Captives' Charade (35 page)
Authors: Susannah Merrill
At one point, he had tried to tease her, in hopes of bringing a shine of humor to her strangely sad eyes. “So how does it feel to be a free woman again?” he had asked cheerfully.
“Free?”Shehadresponded,confused. Obviously her thoughts had been somewhere else. “Oh, you mean free of d’Alava.”
“Oh, that!” Sarah answered, a flash of raw emotion – was it pain? – momentarily crossing her features. “It has been destroyed, I trust?”
“Stewart took care of it,” Jeremiah assented. “You must be happy that the charade is over. I know it was a difficult thing for you to do, and I, for one, am truly apologetic for the inconvenience of it all.” He added softly, “I knew from the moment we met that some women’s penchant for deception was foreign behavior to you. But you are quite a survivor – and you and Stewart performed masterfully. It was almost ....”
Sarah at once interrupted with an almost hysterical laugh. “Oh, Captain Slade, I am just glad the whole ordeal is in the past. And yes, it does feel better to be free again. Much better ....” And then she had suddenly excused herself from the conversation, looking even more woebegone than she had before.
Jeremiah had been distressed, to say the least. She looked older, he decided, and not well. But this he attributed to their harrowing experience, Tegan’s death, and the current frigid conditions for sailing. It made him all the more eager to be reunited with Peggy. She would care for Sarah, and bring the bloom of youthfulness back to the Englishwoman’s cheeks. Sarah, after all, was the daughter of a wealthy and high-ranking family. She had led a pampered life and was most likely suffering from the lack of daily luxuries.
When the Endeavour berthed in Boston Harbor, it was snowing. The cold white flakes brought a muffled hush to the darkening city and only the warm glow of window lamps pierced the hazy winter atmosphere. “We’re just in time for the evening meal,” Jeremiah beamed happily as he lifted Sarah into a hired carriage. “I can’t wait to thaw out in the bosom of my family.” His ruddy face split into a grin that was positively adorable, Sarah thought, responding to his infectious anticipation.
Her
considerably destination Jeremiah was so fond of discussing. She knew that he and Peggy had three children – young Jeremiah, who was six; Ethan who was four; and Rebecca, who would be a year old on Christmas Day. Jeremiah hadn’t seen them all for six months and was quite sure that Rebecca would be virtually unrecognizable.
down-trodden mood had lifted
The Slade home was a gracious, white colonial structure on a heavily-populated hill overlooking the harbor. It took only minutes to arrive there, but Jeremiah was so impatient, it seemed as though he was almost ready to jump from the carriage and run the two blocks. Sarah was sure he would have if she hadn’t been in his care.
As Jeremiah restlessly paid the driver and began grabbing one of Sarah’s cases, she touched his arm, demanding, “Please Captain Slade. The driver and I can manage my things. Go greet your family.”
With a grateful smile, he wheeled around, dashed up the snow-covered walkway and took the front steps two at a time – as fast as his lanky legs could carry him. Sarah hung back in the carriage, watching as he opened the door and hooted a huge greeting to those within. The chattering of women and children commenced at once and before the door closed, Jeremiah was surrounded by loving kin.
The glimpse of the warmth inside the home brought tears to Sarah’s eyes and she choked with, it seemed, both happiness and misery. Happy for Jeremiah and his family, surely; but miserable because this family reunion was one she could only observe from afar. Her heedless plunge into the depths of love had been taken alone; Stewart would never see her as Jeremiah saw Peggy – his one true love. There would be no other, and now she felt only a shell of her former self. The memories of Stewart’s kisses, his touch, his bravery and humor, were more painful, not less, and the realization that he was happy in Charleston with his Felicia made the torture even greater.
“Can I give you a hand, miss?” the driver was asking, and Sarah quickly scrubbed her eyes with her gloved knuckles. I must stop this nonsense, she urged herself as the kindly driver helped her down to the snow-covered sidewalk.
As she turned to take the small bag the driver handed her, a lilting feminine voice called from the portico. “Lady Sarah, are you coming?” Sarah turned to gaze up to the doorway to the sight of a young woman, her head and shoulders covered in a light shawl. Not waiting for an answer, she picked her way down the stairs, heedless of the snowy cold.
Concerned that the woman would catch her death, Sarah skittered toward the figure calling, “Oh please, Mrs. Slade, you needn’t come out here. It’s freezing.”
“But I cannot wait to welcome you,” Peggy called, moving as fast as she could on the slippery walk. “I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re here!”
They were almost within reach of each other when the inevitable occurred. Peggy slipped, and Sarah, attempting to steady her, found herself tumbling as well. With a whoop and a thud, they landed in a heap as the amazed driver looked on.
Sitting up and finding themselves in each other’s arms, they both giggled, laughing at the absurdity of the situation. It was the warmest of welcomes, in spite of the cold.
“Lady Sarah,” Peggy panted as she pulled her shawl away from her face where it had twisted. “I’m Margaret Slade, and I think it’s just wonderful that you’ve come to visit us.” And with that, she hugged her bedazzled guest as they again rocked and laughed in the snow.
“Peggy,”Margaretrespondedinkind, gripping her companion’s hands as they attempted to rise together. “Careful – careful now. I don’t think I’ll be able to get up again if we fall.”
“Luckyforyou,you’vegotMikeTemplehere to help,” a jolly voice broke in. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” the driver teased as he helped them steady themselves. “The two of ye will be in bed till March if we don’t get you out of this snow bank.”
“Thankyou,Mr.Temple,”Sarahpu ffedas she dusted the clinging wet snow off her fur collar and cuffs. “Would you help Mrs. Slade into the house? She hasn’t the proper footwear to trek without slipping again.”
But by then, Jeremiah had burst on the scene and amid a blustery scolding, swooped the petite Peggy into his arms and carried his giggling bundle back into the house. Temple helped Sarah and they all finally managed to gain the foyer.
“Goodgracious,”abuxom,uniformed woman introduced as Mrs. Leland, the housekeeper, fumed as the troupe entered. “Get the both of them before the fire. ‘Tis no wonder the children have no sense when they see their mum behaving so.”
As the two women were settled briskly before the huge stone fireplace in the cozy parlor, three pairs of round, astonished eyes observed the proceedings with interest. “Children,” Peggy chided them lovingly, “don’t look so alarmed. Haven’t you ever seen snowmen before?”
Realizing their mum was all right, the children relaxed a bit and grinned shyly at the newcomer. Little Rebecca crawled up close until she could fall into her mother’s wet arms, just as Jeremiah pulled a lap robe over his wife’s shoulders. “Sarah,” Peggy beamed, her pert features glowing and moist, “I’d like you to meet our children. Jeremiah, Ethan, I’d like to present you to Lady Sarah Tremont who’s come all the way from England to visit us.”
The boys bowed politely, reluctant to take their eyes off the striking and friendly-looking woman who’d been literally dragged in from the snow. “And this is Rebecca,” Peggy added, pulling the babe out from under the blanket where she was hiding. Her dark curls and brown eyes, unlike the fair-haired boys, attested to her resemblance to the Chamberlain side of the family, and Sarah thought she’d never seen a child so beautiful. “Please don’t mind her shyness,” Peggy insisted. “Once she gets to know you, you’ll never keep her from your skirts.”
“I shouldn’t mind that at all,” Sarah responded softly, mesmerized by the
precious countenance. This is what
toddler’s Stewart’s children would look like, she found herself thinking, a flash of pain crossing her blue eyes. But she hid it quickly by lifting her hands to remove her hat. “Your children are lovely,” she beamed and turning to the boys, added, “Your father’s told me so much about you, I feel as though we’re friends already.”
The boys grinned and looked happily at their towering father, who was beaming with obvious pride, glad to be home at last.
CHAPTER 34
The Slades were a loving family; their gaiety and devotion to each other was extended to their foreign guest, enveloping her in a downy cocoon of warmth and caring. It was exactly the kind of balm Sarah needed to assuage her heart’s grief over her lost love.
Well, nearly so. After a month in Boston, the dark circles under her eyes had dissipated, the bloom was returning to her cheeks and she had regained some weight, but occasionally, when she thought no one was noticing, the pain was still apparent in her dark blue eyes.
It flashed whenever a kind word or a gentle touch was passed between Jeremiah and Peggy. Or when the children – those beautiful children – spontaneously dived into Sarah’s skirts for a quick hug, their giggles filling the happy home with a deep sense of joy.
And it was most apparent the day Peggy innocently asked Sarah to accompany her to Stewart’s home, a block away. “I just want to make sure the seasonal decorations are completed,” Peggy said as they awaited entry to the imposing colonial home on a quiet street above the Slades’ home. “Since Mama died, Papa and Stewart rather depend on me to supervise their help.” With a glittering smile, she added, “Not that anyone needs to oversee Mrs. Hubbard. She’s quite the matron here.”
And with that, the door was opened by a thin, pinch-faced woman, dressed from top to bottom in a severe black dress. “Good day, Mrs. Hubbard,” Peggy greeted the somber woman cheerfully, and, as it seemed with everyone Peggy spoke to, the mask fell way to a genuine smile.
Sarah’s thoughts flashed back for a moment to Stewart’s father, Travis Chamberlain. He’d been a guest for dinner at the Slades’ home several times, and Sarah recalled his dominating presence, despite his obvious age.
The family patriarch was clearly Stewart’s father for both shared lean, hawkish good looks, although the senior Chamberlain’s thick hair was silvery white.
It was apparent that Travis Chamberlain, a retired maritime attorney, was fond of the Englishwoman, often teasing her about his son’s good taste. Knowing he had no idea of the hurt his ribbings could inflict, she took no offense, sweetly countering him with a nonchalance she did not feel.
Mrs. Hubbard’s greeting did not extend to Sarah, however. The two had never met, but it was obvious that the housekeeper jealously guarded her charges. She eyed the unfamiliar woman suspiciously.
Seeing the piercing gaze, Peggy added quickly, “Mrs. Hubbard, this is Lady Sarah Tremont, our guest from England. She traveled over with Jeremiah and Stewart to Charleston, where Stewart remains, as you know.”
“And how is the lad?” Mrs. Hubbard demanded suddenly. Sarah hid a smile, thinking how incongruous this woman’s concern seemed coming out of the stony countenance. And considering him a “lad.” Recalling his handsome, well-chiseled features, his thoroughly manly form, Sarah mused that Stewart was definitely a lad no longer.
“He’swell,Mrs.Hubbard.Verywell,”she offered and Sarah’s discomfort was there again for anyone to notice.
“’Tis good to know,” Mrs. Hubbard sni ffed. “He writes to his father of everything under the sun, except what his sire wants to know. The boy is much too independent. Nary a personal note as to whether he’s eating well or taking care of the body God gave him.”
Peggy clucked sympathetically, but Sarah only heard that he’d written. “You’ve heard from him, then?” she asked without thinking and instantly regretted her question, for both women looked at her curiously.
“Just this morning, it was,” Mrs. Hubbard offered, but her expression stated that she would not abide any prying. Fortunately, Peggy intervened.
Clearly disturbed by having to reveal privileged information to an outsider, Mrs. Hubbard ground out, “You should ask your father, Miss Peggy, but I don’t believe Mr. Chamberlain was specific. He never is, the rascal. Said something about having to finish up some business and then expecting to travel by land this time. The letter was posted last month, the 27
th
, I believe.”
Two weeks ago, Sarah calculated. So he might be home soon! But traveling by land in winter was a dicey proposition, so his arrival date could not be ascertained.
Oh God, why am I eager? Why do I care? She thought. It’s over. But she knew it was a lie. It could not be over as long as she felt this way, as if she were incomplete without him.
As Mrs. Hubbard took their wraps, Sarah attempted to repress her unbidden thoughts once more. Peggy, thankfully, was chatting away, complimenting Mrs. Hubbard on all she did to keep the Chamberlain home in such fine shape.
And it was a beautiful home, Sarah agreed, walking with Peggy through the rooms filled with the smell of pine, as they took an informal tour. Richly appointed, the rooms had gleaming wood floors covered in thick, elaborately designed oriental rugs. The lines of the furnishings were unadorned, sparse even, from a woman’s point of view. But then this was a man’s house. Everything was sturdy, functional and meticulously cared for – a tribute to the severe and precise Mrs. Hubbard, no doubt. Expensive fabrics and sparse, Grecian lines provided a serene backdrop to the touches of Christmas greenery, dried festooning the fireplaces British, Sarah was happy to see some evidence of the special season in Stewart’s home. Christmas had been a highly controversial holiday to the early Puritans, he had told her, and had, for nearly a quarter century, been banned in Boston. Fortunately that prohibition had been lifted years before and citizens were more openly celebrating again.
berries and ribbons