply horses all your life," Marcus said chidingly as Sarah's eyes were focused in an alarmed fashion on the huge carriage horses.
"Captain Derning..." Sarah began.
He smiled at her, a warning look in his eyes, "Remember we are married now, no need for formality." He turned back to the coachman, "Go on ahead, I feel the need to get some exercise." He held out an arm to Sarah.
"M-marcus," she stumbled over his name, "I need to take a private walk." She gestured with her hand over to the bushes.
"Jem, I think you should stay with the carriage, John Coachman you should go on ahead," Marcus reinforced his earlier words as he waived his hand to the older man. He walked over to the coach and reached into a pocket in the door and removed his pistol.
As soon as they reached the shelter of the trees, Sarah moved a few feet away around a concealing bush and relieved herself. When she came back she whispered, "Captain Derning, why did you let that coachman think that we are married."
He whispered back, "You did not let on that you were quite that memorable. I should have thought to hire a maid."
"Why suffer the expense of a maid on a trip like this?" Sarah said as she was looking around. "And you know, as well as I, that everyone knows the quartermaster. He is the first and most useful contact that one acquires when first coming to a company. On this well traveled road to London we may run into more of my father's widespread acquaintance. I wager Mr. Crump knows the names of every quartermaster sergeant of any brigade he ever came in contact "So you are saying that if we come in contact with any other army folk, they may know you?" he said incredulously.
"Only if they saw me with my father and there is a good chance of that since I would talk with the wives and families of the other quartermasters," she said with a smile.
"I am escorting a celebrity," he muttered disagreeably.
Sarah ignored the comment and changed the subject, "We need to go back to the coach and get the basket of food, as well. We paid for it, we are going to eat it. Marcus sighed and looked heavenward.
"Don't look like that, we need to conserve as much of the ready as we can" Sarah said in answer to his exasperated look. "We have a sunny day for once, but the ground is still too wet for comfort. I'll wager there is some sort of table or such in the inn yard that we could use as an impromptu dining table."
Marcus gave her a look and then shrugged, "I see you do have a point. We should see how much the cost of an inn meal would be as it appears we will have to wait for another coach."
She nodded her head, "That is a very good thought, and we could spare the expense of an evening meal. Things are bound to be less expensive at lunch."
Sarah stepped briskly down the road the way the horses had gone. Marcus walked after her, his easy stride catching her up. Suddenly Sarah stopped looked around, "Listen, Captain Derning."
He stopped as well and he noted what she noted: the complete absence of sound, not even the wind stirred the trees. When they heard the snap of a twig, two seasoned campaigners such as themselves did what their instincts bid them to do and dove for cover just as shots rang out over their heads.
Footpads just looking for people flush enough to hire a private coach she thought a touch resentfully. If I get my hands on him, he will wish he had never been born, Sarah thought looking down at her stained dress.
She hiked up her skirt and pulled a wicked looking stiletto from a sheath. She saw Marcus staring at her legs and hurriedly pulled her dress back into place. She glared at him and they both turned their attention over to the place the shots originated. She looked back and saw Marcus pull a pistol out of his pocket. They heard a crashing of brush, as their attacker ran away. Marcus looked like he wanted to give chase but chose to stay with Sarah.
Sarah scrambled up deciding to run after the man. She felt the large hand of Marcus catch her skirt. She attempted to shrug it off and chase after the villain, "Marcus, that was an India Brown Bess, he can't have reloaded..."
"I know, but how do you know he was alone or doesn't have a pistol?" Marcus interjected.
She who usually prided herself on her good sense, hung her head in embarrassment, "Of course Marcus, how silly of me. Look, my dress is torn and muddied. I shall have to find my sewing kit in my bag, mend it and brush it thoroughly after the mud dries."
He looked her over and said absently, "Just get out one of your other dresses and throw this one away."
Sarah just stared at him, and replied, "Ah, yes, I will get one of my many dresses out of my extensive wardrobe."
Marcus gave her a sharp look, "I am sorry. Is that your favorite or something? My mother and aunts have favorites...
"No, just let us save our breath for the walk, shall we?"
\*\*\*
They arrived at the inn in strained silence, relieved only by the sound of their sturdy shoes crunching in the brush. They had elected to stay off the road in the concealment of the shrubbery in case the shooter came back. The trip took longer than it should have and when the finally made the inn they were hot, thirsty and sweaty. Sarah turned to Marcus and said, "I will see about some luncheon, and a bit of privacy to clean myself up and change to my other dress.
Marcus thought Sarah is such a notorious pinchpenny I had better speak up or we shall be dining in the tap room, "Sarah you need to bespeak a private parlor, unless John Coachman has already done so..."
"Jedediah Crump," she succinctly.
"What was that?"
"His name," she said, "Is Jedediah Crump, sergeant, late of his Majesty's army Ceylon, India."
Marcus blinked at her correction and said dismissively, "But of course, Sergeant Crump, I will join you presently, my dear."
The proprietor of the inn had a barrel chest and a ruddy scarred face, he looked like a pirate. When she heard what he wanted to charge for the private parlor---she was sure of it.
"A guinea," she cried aghast, "A guinea, I wanted to rent the room for an hour not buy the inn."
The old pirate had a twinkle in his eye, "Plenty of folks is comin' though here, of late, I charge what they will pay."
"Well, I am offering two shillings, not a tuppence more---" she said with a fire in her eye as she advanced on him.
Sarah felt someone come up behind her and grasp her shoulders. "Did you hear what he wants to charge for a private parlor. It's outrageous..." Sarah's diatribe was interrupted when someone spoke up from the area of the kitchen.
"Samuel, you pirate, I told you if that really was Sarah Montague like ol' Crump says she'd like to tear a strip off of ya iffen' you trys to overcharge her."
Sarah stopped struggling and turned with surprise and wonderment, "Maisie Smithers! As I live and breathe." Sarah ran over to give her old friend a hug.
"It be McTavish now," Maisie said.
"I often wondered what became of you after Smither's died of fever," Sarah said.
"That money you loaned me..."
"It was repayment for all the kindnesses I owed you," Sarah said waving her hand in front of her face.
"Be that as it may, that money helped to get us back here and I took a job as a cook in this here fine establishment," Maisie said as she spread out her arms expansively at the clean well appointed inn.
"After a bit I saw how much more we would make if I married her instead of payin' her wages." Samuel said with a mock leer at his wife.
"And look at you---you got yerself a fine braw man there," giving Marcus an assessing eye, and looking at the muddy state of their clothing, "He could not even wait to be gettin' ya to me inn afore givin' ya a tumble. Ahhhh, young love."
Even Marcus, used to the free speech of army people, looked taken aback by the frank statements of Sarah's friend. Sarah herself was flushing a bright red as he said, "Uh, uh no, someone sabotaged the axel of our carriage and it broke down then we were shot at by a footpad and had to dive into a ditch..."
"Shot at?" Samuel glared evilly at the door, as though the culprit was about to walk into his taproom.
"Have the coaching lines become so competitive, that they would sabotage each other's rigs to steal business?" Marcus enquired quietly.
"No, there be enough business from Portsmouth to London and Bath for everybody. Here now, let me gets you a little of this here brandy," Samuel walked behind the bar and pulled up a bottle which probably never paid duty. "Did ya sees who did the shootin'?"
"No, but I have it on good authority that the person used an India Brown Bess," he cocked an amused glance at Sarah's face.
"Papa was the quartermaster, I learned many things about weapons and the India Brown Bess has a much different report than a regular flintlock as the barrel is shorter."
"Oh, lord love ya, and I bet you haven't had time to freshen up your other dress. That shooter be long gone but your man and Samuel could take some horses and go look over the area from where the shots were fired. In the meantime, we will get you cleaned up," Maisie broke into the discussion looking at the dress critically, "I s'pose we can save it." She looked up and smiled at her husband. "Samuel here spoils me shameless he does. Liza and me, we each have five dresses that we bought material and sewed them new," she bragged.
"Really, five dresses," Sarah said admiringly, "However do you decide what to wear?"
As he strode out to the stables, Marcus reflected on the expression he had seen on Sarah's face, trying to remember even a hint of condescension. All he could recall was happiness in her friend's good fortune. He then realized that Sarah was a little envious of her friend. He came to the comprehension that Sarah lived in a completely different world from him. She only had two dresses and the one she was wearing his mother would not give to the tweeny for the rag bag. And his mother was looked down upon by his ducal relations as of being of a much inferior station.
As he rode back to the area with the coachman and Samuel McTavish, he remembered how his relatives had always treated his mother with disdain. He remembered as a boy how his mother never complained a word every Christmas when they traditionally visited the main ducal estate. His parents were housed near the nursery in a mean room next door to the governess. His cousin Edward, that self important prig, always tried to poke fun at his mother until Marcus darkened his daylights for him. Marcus smiled faintly at the memory. Good Lord, the prig may soon be the Duke, Marcus thought before arriving at the spot of the failed ambush.
Along the way McTavish became rather garrulous and regaled them all with a story or two about his life as a privateer. Like it wasn't obvious the man was a pirate, Marcus thought. It seems the last voyage for him he was shot in the leg, and McTavish felt it was time to retire and use his prize money to purchase a business.
Crump the coachman dismounted slightly ahead of the other men and went over followed closely by Marcus and McTavish. "Look here, the bloke must've been wait'n here until afters I left with the horses---the brush be fair trampled."
"You have experience with tracking?" Marcus asked.
"Ah yes, I was with the 73rd in Australia and I learned some trackin' from them there primitive folk. They be nice people some of 'em but they like to go walk about and don' stay anyplace long," Crump said, "I received a de-bilitatin' injury in Ceylon. Sergeant Montague was sent back to England to help raise the second division and so's he could enroll his girl in a school. I came home soon before---" he followed the trail of bent brush and weeds back about three hundred feet, "See, here's where he had his horse tethered and look like the horse be munchin' on the greenery maybe quarter hour, thirty minutes on the outside."
"You can tell that from this here greenery," McTavish said with a doubtful look.
"My Da was a groom on a horse farm," Crump looked up at Marcus and McTavish, "I used to help, I know more'n I ever wanted to know about how much and how fast the beasties eat. That's why I joined up with the Foot--no horses 'ceptin' supply horses. Here I be a coachman dealin' with 'em again. I'll jist git Jem and meet yas all back at the Inn."
"Here ya be, I tol' ya my man would keep them busy a while and you could have plenty of time for a bath," Maisie said smiling down on Sarah seated in the slipper tub in the best guest room, "I'll just nip out and freshen up this other dress."
Maisie went down the back stairs to the kitchen and started airing and pressing Sarah's brown cotton dress. When she heard the men return she wiped her hands and went out to meet them.
"Your wife is upstairs, freshin' up. I'll be bringin' tea and a nice meat pie for you both. Why don't you join her?" she said, "Room up the stairs, end of the hall."
Sarah heard the door open up, "Maisie, my hands are all soapy, could you please poor that can of water over my shoulders? I am not going to wash my hair, a good brushing should get the leaves and twigs out."
Marcus could not believe his eyes, Sarah was naked it this tiny excuse for a tub. She was tempting enough in her night rail but pink skin glistening with water and soap and rose bud nipples tipping tilted breasts made her more so. Then to make the vision complete, she stood up in all of her naked glory. "Maisie?" Sarah looked around seeing Marcus, squeaked and sank back into the inadequate protection of the tub grabbing a drying linen to give herself cover. She bit her lip, "I thought you were Maisie."
He walked over quietly with a glazed look in his eyes, "Obviously, I am not."
He picked up the can of warm water, took the linen from her loose grip and proceeded to pour water all over shoulders and breasts. Sarah was very aware of him as a man; she felt her breasts tingle and warmth in her thighs that had nothing to do with the water being poured on her. She attempted to cover herself with her hands and flushed a deep shade of pink. "Captain Derning," she hissed, "This situation is just not proper. Please leave. I will be done momentarily."
"Oh, I do not know, this situation has just become very interesting," he said coolly with just a hint of amusement in his voice, "It's amazing what you're hiding under those ugly gowns of yours."
"Remember that you are an officer and a gentleman..." she sputtered.
"At this moment, I am remembering that I am a man in the room with a comely, young naked woman."
"Well I never..."
"Yes an more's the pity," he said with a touch more wicked amusement to his voice, "Are you sure you don't want some help oh, say, scrubbing your back?"
"My back is fine," Sarah was getting irritated she grasped the bar of soap just under the water and quickly shied it at his head. She scored a direct hit and Marcus eyes were temporarily blinded by soap. She flung one of the drying linens at his head and while his eyes were covered she quickly left the slipper tub. She hastily toweled herself off using the other linen and dressed in her chemise and corset over her still damp body. There was a knock at the door, "Just a minute, Captain Derning decided to wash up as well."
"I'll just leave the tray out here in the hall, until you two have finished washin'", Maisie said with a snort.
Marcus' eyes finally stopped stinging and he gave her an enigmatic look and finally left the room.
Maisie brought her only wearable dress back into the room and helped Sarah into it. Sarah briefly dreamed a delightful little daydream that Marcus really was her husband. Her odious practical nature reasserted itself and she realized the hurt and pain if she let her heart fixate on Marcus. She would be lucky to marry a common laborer with her sullied reputation. She gave a wry smile and tortured herself with the sort of woman Marcus would some day wed: a beautiful accomplished woman of a noble family. She wondered if the someday Mrs. Derning would recognize her man for the diamond he was. Maisie looked at Sarah's wistful face, "Here now, it's not much but it will do until your man can get you to a town and get you somethin' proper. I'd give ya one of my or Liza's dresses if I could but ye stands head and shoulders above me and Liza is jist a slight child."
Sarah did not correct her friend, she could not say, sorry but I wished the gentleman I was traveling with was really my husband. Maisie said, "Here, lovey, let's me gives your hair a good brushin'" Sarah sighed as she had not the benefit of another female to help her dress since Miss Marberry's Bath School for Girls.
"Your man wants to get on the road again, he said to finish your meal and come straight down. Samuel's got our coach to lend ya."
Sarah hurried down the stairs in time to see Marcus arguing with Samuel about payment. "No, no and no," Samuel said waving his hands in front of Marcus, "I likes sleepin' in a bed and not the stables. Maisie'd have me head if I accepted yer blunt. She be jist that grateful for the help Miss Montague, I means Mrs. Derning gave her."
Marcus sighed and turned to Sarah standing in the doorway by the stairs, "He won't take payment for anything, not even the coach."
"That's ridiculous, we have to pay the man," Sarah remonstrated.
"Nonsense, my man will not take a bloody farthing from ye," Maisie said firmly.
Sarah knew when she was defeated and gave in gracefully and went out to be helped into the surprising well appointed carriage. The outside was very unprepossessing, but the seats were amazingly well sprung. Samuel had explained that when his wife and he had to go for supplies he relished his creature comforts but did not wish to draw attention to themselves.
Sarah waved out the window to her friends as the coach bowled out of the inn yard. She thought how some people finally get the life that they deserve. If McTavish was perceptive enough to appreciate Maisie, then his life experiences had made a wise man of him. She put her foolish daydreams of Marcus out of her head and concentrated on the future she prayed she would have. In the last letter she'd had from her cousins, they had given her an open invitation to visit. Sarah hoped she could extend it until she found herself a situation. Perhaps her cousin could give her a reference and she could take a position as a maid. Sarah sighed, she was a little long in the tooth to be starting on a household staff but life did not always follow the normal guidelines.
Marcus was having his own thoughts for the future. As a career military man he could have use a female who was used to the rigors of the campaign and would not cry over the latest fashions. At camp he remembered that Sergeant Montague was always clean and mended with all of his buttons in place. He was not always strictly in uniform. But who was? This last campaign he had seen everything from canvas overalls to kilts on the men. He looked down on his own battered tunic where one of his own buttons was hanging by a thread.
Sarah saw him pick at one of his buttons and said, "Captain Derning, I have my sewing kit here in my reticule and a few spare buttons for that matter. Give me your tunic and I shall tighten up your buttons and replace a few, as well."
He looked across the carriage at her with her battered bonnet and well mended dress. He had never seen a prettier sight. He handed her over his worse-for-wear tunic. He watched as she pulled a sewing kit from her voluminous reticule. She carefully threaded a needle with the proper color thread, very difficult to do in a moving coach and started reinforcing his button.
"You know all there is to know about me, Captain, tell me about your family," Sarah said, not looking up from her sewing.
He looked at her suspiciously, thinking here is another woman who wants to know about my ducal relations, "What do you want to know?"
"Do you have brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins?"
"I have no siblings, but my mother was blessed with several sisters, I have three female cousins and a multitude of male cousins on that side of the family," Marcus said thinking she really wanted to know about his father's family.
"Are you all close? I always missed the fact that both sides of my family were so small," she said conversationally.
"I usually stay with my Aunt Minerva when I am in town," he said quietly.
"Did you all get together on the holidays?" she looked wistful, "I always wanted to have a real English Christmas. The only time I spent in England I spent in school in Bath."
"Your father never brought you home on leave?"
"Ceylon was a long way from England," she said with a sigh. "The only way he was able to bring me home to England after Mama died was when they were setting up the second division and they needed an excellent supply sergeant."
He thought of the family Christmases when he was a little boy at Allendale; cold, formal occasions with his mother being treated as less valuable than the servants. Then he smiled and thought of the warm Christmases spent with various of his mother's sisters and their families.
"You have some mixed memories of family holidays?" she said as she bit the thread at the secured button and drawing out a spare button to place on a spot he did not even realize was missing.
"My father's family was very formal---not a place for an active boy to spend Christmas..."he said diffidently.
"One could imagine," Sarah said noncommittally starting to reattach a loose piece of braid taking small almost imperceptible stitches.
He looked at her warily, "Aren't you going to ask about the family celebrations at Allendale?"
"Is that the name of your mother's family seat?" she asked absently holding the tunic up in the bright afternoon sunshine to check for further areas of concern.
"No, that's my great uncle the Duke's family seat," he said abruptly.
"Not really, I imagine you had more fun with your mother's family."
He looked thoughtful, "I did actually."
"Did you hang stockings, have plum pudding with trinkets to find?"
"Why, yes we did," he smiled at her question, "we played snap dragon, as well."
She glowed at him, "Sounds like enormous fun and like the Christmases my cousin Amelia used to write of in her letters," she handed him back his newly mended tunic.
"Why did you not go to your cousins for holidays?" Marcus said.
She gazed out the window taking in the English countryside her work worn hands sitting idle in her lap for once, "Mama's brother did not approve of my Papa. I was never invited."
"What changed that you are now welcome in your cousin's home?" Marcus prompted.
"My Uncle was a country squire, my oldest cousin inherited the country property and my youngest cousin became a vicar," Sarah said with a smile, "My cousin Ambrose? has a vicarage, more like a mission really, in the stews of London. My oldest cousin Anthony did not approve of his choice of career just as my uncle disapproved of my mother's choice of husband."
"To be a shepherd of the Lord's flock is a noble calling surely..." Marcus said with surprise.
"My cousin did not wish to minister to the complacent country gentry," Sarah said, "He felt the need to seek out and do something for the forgotten ones, the children of London. He is a bit of a radical. My cousin Amelia keeps house for him."
"Your cousin Amelia, she is a widow?"
"No, she has never been married, her fiancé fell at Ulm. He was actually a captain on General Mack's staff," Sarah said solemnly, the laughter gone from her eyes.
Marcus knew she was reminded of her father's death to looters after Waterloo. He reached out his hand and touched her, "I think even Wellington was sad at your father's death, so senseless to looters."
"I heard he had them hanged," she said a brief glimmer of bitterness in her eyes, "If I'd had anyone to take me to where they were hanged, I would have gladly spat on them."
They were not further bothered by ruffians as they rolled down the road towards London. At the next stop he made sure he arranged for the rooms for the night and a private parlor for their evening meal. The inn was not so well appointed as the previous one, but it had the advantage of no one knowing Sarah or her father. Marcus still referred to Sarah as his wife but did arrange for two rooms. One of the men in the taproom overheard him arranging for two rooms and turned to stare insolently at Sarah as she made her way through the room to the stair.
The man walked over to where Sarah was waiting for the Innkeeper to show her to her room. "Wife, you b'ain't no wife to no fancy c'ptan," he slurred his words slightly, "Wot's he tired of you already my prup-retty bird?" the last being said with a belch.
Sarah eyed the man with disgust and dismay, Marcus had walked outside to get his traveling kit from the coach. She had demurred at the coachman carrying her bag and had her portmanteau in her hand. She decided to ignore him and walk towards the innkeeper. "Sir, I trust that there is a connecting door between our rooms and thick walls so that when my husband shouts...er...in his sleep no one else would be disturbed," Sarah improvised trying to hint delicately that noisy lovemaking could be possible.
The innkeeper's wife said from the door of the kitchen, "Your man relives some of his battles at night does he, dearie?"
Sarah thought this is a much better ploy, "Why yes, ma'am, he has a tendency to fling his arms out at night while sleeping."
The woman nodded knowledgably, "My brother was at Trafalgar with Nelson, he used to dream of when the ship was shot out from underneath him and falling in the water, he'd wake his wife up frantically tryin' ta swim."
"Look at 'er hands she b'ain't no officers wife," the drunk repeated belligerently as he reached out to grab Sarah's arm as if to show the innkeepers wife her work roughened hands.
Sarah was just about to hit him with her bag when a cold male voice said, "You know that many officers' wives do you?" Sarah thought this was the second time in almost as many days she has seen him come to her rescue like an avenging angel, his light brown hair backlit by the early evening setting sun. It was an arresting sight. Marcus approached the drunken man with his best supercilious look on his face. At that moment, Sarah knew that Marcus must closely resemble his father's side of the family in demeanor, if not looks. The man was drunk enough to approach a lone woman but not so cast away as to challenge a large irritated man, he glanced malevolently at Sarah and then backed away.
Marcus turned to the innkeeper's wife, "I noticed that there is a seamstress shop in the small village we passed through, there was an accident with my wife's luggage..."
Sarah was aghast, "No, Marcus something ready made like that would be too dear---I can just make do with this..." indicating her worse-for-wear dress, " Until I can make another."
Marcus turned his cool gaze on her, "Wife, I have quite made up my mind. We cannot show up at your relatives me resplendent in my regimentals," gesturing to his somewhat worn uniform, "And you dressed in that rag."
The drunk's eyes widened as he backed away from an apparent marital spat and the innkeeper said to him in an aside, "Barty, tha' be no dollybird, tha' be a wife, a real nipcheese to hear him tell it. Dollybirds try and take a fella as well heeled as that'n appear to be and wring 'em dry, not argue with 'em about spendin' too much."
Sarah waited until the innkeeper's wife was out of earshot after they had adjourned to the private parlor before she turned to Marcus with a smile, "That was inspired of you, sir, now they really feel that I am your wife---hopefully the poor dressmaker is unavailable. I would hate to make her come to the inn just for nothing..."
Marcus raised an eyebrow, "It will not be for nothing, you have need of a new dress and I mean to see that you get one. That one is about to fall apart."
"Nonsense, a few stitches maybe a patch and..."
Marcus gave her an exasperated look, and Sarah flushed, and amended, "I will get some fabric from a draper's tomorrow and make it up as soon as I get to my cousin's vicarage."
The food soon arrived and as soon as they were finished the dressmaker arrived with several finished dresses. The innkeeper's wife said, "This be Mrs. Peabody, she supports herself and her three children by makin' dresses. I tol' her, your height and she brought these here. You'd be doin' her a favor ,mum, she b'ain't so fortunate as you and me and lost her man last winter to weak chest."
There was nothing Sarah could do; the woman obviously needed the money, she dressed only somewhat better than Sarah herself. The dresses though were of much better quality than any she had ever seen. She said as much to the woman.
"Beg pardon, Miss, the village bein' on the main coachin' line betwixt Portsmouth and London, the freight man al'ays know that I'll barter for first pick at some o' those fabrics and they also bring me the latest fashion plates from London." The woman had a faint Irish lilt to her voice her hair was liberally streaked with grey. The lightness of her step indicating a woman not defeated by life but one who met it every day with energy.
"I hate to cavil at the captain's generosity but do you have anything in black? I just lost my father and I hadn't had time to either dye my clothes or make new."
The lady sent her son running back to her shop for the black dresses she had just finished that morning. She had made up some black dresses knowing that many families would be touched by grief after the defeat of Napoleon at Waterloo.
The dresses needed very little in the way of adjustment and the dressmaker pressed her card on Sarah saying, "You never know when someone might need a seamstress." The woman gathered her wares and left the inn with a wave and a smile.
The innkeeper's wife came into the room to announce that the bath was set up in their sleeping accommodations. Sarah turned to Marcus, "I had a bath this noon when we stopped. Why do you not bathe while I savor another cup of tea?"
"I suppose the gentlemanly thing would be to insist that you have the bath water but as you said, you cleaned up at your friend's inn and I really would relish getting the travel grime off of me before turning into my bed," Marcus said stretching his arms over his head and standing to leave the room.
Sarah looked up at him and smiled, tea cup in her hand, "I will see you in the morning, Marcus."
Sarah savored her tea, the third time today she had been able to indulge in the wondrous brew. All too often on campaign, tea was in short supply. Sarah had come to appreciate the taste of tea with fresh leaves. She drank it without sugar or cream, enjoying the slightly bitter taste. Campaigning in Europe, coffee seemed to be always available; her Papa would barter with the Prussians, Spanish, or Belgians so that he could have his morning cup. Sarah supposed spending her formative years in India; mayhap she associated the drinking of strong tea with the times before her mother and younger brother died.
After their passing, her father had seemed to sink himself into his work so that he was too tired to notice that half of his family was gone when he settled for the night. Sarah, in the time before they were sent home to England, used to spend time observing the other families and talking to the wives who came from foreign lands. By the time she came to go to school in Bath she spoke French, Spanish and Italian with some proficiency, she also had a smattering of Hindu from the servants and Iroquois from an American Indian woman named Sunflower Dawn. She pretended ignorance of languages while she was in school and only showed enough knowledge to pass the language classes. Not being as well born as some of the other young ladies at the school, she did not wish to push herself forward. She did secretly help her friend Emily, who was terrible at languages and Emily helped her with her needlework. Sarah stood and shook out the crumbs of the steak and kidney pie they had had for dinner and made her way to her room.
Sarah opened the door to her room and saw Marcus dozing in the slipper tub. Army life being what it was, she had seen many men in various stages of dress; when the call to arms came men ran to their posts. She had never beheld the like of Marcus and she attempted to drag her eyes away from his naked chest with muscles glistening with water. His well defined chest tapered into an arrow to his pelvis, his legs were bent to fit his entire long frame into the tiny slipper tub. She had almost managed to tear her eyes away from him when Marcus said, eyes closed, "Fair is fair. I had a fair eyeful of you this afternoon---would you like to scrub my back?"
Sarah approached the tub as though mesmerized and mechanically held out her hand for the sponge and feeling herself break out in perspiration, she said hoarsely, "Lean forward, sir." She felt her hands tingling with the need to touch his bare skin, she grabbed her skirts with her one hand to make sure she did not involuntarily caress the skin of his back and grasped the sponge firmly in her other and proceeded to do a slow sensual soaping of his back.
Marcus groaned, he had only meant to tease her a bit, he had had no notion that she would actually pick up the sponge and wash him.
The groan seemed to startle Sarah out of her sensual haze, Marcus saw Sarah mentally pull herself together as she dropped the sponge in the water. She said quickly, "I need to ready myself to go to bed---I mean sleep, sleep that is..." She quickly got to her feet and backed out of the room averting her face. She was flushed and damp with perspiration. She gave a quick glance at his face, seeing his wicked smile, hurriedly looked away and slammed the door to her room
As Sarah shut the door to the other bedchamber and tried to mentally close the door to the images that keep replaying in her mind. What on earth was she thinking to actually touch his bare skin. She had never even touched her Papa's bare skin. Oh god, what must he be thinking I can not wait to get to my cousin. I must catch the mail coach tomorrow morning early, before Marcus---Captain Derning wakes. She forced her mind and heart to resume its former formal way of thinking of him. I heard that the mail will be coming through here at five of the clock. It should not be too dear Sarah thought as she mentally tabulated what it would deduct from her stock of coins. Her Papa had left her about five hundred pounds in coin and notes, enough to live on if she was frugal. She was very frugal.
The next morning Marcus woke surprisingly refreshed. He had not realized how tired he was, he'd thought sensual thoughts of the woman in the next room would keep him awake. He pulled the bell to get the maid to bring him hot water for shaving, he dressed in his uniform again marveling at the mending Sarah had done under poor circumstances. He just bet that his cousin Emily the intrepid needlewoman she was, could not have done better riding in a coach. He was thinking what a great wife Sarah would make a military man some day. A man could come home to hot meals, clean linens and have a charming bed partner.
He walked over to the connecting door and knocked---no answer. Hmm, he thought, she must still be asleep. He cautiously opened the door to her room---empty. He looked around and saw a note on the pillow of the unmade bed.
He opened it and began to read:
Captain Derning, I am grateful for all of your help but I have come to realize that I cannot remain in your company. What if we experience another break down or delay? Sir, I beg to tell you I am a virtuous woman but I am not made of stone. My actions and demeanor may have led you to believe that I would welcome such a situation as would be usual for people in our different stations in life. When you read this I will be well on my way to London on the mail. I should be at my cousins' residence by tea time. By the by, I told the Innkeeper that we decided I would go on ahead to prepare our household. I do not think he believed me but it was all I could think to say.
Yours,
Sarah Montague
He crushed the note in his hand and flung it across the room. "Damn her to hell," he said with a voice thick with rage, "Who does she think she is to decide what my intentions are towards her. When I find her, if she is safe, I swear I will shake some sense into that foolish head of hers."
Sarah left the mail at the station in London. Sarah walked up to a man she saw cleaning up after the horses. "Sir, could you tell me how far it is to Whitechapel Mission?" she asked wearily.
"It be a short ride in a 'ack from 'ere your ladyship," he said with a smile. "Let's me call you a jarvey."
Sarah persisted, "It's a short walk, then? Which way should I go."
"'ere now tha' be a bad place to a lady on 'er own. Do ya 'ave people you be seein' there?" he said worriedly.
"Just my cousins, the reverend and his sister."
"Tha be a diff'ent ting tha is," the man said looking around and then calling out, "You boy!"
The young lad of about ten years stopped, "Eh ,gov'ner, wha cher want?"
"This 'ere lady says she be kin to the Reverend Appleby, ya be one o' 'is boys ain't ya?"
"M'amelia said as how 'er uncle and cousin would be comin' fer a visit now that the war be done wi'..." the boy said rocking back on his feet and looking Sarah over. Sarah was wearing one of her new black dresses. "Ya do favor 'er a bit. Where's yer da?"
Sarah glanced down at her dress and looked back at the boy, "I am afraid he will not be joining us."
The boy winced, "I be sayin' the worst things a fella can say h'at times."
Sarah smiled in spite of herself, "You could not know he died."
The man at the station cleared his throat, "You jist be taken' miss 'ere to 'er fambly roight and tight. I tells ya, Ida, there be a lot a swells comin' in town. Be plenty 'orses for you boys to 'old an' lots o' shillin's to be 'ad. You tells the vicar ol' Mick says so." Yea! Ida! Ida! Yea it's Ida
Sarah pick up her valise and handed her portmanteau to the boy. "Do you think you can handle this, Ida, is it?"
"Why don't cher gimme your other bag, I can 'andle it," he said puffing his chest out, "H'it b'ain't right a lady loik you to be carrin' the big bag. I be stronger than I look, I 'olds 'orses for the gentry loik Mick says. I be allowed since last year."
They set off for the mission, Ida chattering to her like she was an old friend. "The Vicar, 'e says that boys of a certain age be allowed to go out earn some money for our keep. M'amelia, I mean Miss Amelia, she says we be too little to goes out. But the Vicar says she can't molly coddle us because we haves to learn how to make our way here in Lunnon."
Sarah thought this seems to be a bone of contention between her cousins, but before she could ask more they had arrived at the mission. Sarah looked around her, it seemed like every bit of filth and offal seemed to be collected in this area. The stench was strong. The mission though, seemed the one bright spot.
The boy, Ida, put her case on the step and ran into the house. A short time later a blond woman in her late twenties hurled herself out the door, "Sarah, I have been expecting you and your father this age. I am so sorry to hear about his death. You must tell me about it later. For now you must come in refresh yourself and I will have you a nice tea. It is very lively around here as you will see."
She led Sarah in the house and up the stairs. Ida, with Sarah's bags, and one of the other boys met them at the door of her room with a pitcher of hot water and linen. Two girls who looked to be about nine or ten were hurriedly making up the small bed.
"Sarah," Amelia said, "Since our last communication we have started taking in girls as well. This is Cassandra and Alyce. Girls, this is my cousin, Sarah Montague. Her father is-was in the army he is-was the quartermaster sergeant." Amelia looked chagrined.
"Amelia, I have had some time to get used to the fact that Papa is gone," Sarah said gently, "You found out not five minutes ago. I understand, when you do not see someone day to day it is hard to grasp that they are no longer of this earth. In fact there are times that I hear a footstep and I expect to find my father coming to me to tell me what to do with the supplies he managed get in trade from another unit."
Amelia seemed to take some comfort from Sarah's words. She gave Sarah a fierce hug and told her she would be waiting downstairs with her tea.
Sarah looked around the room which was spare of furniture and it had one small window which looked out on an alley. Lines were strung across the alley with wash being hung out to dry by two girls she had not met yet. She felt as though she was going to be a burden to her cousin. Unless she missed her guess and Ambrose was given a fortune, the mission did not need one more mouth to feed.
The meager tea she was fed confirmed her opinion. Her cousin looked away from her eyes as she gave her a cup of pale tea and two biscuits. "I am sorry I did not know you were coming or I would have purchased some cream. I do not take it in my tea anymore," Amelia said ashamedly.
Unless she missed her guess, and Sarah was always shrewd about money, Amelia used every spare groat on the children. Sarah looked at her cousin closely, she appeared thinner and it was not the loss of the roundness of youth.
"Amelia," Sarah said gently, "I know my being here puts a strain on your household. I have some money to contribute---"
"Oh no, Sarah," Amelia exclaimed, "Ambrose and I would not hear of taking your money. The Lord will always provide somehow. You will see..." Amelia's voice trailed off as if she had a hard time believing in the Lord's good will at times.
"How many children are there now?" Sarah asked.
"About fifteen, eight boys and seven girls," she said and sighed, "At times it seems that we can never do enough."
"You forgot to mention the three babes we just took in from the foundling home."
Sarah turned and sprang to her feet to receive a bear hug from her cousin Ambrose Appleby. She looked at him closely and saw a few worry lines that were not there a few years ago under his smile of welcome.
"Ambrose, it is so good to see you," Sarah said her voice muffled in his jacket. Ambrose was a tall, well built young man with blond hair and blue eyes. If Sarah did not know better she would have thought him to be much older than his twenty-eight years.
"Sarah, I could not help but overhear you offering money," he said sternly. "You are welcome to stay here as long as you like. If you want to help out, we can always use another responsible adult here."
"I do not want to be interfering but..." Sarah said hesitantly, "I have learned how to barter and bargain---in fact I would help Papa in some of his trades. I could see if I could maybe stretch your blunt a little further..."
Rather than take offense, Amelia turned to her the light of relief in her eyes, "Would you really? The tradesmen around here are not very accommodating. They consider our children would-be thieves and prostitutes. I have tried every way to stretch a pence."
Before Sarah could comment one of the children she saw earlier in the alley came into the room. "Pardon me, Miss Amelia, Vicar, but there's a soldier outside wot says 'e knows your cousin," she said carefully.
"You said that very well, Rose," Ambrose said with a smile, "a little more work and you will sound like one of the gentry. Why don't you show him into the room?" The young girl smiled shyly and left the room to come back a few moments later with Marcus Derning following behind her.
Sarah saw the thunderous look on his face and swiftly made the introductions. "Captain Derning, these are my cousins, Ambrose and Amelia Appleby. It is so nice to see you again," she said quickly, "As you can see I have arrived safely here in London." She turned to her cousins, "Captain Derning escorted me most of the way here from Calais. In fact, he gave up his cabin to me on the boat."
Amelia turned to Rose, "Dearest, could you please go get another cup and plate for the Captain---Captain, you must take tea with us, I insist."
With an obvious effort, Sarah saw Marcus rein in his ill temper. He smiled graciously and took the weak tea and biscuit when it was offered. "Miss Appleby...Vicar Appleby, I must needs speak with Miss Montague on a personal matter," he said hesitantly, carefully balancing his cup and saucer on his knee.
Ambrose gave Sarah a searching look and turned back to look at Marcus, "But of course, Captain. I would ask a favor of you."
Sarah saw Marcus look at the shabby furnishings and meager tea. She could see that he thought the good vicar was about to make a request for a donation. Marcus appeared resigned and started to reach for his money. "What could I do for you, sir?"
"If it is not too much trouble," Ambrose began. "We have these toy soldiers that have been donated to us---could you possibly visit sometime and help the boys set up a few battles."
Sarah saw the surprise on Marcus face. Considering her cousins' dire straights, she supposed she should be surprised as well. But, she had known her cousin Ambrose since they were both in leading strings. He did not have a practical bone in his body. His mind was always on a higher plane. Living with all of these children has at least taught him something of the ways of children. She looked over at her cousin and caught a look of resignation in her eyes. Sarah knew even if her cousins were so inclined, it would be extremely poor breeding to try and beg money from a guest.
Marcus tried to catch Sarah's eye while she studiously avoided looking in his direction. She just knew he was going to ring a peel over her head. Good news is always welcome, bad news can wait. She lingered over her biscuit and pale tepid tea for as long as she could, then set her empty cup aside.
"Ambrose, dear cousin, I do believe that Captain Derning wishes to remonstrate with me over my ill advised coach ride. Do you have a place where he can cast thunderbolts at my head in private," Sarah said with a roll of her eyes.
Her cousin Amelia hid a grin in her napkin. Rose, the child who was gathering some of the tea things was less circumspect and giggled.
Marcus glared at Sarah, as Ambrose escorted them to his study. The room was very austere. An old desk sat in the corner and the many shelves held the minimum of books. Sarah looked around the room startled by the barren room. Her cousin Ambrose loved his books and she remembered he had quite a number of them. There was no evidence of the many she knew he had acquired over the years. She had almost forgotten the reason she had come to the room when Marcus cleared his throat. Her stomach twisted as she turned to her companion and sighed.
"Well, get on with it," she grimaced. "I know you are just bursting to tell me how dangerous it was my going on the mail by myself."
He surprised her and paced over to the spotlessly clean window overlooking the small courtyard, "Actually, I blame myself. My teasing had gotten somewhat out of hand. The fact that you felt the need to loosen those tight purse strings and actually purchase a seat on the mail, brought it home to me."
She looked at him suspiciously.
"I wish to talk to you on another thing altogether. We ran into many of your acquaintance on the road---"
"Just two people---"
He continued as if he was not interrupted, "I feel that it would make good sense if we should marry. I should have hired a maid, checked the coach myself. I really feel that we would deal extremely well together."
For just a moment Sarah let happiness light her heart. Then she listened to the things he did not say. He spoke of neglect, obligation, duty and sense. He did not mention love, need or even esteem. Without even love or caring on their side the match was doomed from the start. She was a woman of dubious morals and stained reputation in the eyes of the small world they inhabited. She had seen the failure of many a promising couple when there was love and equal station to build upon. She steeled her resolve, "Captain Derning, I do not feel that we should suit."
He looked thunderstruck at her answer, "Come now, we have represented ourselves to be wedded, why not lend truth to the story and have your cousin do the deed."
Sarah felt some of her resolve crumble but she reached deep inside herself and found real pathos, "Captain, you are a soldier, I have spent my whole life in the tail of the army. The army life took my brother, mother and two baby sisters and finally my father."
Stunned silence met her words. In truth, Sarah did not wish to marry a soldier. But if things were different and Marcus had told her he loved her she would take a chance and wed him. If she ever found that cad Lieutenant Wilbur she would like to horsewhip him herself.
She had seen too much in the course of her short life. She was only five and twenty, but she had seen heart break and tragedy aplenty. Her friend Maisie, before her first husband died, had not led an easy life. Truth be told, he was a mean drunkard and was physically abusive. Not that she ever believed that Marcus was given to drink or would hit her, she thought as she finally looked up in his eyes.
He began speaking again, "If you do not want to be married to a soldier...the war is over and there is not much call for soldiers now. I will probably sell out anyway. Think of your cousins, they do not need another mouth to feed."
"This is only temporary until I find employment," she said looking away from him again. She wished he would just take no for an answer and leave. This was so very hard, she thought as she blinked away tears. She needed to do the right thing for him, she could not do anything else. Some day when he found the right woman, lady really, of his own social class and breeding, he would think of this day as a narrow escape.
"I think there are other compensations, as well," he said as he enfolded her in his arms and put his mouth on hers in a passionate kiss.
It was so unexpected, she could not help but respond to him. Her lips parted under his and she placed her arms around him. He lifted his head and stared down at her.
"I think we should have your cousin call the banns," he stated firmly.
"No, no and no," she cried jerking back. "I refuse to marry you, nothing of any significance happened on the road. You do not need to give up your freedom because my father gave up his life to save yours. If you want to repay me for his loss, ask some of your friends and cousins to donate money and time down here at the mission. They won't feel the pinch of my presence if their bellies are full and the children are assisted."
"Very well," he said coldly stung by her rejection of his offer. "If that is what you want, you shall have it. I hope you do not live to regret it."
He gathered his hat and gloves from the hall table and left shutting the front door quietly. He did not look back to see the tear trickle down her cheek or hear her heartfelt whisper, "Me, too."
"Are you sure I am the heir?" Marcus said aghast.
The self-effacing little man said, "Yes, you are in fact the new Duke of Allendale. Your father kept copies of your birth certificate and your parents marriage lines here in my office. I need you to sign here and here." He pointed to the bottom of the page of a beribboned and ornately transcribed document. The man stood up and said with an ingratiating smile, "We at Emberton and Sons have been handling his grace's financial affairs since my father's day."
"Mr. Embeton, what would happen if I did not sign the papers?" Marcus said as he looked at the paper with a frown.
"Nothing really, Your Grace, you will still be the Duke, it is just that all of the funds will be tied up, and no business will be able to be transacted by the estate," the man said pushing the quill pen and stand closer to Marcus.
"Business?" Marcus asked as he reluctantly read through the document which would officially change his life forever.
"The Ducal estate runs like a business, people must be paid funds disbursed and repairs made. Many people are dependent on the estate for their livelihood, Your Grace," Mr. Emberton said.
Marcus looked at the man his eyebrow raised, "Such as you, perhaps?"
"I would not suffer, the Dukedom is a small part of my business, Your Grace," the little man said dipping the quill in the ink and holding it out to Marcus.
Marcus winced, as the man called him Your Grace once again. Marcus sighed, he knew he would have to give in to his responsibilities. It was his duty and his obligation. He would definitely have to sell out now. Unbidden, the face of Sarah Montague came into his mind. What would she think now when she finds out that she could have been a Duchess, he thought disdainfully. He took the quill in hand and signed his name with a flourish.
A day later
"To the bride and groom," Marcus called out as he lifted his champagne glass to his cousin Emily and her new husband. He could be imagining things, but he thought he saw a speculative look cast his way. This look was from a prominent hostess who never even deigned to speak to him. He had thought to keep the news to himself for a little while as he did not wish to upstage his little cousin on her day.
Portly Lord Ponsonby hoisted himself up and made his ponderous way up to where the main wedding party was seated. Lord Ponsonby was well known to one and all as a gentleman who liked to spend an inordinate amount of time at his club as he had a household full of simpering females. He made a point of congratulating the happy couple and made a few remarks to his Aunt Minerva. If it were not for the look of entreaty he flung at his wife, Marcus just might have believed his casual invitation.
"Captain Derning, happens we are planning a small party tomorrow night and we would like it above all things if you and your cousins would come," he said gruffly.
"So sorry, Your Lordship, happens I have plans tomorrow night," Marcus said carefully. "I have some family business to attend." Marcus was promised to his young cousin Peter to help set up a realistic battle with his new soldiers. Marcus sighed, he had not even told his aunt and uncle or cousins yet. His aunt was going to be furious with him but eventually she would understand, he hoped. His cousin Emily is finally getting married to the man of her dreams after being the spare relative for so long. He had hoped to keep the news to himself a little longer. He caught the eye of his Uncle Horace and motioned to an alcove. His uncle had noticed all of the attention that Marcus seemed to be getting at Emily's wedding breakfast.
Sir Horace Warrick must have thought that there was trouble brewing because he signaled to all of his male cousins to attend him as well. "Well, Marcus, what have you done now?" Sir Horace said affably, "Do not tell me 'nothing' because it will not fadge, my lad."
"Remember that business that had me in the solicitor's office all day Thursday..." Marcus began.
His cousin Matthew Warrick spoke up, "I did mean to ask you about that but with making sure this wedding got off without worrying Mama over much, it slipped my mind..."
Marcus gave him a cold look, "It seems that my great uncle passed away recently."
It was Patrick Randolph's turn to interrupt, "'bout time that ol' buzzard stuck his spoon in the wall..."
Simon, Patrick's less volatile twin, went directly to the heart of the matter, "The only reason you would be concerned with his death---oh damn, I am sorry, man, did you inherit?"
Marcus throwing his perceptive cousin a look of gratitude, and mimicked, "That would be 'oh damn, I am sorry, Your Grace'."
Sir Horace looked on him with understanding, "You did not want to take the attention away from your cousin on her big day. Not to worry, I think all of the excitement leading up to the big day was wearing on Emily. I think she would love to have you take the lime light."
The only one of his male cousins not to join them was Nathaniel, Marcus looked over at him and he saw the epitome of male beauty was surrounded by a bevy of females. Nathaniel looked up at Marcus, a hunted expression on his face. Marcus had to laugh; it is possible to be too attractive to the opposite sex. Nathaniel had told him once that a young lady followed him to the withdrawing room. At the time Marcus was happy that he did not have looks or title to recommend him as an eligible party.
"Ida, William: do keep up, we are going scavenging today for vegetables," Sarah said with exasperation as she looked behind her at the distracted boys. "I would prefer not to waste time scavenging for you two."
"Ahhhhh, why does we 'aves to scavenge," Ida groused, "M'Amelia said as that toft soldier---"
"Ida..." warned Sarah.
"Ahem, Miss Amelia told us that Captain Derning had his friends and his relatives send us money," he stated in an exaggerated upper class accent. "Why do we have to scavenge for food?"
Sarah smiled, she knew he thought to annoy her with the overdone speech, "Winter will be here before we know it, and all of our lovely new acquaintances will go back to the country."
"H'it is true enough," William stated slowly trying very hard to correctly enunciate his words. Sarah gave him an approving look. "Those folk will forget all about us when they go 'ome to their country h'estates." He had only been with the mission a year and naturally spoke in broad cockney.
"We will look through the discarded and bruised vegetables to save our money for warm clothing and firewood."
"Old vegetables aren't pretty but they do taste the same as the fresh," Sarah firmly intoned. They finally arrived at Covent garden market. There was the smell of flowers and vegetables mixed with human sweat. The three took care to stay out of the way of the carts that were everywhere. The cart salespeople came very early to purchase their wares to hawk to the noble houses. Now, at mid morning, they were returning with what had not sold. Though Sarah had told the boys they were only to scavenge, she had high hopes of getting the children some fresh fruit. Sarah waved at the vendors she had come to know these past few weeks. One of them gestured to her to come his way.
"Miss Montague, I have some things here tha' be too bruised to sell an' I set 'em aside for ya I did," the beefy looking man stated wiping his hands on his apron. "I had planned on sellin' 'em to ya for a penny, but if these two likely lads would break down these crates for me..."
Sarah smiled beatifically, "Mr McCreedy, these two boys are experts at breaking things. I am sure they would love to assist you."
"Iffen you'd like to look around at the other carts, I could look after 'em a spell," he said with a wink.
She looked into the excited faces of her young charges, "I will be just over here. You two mind Mr. McCreedy." The boys eagerly attacked their assigned tasks without looking back at her. Sarah took one glance back at them before hurrying to a stand just out of sight.
There it was, just as she saw it the other day. She had been hording and scraping pence for days. She hoped to make a good bargain with the old curmudgeon who owned the stand. She understood that he carved every toy himself. How anyone so cheerless could make such wonderful tops and dolls was beyond her.
"Sir I wish to purchase a few of your toys," Sarah said firmly. "How much for the tops and the wooden dolls?"
"Tha tops be a pence a piece the dolls tuppence," grizzled old man growled.
Sarah looked at the toys with dismay and girded her loins for some serious bargaining, "I will give you sixpence for four tops and three dolls."
"Nay, I put verra much work inta those toys, carvin' paintin'..."
Sarah noted the light Scot's burr in his tone, Scot's were by reputation professionals at bargaining, "I see you have a few unpainted toys behind you. I will offer you five pence for the same amount and I will paint them myself---"
"Still tight with your blunt, Sarah," said an amused voice.
Sarah turned quickly and saw Marcus with a young lad of about six. "Captain Derning, my funds are not limitless. I must be careful with each coin," Sarah said reprovingly.
The boy said excitedly, "Marcus, sold out of the Foot, he's a Duke now."
Sarah felt her face grow pink, "I beg your pardon, Your Grace. And who is this young gentleman?" Sarah smiled at the boy.
"This is my cousin Peter," Marcus said placing his hand on Peter's shoulder. "I promised I would buy him one of Mr. MacDougal's tops. Best balanced tops in London."
"Miss Sarah!" shouted the boy, Ida No, who came running over. "The butcher said as he would give us some soup bones for our dog if we would break down his boxes."
Sarah broke eye contact with Marcus and sighed, "We do not have a dog."
The child stopped and glanced down and started digging his toes into the dirt. "About that, Miss Sarah..." he said hesitantly.
"Oh Lord," she mumbled, mentally dismissing thoughts of getting tops and dolls. She turned to Mr. MacDougal, "Excuse me, I have just found I have an unexpected expense."
"Ye jist remember we have a deal four tops and three dolls for five pence," Mr. MacDougal said gruffly. "Ye drive a hard bargain, Miss."
Peter rushed over to the stand and started examining tops as Sarah started towards Ida. Marcus stepped in front of her, "You could have been my Duchess."
Sarah froze in place. She wanted to say something, anything, finally she replied, "No, I could not. I am just the daughter of a common soldier; we are of different stations in life. I do not belong with you, anymore than you belong in Whitechapel."
Marcus narrowed his eyes suspiciously but let Sarah push past him. Sarah wanted to be anywhere but in his vicinity. She almost blessed Ida for interrupting her bargaining.
\*\*\*
Marcus watched her walk away, questioning the lad, as she walked. Her back was ramrod straight. She did not try to charm him or get back in his good graces. Maybe she knew that it would do no good. She did not mention her past with the military this time. She spoke of their disparate stations. Could that be why she refused him? He needed to ponder this a bit more.
\*\*\*
Sarah walked with Ida questioning him, "You need to tell me about this dog. If he is too big, I do not know how we could possibly keep him."
Ida looked up at her with a worried look, and Sarah thought, oh God it must be a small horse. "Where is William and the dog?" she said resignedly. Ida silently pointed over to where William was standing. Next to him was the largest dog Sarah had ever seen. Sarah slowly strolled over to William and the huge animal. She walked around the thing, its fur was coarse and matted. She gingerly touched its head, the dog wagged its tail vigorously. "Boys, I do believe this is an Irish Wolfhound," Sarah ventured after a thorough examination. "This dog is valuable to someone. Only nobles and royalty have these."
She glanced at their hopeful faces, "I suppose we can keep him until we find his owner."
The boys started jumping up and down excitedly and the dog started barking and running around the boys. Sarah held up her hand tried to restore some order, and shouted to be heard, "This is only until we can find the owner. You need to give him a good bath when we get home. He has to sleep out in the stables."
Sarah felt Marcus' eyes on her as she gathered her vegetables, boys and dog. She turned and glanced at him, she imagined she must look quite amusing to a man of his elevated station. As she returned his stare the boy Peter grabbed his hand and pointed to a toy. With Marcus' attention pointed in another direction, Sarah felt free to feast her eyes on him. She wished she felt some gratification in making the right choice for Marcus--a Duke and a quartermaster's daughter how absurd that would have been.
Distracted, she dragged her attention to the boys. She gestured to them to get some twine from the vegetable man to tie the dog. She knew that that particular breed was distractible and liked to go chasing a carriage not unlike the two boys. She hazarded one last glance at Marcus. He and Peter were standing in front of some ale barrels. She saw a shadow beside the tall pyramid that seemed to be climbing to the top with a bar. She saw at once the man was trying to move a barrel. Sarah called out to Marcus as she ran towards him, "Your Grace, move." Oh God, with the level of noise in Covent Garden he could not hear her. She dropped her packages, and yelled to the boys, "Wait here!" Sarah was running as fast as she could to move Marcus out of the way of the barrel. When she started running the dog pulled away from the boys and started chasing her and the boys chased the dog. Just as Marcus turned to watch the chaos heading towards him, the man managed to loosen the barrels to topple onto Marcus. Sarah, the boys, and the dog collided with Marcus and Peter pushing them out of the way of the tumbling barrels. Sarah felt a blow to the back of her head and then darkness.
She became aware first of the powerful yeasty smell of ale, "Papa, we need to secure that ale better, some of it has spilled in the night." Then she remembered, her Papa was gone and she was in London.
She opened her eyes and the first thing to come into focus was Marcus. He was a little worse for wear his stiffly starched cravat askew and his shirt sleeve torn. She looked again shirt sleeves, where was his coat? She felt something soft behind her head and then she remembered, "Where are the boys and that big clumsy dog?"
Marcus looked relieved, "The shopkeeper feels like it was someone trying to steal some ale. Those barrels would have fallen directly on us. It seems you have saved not only my life but Peter's as well. My Aunt Minerva is going to want to meet you."
Sarah struggled to sit up, "Nonsense, she would not wish to meet me." She had visions of some hard eyed society lady, who would think she was on the catch for a titled lover.
"You do not know my aunt," he said with a smile. Then he frowned and said with a sigh, "Of course, now she would probably burst into tears and cry all over you."
"Your aunt is a watering pot?" Sarah said incredulously. She could not conceive of the woman she pictured in her mind crying over her.
He laughed, "Only right now. You must meet her. It's not for me to say, why now is different."
She reached behind her and picked up his balled up coat, she looked at it aghast. It was completely ruined stained by ale--and was that blood? It was her blood. Just looking at it made her feel faint. She could paint a stable with anybody else's blood but could not stand the site of her own. She focused on the gold tassel attached to the top of his very ruined Hessians. Dear Lord, she was looking at hundreds of guineas worth of clothing ruined so badly that the rag man would not take them. "Maybe some other time, Marcus," she began hesitantly. "I need to go home and get cleaned up and soak this dress. You should do the same."
"Sarah, I am staying at my aunt's house," he stated with a shrug as he helped her to her feet. "I could not possibly let you return to your cousin, a churchman, for the love of God, smelling like the floor of a taproom."
She looked at him with surprise and she chose to ignore the latter part of his statement, "But you are a Duke now, surely you have a town house..."
"Actually I do, I am having some repairs done, as my great uncle has not been to town these twenty years. The place hasn't had any coin spent on it in at least that amount of time."
"You are a young, unmarried Duke, I should think there were many things for you to do that would be inappropriate around young children and kindly aunts," Sarah said delicately. "You surely could stay with some friends or at a hotel."
Marcus grimaced, "Trust me when I tell you my aunt's house is the only option."
Since Sarah was still slightly dazed from her brush with a barrel, Marcus found her easier to coerce into a hackney. He gave the boys his aunt's address and told them to go to the mews entrance. They and the dog would be welcomed with some hot food and clean clothes.
He Sarah and Peter took the hack the short distance to Curzon St. He paid the driver with a guinea as the carriage now smelled strongly of ale. The driver tipped his hat, and smiled, "Pleasure doin' business wi ya, gov. I wished I'd a see'd the turn up h'at ta Market. I hear it was fun ta see."
Marcus gave the man a dry look, not commenting as he and Peter assisted Sarah into the house. He brought her through the kitchen to the astonishment of the staff and escorted her into the hall. He sent Peter in search of the butler.
Peter lead an impassive Bingham to his cousin; Bingham betrayed not by a flicker of emotion that he did not see ale soaked persons on a daily basis.
"Bingham, is my aunt in the parlor? I wish to introduce this young lady to her and beg her assistance," Marcus stated calmly.
"Your Grace, her ladyship is in the parlor--"
"Wonderful, I need to see her immediately," Marcus said as he took Sarah's hand and pulled her along.
Sarah, dazed from her fall, was getting a little tipsy from the pungent aroma of their clothing as well. She did not recognize the snobbish voice until she was almost into the room.
"...Lady Minerva, I tell you that young noblemen today have no sense of propriety, and he escorted the creature all the way to London."
Sarah knew that voice, she stopped and pulled back from Marcus. "Your Grace," she whispered. "I will go wait in the kitchen. I am in no fit state to be seen by your aunt's company." She all but ran down the hall back to the kitchen.
Marcus looked after her and then strode into the room as though he was dressed for Almacks. "Aunt Minerva, Peter and I have run into a spot of bother," he studiously ignored Mrs. Harriman and her insipid daughter.
His aunt Minerva was seated on a sofa her still blond ringlets bouncing with her quick double take of Marcus' thoroughly disreputable appearance. Her blue eyes lit with amusement, "My God, Marcus, what happened---I suppose Peter looks is terrible as you do?"
"Some ale kegs, fell and splashed us," Marcus replied with a smile. "I brought a friend home with me and she refuses to be brought into your august presence in her current state of dishevelment. I sent Peter upstairs to be cared for by his governess."
Just then he heard a loud crash and a dog's joyous bark. He looked behind him and saw the dog galloping into the room with Sarah, Ida, William and Peter running after him. The dog slid to a stop just before the tea tray and barked at Mrs. Harriman.
"You see, that woman is now trying to ingratiate herself with his grace and has brought three of those bastard street children with her," Mrs. Harriman cried triumphantly pointing wildly at the small group.
Marcus saw Sarah turn red with humiliation, and hang her head. His aunt however was made of sterner material, with a cold glance at Mrs. Harriman, she turned to her son and said, "Peter, dear, would you care to introduce me to your friends?"
"Mama, this is William and Ida says you already met him," Peter said grandly. "The pretty lady is the one that pushed Marcus and me out of the way of those barrels so we wouldn't get hurt."
Aunt Minerva turned to Mrs. Harriman, "You will excuse me, I find I have some pressing family obligations." She reached up to the bellpull and gave it a quick pull. The impassive butler appeared immediately. "Bingham, please see Mrs. Harriman and her daughter out."
Mrs. Harriman looked like she just swallowed a goldfish, Marcus thought. Bingham handed the ladies their bonnets and guided them out of the room. Aunt Minerva turned to her nephew and pointedly looked at Sarah with eyebrows raised. He hastily cleared his throat, "Lady Minerva Warrick may I present to you Miss Sarah Montague, daughter of the finest quartermaster that I ever knew. Sarah, my aunt Lady Minerva Warrick."
Sarah curtsied and said in an undertone, "That is Miss Montague to you, Your Grace."
"So, before I carry Miss Montague off to repair her state, tell me what happened to you. But first one of you go and get Jamie the pot boy to take this pony out to the stables," said Aunt Minerva pulling a handkerchief from her sleeve and waving it at the dog. Marcus looked at his aunt uneasily, as she was breeding the oddest things might cause her to cast up her accounts.
"Oh no, Mama, it's not a pony," Peter said solemnly. "It's a dog. Ida and William said they wanted to name it Brian Baru on account of it being an Irish Wolfhound."
She stood up and walked over and gave the boy a hug, "Of course dear, I stand corrected."
"Aunt Minerva, Sarah hit her head pushing us away from the barrels," he said. "Do you have any salve?"
"Miss Montague, your cousins run a mission down in Whitechapel?"
"Yes, they do," Sarah said. "I do not know what they will think when we come home like this." Marcus watched as Sarah rubbed her temples. Her head must ache from the knock and the fumes.
Aunt Minerva laughed, "I can imagine, but if I know Bingham and Mrs. Crosby I believe there is already some bath water ready for you upstairs. All we need to do is set it up in Emily's old room."
"Emily? I thought your cousins' names were Beatrice and Phoebe," Sarah stated, puzzled.
"One of my other cousins, she was orphaned a few years ago Emily Blakely, now Viscountess Althorpe,"
Sarah looked astonished, "Did she happen to go to the Bath School for Girls?"
Now it was Marcus and his aunt's turn for surprise, "Do you know her?"
"Oh my, yes, I would never have been able to pass needlework class if she had not helped me. I helped her with her French and Italian. I am so happy for her," Sarah said clasping her hands in front of her.
Aunt Minerva shooed Sarah upstairs and sent all three boys to the nursery to be cleaned up by one of the footman.
She turned to Marcus, "Marcus, you need to make sure that Jamie the pot boy takes Brian Baru into the stables and washes him thoroughly. I will wager that dog has fleas."
He tried to make himself seem haughty and austere, "My dear aunt, I am above such things, I am a Duke now."
"Marcus, you will always be the little boy who slid down the banister and tore my new white dress at my come out ball," she said as she looked him over. "Especially now, you look like you slept under a stile."
She sailed out of the room and turned to someone in the hall, "Bingham send a footman to the Mission down in Whitechapel. Tell Miss Montague's cousin that Miss Montague will be having luncheon with us today. Oh and Bingham, we are never to be at home to that woman again. She strode up the stairs, muttering to herself, "Imagine calling my Peter a little street bastard, well I never..."
Marcus smiled faintly; it seemed that Sarah's nemesis made a powerful enemy this day.
Marcus walked outside to supervise the stable lads washing the dog with the inept assistance of Peter, William and Ida.
"I thought you three were going to get cleaned up for luncheon," Marcus said firmly.
Peter replied for the three, "We told Mama that it was our responsibility to clean the dog as it belongs to us."
The other two boys nodded their heads in agreement. William being the largest of the boys went and fetched some water from the pump, while Ida and Peter tied the dog to a post. Marcus helped them scrub the dog down and it seemed that the gentlemen received more water and soap than the dog did. Marcus reflected later that he had not had so much fun in weeks, since he ascended to the Dukedom, in fact.
Women had been dropping handkerchiefs and twisting ankles in front of him on an almost hourly basis. Fellows he knew from the clubs started to invite him for dinner when it never would have occurred to them before. He felt like a fox during hunting season.
He stopped in his reverie to note that his charges had taken Brian Baru to dry off in a stall. He heard a dry voice speak in a top lofty tone, "Your Grace, her ladyship has instructed me to escort you gentlemen to appropriate facilities that you and the boys may go and don clean linen. Luncheon will be served in half an hour."
He turned and saw Bingham, the amusement in his gaze belied by his dry voice, holding clean drying cloths. The boys from the mission looked at each other in surprise. They turned to Peter who shrugged, "Mama can not abide a quiet luncheon table, she says the quiet fair gives her palpitations. Beatrice is out and Matthew is at the club. I'll introduce you to my sister Phoebe, she's okay as sisters go. She's not as silly as Beatrice."
When they returned to the dining area the boys and Marcus were met by a dainty little girl. Peter ran up to her and introduced her to his new friends," This is my sister Phoebe we were born at the same time...that means twins. We hope that when Mama has the new baby that it will be twins like us.
Marcus' Aunt Minerva came into the room at this last and rolled her eyes, before Peter saw her. She quickly erased all evidence of her displeasure if she were to deliver twins, "Yes, dear, we want twins only if they are just like you and Phoebe."
"Phoebe, will you please get your father out of the study," Aunt Minerva asked. She turned to Marcus, "Your uncle just received those new architectural papers you have been wanting."
Marcus said to Sarah, "The Ducal town residence is so outmoded I think it still has no pump in the kitchen. I have heard of devices that heat your water upstairs and rooms dedicated to bathing. I plan to have all of the modern conveniences installed."
Sarah was secretly appalled and she tried to not let it show on her face, "In those papers do they say what problems they have with the new devices? I should talk with someone who actually has them installed before purchasing them." Belatedly she added, as she realized that she overstepped herself, "Your Grace."
Marcus raised an eyebrow at her effrontery but chose to ignore her statement, as his uncle entered the room. Sir Horace was a white haired, bespectacled gentleman of some forty-five years. When he smiled, Sarah could see his likeness in the two children.
"What have we here--guests for luncheon?" he looked enquiringly at his wife.
"Marcus and Peter are able to come to the table today because Miss Montague and the boys saved them from being crushed under some barrels at Covent Garden," his wife said with asperity. "Further, Miss Montague's father was the man who stopped looters from murdering Marcus on the battlefield after Waterloo at the cost of his own life."
"Seems that I missed all of the excitement, the next time you two go out you should invite me along," Sir Horace smiled at his youngest son.
"Papa, you would have been distracted by the old book seller we saw and missed the entire incident," Peter protested.
Sir Horace smiled ruefully, his head nodding in agreement. Sir Horace, while an excellent father and husband, was inclined to be absent-minded and easily distracted in public. In private, he had single minded focus and determination for finding information. This made him an excellent investor and a superlative information operative in the war effort.
"Uncle, I was wondering if you knew the reputations of any of the builders in London," Marcus asked. "I need to know which of these gentlemen have experience with installation of these modern plumbing devices."
Sir Horace looked sharply at Marcus, "As a matter of fact Marcus, your interest sparked me into investigating the possibility of installing those here on Curzon Street. I have a list in my study, I have some people gathering information right now."
After the luncheon, at his aunt's insistence Marcus took Sarah for a stroll in the garden. Sarah was puzzled by Marcus obsession with modernizing that plumbing, "Your Grace..."
Marcus grimaced at the address, "Yes, Sarah?"
She glowered at him, "It's Miss Montague as I am neither your servant nor your intimate...I am consumed with curiosity as why you are insisting on troubling and inconveniencing yourself to install these innovations in plumbing.
While Marcus despised explaining himself he felt that after what Sarah had been through today he could indulge her, "I mentioned before that we would occasionally visit my great uncle's seat..."
"Yes, I recall you saying something about those visits," Sarah stated.
"What I did not say is that my great uncle's and now my main ducal estate consists of a keep. What I did not tell you is that my great uncle, the fourth Duke was fanatical about maintaining the traditions at Allendale."
"Traditions?" she asked.
"The place is cold, damp and drafty, my uncle would not so much as even purchase a few more tapestries to warm the place up. Nothing, which has not been there for ages," Marcus said with a shrug. He guided Sarah over to a bench in the rose garden.
"Not even a carpet?" Sarah said aghast. As frugal as she and her father had lived, they had had an oriental rug in camp. It was one of the things she had sold to come home to England from Belgium. She was momentarily distracted from her thoughts as Marcus took her hand. She gazed at their two hands. His hand was still the hand of a man who had led soldiers. In time she knew the calluses from handling guns and his saber would disappear. Her hand was the work roughened hand of a woman who had worked hard all of her life and would remain so.
"Sarah," he said using his other hand to tilt her head up. "I would like permission to call upon you at your cousins' house from time to time. As a friend," he smiled as he said the last.
Sarah felt it would open herself up to more hurt if she gave him permission to call. It was wrong to even dream of such things, she thought sadly. Sarah pulled away from Marcus and tried to skirt the truth a bit, "Your Grace, I have been receiving gentlemen callers. I would not wish to discourage any of them."
"Oh, really," Marcus commented with a raised eyebrow.
"Yes, really," Sarah said trying to put some enthusiasm into her voice. She wracked her brains attempting to dredge up a name, and she looked over at the boys playing with the dog, "One of the gentlemen might take me out walking."
"What is his name?" Marcus asked clearly not believing her.
Sarah's eyes widened, and glanced at the roses and the dog again, "Uh, Ross Wulfman."
"I feel that as someone who owes you and yours not one but two debts for saving my life, I need to check this gentleman's credentials," Marcus said abruptly. "Were it not for me, your father would still be alive to investigate your suitors."
"I am almost five and twenty," Sarah said pursing her lips with annoyance. "I am a good judge of human nature. In fact-"
"Marcus!" Peter shouted. "We really need to ask you something."
Marcus and Sarah both turned to look as Peter and his two new friends ran up to them.
Marcus looked into the earnest faces of the young boys and lifted his brows enquiringly.
Peter gave Ida a shove forward, "It was your idea you ask him---"
"Peter, I can't talk to him, he's a blasted Duke," Ida protested. "That's almost the King..."
"Well, someone had better ask me, even a Duke can't read minds," Marcus interjected.
Peter shoved Ida forward giving him an encouraging look, "Uh, Your Grace, Miss Sarah says as how the dog is an Irish Wolfhound and nobody under an Earl can have one."
"Yes?" Marcus said guardedly.
William interrupted, "Peter says your better'n an Earl yer almost ta King..."
Sarah had to hide a smile as Marcus responded, "Not quite, but I would go into dinner before an Earl."
William looked confused, "Dinner? 'Oo said anything about dinner?"
"No, William, that's just the order of presidents like they have over in the Colonies," Peter corrected with a knowledgeable air.
Sarah felt like she should take a hand, "Precedence, young man, not presidents. Then she prompted, "You wanted to ask his grace something about the dog?"
All three boys looked earnestly at Marcus as Ida continued, "If you could be the named owner of the dog for us---we could take care of it. Truly Your Grace, we could gets into trouble for keeping a nobleman's dog.
"Unless it was yours," Peter concluded.
Marcus stared at the boys with astonishment written plainly on his face. Sarah could see that Marcus was thinking carefully about it. "If I agree to this, what do I receive?" Marcus asked cautiously.
The three boys looked at each other; they had not thought he would want anything. William was the first to speak, "Wha' cher want?"
Marcus appeared to ponder that question a moment and then he said, "If he were my dog, I would need to see he received a proper diet, so I would want send food to him."
Sarah gave Marcus a dry look, he gave her back an amused look, "I would want regular access to him, the right to come over and walk him any time I want."
"So far that sounds fair," Peter said looking at the other boys who nodded eagerly their faces filled with hope. Sarah sighed and looked away but not before Marcus' eyes met hers in challenge.
"If I am not in town, I want the right to deputize one of my cousins to come over and check on the dog."
A grin split Peter's face as he cried, "Like me!"
Marcus said, "Peter, you can go to that area only if an adult goes with you."
Peter's face fell slightly, but brightened when Marcus added, "But I don't see why I would not wish to visit the dog frequently and bring you with me."
"Why don't you just keep the dog at your townhouse, Your Grace?" Sarah suggested through clenched teeth.
Three pair of young eyes looked at her with dismay. Marcus leaned back and folded his arms with amusement, "Why, I am surprised at you Sarah...you know that my townhouse has workmen in it right now. All of the stable space is holding building materials. I know you don't want to trouble my aunt, being enceinte she tires easily."
Sarah drew her lips into a thin line; she knew that she had been outmaneuvered. "Oh, all right," she said resigned. The boys jumped up and down cheering. Mentally, she was trying to guess when he would try to visit and schedule her errands during that time. I am four and twenty, ,
, she thought, I am long past the age where I believed in princes.
As Marcus went into the house, he could hear the unmistakable sound of female giggles. He stopped and closed his eyes with dismay. Beatrice is home, and she brought along a gaggle of silly geese posing as marriageable young ladies. For the most part his aunt allowed him to stay away from those ridiculous chits. He knew he had to go in there and be polite, but he would rather face the French again.
He looked in the hall mirror, and wiped all trace of trepidation off of his face. He then turned and advanced into the room feeling like he was going to a hanging.
His aunt was sitting behind her teapot for the second time today and she motioned him to take a seat. "There you are, dear," she said with a smile as she quickly poured him a cup of tea. "Ladies, may I present my nephew, his grace, the Duke of Allendale."
Three fashionable young ladies and a matron his aunts age all stood in unison and curtsied to him as he accepted his cup of tea and took a seat as far away from them as possible. "Ladies," he said as he acknowledged them austerely with an incline of his head.
Beatrice spoke up, "Marcus, I wish to introduce Miss Shelby Smith, Lady Loraine Middleton, and Lady Elaine Montreux. Your mother is acquainted with Lady Elaine's mother, Lady Langley". She indicated the matron who had a certain acquisitory gleam in her eye. Marcus knew that she did not see him as a man but rather as a trophy she wished to acquire for her daughter.
These ladies watched him avidly as he sipped his tea. One bold young thing, under the approving eye of her mother ventured a statement, "Your Grace, my parents the Earl and Countess of Langley had sent a note inviting you to dinner and cards..." She trailed her voice off and looked at him expectantly.
"I do so wish you would come, Your Grace, I would love to entertain the son of one of my dearest friends," Lady Langley seconded.
Marcus knew that he could not avoid such invitations forever especially as the Langleys were good friends of his mother. The hallway was visible from his position in the room and he saw Sarah coming to take her leave of her hostess. He suddenly had a brilliant idea.
"I am sorry," he said with a long drawn out sigh. "But my fiancée's father lost his life at Waterloo and we are abstaining from frivolity at this time." His aunt looked at him suspiciously.
Beatrice was not discreet at the best of times and was not at this time either, "When did this happen, Marcus?"'
"June 18," he turned to his aunt, "Aunt Minerva, I do believe that you should slip the occasional newspaper into my charming cousin's reading material---"
"Not Waterloo, Marcus!" Beatrice exclaimed with an exasperated look towards him. "I mean your engagement!"
Marcus chose to ignore her question as Sarah walked into the room. He stood walked over to her took her hand and kissed it. "Here you are, my dear, I do not believe you have met my cousin, Beatrice Warrick," he stated with a formality that made Sarah narrow her eyes in suspicion. He led her over to a settee, "I would also like to present the Countess of Langley, her daughter Lady Elaine Montreux, Lady Loraine Middleton, and Miss Shelby Smith, my fiancée Miss Sarah Montague, daughter of the finest quartermaster sergeant in his majesty's army."
Sarah opened her mouth to protest, but it seemed that Marcus was ready for her. He forestalled her denial by the simple expedient of shoving a biscuit in her mouth. "Here, Sarah, I know how much you love these almond biscuits."
Lady Minerva watched this byplay with astonishment and no little amusement, "Marcus, when did you offer for Miss Montague? It had to have been very recent."
"We have had an understanding since I escorted her home."
The Warrick's four guests looked at Sarah and her borrowed dress with disdain. Marcus saw the light of temper flare in Sarah's eyes as she accepted a cup of tea from his aunt. "Lady Minerva, you do have excellent tea," she said ignoring the three. "Miss Warrick, I do thank you for the loan of your dress. You have such exquisite taste, so many young ladies love an excess of trim." She raised knowing eyebrows at the three debutantes who seemed to have every fashionable trim imaginable on their gowns. She dismissed them with a glance, "Your Grace, I think it is time for us to take our leave. I promised my cousin that there would be potato pudding for dinner tonight."
"Potato pudding?" Marcus asked with real appreciation. He turned to his aunt, "Sarah's potato pudding was legendary at camp. Hopefully I will be out for the evening meal, Aunt Minerva. I am sure Miss Appleby will invite me to sup with them tonight."
"Since Beatrice has returned home Marcus, you may take the town carriage to transport Sarah and the young ones back to the mission," Lady Minerva declared.
Sarah started hissing at Marcus the moment she believed they were out of earshot, "What on earth were you thinking? You could handle a whole company of men but not four young ladies and a noblewoman? Marcus, I am surprised at you!" At his grin, she clapped her hand over her mouth, realizing she just used his given name.
"I just sped up the time table. I had planned to bring you some small gifts: a book perhaps, maybe some flowers-"
"Are you out of your mind?" she interrupted. "You are a Duke, you need to marry someone who was born into the nobility not the tail of an army. I don't know how to give a dinner party and I have never entertained nobility."
Marcus dismissed her worries with wave of his hand, "You have given more dinner parties than my Aunt Minerva, I'll wager. I also know for a fact that Wellington has dined with you and your father."
"One bowl of stew at a campfire one night does not count-"
Marcus knew he had her, "I heard it was two bowls, a loaf of bread and a boiled pudding for dessert. Wellington himself said he had never eaten so well on campaign."
Outwardly Sarah glowered at him, frustrated that she was unable to refute his statements. But deep inside of her a little ember of hope started to brighten into a small flame.
Sarah looked at the elegantly appointed town carriage with dismay. This is no vehicle to transport two children and a big dog, she thought. The elegant blue velvet seat cushions would be ruined by a dog that was not quite dry. Not to mention the two children that one hour ago were relatively clean and now looked like they rolled in the dirt. She look up into the sky for any telltale clouds then said, "Your Grace, I would much rather walk to the mission. I would hate to abuse your aunt's kindness by ruining her upholstery."
Marcus smiled ruefully at the little group, "I do see your point, but the only other conveyance we have is my cousin Matthew's curricle. Even if it were big enough, Matthew has it at the moment. I suspect he is with my other cousins, Simon and Patrick, at a cock fight in Spitalfields."
Sarah and her young charges looked at him in surprise, "Why are you not there...I am told it is what young noblemen do for amusement."
"Have you ever been to a cock fight," Marcus said grimly as he took her by arm and escorted the small party out to the street.
The boys shook their heads no as Sarah said, "Well...not on purpose..." It was the three males turn to look at her in surprise as she said defensively, "One sees many things while living with the army. Cock fights were very common, in Ceylon fish fighting was not uncommon."
"Fish fightin'! Cor' I'd've liked ta seen that!" William exclaimed.
"I always thought that matching animals for sport and wagering barbaric," Sarah said giving young William a sharp look.
As they were walking a man casually started to follow them at a distance. They were so engrossed in there conversation they did not even note him.
Beatrice looked out of the window and saw the man trailing her cousin and his young friends. She thought it very curious that a man resembling a footpad would be loitering in this neighborhood. Her friends had left and she had been sent upstairs to take a nap prior to dinner and the evening entertainments. She was feeling bored and out of sorts as she never seemed to have any adventurous things happen to her. Her maid had undressed her down to her chemise, it was very easy to pull on an outgrown outfit of Matthew's and boots. She smiled at her own foresight in rescuing the clothing. She stuffed her hair up under a hat and sped down the stairway praying that her family's servants would be otherwise occupied.
Sarah and her companions walked through the park as it was the shortest way to get to the mission. Sarah hung back when a well dressed older lady and a girl obviously just out of the school room approached Marcus.
"Your Grace, what a pleasure it is to see you again," the older woman stated archly. She and the young girl pointedly ignored Sarah and the two boys. "I was wondering if you received your invitation to the musicale that I am planning for Thursday. Melissa was just saying as how we never see you anywhere..." she trailed off eyebrows raised in enquiry.
Then Sarah saw him do something she had never seen him do: Marcus reached into the pocket of his waist coat and pulled out a quizzing glass. He held it up to his eye which magnified it to terrifying proportions and looked at the woman who just spoke, "Madame, I do not recall the occasion that we were introduced, pray excuse me while I escort my fiancée and her two young friends."
The young girl flushed to the roots of her hairline but the woman was made of sterner stuff, "It was at your dear cousin's wedding, I am Lady Hetherington. We would absolutely adore it if you and your...fiancée would join us."
The young girl whispered mortified, "Mama, let's just go. I really am feeling not quite the thing."
Then the dog who had been standing quietly by the boys tethered by a strong rope decided to sniff the woman from behind. Lady Hetherington jumped startled and gasped indignantly, "You boys need to take that monster away from here. This instant, I say."
Marcus said coolly with a hint of sarcasm, "I am so sorry, that you don't care for my dog, Lady Hetherton."
"Hetherington," the young girl said her lips twitching a little. Her amusement seemed to be winning over her embarrassment, Sarah was happy to note.
Lady Hetherington's eyes widen as she realized that she had just committed a faux pas. She tried to salvage the situation, "I am sorry, your Grace, I was just startled...he is such a large dog!"
"Quite all right," Marcus said in such a censorious tone that indicated just the opposite. "My fiancée and I are mourning the loss of her father, and we will not be attending many social events. Good day to you, Lady Henley."
"Hetherington," Sarah murmured as they moved off down the street. Ida, William and the dog were getting restless as another acquaintance hailed Marcus. Sarah sighed as she watched Marcus again don a hauteur that seemed as natural as breathing.
"Ida, William why don't you run on ahead to the mission, his grace will escort me," Sarah said realizing at last why Marcus even considered using his aunt's town carriage. It seemed that everyone was vying for his attention. The well born passersby looked at them with curiosity bordering on rudeness. Sarah knew she looked a perfect quiz with her borrowed dress and bonnet. Marcus had changed into another elegant ensemble, they looked horribly mismatched.
Marcus looked at her with a sly look in his eyes, "See what I have to put up with on a daily basis? If you were not here it would be even worse..."
"Now that the boys are gone, it looks as though you are walking with your chere amie," Sarah said resignedly.
"Not a chance," Marcus said with a laugh. "My mistress would be much better turned out."
Sarah's cheeks turned pink at the thought of Marcus having a mistress. The thought that she was not socially acceptable enough to even be his mistress was disheartening. As they walked she saw glimpses of the boys as they were being towed around by the dog. The animal seemed to need to investigate every tree and shrubbery along the way. Sarah glanced over at Marcus and indulged in a little wishful thinking. She knew that Marcus could not possibly wish to marry her, but it would be a delightful daydream. She could dream that the two boys up ahead were theirs and that they were walking to there own residence. She pictured it in her mind a small thatched cottage in the country. She smiled to herself she could actually grow vegetables rather than forage for them...
"What are you smiling about?" Marcus asked.
"I was just thinking how lovely it would be to have a cottage in the country and a vegetable garden," she replied wistfully.
"Not a chance in the world of that happening," Marcus replied amused.
"I know even to make a modest marriage I need something of a portion," she replied sadly.
"No, that's not what I mean, after we are wed we have to live in the castle or one of the other properties," he stated calmly patting her hand.
Sarah was indignant, "We are not betrothed, that was just some faradiddle that you told to get those young ladies to leave you alone."
"You might as well give in to the inevitable Sarah, I intend to wed you."
"I don't intend to wed you," she gasped out shocked at his tenacity. They had left the affluent areas behind and were now walking into the poorer sections of London.
He ignored her, "I think a small ceremony your cousin officiating would do quite nicely-"
"Hands over yer blunt," said one of two men who stepped out of an alley.
Sarah tugged at his sleeve, "Marcus, I think that man is the one from Covent Garden this morning."
"Right you are, miss," said the man. "Olly, you take ta laidy's bag and relieve the nob of 'is blunt and valuables. We haves ta make this look like a robbery."
The large man named Olly looked worriedly at his partner, "Alfie I didn't sign on to kill no woman, 'specially not tha' one."
Sarah looked at the man curiously, surely she didn't know this man from the army.
"Olly, it be jist a matter of bad timing on her part, we haves a job to do. 'Er cousins will still have the mission," Alfie stated implacably. He turned to Marcus, "Sorry sir, jist a matter o' business..."
"I will double whatever it is you are being paid provided you tell me who hired you," Marcus interjected.
"Sorry, yYer Lordship---" Olly said.
"Your Grace," Marcus said stalling for time.
"Well, tha don' matter none now," Alfie leveled his gun at Marcus.
Just then several things happened at once--the dog ran barking at the gunmen and then a rock hit Alfie square in the forehead. The gun went off the bullet hitting a flower cart causing the horse to start. The cart tipped and the flowers spilled on a gentleman just leaving a taproom. The footpad named Olly took off down an alley with the dog and the two boys hot on his heels. Marcus wanted to chase him but he could not leave Sarah.
Marcus looked down at the footpad named Alfie had fallen over a crate and his neck lay at an awkward angle. Marcus swore under his breath. Sarah realized that Alfie and Olly were the ones who could have shed some light on this attack and the one at Covent Garden this morning. Alfie was dead, and Sarah had no hopes of the two boys catching up with Olly.
Sarah heard booted feet running up behind her and turned quickly. To her astonishment it was Marcus' cousin Beatrice dressed like a boy in ill fitting clothing.
"Marcus, are you all right?" she exclaimed excitedly. "I was so worried about you when I saw that man follow you-"
"I might have known that if there was a dead body around you would have something to do with it," said a handsome young man about Sarah's own age. He was accompanied by another young man who smiled at Marcus ruefully.
"Beatrice, where on earth did you get that clothing?" he said with a sigh.
Sarah glanced over at Beatrice who's face was filled with dismay. "Matthew and Chudleigh," she whispered bringing her knuckles up to her mouth. Somewhat louder she said, "Honestly Matthew, I saw this man following Marcus and his betrothed, Miss Montague...if I hadn't followed them they might have gotten killed..."
"You know what Papa said about behaving yourself after that incident last month." Matthew turned to Sarah, "She had to go and see a dead body in the park. If Chudleigh here had not escorted her home she might have come to a bad end. Let's see if we can get you home with no one the wiser, Bea."
Briefly relief lit Beatrice face, then her face fell as she turned to Marcus questioningly. He nodded and Beatrice smiled beatifically.
"Ahem," Chudleigh cleared his throat as he gathered up the blooms still clinging to his person. "I am afraid I am going to be the one to spoil it for you..."
Everyone looked at him in askance.
"Oh, I knew it!" Beatrice wailed. "Papa is going to send me home. The queen is having a drawing room in a few weeks and I have been practicing with those tedious hoops."
He looked at her craftily, "I can be persuaded..."
Both Matthew and Marcus looked at him disbelievingly. Sarah just shook her head.
"What do you want?" she looked at him suspiciously.
"My sister, after much persuasion, will be coming to town," he said with a grin.
Marcus looked stonefaced, everyone knew what was coming next. The man was going to ask Marcus to show her around, Sarah thought.
"My mother is not much for town, and my aunt who is staying with us is quite elderly, she needs some female friends to show her around. She is quite shy and retiring."
"Of course, I will befriend her, you did not need to blackmail me!" Beatrice exclaimed exasperated.
"I know that but this way was more fun," he smiled. He turned serious, "We have a situation here. Do you know anybody discreet to handle this death and investigate?"
Beatrice, Marcus and Matthew looked at one another, "Marcus you'll need to call them."
"Call who?" Sarah asked.
"We need to call Bow Street," Marcus said grimly.
Sarah looked panicked, "I can't stay, if someone from the mission becomes involved in a suspicious death, the small sources we have for funding would dry up."
Beatrice looked chagrined, "I am so sorry, Miss Montague, the story will get out." She turned to her brother, "I can not do anything now since I am not supposed to be here, but could you not escort me down here to see Marcus' fiancée, tomorrow perhaps?"
"I'm not his---" Sarah began.
"Capital idea, Beatrice," Marcus cut Sarah off. "You could perhaps bring my aunt with you as well. I am sure she would love to see what the mission needs and then speak with her friends."
"Your Grace, we are not going to be-" Sarah was again cut off this time by Marcus giving her a hearty kiss.
"Marcus Derning, what has come over you," Beatrice remonstrated with him. "Have a little respect for your intended. Especially around a beast like Chudleigh...he might think that if a Duke could do something like that..." her voice trailed off as she saw the two boys coming back with their canine companion and a beefy gentleman dressed in an suit with a red vest.
"Your Grace, these young scamps say h'as 'ow they be connected to you," the man said gesturing to the boys.
Beatrice hung back as Marcus turned his attention to the newcomer, "Mr. Wolcott, just the gentleman we wished to see. We have a situation here. I was escorting my betrothed," Sarah rolled her eyes, "to her home with her charges when a pair of footpads attempted to accost us. My dog took exception and this gentleman tripped over a crate and broke his neck. The other one managed to escape."
"That's wha' these 'ere boys 'ad to say, 'ceptin' the part where one o' them footpads got 'imself kilt," Mr. Wolcott looked approvingly at the boys. "It seem they lost the other one back in some alleyway and were jist getting' yer dog back under control when I finds 'em."
Marcus turned to Chudleigh and Sarah, "Mr. Wolcott is a runner for Bow Street, he helped us out with a spot of bother we had a few weeks ago."
Chudleigh cast an amused glance over to where Beatrice was skulking behind Matthew, "We have met before." Chudleigh finished pulling stray flowers off his person, "I have a dinner engagement this evening and I must change. Your Grace, Miss Montague, Mr. Wolcott, it has been an experience. Come along now, gents, we have had enough excitement for today." He put his arms around Beatrice and Matthew in a gesture of Bonhomie and started back up the street.
Mr. Wolcott turned and watched them walk off, "Your Grace, ya could tell Miss Warrick she needs ta tuck 'er 'air a might better if she wants ta dress like a gentry cove."
"You don't miss anything do you, Mr. Wolcott," Sarah said with a laugh.
"It be the nature of me job," the runner replied walking over towards the body with his hands behind his back. "Does ya wants to share wi' me the par-ticulars o' this death here. I already knows the fella to be a villain."
Marcus replied, "I know you are a discreet man, Wolcott I need to take Miss Montague home. Could you perhaps attend me at my uncle's residence say... four tomorrow?"
"Aye tha' be soon enough, I s'pose,
The small party was greeted with enthusiasm at the mission when they arrived. All the children spilled out of the house to see the dog. Amelia came out of the house a little more sedately carrying a toddler. Sarah looked over at her cousin. Amelia seems in her element with all of the children, Sarah thought.
Amelia turned a worried glance to Sarah reaching out to brush a stray brown curl off of Sarah's forehead, "Are you all right, dear? When I read in the note about the accident I was so worried."
Sarah smiled, she had almost forgotten about the bump to her head, "I am fine, but I do need to get started making dinner. It will be just like campaigning again...I will have to scavenge the bins for potatoes and the small garden for herbs."
"Well, we may have not put things away in the same organized manner that you do but I would not quite call it scavenging," Amelia's worried frown turned into a smile. She looked down at the toddler who was patting her face and kissed the little fingers.
"Put what away?" Sarah asked puzzled.
"It must have been a very good day at the market, because we barely had enough space for all of those root vegetables and potatoes. It was so nice that his grace was kind enough to have your purchases delivered," Amelia smiled at Marcus.
Sarah turned suspiciously to Marcus, who shrugged, "It was little enough to do when you dropped your purchases saving Peter and I from those ale barrels."
"Anyway, it bothered Ambrose, you foraging in the market every day," Amelia said firmly. "I want you to tell me precisely how you make that potato pudding. You are going to sit and relax. Did you walk all the way from Curzon Street?"
Sarah hated to admit it but her head did ache slightly and the burst of energy she felt when those foot pads tried to kill them had drained away the last of her strength. She did not even feel like arguing with Marcus about the vegetables.
Amelia continued to speak, "Oh, Your Grace, I know you probably have some friend's house to go to dinner but you are welcome to share what we are having for our evening meal."
Marcus smiled, "I was hoping you would invite me to dinner, Sarah's potato pudding was famous all over the 73rd."
"We are having roast mutton, as well."
Sarah lifted her head and looked at her cousin, "I did not buy any---"
"I did, Sarah," Marcus said sagaciously. "We need to tell your cousins our news."
"Botheration, Your Grace," she snorted. "We are not going to---"
He cut her off and finished her sentence for her in his favor, "-wait very long to be wed."
"What's this I hear," Ambrose walked into the parlor. "The two of you are planning a wedding?"
Sarah looked over at Marcus sure that he would cut her off should she try and deny it again. The sides to Marcus mouth twitched before he responded to Ambrose, "Yes, we are planning to be married very soon. We would like it if you would officiate at our wedding."
Ambrose looked doubtful, "Now that you are a Duke, I do not think that a minister in Whitechapel would do for you."
Amelia and Sarah looked at him in surprise. "I did not think you would know that Captain Derning had inherited a Dukedom," Amelia said.
"I do read the paper," Ambrose said dryly. "Just because I am a minister and a trifle occupied with matters of faith does not mean that I am totally unaware of what is going on in the world. When I saw the obituary for the Duke of Allendale and saw that the family name was Derning...I pulled my copy of Debrett's out. Sure enough, Sarah's friend was listed as the next in line for the Dukedom. I did not think you would be able to come back and see us as you had promised with all of your new duties."
Marcus raised his eyebrows and looked thoughtful digesting this bit of information, and then he said, "Since my uncle and Sarah's father just died I did not think a large ostentatious ceremony at St. George's would be appropriate. A small ceremony here at the mission with just our immediate families would be more in keeping with the solemnity of our circumstances."
"If we married, we should wait at least three months from your uncle's death," Sarah said, she thought that if Marcus had a chance to think a little he would see the error in wedding her.
"If?" Amelia questioned bewildered. "I thought it was all settled?"
Marcus smiled benignly at Amelia, "Sarah still doesn't quite believe that I want to marry her." His eyes narrowed a bit as he took Sarah's hand and drew her up from the sofa. "Is there anyplace private I can speak to my intended?" he said with a firm emphasis on the last word.
"I have a small area with a couple of rose bushes just outside the tradesman's entrance," Amelia said deprecatingly. "It should be private, but mind the neighbors have a good view even if they can not hear what you say."
Marcus was bound and determined to do anything to get Sarah's consent. He knew that his honor compelled him to better Sarah's circumstance. Her father lost his life saving him and Sarah had again saved him today. He knew she had feelings for him as a man which was more than he could say for any other single lady of his acquaintance. Marcus strode out to the small garden area with Sarah stumbling behind him.
"Your Grace," she said as soon as the door closed behind them. "It just will not do...you will get over the feeling that you owe me something. I am amenable to being your betrothed in name only for the time being. This will let you set up your household and possibly find someone more suited to your elevated position."
Marcus looked amused and then his expression hardened, "We will be married in a week's time. If you persist in this nonsense I am going to tell your cousin that we slept together on the boat..."
Sarah was outraged, "You would not dare-"
"...And we represented ourselves as husband and wife on the road to London," he said implacably. "It would only be a matter of time before it became common knowledge."
"But we did nothing!" Sarah wailed. "I think you have too much honor to do such a thing."
"I would not be telling a falsehood, you well know that it is the appearance of impropriety that counts not the actual facts of the matter," he replied referring to the incident with Lieutenant Wilbur. "I know that the donations for the missions are starting to come. If our misadventures become common knowledge the money will stop...how will that help here? As the Duchess of Allendale you could sponsor the mission give money, hire tutors, and pay for outings. You would have a generous allowance and a free hand to spend it."
Sarah sniffed, and said tearfully, "What will you accrue from this marriage?"
"I will have you," Marcus turned Sarah and took her into his arms and kissed her.
Sarah felt her heart leave her body. It was like descending a mountain by rope: both exhilarating and frightening. When Marcus put her from him, she had to shake her head to organize her muddled thinking. "I still don't think you know me well enough. If we marry it would be almost impossible for you to rid yourself of me."
"Sarah, I have known you for three, almost four years," he said huskily as he was not unaffected by their embrace. "You are generous towards others and miserly about spending money on your own comforts."
Sarah equivocated, "I really am frightened of childbirth. I have seen so many mothers and babes perish during and after confinement. You would need an heir; the two babies that died of fever were girls. I only had one brother and he died of fever as well."
"Sarah, if there are no male heirs apparent we will just break the entail and my girls would inherit," he said firmly. "Tomorrow I am going to send you a small token of my esteem---"
"You do not have to do that," Sarah said wiping her eyes with her palms.
Marcus took her hands from her eyes, took a clean kerchief and gently wiped her eyes. "Yes, I do. Let us go into the house I am fairly certain that your expertise is needed to bake the potato pudding."
Sarah laughed, "This is going to be very hard to do. I usually use whatever is at hand to season the pudding. I hope the flavor is not harmed by a surfeit of ingredients."
The next morning when everyone was busy attending to morning chores prior to breakfast there came a knock at the tradesman's entrance. It was almost missed as they were not affluent enough to have deliveries on a daily basis. William opened the door to see a gentleman wearing the distinctive livery of a servant of the nobility. The gentleman had an air of superiority only obtained by years of training in the servant class. William gawked at the man in surprise. The man lifted a supercilious eyebrow at him and said dryly, "Would you be so kind as to tell me if this, indeed, is the residence of one Miss Sarah Montague, future Duchess of Allendale?"
William was a bit flustered never having met such a superior looking man, "Ahhh, yessir, I mean yes Your Lordship."
The man looked down his long nose at the lad a hint of amusement creeping into his chilly grey eyes, "I am not a lord, I am Jennings, the Butler to his grace. I was instructed to supervise the delivery of a gift from his grace to his fiancée. Since it was of paramount importance to his grace that Miss Montague receives this gift early I decided to deliver it myself."
As William stepped back from the door to allow the man entry, young Rose was passing the door with freshly ironed sheets, she nearly dropped her load as she hurried up the steps to get Amelia. William winced as her loudly whispered, "M'Amelia, cor' there be a bleedin' swell at the tradesmen's door!"
Amelia hurried to the door and was stunned to see the man in his elegant blue and silver livery. "Madame, are you housekeeper in this establishment?" he enquired delicately.
Amelia flushed and wiped her hands on her apron, "In a manner of speaking, I am Miss Appleby: housekeeper, governess and sister to the vicar, Ambrose Appleby. How might I help you sir?"
"I bring a gift selected personally by his grace from the establishment of Fortnum and Mason," he intoned gravely. "I would like to hand it to Miss Montague personally."
Amelia turned to William, "William, please go and find Miss Sarah and tell her to attend us in the back parlor." She turned back to the Butler and shrugged her shoulders, "I am sorry, sir, but it has been so long since we had anything resembling a butler, not since we lived with my older brother, I don't quite know what to do with you. Why don't you come back with me to the back parlor and we will await my cousin there?"
She walked back to the shabby morning room and motioned for him to sit while she sat herself. Soon she heard the sounds of her cousin accompanied by almost all of the children clumping down the stairs. She smiled, flustered, at the man and wrung her hands obviously at a loss as to what to do with such a noble servant.
"Alright, alright I am moving just as fast as I can! Whoever it is will not disappear if I take care not to trip on the rug," Sarah's exasperated voice was heard.
As soon as Sarah entered into the room followed closely by a gaggle of children, the Butler stood and faced her. Amelia clapped her hands, "Children, children, we do not want his grace's butler to think that we are vulgarly curious, we will find out what his grace sent in due time."
Her face turned red when in the midst of the children a loud whisper was heard, "But we are curious, not sure about the vulgar part though."
Sarah stood stock still looking at the man in his elaborate livery. She said under her breath, "Blucher's staff never had that much braid." In her normal tone of voice, "Do you wear that to polish the silver?" The children all looked at the man with expressions of interest in his answer.
The man's lips twitched into a semblance of a smile, "No, miss, I only wear this when I am about his grace's business, I polish the silver in shirt sleeves and apron just like everyone else."
Jennings had not accepted the invitation to sit that had been extended to him. When he saw Sarah he bowed with a flourish and waited until she was seated to present her with the package.
Sarah looked at the package, the logo of Fortnum and Mason, a purveyor of gourmet foodstuff, was written discreetly on the package. Jennings reached into his pocket and presented her with a silver and gold letter opener with an ornate design in the handle. She looked in askance at the expensive trifle.
"I took the liberty of bringing one of the Duke's letter openers with me," he said impassively.
Sarah stared at the design, his words reverberating in her head, one of the Duke's, one of the Duke's. She knew for certain she would have to find a way to break the engagement. Marcus really would not tell Ambrose that they had shared a bed, would he?
She did not know what Marcus could have bought for her at such an establishment. She hoped they would take it back when the engagement ended and Marcus could get his money back. She gingerly slipped the opener underneath the flap and carefully cut the wrapping paper. She opened the box and stared unbelieving at the contents for a second. Sarah then lowered her head to sniff the heady fragrance.
"Wha' is it?" said Rose trying to crane her small neck to see into the package.
Sarah lifted her head as a tear rolled down her cheek. One of the boys said, "Miss Sarah, I'll give the man a taste o' me fives, Duke or no..."
Sarah looked at the children they all looked like they wanted to riot. Her cousin Amelia looked a little distraught and said, "None of that children, I will have Ambrose ban the man from the house."
Sarah smiled through her tears, "Amelia, it is a wonderful present, I am crying because he knew what would please me most."
"Well, what is it?" Ida demanded as he stepped forward.
"It's tea!" Sarah exclaimed at last fumbling for her kerchief and was handed one by Jennings.
Sarah saw the children all exchange glances, confused. She could see they could not understand why the tea pleased her.
Sarah took a deep breath to steady her voice and blew her nose. She glanced apologetically at the regal looking Butler before she said, "When I was a little girl we lived in Ceylon. If we acquire a globe sometime, I will point it out to you. We would always have tea with every meal. They grow it there in Ceylon and there are many different kinds. The tea here in London is not the same. I remember sipping tea with my mama, my little brother and Papa. I remember them all in the best way when I am drinking tea."
"If you will excuse me, Miss Montague and Miss Appleby, I will see if the other purchase have arrived," Jennings bowed to each lady and walked out of the room in the direction of the tradesmen's entrance.
Sarah looked at Amelia and shrugged her shoulders, she did not know what else there could be. Moments later Jennings reentered the room with a sack full of wooden tops and painted wooden doll parts with cloth and cotton batting for the body.
The children looked in wonderment at all of the toys. Jennings cleared his throat, "Lady Minerva sent a card." He presented it with a flourish quite properly to Amelia as the lady of the house.
Amelia opened the envelope and read the letter.
Sarah saw Amelia blanch at the thought of such illustrious company. Sarah, even though she had met Lady Minerva and knew her to be friendly was worried about the impression the poverty stricken mission would make. She replied to Jennings, "Who else will be there at dinner?"
"Just the family," he replied. He omitted that the family included two lords, a knight, and a sundry of other untitled gentry.
Sarah looked about at the Spartan but immaculate drawing room, she turned to her cousin, "We need to start sewing if we are to have dresses suitable for even a family dinner party." She wondered how with all of the duties and children to supervise they were to find the time to sew.
Jennings cleared his throat, "His grace states that he is paying for the services of a cook even while his residence is being renovated and would deem it a favor if you would utilize her services."
Both Amelia and Sarah looked upon him with suspicion.
Jennings looked at them, his expression impassive, "His grace also wishes Miss Montague would share some of her recipes with the cook, especially, potato pudding."
Amelia and Sarah had to laugh both remembering the three helpings of pudding Marcus devoured last evening.
Marcus arrived at the mission in his cousin's curricle at eleven o'clock. He was announced to the ladies, to his surprise, in a formal fashion by Ida No.
"His grace, the Duke of Allendale," he intoned sonorously, a perfect imitation of Marcus' Butler, Jennings. He then ruined the affect by looking up at Marcus and whispering, "Did I do it right?"
Marcus, just before he entered the room, whispered back, "Perfect, if you were taller I would mistake you for Jennings." When he walked into the room he saw his fiancée standing on a stool. Her cousin and two of the older girls were pinning and sewing the hem of a lavender gown edged in black.
Amelia looked at the boy and said exasperated, "You are supposed to find out if we are at home."
He looked puzzled, "Of course we are at home, where else would we be?"
Amelia closed her eyes for patience, "At home to visitors. We don't have visitors when we are dressmaking in the parlor!"
One of the girls rolled her eyes at the other one. Sarah smiled at them, "He is not used to being in elevated company, girls. I am not terribly sure I am either."
"Pardon my male ignorance but don't you usually do that in the sewing room?" Marcus asked curiously.
"We turned it into Miss Sarah's room, Your Grace," one of the girls volunteered. "It was the only room left and the bed takes up nearly the whole room."
Amelia looked apologetically at Sarah, "It's a cot really."
Sarah shrugged, "It is far from the worst place I have slept, and much better than most."
"Miss Sarah, you are harder to keep still than Rose!" the other girl exclaimed. "We are not going to get these hems even if you don't stop twitching."
"I approve of you coming out of blacks, but I could have taken you to a dressmaker," four sets of censorious eyes glared at him as he spoke. He quickly tried to correct himself, "Not that this is not stylish or well made, I am sure you ladies have other things to do-"
"Your Grace, I can only take gifts of clothing from a close relative," Sarah said trying to keep her body as still as possible so that the hem could be finally finished. "Amelia, have we introduced Alyce and Cassandra to his grace?" deftly changing the subject when he would have protested.
Amelia smiled at Marcus who was out of his depth with so many females in the room, "Your Grace, I hope you will forgive us not making our curtsies to you, we are almost finished with this gown and Sarah has to wear it this evening at your aunt's house for dinner."
Alyce made one final stitch in the hem, "Miss Sarah, can you carefully turn around so that I can see if it is hanging right?" Sarah complied and the two girls made some quick adjustments. "There, I don't think our mother could have done any better, Cassie."
Amelia turned to Marcus, "Cassandra and Alyce are orphans of a London seamstress. She came to Ambrose and I and asked that we take the girls when she knew she was dying. I must say they are worth their weight in gold. They hope to open their own shop one day." She glanced back at Cassandra and Alyce, "Girls, please help Miss Sarah change to another gown so that I can take a flat iron to the hem before she wears it this evening."
After the three left the room Amelia said, "It is fortuitous that you are here now. Ambrose was just saying this morning at breakfast that he needed to talk to you. Your abbreviated courtship of our cousin is troubling to us both."
Marcus said with a smile, "I am pleased with your concern for your cousin, but there is no need. I have grown fond of your cousin Sarah and mean to make her my Duchess."
"That is just the point," said a masculine voice from the doorway. Ambrose Appleby entered the room, "We love Sarah, but she is the grandchild of a country squire and the daughter of a common soldier. She is not suitable for a man in your position."
"I know Sarah has some severe misgivings," Amelia said wringing her hands. "Do realize how lonely she would be, she would be shunned, especially by those whose daughters you passed over in her favor..."
"I know nothing about you, Your Grace," Ambrose said seriously. "I am worried about who would be able or inclined to help Sarah should you be cruel to her. Enough people turn a blind eye when a nobleman is abusive to a wife of equal station." Ambrose held up his hand when Marcus would have spoken. "What is the reason for the haste in this marriage? I know she is not with child."
Amelia squeaked a protest at such plain speaking, "Ambrose!"
"Really, Amelia, do you realize how many females reside here?" Ambrose shook his head, "A man would be deaf, dumb and blind not to notice things. I am not as obtuse as all of you think. Now, Your Grace, I know a solicitor who will look out for Sarah's interests in case of separation or your demise. I want Sarah to have a roof over her head and a yearly allowance of £250."
Marcus was aghast at the piddling sum. He knew his cousin Beatrice spent more at the dressmaker's just last week. Ambrose mistook his expression, "I know it is a princely sum but she will need it to keep body and soul together if you should happen to die. And, furthermore, this is in addition to a cottage and land deeded over to her."
Marcus smiled and said, "We will let the solicitors get everything settled. I really wanted to speak to you, sir, about officiating at our nuptials. I am sure Sarah will want all of the children in attendance."
Sarah reentered the room in a lavender walking dress, "Amelia, I feel like a doll! Alyce and Cassandra are regular little martinets. They insisted that I had to wear this walking gown...they were sure his grace was going to take me for an outing."
Amelia smiled at her cousin, "Oh, don't complain, those girls are finally getting over their grief. That dress looks lovely on you, dear. I believe they copied it from La Belle Assemble."
"Those young ladies do have the right of it...we are going to head over to the townhouse to see how the workman are doing," he said adjusting his gloves. "I also have some wall decorations that I do not have the slightest interest in choosing. My aunt told me that as my fiancée it is your duty to me to take such worries off of my hands."
Sarah looked slighted alarmed, "As a worldly woman of the Ton, I would think that your aunt would be the best person to advise you on the decorations for a fashionable London home."
"My guess is that you asked your aunt to help you and she said she would not dare attempt to decorate another woman's future home," Ambrose said astutely to the astonishment of his female relations. Marcus could see the twin looks of sheer amazement on both ladies' faces. "What? Amelia, I keep telling you I am occupied with spiritual matters not preoccupied."
Marcus saw Amelia and Sarah share a disbelieving glance and wisely ignored them. "You actually have it partially right. I was complaining about all of the details at breakfast this morn and my good aunt suggested that I delegate to Sarah," he smoothly said with a smile.
Sarah protested, "But Your Grace---"
"Marcus," he interjected.
Sarah gritted her teeth, "Your Grace---"
Marcus stepped over to her and whispered in her ear, "You either call me Marcus, or I will embrace you so passionately your cousins will not question my wishes for a speedy wedding."
He saw Sarah's face flush a dull red as she compromised by not using his title or name, "As I was trying to say: I know nothing of fashionable ways."
Marcus raised his eyebrows mentally promising himself a suitable forfeit for her in the near future. Her cousins were looking concerned. "As the Duchess of Allendale you are not a slave to fashion. You will set the fashion," he said benignly.
"But Y-" At Marcus warning look she amended herself hurriedly, "But, Marcus, what if you hate my choices?"
"You made your father a comfortable home in the tail of an army, if you run into trouble you can ask my aunt Minerva," he shrugged unconcerned. "So long as it doesn't look like Carlton House with all of the gold brick-a-brack or Newgate prison we will be fine."
He turned to his host and hostess and bowed, "Miss Appleby, Reverend Appleby, I will have Sarah returned to you in time enough to change to her gown for tea with my aunt." He tucked Sarah's hand into the crook of his arm and strode from the room and out the door to his cousin's curricle. Sarah had barely enough time to snag her bonnet and settle it on her head.
The high spirited matched pair of chestnut horses was being ably held by William. Marcus flipped the lad a coin after he handed Sarah into the vehicle. William snatched the coin expertly with one hand as he held the horses with the other. After they were both seated in the curricle Marcus nodded to William and he released the horses.
\*\*\*
The carriage, which was a sporty curricle, bowled along the streets near the mission. Sarah noted that the bench was much narrower than most vehicles to which she was accustomed. Marcus skillfully took the corners at a spanking pace. Sarah was flung up against Marcus. Her gloved hand touched his sinewy thigh and as she felt his muscles tighten in reaction she quickly pulled her hand back. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Marcus lips twitch with amusement as he again deftly turned a corner at a fast pace. This time Sarah slid along the seat her leg coming in intimate contact with his. Sarah's leg felt like it was scorched where it came in contact with his---even through several layers of clothing. Her face flushed red and she determinedly pulled herself away from him and attempted to attain a firm grasp on the side of the seat. She knew Marcus was doing this on purpose and she had no intention of acknowledging her discomfort. The firmly maintained distance, strangely enough, made Sarah even more aware of Marcus just a few inches along the seat. By the time Marcus turned into a lane behind a set of stately older Mansions, Sarah felt as though her whole body was tingling with sensual warmth. Marcus jumped down from the carriage as an older man limped out of the stables and held the horse. Sarah held out her hand so that she too could lightly jump to the ground.
Marcus smiled as he bypassed her hand and grasped her waist. He slowly lowered her to the ground. Sarah, as soon as her feet touched, attempted to put distance between them. Marcus was having none of that as he took her arm and walked with her to the man holding the horses.
Marcus spoke to Sarah, "My dear, you may remember Jessup? He was one of the riflemen with the seventy third. I hired him on as staff since we have the little problem with someone trying to do me harm. I hired a few other old soldiers as well. I am not terribly trusting of anybody who might be a chance hire here in London."
Sarah was immediately chagrined at being so lost in her feelings that she forgot the attempt on their lives yesterday. She was going to have to find out more as soon as she could once again be private with Marcus. She was mentally kicking herself for wasting the drive over here by not asking Marcus about the incident. Now was not the time she told herself and with determination she focused her attention at the former soldier and forced a smile, "Oh, of course, I remember you Jessup! How is your son?"
A smile lit the grizzled old soldier's face, "My boy be over at a friend of the Captain's...I mean his grace's..."
He gave a worried look to Marcus who smiled ruefully and said, "It will take some work to remember the title, Jessup. I still look around for my great uncle when someone announces the Duke of Allendale. In fact, I am a little gratified that you still think of me as Captain Derning...I earned that title, the ducal approbation is merely an accident of birth."
With an effort the man said, "Your Grace, you still want me to take this vehicle back to your cousin? I know you said the new carriage and team was being delivered today, but it is not here yet."
"Yes, Jessup, go ahead and take it back to my cousin and take a hack back here to wait for the delivery," Marcus replied. Sarah looked up at the large house and said hesitantly "Marcus, who is here at the house? I know we are supposed to be betrothed---"
"Not supposed to be, we are betrothed," Marcus interrupted with a frown.
Sarah still had private reservations about the engagement but let his statement stand, "I just want to know if anyone is here at the house; your aunt, cousin or even a few maidservants?"
"Actually, there are a few servants here," Marcus replied as he escorted her through the rear entrance past the kitchens up the hall to parlor. Sarah saw plenty of evidence of workmen but no actual workers. She looked at Marcus with apprehension. "Ah, here we are," he said as they strolled into the parlor.
Awaiting them was a dapper older man who had various style books spread out on the few tables set up in the room. The man looked up from his fabric samples expectantly at the couple.
"Marcus, who is this gentleman?" Sarah asked worriedly.
Marcus introduced him absently, "My dear, this is Mr. Phillips, of Phillips Fine Accessories. My aunt uses his services whenever she must redecorate. Mr. Phillips, this is Miss Montague, the future Duchess of Allendale. You are to take all of your instructions from her and anyone she designates." Marcus turned back to her, "I rely on your good sense and judgment, but my aunt said that you and your cousin Miss Appleby might have fun together choosing things. If you will excuse me, I need to see to a few things." Marcus left the room heading in the direction of the kitchen. Sarah who had been hoping to put a little distance between them, contrarily felt oddly bereft as she gazed after Marcus.
"Miss Montague, I just need a few preferences from you. Would you want the Egyptian motif in your public rooms? It's very popular right now," Mr. Phillips said expectantly drawing Sarah's attention to him.
Sarah wrinkled her nose at the thought of wasting money on something that was such an extreme fashion. "I don't want anything that will look out of style in a few years. I am sure his grace will agree with me when I say---" she stammered slightly as she glanced in the direction of the door, "w-we want comfortable substantial furniture of classic design that will stand the test of time."
The man made some notes on a piece of paper, "Yes, I see your point. I brought some color sketches of some work I have done for Lady Jersey. His Grace told me you had been to his aunt's residence as well. Lady Jersey's residence is decorated in the Egyptian motif. She redecorated right after her wedding and then again just recently when she was confined to her bed prior to the birth of her son."
Sarah looked at the designs and saw that the man was very talented indeed, "I see you incorporated the current style in such a way that the crocodile sofa and the sphinx tables are very subtle and would not look out of place if the style suddenly shifted to a Chinese style. I prefer the style you did for Lady Minerva though. I want sturdy, but graceful furniture, classic in style so that when the fabrics start showing wear I can just replace them."
"Very good, Miss Montague," he said thoughtfully. "I will have some sketches made up...what are your preferred colors?"
"I think maybe blue for the morning room and green for the formal parlor. I have several pieces of Jade from my mother that I want to display to advantage," Sarah said firmly. Maybe she was starting to accept that she would marry Marcus. Heaven knows she wanted to marry him.
"Mr. Phillips, I suggest that you work up some tentative sketches and bring back some different fabrics to suit Miss Montague," Marcus said as he reentered the room. He turned to Sarah, "Why don't I take you on a tour of the house?"
Sarah saw that Marcus had a kind of strange light in his eyes. Whatever is he planning? She thought to herself. He has that sort of devilish gleam that Papa used to give Mama before everything went wrong.
She took Marcus' arm and toured his study, a portrait gallery, and last but not least the ducal bedchamber. The room had the most massive bed she had ever seen. On one of the tables was bread, cheese, some fruit, a bottle of chilled champagne and two wine glasses. Sarah eyes widened at the display. She looked over at the fireplace and a fire crackling merrily. She looked more closely at the bed, the bed clothes were turned down invitingly. Sarah looked at Marcus with alarm.
Marcus had walked over to the bottle of champagne and was working the cork out of the bottle. "Don't look so alarmed, Sarah, the rest of the house is in shambles. Our future bedchamber is the only room in the house fit for habitation. The chairs had mice holes in them and as soon as you choose the fabrics they will be returned."
Sarah thought back at all of the work in progress especially the kitchen. There really wasn't a space to be had in the house. "Who laid out this food? I will shoot you where you stand, Marcus, if the servants are involved," Sarah said heatedly poking a finger in his chest.
"This came from a picnic basket I had dropped off earlier when I was on my way to take you up in the curricle," Marcus said casually handing her a glass of champagne.
Sarah took a cautious sip of the wine, she had heard that you were to inhale the bouquet of the wine you were drinking. She took a deep breath and sneezed from the bubbles tickling her nose and spilled a little champagne on her dress. Marcus took her glass from her, and said mockingly, "Tsk tsk. Can't hold your wine, Sarah? And you a soldier's daughter!"
Sarah glared at him and turned away searching for a napkin to wipe the drops off of her dress. She noted how fresh and clean the room looked in comparison to the rest of the house. She sniffed the air the room smelled of beeswax and lemon. "Why is this room the only room ready for occupancy?"
"I sometimes stay here when I am out late at night," he said as he drew her hand to his mouth and nipped at her fingers.
The sexual awareness that she had barely been able to ignore came roaring back to the forefront of her consciousness. With effort she tried to hang on to her rapidly diminishing self control. She cast about in her mind for something to distract him. "Isn't it a little dangerous to be coming here to this house late at night?"
He took her hand and placed it over his shoulder. He pulled her unresisting body against his. He then started to nibble her neck. Sarah closed her eyes at the sensation; she felt a sinking feeling as the last of her self control deserted her. She repeated breathlessly in a whisper, "Marcus, isn't it dangerous---"
Her question was cut off by his lips meeting hers. Her legs gave way at his seductive onslaught and he caught her up in his arms and carried her over to the bed while kissing her. He stopped kissing her long enough to prop her on the side of the bed and turned her to unfasten her dress. While his busy fingers worked at her hooks he went back to nuzzling her neck. Sarah was so caught up in the sexual haze all thoughts of trying to stop Marcus went straight out of her head. She turned and flung her arms around his neck and kissed him with abandon. He let go of her while she was clinging to his neck to push off his own coat and unfasten his breeches. He took her arms from around his neck and eased her onto the pillows.
She protested, "Oh, please!"
"Oh, please, what?" he said with a sultry deep tone.
"Oh, please, don't stop!" she boldly took his hand and pressed it to her cheek.
"Sarah, I know you haven't lived an ordinary life but I will be damned if I will take you with my boots still on..." he said as he withdrew his hand dragged off his boots and the rest of his clothing.
"I don't care, Marcus, I am so tired of fighting against it," she said with a sigh while she removed her own corset and chemise.
"Fighting against what?" he asked absently taking her dress and hanging it in the wardrobe.
She scooted over in the bed to make room for him, "You, me, us. I don't know what will happen."
"Nobody knows, Sarah," he said finally climbing into bed with her. "I lost friends and acquaintances in the war and you lost your father. Maybe the young man you met when you were on your way to school would have waited until you were legally his, but the man I am now feels that delayed pleasures sometimes never are realized." He reached for her and she reveled in the feel of his warm moist breath as he blew on her breasts. Her nipples pebbled to hard peaks. Then he gently laved the turgid buds with his velvety tongue. She took a deep breath the sensation was so intense it felt near pain. She wanted to cry out for relief from the passionate onslaught. She felt a burning need build in the pit of her belly. Just when she knew she could not stand any more, Marcus reached down to spread the moist lips of her mound. He started stroking with his fingers as his mouth left her breasts and made a moist trail down her stomach. She arched up and road his hand seeking something, anything as he toyed and teased her sensitive, moist pink flesh.
Marcus gave a final kiss to her belly then lifted her knees and started nipping and suckling where only his fingers had gone before. That was when she reached the pinnacle of sensation and cried out her release as she felt her insides shudder.
While Sarah panted in ecstasy Marcus parted her legs still further and slid up her body to grasp her hips in his hands. He kissed her demandingly and thrust his tongue between her lips just as he breeched the barrier of her virginity with his shaft. He absorbed her cry of pain into his own mouth. She felt a strange fullness stretching inside her that was at the same time uncomfortable and yet not. She looked up into Marcus tight face as he lifted his upper body onto his arms to hold himself still inside her. She reached up and touched the tawny skin of his hard muscled chest.
"Don't do that," he said through gritted teeth. "I need to make this good for you."
Sarah smiled as she stroked her hand up to his neck and placed a kiss on his chest. "It already is," she said as breathed the fresh, clean scent of male and soap.
Marcus lost control and started thrusting quickly inside her, lowering himself onto her as he grasped her hips. Sarah tilted her own hips and met him thrust for thrust. She again soared out of control as Marcus poured his seed deeply inside her. He immediately rolled off the top of her but brought her with him so that her head rested on his chest. He toyed with a bit of her hair. Sarah herself could not get enough of touching him.
She sighed, her eyes closing, "I guess this makes me your mistress now."
Marcus went still and drew back from her slightly his eyebrow slightly raised, "You are rather under qualified to be my mistress. Mistresses are rather more experienced in bed sport."
It was Sarah's turn to pull back slightly. "I am sorry you were disappointed," she was stung into saying as she started to scoot away from him.
Marcus reached and rolled her under himself, again grinning down at her wolfishly. "I never said I was disappointed, I am very pleased with you. Your enthusiasm for lovemaking more than makes up for your lack of experience..."
Sarah felt her face warm with embarrassment as she attempted to slide out from under Marcus. He held her fast. "But what does this make me? I am not your wife, why would you use me so if I were not your light o' love?"
"A betrothal is as good as a marriage, I know that my parents must have thought so," he said with audacity.
"Y-your parents?" Sarah asked, puzzled.
"I was born seven months after my parents marriage," he said.
Sarah still did not understand, "Were you a sickly baby?"
"No, my dear little innocent, I was quite nine pounds when I was born," he laughed heartily.
"Oh? Oooh" she said the truth finally dawning on her. "Your parents anticipated their wedding vows. Were they not properly chaperoned?"
"For the most part I imagine they were very well chaperoned, but I overheard my parents talking once about a trip to see my great uncle when they were engaged," he declared.
"Really," Sarah said the light of interest lighting her eyes.
"It seemed that my uncle and aunt, his sister, did not approve of my mother and showed their displeasure by placing my mother in the coldest, meanest room in the entire castle. My father's room was not much better. To sum it up, I was born nine months later." He took his finger and traced the delicate arch of her brow, "It would not displease me if we made my son or daughter just now."
Sarah placed her hands on his shoulders and shoved him off of her, "I am sorry, Marcus, I have these old fashioned ideas that a child should be born at least nine months after the wedding. Though I can understand having been in a few cold places myself wanting to be warm and if your father was anything like you..." Her voice trailed off as she stood up from the bed and wrapped the sheet around her.
"Anything like me?" Macus prompted. Sarah looked back and saw his head propped up on his hand as he watched her intently.
"Marcus Derning! If you were a gentleman you would turn your back," she exclaimed.
"Why should I? You are to be my Duchess and this is our bedchamber. It's not as though I haven't been passing the last hour very pleasantly licking, kissing and finally making love to your delectable body," he said cheerfully.
Sarah felt her face turn red even as she felt her body tingle in memory. She hurriedly looked away from his tantalizingly nude body stretched out, partially concealed by the blanket left on the bed. She scurried over to the wardrobe opening one of the doors to hide behind as she slipped back into her chemise and stockings.
Her clothing was made in a practical style for a woman who did not have servants to assist her to dress. She had just finished tying her front fastening corset when she sniffed the air. "Marcus, do you smell smoke?" she asked alarmed.
\*\*\*
Marcus sailed out the bedroom door with Sarah struggling to finish dressing as she clambered after him. They both rushed down the back staircase to follow the faint trail of smoke. Marcus felt the door to the kitchen for heat then entered the kitchen. There he saw Josiah Wolcott using water to put out a small flame.
"What happened?" Marcus said.
"I was waitin' outside, watchin' the house, Yer Grace sir," Mr. Wolcott. "When I spied a flash in the kitchen and the rum cove wot the two boys was chasin come flyin' out o' the door."
"Was he alone?" Sarah asked.
"Aye 'e appeared ta be," Mr. Wolcott said. "I seen 'im take off towards your neighbor yard. I felt I should take care o' the fire rather than chase after the scallywag."
"Good thinking," Marcus said absently glancing at Sarah's hastily done up clothing. He raised an eyebrow at her and looked toward the stairs. He saw her look down at her partially fastened dress bite her lip and run up the stairs. He turned back to Mr. Wolcott and asked, "How did you come to be watching the house?"
"Your uncle, Sir 'orace found out from young Mr. Warrick about the set-to yesterday an' called me to watch ta 'ouse," Mr. Wolcott explained. "Darby'll be by to relieve me this afternoon for our meeting," Mr. Wolcott was referring to his friend and fellow Beau Street Runner, Darby Jenks.
"Capital idea, Mr. Wolcott," Marcus said absently, he was lost in thought. Who could be behind these attacks? According to his solicitor he was the last of his line.
"I reckon that they'd be expectin' young Miss back at the Mission for tea or some such," Mr. Wolcott ventured cautiously. He was staring pointedly at Marcus' bare feet and chest.
Marcus looked down at himself and smiled, "Ah, yes, I guess I should go and put on a cravat, I am dressed a little casually for making a call, am I not?"
Mr. Wolcott wisely did not answer Marcus rhetorical question.
After the new carriage and pair arrived, Marcus pulled Mr. Wolcott aside. "Sir, I would like you to see that a guard of trustworthy men be stationed at the Mission," Marcus said grimly.
"I can see that done, it be an easy job for some bloke to handle," Mr. Wolcott said staring up at Marcus with his hands behind his back.
Marcus stopped from getting into the carriage, his foot on the step, and looked back at the Runner. "How is that?"
"Ever'body in White Chapel knows the vicar and 'is sister, and now Miss Montague," Mr. Wolcott said with asperity. "The people down there appreciate the hard work they do for the children. Not many folk take in orphaned or near orphaned children to foster them."
Marcus took his foot off of the step to face the man, "Near orphaned?"
"Aye, tha' boy William is the son of Black Jack Sprague, one o' the meanest rogues in the rookery," Mr. Wolcott said solemnly. "It be takin' your life in your 'ands to hurt folk from the Mission. Someone musta paid a purseful to have them go against him."
Marcus looked towards the coach and then back to Mr. Wolcott. He said, "We will explore this further when we meet this afternoon at my uncle's for tea. Right now I need to get Miss Montague home to the Mission."
\*\*\*
He climbed into the carriage, a high perch phaeton and took the reins from the deliveryman. The team was fresh and the carriage new, Sarah kept quiet while Marcus accustomed himself to the new vehicle. After the team was moving swiftly in the traces, Sarah felt it was fine to question Marcus.
"Marcus, what did Mr. Wolcott have to say that delayed you from entering the carriage?" Sarah asked concerned.
"Just what I suspected, someone is being paid a large sum of money to see me hurt," Marcus replied.
"I heard him say something about the Mission and William," Sarah prompted.
"Just that William is the son of a rogue who has put a cloak of protection around the Mission," Marcus said shortly not wanting to discuss this further.
"Oh, that William is Black Jack Sprague's boy? I knew that... that's why whenever Amelia or I leave to go to the market or run errands we always take William with us. His father wants his son to have a better life than he did and when the boy's mother died he brought William to my cousins," Sarah said thoughtfully. "His father offered to give us money to take him but Ambrose said that he'd be worried as to who died to get us the money."
"At any rate, whoever is offering money to hurt one of us is offering enough that they are not afraid of this rookery rogue," Marcus commented. "I am having Wolcott set some guards on the house."
"Do you really think we need it? It is one thing to try and set fire to an almost deserted house or to assault pedestrians," Sarah said perplexed. "But it is quite another to try and sneak up to a house in a neighborhood such as ours. Everyone knows everyone. Once a brothel keeper attempted to lure one of our girls and Ambrose had to intervene before one of the cut purses gutted the woman."
"Be that as it may, the amount of coin they must be offering would tempt most of the denizens of your neighborhood to sell out their own mother," Marcus said.
Sarah waved her hand in front of her face dismissively, "Not to worry with, I have no need to leave the house, Amelia said Cassandra and Alyce have their hearts set on dressing the soon to be Duchess of Allendale. I feel like a doll."
Marcus slowed the team as he approached the Mission. William came out and and held the horses' for Marcus as he handed down Sarah. When he set her onto the pavement in front of the Mission Marcus said, "By the way, my aunt has been busy today opening accounts at various shops for you. I want you to purchase a new wardrobe..." He saw Alyce and Cassandra in the doorway to the house, and added, "Alyce and Cassandra will be busy making fine new clothing for all of the children here at the Mission. I need you to purchase a wedding dress from one of the dress shops."
"That isn't necessary. Amelia has my Mama's wedding dress; it is still very pretty and it was never worn. You have family secrets, so do I," Sarah said as she lifted her skirts and ran lightly up the steps. She turned and gave him a little wave as she went through the door
Marcus stood staring at the door for a few moments as she disappeared from view then mounted the perch of the Phaeton and drove away.
Marcus took his time driving to his aunt's house. The streets were teaming with people and he wasn't trying to throw Sarah up against him. He was thoughtful as he leisurely tooled his pair through town to his uncle's town residence. Who would be likely to gain by his death? he wondered. He had few enemies and no one to inherit the Dukedom.
He continued to consider the problem as he went through the rear entrance to the house. He went to his uncle's study and tapped on the door lightly. He heard his uncle bid him enter and walked through the door.
He walked into a room filled with all of his male relatives. Simon and Patrick Randolph, his cousin Matthew, Sir Horace's son, Nathaniel Creighan, Viscount Ravensleigh and his newly related cousin-in-law Michael Winslow, husband to his cousin Emily were all present. He also saw Josiah Wolcott seated gingerly on a chair looking somewhat intimidated by the company.
He heard Patrick saying, "Uncle, if we open all of the windows can we blow a cloud in here?"
Sir Horace answered, "Patrick, your aunt is very sensitive to smells. I declare she even knows when I am even thinking about smoking."
Marcus spoke up as he took a seat in the room near the desk, "Why is it that all of you are still in town?"
Simon spoke up, "Patrick and I were on the verge of leaving when our dear aunt told Mama that you were soon to be wed. Patrick and I are of the opinion that Aunt Minerva was grateful for any excuse to keep one of her sisters here in town."
Sir Horace pulled his spectacles down from his forehead and studied some papers he had on his desk briefly. He looked up and said, "Boys, your aunt is a little long in the tooth to be going through child bearing. We are staying in town to have her under the care of a premier London acoucheur. Her sister does offer her some comfort."
Marcus turned to his cousin Nathaniel his eyebrows raised enquiringly, to see why he was remaining in town.
His warm blue eyes gleamed with amusement as he said, "I have business here in town same as Althorpe here with Parliament being in session."
Marcus knew that his handsome cousin also had a certain widow in his keeping and could not easily continue the affair if he removed to the country. It could be done, but Nathaniel was a gentleman who wished to maintain appearances. His widow, while known to be a bit fast, was attempting to retain a veneer of respectability as well.
He was just about to ask for a report from Josiah Wolcott when there was an abrupt knock on the door and Lady Minerva, Sarah and Ambrose Appleby walked into the room. Marcus was speechless with surprise.
Sir Horace was the first to speak, "My dear, to what do we owe the pleasure?"
"Horace, I had heard of this meeting and I felt that the ladies of the household should be privy to any information and plans you men might have..." Lady Minerva with her lace and curls might look like a gentle passive lady, but underneath Marcus knew she could be uncompromising. From her firm tone of voice, he knew she would not be barred from the proceedings.
Sir Horace, no fool, said congenially, "Of course, my dear, merely an oversight on my part. I am happy to see you had the planning and foresight to include Marcus' intended and her family."
Marcus was wondering about that himself, "Sarah, I just left you at the door of the mission...how came you here so quickly?"
Sarah shrugged and said, "My cousin was waiting on me and the coach from your aunt was behind the mission in the mews. My cousin hurriedly helped me change my dress and we were here in a trice."
Bingham, previously cued by Lady Minerva, walked into the study with a tea tray and placed it on a reading table before Lady Minerva. She then started to pour cups of tea for the various guests. She spoke up whilst in the middle of her tasks, "Horace, my dear, you were saying?"
He turned to the runner and said, "Mr. Wolcott, what have you to report?"
"The word that is out on the streets is that a purse of a thousand guineas was offered to kill his grace," Mr. Wolcott said grimly. "With all that though, because William's Da is protecting the mission, there not be many takers."
Marcus asked, "What do you know about the person offering the money?"
"All's I could find out is that it be someone from out of town, maybe foreign, wanting you and now Miss Montague dead," Mr. Wolcott said with a grave expression on his face as he accepted his cup of tea from Lady Minerva.
"How do you know even this much?" Lady Minerva asked truly puzzled.
"The vicar here, Mr. Appleby, and 'is sister are prime favorites in that area. It be a rough area but when they opened the mission and started taking in street children folks accepted them. When Miss Montague came and started 'elpin' out, the people included her in their approval," the man said.
Ambrose rubbed the back of his neck clearly taken aback by the effects of his works, "We were just doing our Christian duty."
Marcus stood and walked over to Sarah, "I never meant to harm you by my pursuit. We still need to wed. Even if we broke our betrothal, I fear you would still not be safe. We must marry immediately so that you can be more easily guarded." Marcus rubbed his forehead with his thumb and index finger. "Your father would be spinning in his grave, if he knew the man he saved endangered his daughter."
Sarah set aside her teacup, quickly stood and walked over to confront Marcus, "Nonsense, you did not endanger me! The villain who is trying to kill you for whatever gain is the responsible party. My father always thought you were an excellent officer and a gentleman. He would be proud to know that you want to marry me."
Marcus looked at Sarah and hugged her close to him as though they were alone.
Matthew cleared his throat loudly, "Ahem! Uh, Marcus her cousin, the minister, is in the room."
Marcus looked up as though surprised that they were not alone and Sarah stepped back.
Simon spoke up after looking at his brother. "We will volunteer to help escort the ladies of both households. I know Nathaniel will help as well."
Marcus glanced at the Randolph twins and nodded. He said, "I have a special license that I acquired this morning and I wish to put it to good use tomorrow."
Beatrice burst through the door, "Tomorrow! Why that is way too soon!"
Lady Minerva frowned at her daughter, "I thought I had raised you to exercise at least a little decorum. The room is way too small to have everyone in here."
Beatrice hung her head at her mother's rebuke. "I am sorry Mama, but Marcus' cousin is here...Edward."
Patrick spoke up, "Marcus, I am having a hard time following the nuances of your father's family tree. I always thought that he was the one who was supposed to inherit the Dukedom. How is it that he is not dead?"
Matthew exclaimed, "Isn't he that nasty little toad that lorded it over you when you would visit the castle?"
"Very nicely said," Marcus replied. "He is descended from my great aunt and was not in line for the title."
Sarah wrinkled her nose at him, "Shall we go and see your cousin, Marcus? It is quite the coincidence that he shows up so soon after the last attempt on your life."
Marcus looked toward the parlor speculatively, "It is, indeed." He looked back at his uncle and cousins, "Shall we table this discussion and find out what he wants?" He took Sarah's elbow and guided her towards the spacious, well appointed parlor.
Sarah was not sure what to expect when she went into the room but it was not a corpulent man of medium height dressed in the extreme fashion of the Dandy set. His shirt collar points were so high he could not turn his head and the mother of pearl buttons on his pale yellow jacket seemed as big as saucers. Sarah noticed right away that the man had none of Marcus nobility of bearing. When he turned from his place by the mantle, Sarah could see an expression of ill concealed annoyance.
Marcus placed his hand on hers and said, "My dear, this is my cousin, Edward Fitzwilliam. Fitzwilliam this is my intended, Miss Sarah Montague.
"Ah, yes," Fitzwilliam drawled dismissively in a nasal tone. "I had heard you had betrothed yourself. Is it true she is nothing but the daughter of a common soldier?"
Sarah refused to be cowed by the supercilious fop. "Hardly common, Mr. Fitzwilliam, My father was recognized by his grace, the Duke of Wellington as one of the finest quartermasters in his majesty's army."
Marcus cousin glared at her through his quizzing glass for her temerity at speaking to him. "I say, old man I would have thought you could have done better than this ill-bred woman."
Marcus was distracted from answering him by the entry of his cousins Simon and Patrick. From the expression on their faces, Sarah could see they had heard his last statement. They took places on either side of the man. The irrepressible Patrick stated, "Why look, Simon, if it isn't ol' Fitz from our form at Eton. Look at the jacket, such a pretty yellow color."
Simon studied Fitzwilliam a moment, "I would have never guessed you would have turned into such a man-millner."
Sarah turned amused eyes towards Marcus who was looking at the Randolph twins with raised eyebrows. Patrick continued, putting a hand to his chin, "Oh, Simon, look. His hair, what little he has of it, is all curled up. I wonder---do you have to wear curl rags in your hair at night like Byron is reported to do or does your man use the curling tongs..."
Mr. Fitzwilliam's face started to turn purple with outrage.
Sir Horace entered the room and said congenially, "Now, now, boys. Mr. Fitzwilliam probably traveled a long way to see his grace. You can critique his attire another time. Hello, Mr. Fitzwilliam, I am his grace's uncle, Sir Horace Warrick. Would you care to take a seat?" he said gesturing to the settee. "My wife and daughter will be in momentarily with some refreshments."
Lady Minerva entered with Beatrice and Matthew followed closely by Bingham carrying a large tea service. Sir Horace quickly made the introductions to his wife and daughter.
Mr. Fitzwilliam lightly touched Lady Minerva's fingertips and executed a perfunctory bow, drawling dismissively, "Charmed."
When she was seated behind the tea service the gentleman found seats and Lady Minerva dispensed tea to anyone who was not holding a Brandy snifter. After looking pointedly at Sir Horace's Brandy snifter and being ignored, Edward ungraciously told his hostess, "Cream and two sugars." He balanced his teacup on his knee and stirred it absently.
Marcus came straight to the point, "I assume you did not foist your presence here at my relative's residence merely to insult my choice of bride and drink tea. So what is it that you want, man---"
For the first time Mr. Fitzwilliam looked truly discomfited, "Could we speak in private, it is a family matter." He added on as an afterthought, "Your Grace..."
The eyes of the entire household focused on the man as Marcus said, "Almost my entire family is here in this room, I daresay you can speak freely in front of them."
"My quarterly allowance," Mr. Fitzwilliam muttered resentfully.
Marcus looked nonplused, "Your what?"
Simon said barely hiding a smirk, "I believe he said his quarterly allowance."
Mr. Fitzwilliam burst out, "Since the death of our great uncle no funds have been paid into my accounts. I have expenses to meet and appearances to maintain!"
Sarah could see that Marcus was appalled by his cousin's discomfort. Whatever it was that Marcus was expecting the man to say it was not that bit of family business. Marcus was not a petty man, no matter what happened in their childhood. She was not surprised when Marcus said, "I don't know why the solicitor did not inform me of this when I met with him a few days ago. Meet me at Mr. Dowling's office tomorrow and we will settle this problem."
Edward's mask of hauteur slipped slightly when he saw that Marcus was not going to ask him to describe his intimate financial details in front of his other family members. "Thank you, Your Grace. My grandmother had always led me to believe that you were resentful of those of us living at the castle. I see that she is mistaken."
Just then there was a crash and they heard childish voices yelling, "Quick! Catch him before he goes into---"
The huge dog galloped in and ran over to the tea tray and consumed one of the seed cakes. The boys, William, Ida and Peter, were standing frozen in the door. The animal gave a big doggy grin to the entire company and wagged his long tail. His tail crashed into Mr. Fitzwilliam's tea cup and splashed the contents all over his dandified apparel.
Mr. Fitzwilliam jumped up and started dabbing at his clothing ineffectually with a napkin.
Lady Minerva stood abruptly, and fixed a baleful glare at the boys. "Did I not tell you boys to keep that dog outside?"
Marcus looked amazed at the presence of the dog and the children, "Whose idea was it to bring the dog over here?"
Sarah's cousin Ambrose appeared in the door behind the children. He smiled sheepishly, "I thought that it might be good to bring the dog along for extra protection. I took advantage of your visitor to go and check on the boys and the dog. By the way, Mr. Wolcott said to say he was going to follow a few leads and to excuse his taking his leave without proper notice." Ambrose saw the man fussing with his clothing, "I really am sorry sir if you will send those things over to the mission, I will see if we could clean them for you. My sister is a dab hand at cleaning stains and mending."
Mr. Fitzwilliam swallowed his rage with difficulty and attempted a shrug. "It is of no matter, now that I do not have to follow my uncle's dictates on wardrobe I was thinking of abandoning my current tailor of Stolz and switching to Weston." Marcus saw that he brightened somewhat as he just realized what he just said was true. He turned to his hostess and said, "I believe, My Lady, that it is time for me to take my leave."
Beatrice obliged him by ringing for the Butler to bring Mr. Fitzwilliam's hat, gloves and cane.
After he left Marcus said consideringly, "I never realized how much a prisoner he was to my uncle's whims. I only visited the castle a few times as a boy, he lived there from the time his father died until now. How he must have resented that my family was independent of the old reprobate."
Beatrice said, "Still he wasn't a very pleasant individual. I wonder does he have anything to do with the attempts on your life Marcus. Maybe he could not inherit the Dukedom but what of the money and property?"
Wanting to kill Marcus for his possessions and not his title? None of the family had even thought of the possibility until Beatrice mentioned it.
Lady Minerva said, "When you use greed and not ambition as a motive, I could think of any number of possibilities."
"Like what, my dear?" Sir Horace asked.
"Look at how the town house had been left to molder, when a bit of money could have been spent and it would not have needed such extensive repairs. What if the old Duke's man of business pocketed the funds instead of spending the money on upkeep," she said, a frown puckering her still unlined face. "He was not known to actually leave Allendale these last few years. With no one around to actively manage the Dukedom and Marcus gone to war, it would be easy to siphon off funds from the estate."
Marcus pondered the new possibilities, he would have to go see the books when he went to settle his cousin Edward's accounts. There could be acrimony when he told Edward what he had in mind. But Edward might surprise him and take him up on his offer.
As Sarah and her cousin stood to gather the children and dog, preparing to take leave, Marcus stood as well. "Aunt Minerva, I will escort Sarah home and make sure she stays there this time."
"Marcus, you don't understand, I am merely helping Ambrose with the children," Sarah said as she wrapped the dog's lead around her hand. "Your aunt told me to bring my dress for dinner and change here."
"Yes, Marcus, my maid is getting bored with me and Beatrice. She needs a bit more variety," Lady Minerva laughed. "She was used to doing Emily's hair as well. Emily will be here soon and she will want to have a long chat with Miss Montague."
"Oh, please, Lady Minerva, call me Sarah," Sarah said reaching over to touch her arm.
"Only if you will call me Aunt Minerva."
Two masculine voices chimed in, "And we are Simon and Patrick."
"That's right, soon you will be family," Matthew said. "Our family does not abide very much formality. The only one of the family who could not be here tonight is Nathaniel he has a pressing engagement with Prinny. You can't get out of those."
"Wonderful, another girl in the family who will bring Peter and I presents," a childish female voice said from the door. Phoebe crossed the room dressed in a pretty pink dress and her hair in ringlets cascading down her back. Marcus smiled at the perfect picture of a privileged little girl.
"Oh, Mama, I invited Lord Chudleigh and his sister to dinner, as well," Beatrice added. "Lord Chudleigh wants his sister to be more in company. He says she is very shy."
"You're the one who could bring her out of her shyness," Matthew said. "After being exposed to you and your antics she won't even be able to be embarrassed any more."
"Matthew!" Beatrice shrieked and threw a pillow at him, which he ducked with a grin.
"Children, behave else our guest will think we are barbarians," Lady Minerva said with a smile belying her scold. "Beatrice, please take Sarah upstairs to rest, freshen up and change for dinner. Emily should be here just prior to dinner."
As Sarah walked up the stairs she was wondering what she would do with herself. She could not imagine resting before dinner, as before today she was usually making the dinner. She was very excited to see her friend again after so many years.
The little girl she saw earlier beckoned to her to come down the hall. Sarah followed her curiously into a large spacious nursery.
"See, Peter, I told you I could get Miss Montague for you," the child turned a delighted grin to Sarah. "I heard my Mama say that you had been with the army even longer than Marcus. You probably know more about some of the battles than Marcus does."
Sarah smiled while inwardly she flinched, "I did get to speak with some of the soldiers from some of the other battles but the 73rd was never a part of the Peninsular Campaign." She had heard tales of the numbers of soldiers slain in battle.
Phoebe said, "It is our governess' afternoon off and we wondered if you could set up the Battle of Salamanca?"
Sarah did not realize that she was holding her breath when she let out a long sigh of relief, she did not wish to even think about the blood and carnage of Ciudad Rodrigo. At Salamanca, Wellington lost a large number of men but there was not the rape, or butchery of the civilian populace at Salamanca. Sarah rubbed her hands together and sat down on the floor cross-legged, "Now, where do you want to put Marmont's exposed flank..."
Marcus walked by the nursery on the way to his room. He heard voices. He looked in and saw his intended surrounded by toy soldiers telling a story. Phoebe and Peter were sitting near her listening with rapt attention.
"...Wellington was eating a drumstick when he realized that Marmont left his left flank vulnerable to attack. He threw the drumstick over he shoulder and shouted 'by jove that could work'. He organized an attack that eventually won the battle."
"Then he captured all those nasty French soldiers, and killed them," Peter added with a blood thirsty flourish.
Marcus saw Sarah smile at him, "No, Peter, remember how we set up the bridge and placed Spanish troops around it? The Spanish did not hold the bridge and the French troops were able to retreat."
Marcus interjected, "But the battle was won and Wellington made significant gains in the Peninsula. Sarah, I think it is time for you to go change. Emily will be here soon and I have something for you."
Sarah unwound herself from her sitting position and stood. "You have something for me?" she asked distractedly looking around at the deployed toy soldiers. "Let's get all of these toys gathered and back into the boxes."
Marcus envisioned her playing with their children some day, God willing. Hopefully they would catch whoever was trying to hurt them soon. "Yes, come down to my room and I will give it to you."
"Ahem, there will be none of that, Marcus," Lady Minerva said from the door. She turned to Sarah, "I tapped on the door of your room and found you were not there. Somehow I knew that one of these three had waylaid you."
Marcus felt like a recalcitrant schoolboy, "I actually do have something for Sarah in my room."
Lady Minerva turned narrowed eyes onto Marcus, "I am sure that you do but I think that Sarah does not need to have any more gossip spread about her."
He saw Sarah's hand fly to her throat in alarm, "There has been talk..."
"Only that horrid Mrs. Harriman and that make-bait the former Lt. Wilbur," Lady Minerva's hand flew to her mouth as she realized that her two youngest just heard her use cant.
Marcus frowned darkly; he was going to have to do something about Wilbur. Calling him out, while the most mentally satisfying option, was likely to cause more gossip. He would have to confer with his cousins Simon and Patrick. He just bet that the evil twins would know a good way to muzzle the man.
He saw Sarah bite her lower lip in a picture of chagrin, she said, "I am so sorry, Marcus, I feel terrible. I know that Mr. Wilbur is an utter cad and he was with the 74th at Ciudad Rodrigo. Rumors were that his actions were so horrid that only the influence of his cousin had him transferred rather than court-martialed."
Lady Minerva made a pointed glance at the two children listening to the adult conversation with rapt attention. "Come now, Johnson considers herself quite the artist with hair and wishes to have time to study you."
"I thought it was just a family dinner...I will be dressing up but why go to so much trouble with my hair?" Sarah said with a mild protest as she was born away down the hall by Lady Minerva.
"Marcus, are you sure you were not present at any battles on the peninsula?" Peter asked clearly disappointed at losing such a knowledgeable adult.
Marcus sighed, "No, and I did not have the depth of acquaintance to fill in all of the details that Sarah knows." He was gratified that his family seemed to genuinely like Sarah, even Beatrice who had been hell bent on introducing him to all of her female acquaintances.
Sarah, while her hair was being pulled, brushed and pinned up, had her own thoughts about who was trying to hurt Marcus. At the first opportunity, she was going to make contact with some the soldiers she knew around town and set them snooping for information in the taverns and down by the docks. She did not give a good damn about being a Duchess, she smiled at herself for the mental profanity. She just wanted to live with Marcus as his wife and make him happy. Even though he had not said the words, he must love her in order to be this determined to marry her.
"There, Miss, have a look at yourself in the looking glass," the austere maid named Johnson said.
Sarah said as she looked at the mirror, "It's me, only better." Lady Minerva's dresser had pulled her hair back in front letting several wisps of hair escape and curl charmingly on her forehead. There was a cascade of curls down from the crown of her head. It looked very attractive and too complicated to repeat. "I don't know that I shall be able to do something this complicated," Sarah worried.
The dresser unbent herself enough to allow for a small smile. "Miss Montague, you forget you will be a duchess soon and will have a personal maid to care for your hair and wardrobe. In fact, I was hired here in London to keep the Warrick ladies in style during their sojourn. If you do not think me too presumptuous I would like to be considered for the post of your personal maid."
"You want to be my maid?" Sarah said in surprise.
Johnson sniffed, "It would be an honor to serve you. You are attractive, young and will be highly placed. Turning you out for parties and dinners would bring me cache'..."
Sarah sensed that there was something the women was not saying, "What aren't you saying, Johnson?"
"It is not my place to say, Miss Montague."
"What is it, Sarah?" said Lady Minerva walking into the room.
"Lady---," she halted at Lady Minerva's look, "I mean Aunt Minerva, are there rumors about me in town?"
"That awful mushroom Mrs. Harriman has been spreading rumors in town. I also heard that the tales have been taken up by those females that were here yesterday," Lady Minerva said with a sniff.
Beatrice sighed and looked pensive, "Two of them gave me the cut direct this morning when we were out."
Lady Minerva reached a hand out and patted her daughter's hand, "There, there dearest, they were not true friends, just setting their caps for Marcus."
"Lady Loraine is still speaking to me but I am not sure if she is truly my friend," Beatrice said diffidently pleating the fabric of her blue muslin dress.
Matthew in a rare show of concern said, "Why is that, Bea?"
She looked at her mother and Sarah, "Before she spoke to us, I could have sworn she was going to walk past but Nathaniel stopped his carriage and said a few words to us, Mama."
Lady Minerva's eyes widened, "Oh, dear."
"Hell," Matthew swore.
Sarah frowned puzzled, "Who is this cousin of yours and why is he important?"
Marcus stated, "Nathaniel is Viscount Ravensliegh."
"So, I thought Lady Lorraine's father was an Earl?" Sarah said puzzled.
Lady Minerva, Matthew and Beatrice looked at Marcus speculatively, "He is, but my cousin Nathaniel has other charms."
At Sarah's puzzled look Aunt Minerva smiled and said, "You'll see when you meet them."
Bingham entered the room and announced, "Viscount and Lady Althorpe."
A tall, dark haired man with blue eyes and a red haired woman of medium height and impressive bosom entered the room in his wake. The woman looked annoyed, the man merely amused. She turned to Bingham, "I am family, I did not think I warranted being announced."
Bingham's expression softened a bit, "I wanted to be the first butler to announce you, Your Ladyship."
The woman was clearly flustered, so much so that she nearly did not see Sarah sitting on the settee. She looked over at her and surprised delight lit her face. "Sarah Montague! As I live and breath. Michael, this is my friend from school, Sarah," the man named Michael smiled indulgently at his flustered bride. She corrected herself, "Ahem, I mean, My Lord may I present to you my dear friend, Sarah Montague. Sarah, this is my husband Michael Winslow, Viscount Althorpe."
Sarah stood and made a graceful curtsy to her friend's husband. "I am pleased to meet you, Your Lordship," she said with dignity belied by the twinkle in her eyes. "Winslow, Winslow...the name sounds familiar. Wait, isn't that the name of the boy you were mooning over at school?"
Emily's face flushed as she glanced back at her husband. He chuckled and said, "Mooning over me, hmm? We will discuss how hard you made me work to win your hand when we get home."
Emily ignored Michael and said, "Sarah, what are you doing here---are you the new governess to Peter and Phoebe? And Marcus, I came over here to meet your fiancée."
Sarah bit her lip, as she again had to acknowledge to herself how unsuitable she was to be Marcus' wife. Marcus stepped into the breach, as he said, "Actually, my dear cousin, Sarah is my fiancée."
Emily jumped up and down squealing delightedly, "Why, Marcus, I never thought that the boy who made me play highwayman with him would have the good sense to betroth himself to my dear friend! Aunt Minerva, did you send me a letter about Marcus' engagement?"
"No, dear, apparently they have had an understanding for some time and Marcus just managed to get Sarah to accept his offer", Lady Minerva said smilingly. "Please, stop jumping around like a hoyden, Emily, and take a seat! You are a respectable matron now and all of you people standing about is fair to giving me a headache. Please, sit down."
As Emily took a seat next to Sarah on the settee, Sir Horace entered the room, "My dear, I see Emily and Michael have arrived. Have the other guests shown up yet?"
"No, Horace, they must have been held up by traffic in the streets. Why don't you serve our guests some sherry while I ring Bingham to set dinner back a bit," Lady Minerva said while reaching for the bell pull.
Before she could pull the bell, Bingham glided into the room and intoned, "The Reverend and Miss Appleby. Lord Robert Masters, Earl of Chudleigh and Lady Shannon Masters.
Amelia and Ambrose walked into the room somewhat bemused, followed by Lord Chudleigh and a timid looking blond woman. Lady Minerva said, "How lovely you are here, Horace make the necessary introductions. Bingham, please request Miss Norris to come and take Phoebe and Peter to the nursery for their dinner."
The twins exclaimed in unison, "Mama!"
Phoebe added, "We haven't seen Emily in forever." The little girl stuck her lip out, "You did not tell us that when Emily married Michael she would not live here anymore."
"Never mind, Bingham, I will take them upstairs myself." Lady Minerva stood and guided her protesting younger children out of the room.
Beatrice moved forward and took the hand of Miss Masters, and guided her over to introduce her to her brother Matthew. she eyed him firmly and prompted, "Matthew, remember I told you about Miss Masters?"
Matthew gallantly stepped forward and took Lady Shannon's hand, "Lady Shannon, a lovely lady as yourself must be a trial to your brother."
Lady Shannon looked confused and looked around her obviously not in the way of compliments. "H-how do you mean, sir?"
"He must be beside himself trying to keep you away from all of the rakes and bounders," Matthew concluded smoothly.
Miss Masters flushed shyly, and looked down. Flustered at the compliment, she said, "No, not really..."
"I wish to be your escort into dinner, may I?" he said as his mother returned and took Lady Shannon's arm in his.
Bingham announced, "Dinner is served."
All of the gentlemen followed suit and soon everyone was seated at the table. Sarah found herself seated between Marcus and Emily's husband. She looked down at a dizzying array of silverware and wine glasses. The footman came and served her the soup course. She watched Marcus and picked up the same spoon he did and began to eat.
The butler had served out an almost colorless wine for the soup course. Sarah picked up her wine glass and cautiously took a sip. It had somewhat of a bitter aftertaste. Her dinner partner on her left, Lord Althorpe, 'accidentally' jostled her arm. Disturbed, she glanced his way and saw him take a sip of his wine and then inhale the bouquet. She tried that and the wine taste improved immensely.
Lady Minerva cleared her throat, "Sarah, when are you and Marcus going to have the ceremony?"
Marcus answered for Sarah, "Day after tomorrow."
Sarah had been in the middle of taking another sip of wine and she started coughing. When she could stop coughing she choked out, "So soon? Doesn't your mother need to come from Bath?"
"Honestly, Marcus I don't know why you men are in such a hurry to marry. Just once I would like the time to plan a proper ceremony in St. George's with a large wedding breakfast afterwards," Aunt Minerva said plaintively. She took a large sip of her own wine before continuing, "I just know Dorothea would shoot me for this. It was bad enough that Emily was married so quickly...you know she thinks of you as a daughter, but now Marcus wants to get wed in a hole and corner way. You will have to wait until your mother gets here."
"But that will take time," Marcus objected. "Someone is trying to kill us and I want to be wed as soon as possible so that I can take her to safety."
"Your mother is already on her way," Aunt Minerva said with finality. She cut into her fish filet with rather more force than was needed causing her to have difficulty forking the flaking fish.
Marcus tried one last objection, "Where will she stay---"
"My boy, you will just have to learn when to gracefully admit defeat," Uncle Horace said solemnly. "Even Wellington made the rare tactical retreat."
Sarah looked over at Lady Shannon; she looked utterly at sea at being in the middle of a family disagreement. She looked alarmed as Beatrice began to speak.
"Emily, Shannon, Sarah and I are going shopping tomorrow," she pronounced.
Shannon objected, "I-I really don't need anything..."
Help for Beatrice came from an unexpected quarter: Lord Chudleigh. "Nonsense, I will wager that Miss Winslow knows all of the best places and latest fashions," he said in a tone that brooked no interference. Then he added with a twinkle in his eye, "Miss Winslow always looks well turned out no matter what she wears."
Matthew hurriedly raised his napkin to cover a smile, and Sarah saw Beatrice grab her wine to cover an outraged expression at the man's audacity. Sarah looked at Lady Minerva to see if she noticed this little conversational diversion into dark waters. Lady Minerva was finishing her fish and leaning back for the footman to remove her plate and another to serve her a bit of the saddle of lamb.
Sarah was amazed at the amount and variety of food being served. In her amazement she failed to note that her wine glass was filled once again. She too had finished the last course and was given a choice of lamb or beef. She contained a little giggle, at the thought of how she would look if she dined like this every night. She looked at her cousins who acted like they were well used to a formal table. She supposed they were as they had grown up on a country estate.
The footman approached her chair with a new wine choice. He asked discreetly, "Burgundy or claret?"
Marcus answered for her, "She will have the claret."
Sarah very carefully and precisely cut her beef unto small pieces and had servings of asparagus and carrots. She felt so euphoric that she forgot to object to Marcus' assumption that he would pay for the shopping expedition.
Finally, after the meal was concluded and Sarah had imbibed yet another kind of wine with her dessert no less, Lady Minerva stood. It was the signal for all of the ladies to stand and go to the next room.
Sarah hiccupped, and giggled. She swayed slightly as she stood. Marcus looked at her with concern and waved, motioning Bingham over to him. After a soft voice consultation he stood and said, "I believe I will join you ladies in the drawing room for coffee."
Sarah wrinkled her nose and slurred her words slightly, "Eww, I don like coffee."
Marcus said, with a smile, "Nevertheless, you will have coffee."
When Sarah woke the next morning her mouth felt as though she had been eating cotton the night before. She slowly cracked her eyes open and saw the sun streaming in the window mercilessly. She cautiously raised her head from the pillow. The room started spinning and it did not look familiar.
"Oh lord where am I? she groaned as she put a hand to her aching head. She looked down at herself she was dressed in an unfamiliar night dress. The window was partially opened and the faint fragrance of lavender drifted in. Recognition dawned on her...this was the room she used last night to change for dinner. Why didn't she go home from the dinner party? She remembered the feeling of euphoria the meal and the wine...oh my, the wine. What must they be thinking of her? She had been drunk!
"There you are love, awake at last," said Beatrice from the door fallowing her was Johnson carrying a large tray of dry biscuits and tea. Beatrice smiled understandingly as Sarah winced. "Mama says you are to drink all of the tea and eat the biscuits. After you finish, Johnson will help you dress and you will come down to breakfast. Beatrice sat gingerly on the bed as Sarah nibbled on the morning offerings. "Don't worry, Sarah, you could not know that we had an over eager footman who would keeping replenishing your wine."
Sarah did feel better after she finished the food and tea. She gingerly went down the steps dressed in a morning dress from Beatrice. She expected to be alone at the breakfast table but surprisingly everyone was there.
"Ah, there she is!" Matthew said cheerfully. "I imagine you have a bit of a head this morning."
Sarah glowered at him, not pleased at his loud voice. Marcus said, "Sh-sh keep your tone down. Don't you remember how you felt-"
"Indeed, how we all felt," Sir Horace interjected looking over his paper at Marcus.
"-the morning after Emily's wedding," Marcus concluded.
Matthew looked abashed, "Sorry, anyway I am to take you to pick up Lady Shannon and meet Beatrice and Emily at that fancy dress shop, Duponts."
They ended up going to the shop slightly later than planned as Sarah had prevailed upon Matthew to escort her first to the bank to access funds her father had deposited for her years ago. Sarah was bound and determined that Marcus would not purchase any of her clothing until they were wed. Sarah looked to Shannon sitting in the seat next to her in the carriage. Sarah, now that she was feeling more like herself, was quite excited at going to an exclusive London dressmaker. She firmly squashed the qualms she was experiencing over the thought of spending so much money. She was surprised when she glanced across the seat at Lady Shannon. Lady Shannon was glancing down at her gloved hands, nibbling her lower lip. She was not dressed much better than Sarah who was dressed in an ill-fitting gown that had belonged to Beatrice.
Matthew assisted both ladies to alight from the carriage. Two large footman had accompanied them as well. He looked down the street and saw an acquaintance. He gestured to the footman to wait by the door of the shop. "Miss Masters, Sarah? Why don't you two go into the shop while I go down to talk to my friend? Marcus said he had set you an account here at the shop. I will be right down here should you need me."
Lady Shannon looked apprehensive, "I thought you would come in here with us."
Matthew grimaced, "Frankly, I'd rather be hanged. I have the two footman waiting at the door."
Sarah and Lady Shannon looked at the dress shop's discreet sign:
'Duponts Dresses for the Discriminating Lady'
The footman opened the door and the ladies stepped into a sumptuously decorated showroom with various fabrics displayed artfully around the room. Sarah looked for Beatrice and Emily but was doomed to disappointment---they were not there. Further the other customer who was there was Mrs. Harriman. She was being waited on by one of the shop attendants.
Sarah ignored the woman and was looking with Shannon at some fashion plates, when the shopkeeper herself approached her.
"Madame, may I help you?" the women said coldly looking at their clothing dismissively.
Sarah stated, "We are needing several new dresses...we also want to know if you have anything ready made to replace these gowns."
"I am sorry to say, madame, but we are completely booked and have no ready made dresses available," the shopkeeper said this with a sniff as though this were the gravest insult.
Lady Shannon pointed to a dress on display, "Why not this dress? I believe it would be close to my size."
"I am sorry but we have nothing in the shop that would fit you," the woman's voice, if possible, became a touch cooler.
"Madame Dupont, we were to meet friends here---" Sarah began even though her face was starting to burn with humiliation.
"I do not believe that there is anyone of your...acquaintance in my shop," the shopkeeper's dark eyes glared at them with disdain. "Please, leave."
Sarah heard the muffled laughter coming from the direction of Mrs. Harriman. She took Lady Shannon's hand and turned and walked to the door.
As the ladies reached the door, Beatrice and Emily walked into the shop. "There you are. I was wondering what was taking you so long...Emily and I went next door to look at the bonnets," Beatrice looked at the shopkeeper gliding away and at the slumped posture of her two friends.
She took in the triumphant smile of some woman unknown to her and the shopkeeper's stiff posture. She masked her own face with relief, "I hope you haven't placed any orders yet...I find the dresses in here not at all the thing and I will mention it to my mama how inferior the dresses are here."
The shopkeeper turned with surprise. "But Miss Warrick...Lady Althorpe," she spoke with an appealing gesture.
Beatrice and Emily donned a hauteur that would have done a royal princess proud, "Lady Shannon Masters and the future Duchess of Allendale can not be seen in just any old rags," Emily said coldly. "I am canceling my plans for purchasing any dresses in here."
The four ladies left the shop to the dawning chagrin of the shopkeeper.
"Miss Warrick, Lady Althorpe, I do not know about Miss Montague but I've lost my taste for shopping today...I would rather go home," Lady Shannon said quietly.
To Beatrice who did not know her very well, Lady Shannon sounded forlorn. "None of that, Lady Shannon!" Beatrice said briskly. "I told your brother I would see you through a shopping expedition and I will."
Sarah protested, "I no longer wish to spend all of my coin in one of these overpriced shops."
"But you are spending Marcus money not yours, and my cousin has plenty to spare," Beatrice replied with more vulgarity than tact. She paused to adjust her bonnet to a different angle outside the shop. She gestured to the two footman to trail behind them. "Where on earth is my brother? I am sure he said he would dance attendance on us all day."
Sarah gestured towards where she last saw Matthew and said, "He saw a friend over that way and went to speak with him briefly."
The shop bell discreetly rang behind them as Mrs. Harriman and her daughter stepped out. Beatrice could see that the woman was still gratified by Sarah's humiliation. "Ladies, shall we repair to my home? I hear that Mama is going to be entertaining three of the Almacks patronesses at tea, I hear that Princess Esterhazy wishes to discuss your charitable work, Sarah."
They heard Mrs. Harriman's acerbic voice behind them, "As though a Patroness would involve herself with guttersnipes." She turned to Lady Shannon, "With your brother being such a gazetted cad, you should mind with whom you associate."
Lady Shannon stopped, turned, straightened and looked at the woman. She pulled a lorgnette from her reticule and held it to her eyes. She took a long look at the woman starting from her gaudy bonnet, to her over decorated dress and finally her plain walking boots, and then turned her back on the woman. She lowered her lorgnette and stated loudly to the other ladies, "I do not know why they call this polite society, the most ill-bred people speak to one without an introduction."
Beatrice was happy to note that Lady Shannon did have some back bone after all as she watched the rude woman stride down the street in high dudgeon. The ladies looked at one another and dissolved into giggles. "Lady Shannon," Beatrice said, "you will do."
The ladies decided to stroll down Bond Street towards where Matthew had last been seen. They made quite a parade with the four of them walking followed by the two burly liveried footman. Sarah saw a shop that was in the midst of renovations as the ladies passed it, she recognized an old acquaintance: Mrs. Peabody, the dressmaker.
Sarah instructed her friends to wait while she picked through the debris to speak to the lady. "Mrs. Peabody, are you opening a shop?"
The woman looked at Sarah quizzically and then with dawning recognition, "I am sorry, Ma'am, but I know you were married to that captain but I do not remember your name."
"Actually, Mrs. Peabody," Sarah began delicately. "We were not married and had to represent ourselves as such as we had trouble on the road. We needed to stay overnight at an inn and I had no maid."
Mrs. Peabody nodded sagely, not making any judgments, "I see. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company today, Miss?"
"Well, Captain Derning is now the Duke of Allendale and my-my betrothed," Sarah said hesitatingly as she still had difficulties referring to him in that way. "I want to hire you to make up some dresses for me."
Mrs. Peabody looked at her considering, then she walked around Sarah. "First, I need to get you into a different dress---you are out of mourning, aren't you? Ask your friends to come upstairs to my rooms."
A few moments later the ladies were in Mrs. Peabody's temporary workroom. Sarah with the assistance of Mrs. Peabody had taken off her old gown. She grimaced at herself in the mirror her old front lace corset was hopelessly threadbare. Mrs. Peabody said, "We need to get you one of the new corsets with a pocket for a busk."
Sarah said, "I have heard of such things but I have never seen one." The woman pulled open a box and withdrew a corset which would have to be applied by a ladies maid. Several moments later Sarah was admiring the difference in her figure. Then Mrs. Peabody pulled out a wooden board carved with some designs and slid it into the front of Sarah's new corset. Sarah had to stand straighter but her average sized breasts were enhanced in size. Mrs. Peabody tossed a new walking dress over Sarah's head that only needed a few adjustments. She also found a flattering gown for Lady Shannon. Lady Shannon, she saw, did not need a new corset as she had a very detailed corset with a busk made out of carved...ivory?
Sarah stared at Shannon so long that she blushed and stammered, "I-I know I am a little much."
Sarah hurriedly said, "Oh, no, I was admiring your busk. It is made out of ivory, isn't it?"
Lady Shannon looked surprised and shrugged, "My mama and my stepfather gave it to me as a gift for my birthday. My stepfather is very kind to me."
Sarah did not know why anybody would be unkind to Lady Shannon, she seemed a nice person. She dismissed the thought and watched the seamstress finish with adjusting the hem and darts.
When the two ladies were arrayed in their new gowns, Mrs. Peabody looked at them pensively. "About payment, Miss Montague, I can not afford to carry accounts as yet..." her voice trailed off.
Lady Shannon's hand flew to her mouth in consternation, however Sarah just smiled. "How much for both of our dresses?" she asked pleasantly.
"Ten pounds for both," Mrs. Peabody replied firmly.
Sarah reached into her reticule and pulled out a ten pound note. Lady Shannon tried to stay her hand, "Miss Montague, I could not possibly let you pay. I will have my brother send a servant over with the money this afternoon."
"Please, call me Sarah, you and I shared a moment of humiliation together," Sarah said laughingly.
"And you must call me Shannon," she said with a smile. Sarah realized that was the first time she really relaxed enough to have a genuine smile.
"And we are Beatrice and Emily," Emily added. "Sarah, I love that dressmaker...no phony french airs, good prices, top quality workmanship."
Matthew greeted the ladies as they came away from the shop. He was standing next to the carriages. Beatrice waved and called to him, "Matthew, how ever did you know where we were?"
"Four ladies and two large footmen?" he said incredulously. "The only way you ladies could have been more conspicuous is if you brought the dog."
Marcus had surprised the solicitor and acquired the books detailing the past repairs and expenditures on his recently inherited London house. He was examining the entries and making notes while seated at his uncle's desk. His uncle was at one of his clubs today. Marcus would have liked for him to have been there. Marcus had no experience at trying to figure if someone was trying to cheat him. He would have to interview some of the listed contractors to find out if the repairs were even performed. Marcus very much doubted that the roof had been repaired last year judging from the current state of the ceiling plaster. He set his quill aside and rubbed his eyes.
"Marcus, dear, I hate to disturb you," Lady Minerva said from the door.
"No, you are not disturbing me, I would not have thought to examine the accounts if you did not suggest that to me," he said looking up at his aunt with tired eyes.
"Yes, well it isn't about that," she said as she waddled into the room. "I declare these babies get bigger with each successive confinement."
Marcus looked at her enquiringly.
She hurried into her concern, "I just received a disturbing letter from your mother."
"What does my dear Mama have to say that concerns you so much?" Marcus said unconcernedly, he steepled his fingers and looked over them at his aunt. She truly looked worried.
"Dorothea is concerned that you are taking gratitude too far by marrying Sarah," she said. "One of her acquaintance has written her that Sarah is a social climbing strumpet. She says she heard that Sarah was having an affair with a lieutenant. When they were caught by her father, she cried rape to try and make the man marry her."
"I know the truth of the matter, Sarah was an innocent victim," Marcus said coolly.
"You have only known her a short while, how is it that you are so certain," Lady Minerva asked. Marcus gave her a knowing look. "Oh, my," she said. Flustered she said, "Your mother also said that you feel an overwhelming sense of obligation to the woman as her father lost his life saving yours."
"Of course, I do, I have been doing some investigation of the two men who were interrupted from killing me and it seems that they were paid to kill me and make it look like I was killed during looting," he stated grimly. "If Sarah's father had not been there I would have been killed with no one the wiser."
Lady Minerva protested, "But don't you think marriage is a little extreme---"
In a tone that brooked no further interference, Marcus said, "It is my duty, my honor and my obligation to marry Sarah and that is final!"
Sarah had heard from the butler that Marcus was in his uncle's study and was directly outside when Marcus made his final pronouncement. She reeled back under the blow. Every word pounded into her brain and shattered her heart. She heard Lady Minerva's light tread as she walked to the door. Sarah hurriedly scurried down the hall to the doors that led to the garden. She just had to be alone so that she could compose herself. She was devastated. She always knew it was too good to be true.
She stumbled blindly towards a bench, but before she could get there a dirty hand grabbed her arm and she could barely get out a squeak of alarm before a sack was flung over her head and she was tossed over a brawny shoulder. The sack smelled like old potatoes and dirt. Slung over the man's shoulder she could barely get a breath out. She was settled none too gently into a waiting carriage.
Peter and Phoebe were looking out there nursery window and saw Sarah walk out into the garden with her shoulders slumped. Phoebe said, "She looks like someone was mean to her, Peter."
Peter looked disgusted, "She prob'ly ran into one of those ladies who was trying to meet Marcus. They called me a nasty name and Sarah something worse. Mama was really mad."
"Maybe we should go cheer her up. We could tell her out of all the ladies in London we liked her best. She was nice to us when no one was looking," Phoebe said with simple six year old wisdom. She stared out the window a moment more. Peter had went to go and see if he could find their governess. Phoebe saw man grab Sarah and stuff her into a sack and carry her off. She started shrieking, "Peter, a man stole Sarah! We have to find Marcus."
The two children ran out of the nursery towards their father's study.
Marcus saw the two children running down the hall to him being chased by their nursery maid. Peter looked angry and Phoebe looked like she was going to cry. The children grabbed at his long legs, shouting, "Somebody stole Sarah."
He felt a cold chill sweep over him as he bent down to question the children, "Tell me what you saw, one at a time."
Phoebe was sobbing by now, "Some dirty bad man stuffed a nasty sack on Sarah's head and carried her away. I sawed it all."
Peter said, "I only's saw the man carrying Sarah. She was kicking her feet."
Marcus ran out the door into the garden and ran for the garden gate. He did not see a carriage, he turned back into the garden looking for anything to validate what the twins said. Then he saw it, Sarah's reticule. He picked it up and looked inside and whistled. There had to be at least a hundred pounds in bank notes in her bag. As tight as Sarah was with money she would never have left her bag voluntarily.
A young voice spoke to him from the gate, "Gov'nor, I seed whot 'appened with the pretty lady."
Marcus turned and ran for the gate, he shouted, "Tell me what you saw! I will make it worth your while."
The young man said, "Two blokes, I thinks one was Olly and the other was Sully grabbed Miss Sarah and stuffed her inta old Jo-Jo Marshall's cab."
Marcus grabbed the boy thinking he knew too much, "If you are lying to me."
The boy looked stunned, "I'd never 'urt Miss Sarah, me lil' sis stays at the mission. My friend jumped on the back of the coach when they set off. I was jist comin' ta get ya."
Marcus looked impotently at the road then turned back to the boy, "How can we get word of where the coach is going?"
The boy looked surprised, "There be lads all over Lunnon, 'e'll get word to us."
Marcus ran back into to house to get his gun.
Sarah smelled the musty scent of dirt and potatoes on the burlap bag covering her head. She had been so lost in her own misery that she allowed a man to creep up on her. Then a new terror struck her, Marcus was so loyal that he would come for her. She was sure the kidnapping was just a ruse to get Marcus away from all of the protection surrounding him.
The men were congratulating themselves on the ease of taking her. The voice she recognized as Ollie said, "Sully, I knews tha' you was ta clever one, I be just that sorry you're your brother was kilt afore we could plan."
A new voice said, "The tofts don't believe anybody would take them in daylight from their gardens. Wenches al'ays likes the flowers. One o' them had to come out sooner or later."
Sarah needed to think. She closed her eyes and listened to the rhythm of the coach and tried to picture where she was by the sounds, smells and turns. She noted they appeared to be headed towards the docks. She noted the sounds of the carriages around her were heavier than the light passenger vehicles. She heard the call of a seagull and the stench of dead fish. Sarah hoped that these two were either smarter than she gave them credit or dumber. Either way she did not want Marcus to find her if it meant he would be killed. Surely his aunt would delay him trying to find her until his cousins could be gathered.
She opened her eyes and tried to see through the coarse weave of the burlap when the carriage stopped. She felt rough hands grab her once again and kicked out with her foot. Sarah smiled in bitter satisfaction when she heard the man swear.
The man called Sully said, "What about that skinny cove what kilt my brother? Did ja ever find him?"
"No, but I wager tha' this fine Miss knows who he is? I 'magine it would not take much persuadin' to make her talk," Ollie said.
Sarah's eyes widened, they were speaking of Beatrice. Sarah felt helpless as she felt herself flung onto the floor. She hit her head and winced in pain and nausea.
"I say we have some fun with her before we do some serious persuadin'," Sully said.
Sarah stomach roiled ominously. The bag was ripped off her head and Sarah blinked up at a large, filthy man leering at her and stroking at his crotch. She tried to sit up but Mrs. Peabody had had her put on the new corset with its long wooden busk and she could hardly bend. The man reached down and grabbed her off of the floor drawing her up. The movement, the smells, and the remnants of her accidental overindulgence in wine all worked for her as she cast up her accounts into the man's face. He flung her away and she again hit her head. This time, however, she was able to catch herself on her feet and lean against the wall.
The man wiped at his eyes , "Bloody bitch!! Why did ye not say you was sick?"
Sarah smiled annoyingly at her attacker, "Just think, I had a large breakfast this morning, I still feel wretchedly ill."
He approached her and back handed her hard. Blood trickled from Sarah's lip. She touched her tongue to her split lower lip and braced herself for another blow...
Marcus paced around the study, "What is taking them so long." The room was filled with all of his cousins. Simon, Patrick, Matthew and a newcomer, his cousin Nathaniel, were all taking turns wearing out the tread on the carpet.
"Marcus, be patient, it has only been thirty minutes," Lady Minerva admonished.
"Minerva, let the man talk, I know I would be beside myself if someone took you," Sir Horace said sagely.
Mr. Wolcott walked in holding the arm of a street boy. "This 'ere boy says he knows where they took Miss Montague," Mr. Wolcott
Marcus grabbed the boy's shoulders in desperation, "Where is she?"
The boy's eyes widened in alarm as he stammered, "She's a-at a w-warehouse near the Tobacco Docks in Wapping.
Marcus let go of the boy and turned to his cousins, "I own a warehouse across from Tobacco Dock. Could it be..."
Patrick jumped to his feet and started passing out guns and bullets.
Lady Minerva tugged at Marcus coat sleeve, "Marcus they might have hurt her."
He looked away from the concern in his aunt's eyes, "I don't care so long as she is alive. When I catch up with them they will wish for death before I am through with them. So long as Sarah is alive..." his voice had an odd catch to it. He cleared his throat and said in a stronger voice, "Let's go."
He went outside where he was surprised to find Amelia Ambrose and some of the older boys including William and Ida waiting in a wagon filled with vegetables. They were wearing old clothes and Ambrose had a soft hat pulled down on his brow.
Marcus frowned at them, "What are you doing here?"
"Sarah is our cousin and we can get closer than you in this wagon. They will have lookouts," Ambrose said sternly. "Amelia, you should go and wait at the house."
"Ambrose, she may need me," Amelia said with a tear in her eye.
He looked away from the fear in his sister's eyes, "Your Grace, there are street boys all around in that area looking out for her. They all know me and will came to me before they would come to you."
Marcus shrugged off his jacket and jumped in the back of the wagon and smeared himself with dirt and tousled his hair. "Don't just stand there, man, take off," he barked at Ambrose.
Nathaniel spoke up for the first time, "Marcus, we will go another way on horseback. The vicar is right, you have a better chance of getting in close in the vegetable wagon."
Ambrose slapped the reins on the horses and sped off towards Wapping. Amelia said, "Your Grace, look under the tarp...
Marcus lifted the tarp and pulled out several fowling guns, "I did not know you had any guns."
Ambrose replied not taking his eyes off of the road, "I keep them put away...the children you understand. I keep them for the occasional bully that thinks one of our girls would make excellent Covent Garden ware."
Marcus looked at Ambrose with new respect, "You ever have to use them?"
"Once," Ambrose replied shortly.
Amelia put her hand on his arm, "Ambrose, you did what you had to do...Rose is safe. He would have hurt other children."
Marcus frowned and focused his thoughts on Sarah, "How much longer 'til we get to the dock?" He had noticed the area getting sparse of population except for the sailors dock whores and street boys. Street Boys!
He watched Ambrose signal to the one of the boys. The boy approached the wagon carefully.
"Vicar Appleby, Miss Sarah be in there all right, she be in a side of the warehouse with a fireplace," the boy, young man really looked at Ambrose significantly.
Ambrose nodded, "Who do you have up on the roof?"
"Jackie and Robby be up on the roof roight next to ta chimney," the young man said. Jackie, 'e ha said they 'ad themselves a roight fine fire."
Marcus looked at him suspiciously, "What is going on here?"
"Jackie, Robbie and Kris used to be chimney sweeps," Ambrose told Marcus, Amelia nodded her head.
"What can they do from up there?" Marcus wanted to rush in and save Sarah but was hampered by the lack of information.
"Number one they can hear things, number two...I believe Jackie had an idea," he looked at the young man and nodded.
"Jackie 'as 'imself some damp peat..." the boy began.
\*\*\*
Sarah had braced herself for the blow that did not come when an imperious elderly voice yelled, "Stop that at once, if you kill her she can not write the ransom note. And the girl will write a ransom note if she knows what is good for her."
Sarah saw an elderly woman dressed in black and using a cane, walk up to Sully. Sarah asked puzzled, "Who are you?"
The woman slammed her cane down, "I did not give you leave to speak. However, I am Lady Elizabeth Derning. The rightful heir to the Ducal estates but because I was born female my brother inherited."
Sarah could see the light of fanaticism in her eyes and she knew this woman was the most dangerous person in the room. She also knew she would never leave here alive. She was no longer tied up but she was in an office with the three people who held her captive. The windows were too high to escape that way. She looked over at the fireplace with its high flame. The elderly woman could not take the chill of the room and stood with her back to the fire. Sarah stared at the fire, she felt so cold inside she knew no fire would ever warm her. Something plopped in the fire. She dismissed it. This was an old warehouse birds probably nested in there.
The woman gestured for her to seat herself at the desk where there was paper and quill. "Write the ransom note," the old bat instructed coldly.
Sarah knew she was going to die why make it easy for them. She smiled pleasantly at them, "No."
The woman looked infuriated, "No, what?"
Sarah displayed a lovely smile, "No, you old harridan. You will kill me anyway so I am not going to make it easy to kill Marcus."
"He is the Duke of Allendale, not some barroom brawler," the woman stated coldly. "Speak of him with respect."
Sarah heard a louder plop into the fireplace, it looked like---what was wet peat doing in a fireplace? Surely it did not grow in the chimney. Sarah suddenly realized what was happening The other three turned to look at the fire. Sarah quickly said, "I respect him much more than you do, you old bawd. You think killing him is respectful."
"Let us see if he wants to marry you with a scarred face," the woman stuck the end of her cane in the fire and when it started to glow she with drew it and approached Sarah. "Write the note or I will burn your eye out."
One of the men came behind her to put his hands on top of hers. Sarah said annoyed, "I can't write if you hold my hands down you make-bait." The chimney started to smoke in earnest, then suddenly a woosh and the room filled with smoke.
The woman dropped her cane and began to cough. As the man let go of Sarah's hands, she kicked back the chair and caught him in the stomach. She kicked up his feet, flipped the desk up and slid behind it. Sarah brought the skirt of her dress up to cover her face and started to crawl to the door. The busk that Mrs. Peabody said no woman of fashion was without, was digging into her pelvic bone. Sarah swore she would not ever wear one again even to save her life.
She heard the door open and tried to scurry away as a pair of fine Hessian boots with the shine dotted with dirt stopped in front of her. Sarah's eyes widened with alarm as a pair of hands reached for her. She reached into the slit in her petticoat for her stiletto but was unable to reach it before gentle strong hands lifted her up from the floor. Sarah looked with surprise and relief at the searching face of Marcus.
As Marcus took in the split lip and developing bruise on her face, Sarah felt his body tense with rage. "Who dared to hit you?" he said menacingly. He swung her up in his arms and carried her outside.
The two men had been captured by the Randolph twins, Simon and Patrick. Sarah felt safe carried in Marcus' arms close to his heart, as though she were something precious and not just a duty. She felt tears prick her eyes already sensitive to the smoke. She looked down at her new dress which was stained with blood and torn. She bit her lip, expelled a breath, and said, "Your Aunt Elizabeth is in the warehouse still...I think she has gone mad."
Marcus set Sarah down and went towards the warehouse again, he stopped and turned back to the two men being shackled by Mr. Wolcott, "Don't think I have had done with you bastards yet..." He stalked into the warehouse door. The office where Sarah was held was considerably less smoky now that the two boys weren't using a bellows to reverse the smoke down the chimney.
He saw her laying on the floor her cane beside her, the tip still glowing. He had heard her threaten to blind Sarah with it. This frail old woman who had made his mother's life hell on those brief visits to the Allendale Castle, looked rather pathetic. She coughed and clutched her chest. She looked up at Marcus with watering eyes and rasped, "Daniel, what are you doing here, you are dead..." She coughed again loudly, "Am I dead, too?"
Marcus could not hate the crazy old woman, "No, not yet." He did not correct her impression.
She said weakly, "If I had been born male, I would have been the Duke, not you." She closed her eyes and stopped breathing.
Marcus shook his head, all of this was about the property and breaking the entail because of his aunt being eaten alive by envy. It must have been the catalyst for every despicable act and word. He picked her up and carried her outside.
After a bath and a change of clothes, Sarah joined Marcus in the study for some tea. She found him pouring over the estate records and trying to understand them. "Marcus, we need to talk."
He looked up at her absently, "Can you make heads or tails of this?" He gestured at the papers in front of him, they were essentially alone in the house. The cousins and his aunt and uncle took all of the street boys over to buy them ices. Marcus, too, had bathed and changed instead of going with them.
Sarah walked over to him and looked over his shoulder. She put her fingers under his chin and turned him to look at her. "I heard what you said and I refuse to be a burden to you. In fact, I am furious that you risked your life to go into the smoke filled room for me. You should never have risked your life over someone who is just-just an obligation," Sarah's voice broke over the last statement and a tear rolled down her face. "I was almost maimed over your overwhelming sense of loyalty. I don't think two people should marry without love..."
"You're just overexcited by everything that has happened," he reached around and pulled her into his lap. "You could be pregnant with my child..."
"Ahem," a voice cleared and Sarah clumsily scrambled out of Marcus' lap. It was Marcus' cousin Edward.
"What are you doing here?" Marcus growled.
Edward looked puzzled, "I received a note that I was to meet you here immediately."
"I sent you no note," Marcus looked at him suspiciously.
"I am afraid I sent the note, Your Grace," said Mr. Emberton from the doorway, holding a gun with two more tucked at his waist.
"Emberton, what is the meaning of this?" Edward said aghast.
"Honestly, are you people so stupid that you cannot figure out that one elderly woman could not have hired all of the help here in town?" he said dispassionately.
"You have been bilking the ducal estates for years," Sarah said shaking her head. "I knew that the townhouse had had no repairs."
"Yes, Miss Montague you would have made an admirable Duchess, nothing would have slipped past you or your uncle, Your Grace," Mr. Emberton still obsequiously referring to Marcus by his title. "And you are a smart man, you would have eventually found me out."
"But, why?" Sarah said plaintively. "You had plenty to live on..."
"Maybe if I were as miserly as you are reported to be Miss Montague, but alas a gentleman in town has expenses..." the solicitor's voice trailed off.
"Gambling," Edward said.
"Ah, yes, among other vices," the man said with a cold smile. He gestured with his gun for Edward to join the group over by the desk. "It seems that your cousin here is going to try and kill you but you will pull a gun as well and you will shoot each other. I have decided that Miss Montague will be strangled by young Edward here. A very tragic tale..."
Another voice exclaimed, "Where is everybody? The door was wide open. Ida, catch that dog!"
The dog ran into the study and ran into Mr. Emberton who fired his pistol. Sarah leaped in front of the gun and slumped to the floor. Edward turned and leaped on the solicitor and disarmed him.
Ambrose hurried into the room, "I heard a shot---" He took in the tableau at once. He saw Edward restrain the solicitor and he saw Marcus holding Sarah in his arms rocking her back and forth.
Marcus said, "Sarah, you should not have leaped in front of me. You would have been free of me. I love you and I would have never let you go, so long as I lived."
"Marcus," Sarah said in a surprisingly strong voice for someone who was shot.
"What, my love?" he said noticing for the first time that Sarah was not bleeding.
"He ruined my new busk and my new corset has a hole in it, saving your life is detrimental to my wardrobe and very expensive," she said with a smile.
Marcus laughed out loud, "I will buy you a hundred of the damned things, a thousand. Just marry me and save me from my spend thrift ways."
Marcus assisted Sarah to her feet, she brushed off her skirts, "You know what you just said does not make a bit of sense. But we do owe Beatrice another dress." She walked over and patted the excited dog, "And B. B. here deserves a big slab of beef."
William and Ida came into the room followed by Amelia. "Miss Sarah, did you know you had a bloody big 'ole in your dress front?"
Everybody laughed. Ambrose said, "Good thing Mr. Wolcott will be here soon he can take this man whoever he is---"
"This is Mr. Emberton, the Duke of Allendale's former solicitor," Edward interjected.
The rest of the family crowded into the room including Marcus' mother who walked stiffly on two canes.
The formidable Dorothea Derning, stared a moment at Sarah and said in her deep feminine voice, "You saved his life again?"
Sarah just looked at her not knowing what to say. She looked over at Marcus, back at his mother and then down at her hands biting her lip.
"The whole family is here and I am not getting any younger. Marcus, Minerva told me you have a special license," Mrs. Derning said imperiously.
Marcus replied with a quirked eyebrow and a smile, "Why, yes, Mama."
"And are you a vicar, sir?" she said to Ambrose.
"Yes, I have a mission in Whitechapel," Ambrose said with a smile.
"Marcus, I think you should marry the lady immediately, before she becomes bored with constantly saving your life," after she said this, the older woman walked across the room leaning heavily on her canes for balance. She arrived in front of Sarah handed the canes to Marcus and hugged Sarah. "Welcome to the family, my dear. We are not usually this exciting.
As soon as the larcenous Mr. Emberton was led away by Mr. Wolcott, and Sarah changed her dress yet again, she refused to be married in a tattered gown, Sarah and Marcus were married.
Later that night at the ducal townhouse, Marcus and Sarah were sharing champagne in bed. Sarah said, "You know, Marcus, before this I would have said there was only one way a woman like me could be happy with a man like you..."
He took a sip of his wine and set it aside and reached for his bride, "How?"
She put her own glass aside and placed her arms around his neck and looked into his eyes with a smile, "Only in her dreams."

