Heaven Made (23 page)

"What is it dearie?" Delores asked, worry creasing
her brow. "Is Miss Alice sick again?"

"No, nothing like that." Sabrina was embarrassed
now that she had to explain her rash actions.

"I had a nightmare, and I didn’t want to leave her by
herself." It seemed so silly when she said it out loud.

"I understand my dear." As usual, Mrs. Dixon was
being too nice. "I had young’ns once too. Protecting them from our worst
fears and wild imaginings is part of being a parent."

"Thank you, Delores. I can’t miss my morning meeting
with Mrs. Fitzsimmons and I didn’t know who else to call." Sabrina dressed
and put up her hair as quickly as she could. "Do you need to get back to
the kitchen?"

"Mr. Northcliffe has eaten and left already, and tea
and biscuits have already been sent off to the crème de menthe salon, so I’m
free for a bit." Mrs. Dixon sat down and pulled out her mending. "You
go ahead and as soon as Miss Alice wakes up I’ll get her dressed and bring her
to the kitchen with me."

Sabrina gave Mrs. Dixon a kiss on her rosy cheek and ran out
the door. Mrs. Fitzsimmons was quite particular about being prompt and Sabrina
didn’t want to upset the woman. She was even known to pick up and move to a
different end of the house if one didn’t show up on time. Arriving at the green
parlor with no more than a minute to spare, Sabrina entered and greeted Mrs.
Fitzsimmons. The two women settled in and poured the tea and selected pastries
from the tray. Mrs. Dixon liked to provide a variety and it was always hard to
decide between the scones, cakes and tarts. Today, Sabrina was enjoying a lemon
tart and an orange scone.

"Well, now, Mrs. Tremaine," Mrs. Fitzsimmons
began. "When are we going to finally be having a party in this big old
house? Now that the master is up and about again, I’d like to know what to
expect."

Sabrina enjoyed these morning appointments with the
housekeeper. During the course of the last few weeks that they had been
meeting, she had learned why the house had fallen into such ruin. It seemed
that Mrs. Fitzsimmons did not care for the company of men, except for Mr.
Roland and her dearly departed husband, of course. And because of that, she had
purposely avoided Ford after his mother’s death. Since she was the person in
charge of making sure the household ran efficiently, there had been a distinct
lapse in that particular time period. But now that Sabrina was serving as the intermediary,
things were completely back to normal.

"I’m glad you brought up the subject, Mrs. Fitzsimmons,"
Sabrina said in the same serious tone as the housekeeper. "I need to go
through his correspondence again today anyway, so I’ll let you know in the
morning. We don’t want to step on any other hostess’s toes by the date we
choose."

"Of course." The older woman picked up a pink
frosted cake. "Do you think Mr. Northcliffe will be bringing a bride home
anytime soon? Or will we get to keep you for a bit longer?"

Sabrina nearly choked on her tea at the question. Even
though she was used to Mrs. Fitzsimmons’s odd ways, she didn’t think the woman
or the other staff would be having thoughts of marriage for Ford. She also had
the uncomfortable feeling that maybe some of them were beginning to have
suspicions of her late night meetings with their employer. But the housekeeper
wasn’t giving her any kind of an accusing look, so Sabrina had to assume it was
her own guilty conscience that was making her uncomfortable.

"He hasn’t mentioned anything to me." Sabrina
worked hard to control the rising tone of her voice. "Why, have you heard
something?"

 "No, but I hoped you might have." Mrs.
Fitzsimmons leaned in as if she were about to tell a secret. "Truth be
told, I’m hoping he’ll see what a fine woman you are, Mrs. Tremaine and just
ask you to marry him. It would spare us all the suffering of putting up with a
new woman in the house and trying to figure out what she’ll be a wanting."

Sabrina was quiet, trying to find words to express what she
was thinking without giving away her secrets. But there just wasn’t a proper
way to respond. Instead, she finished her scone and smiled politely at the
housekeeper.

"And another thing," Mrs. Fitzsimmons said,
obviously enjoying her captive audience. "Ever since you got here, the man
has been positively glowing with enthusiasm. Before, he just shuffled around
mumbling to himself, looking tattered. Now, he washes every day and is almost
conversational, or so I’m told."

"Hmmm." Sabrina smiled and nodded.

Oh dear, the woman was getting a bit personal now. At the
same time it was difficult not to feel some sort of pride at the improvements
she had wrought. Ford had been on the brink of disappearing into oblivion
before she’d arrived.

"Now don’t be telling him any of this, but if I didn’t
know better, I’d think he’s got a wee bit of an infatuation for you." The
housekeeper winked at Sabrina. "You’re a fine looking woman, and a man
would have to be blind not to notice. You could do much worse, I’d have to say."

"Yes, well, I was thinking of oyster stew for dinner
with meat pies and maybe some poached fruit." After all, what did one say
to that?

"Glazed fruit," Mrs. Fitzsimmons responded as if
she hadn’t just planned Sabrina and Ford’s entire future. "And nuts of
course."

"Of course." Sabrina was ready to leave and go see
how Alice was doing. She could still remember her nightmare as if it just
happened. "Until tomorrow?"

"The raspberry sitting room."

Sabrina nodded her agreement and quickly left the room
before she burst out laughing. She did so enjoy her daily encounters with the
eccentric woman. One should always start the day with an amusing appointment.
She found Alice in the kitchen helping Mrs. Dixon make tea cakes. They looked
so cozy and happy, Sabrina almost didn’t want to disturb them. But when Alice
saw her mother, she jumped down from the chair she was standing on and ran to
her. Sabrina picked up her little girl and twirled her around until she was
giggling with delight.

"I’m feeling so much better, Mummy," Alice said,
once she was firmly on her own two feet again. "And the weather is so
lovely today. We are still going to the park, aren’t we?"

"Only if you really, really feel much better, and if
you get bundled up with extra stockings and mittens and a warm hat and muffler."
Sabrina hugged Alice. She knew she couldn’t keep the child locked up inside
forever.

"I’ll be warm as a potato right out of the oven,"
Alice chirped, jumping up and down in her excitement.

"Potatoes in your pockets. Excellent idea, Miss Alice."
Mrs. Dixon busied herself with the task immediately. "I happen to have a
few that will be good and toasty by the time you’re ready to go. And there will
be a lovely, hot stew waiting for you when you return."

Sabrina followed Alice up to their suite and helped her into
her warmest clothes. Even though the sun was out, it was still quite chilly on
this December afternoon. If the child hadn’t been so insistent on getting out
of the house, Sabrina would have been wholly content to stay inside. But
children needed to run and get fresh air. When they were finally ready to go,
hot potatoes wrapped in dish cloths in their pockets and all, Alice was fairly
bursting with excitement.

Despite the crisp weather, it was the perfect day for being
out and at the park. The sun shone brightly and as long as they stayed out of
the shade, they were warm enough. Alice chased some dogs and the dogs chased a
stray cat while Sabrina watched and laughed until her sides hurt. When her
little girl’s cheeks were rosy with health and Alice seemed to be slowing down
from a pleasant sort of exhaustion, they sat on a bench in a patch of sunshine
to rest for a moment.

"Are you happy now, my sweet pea?" Sabrina asked,
wrapping her arm protectively around her child.

"Almost," Alice said, suddenly becoming more
serious. "But Papa says that until you and Mr. Northcliffe can fix the
problem with his mum, we can’t be completely happy."

"Oh dear, you’ve been talking to your father again?"
Sabrina bit her lower lip wondering what on earth to say now.

"I talk to him nearly every day. Mostly at night before
I go to bed. He’s pretty upset with the way things are going and he’s been
spending a lot of time yelling at Mrs. Northcliffe for being bullied the other
night."

"I have no idea what you mean." Sabrina was
beginning to panic again. Alice actually believed she was talking to her
father. Was her child going mad?

"Of course you don’t understand. Goodness Mama, you
don’t even believe in ghosts. Papa says I must be very careful when I talk to
you about this because you probably think I’m off in my head." Alice
sighed in a very grown-up way and squeezed her mother’s hand. "Don’t worry
Mummy, I’m fine. It’s you that everyone is really concerned about. If we don’t
fix this little problem, there will be a lot of awful trouble coming."

Sabrina was speechless. Her little girl sounded so grown-up.
Not in the least mad or delirious. In fact, if Alice were talking about
anything but ghosts, she wouldn’t even be questioning her. Maybe she really was
talking to her father? After all, just a few weeks ago Sabrina had been ready
to believe it.

"What trouble does your father mean?" she finally
asked, unable to restrain her own curiosity.

"Bad trouble," Alice said reverently. "Papa
says we have to talk to Madame Lou. Well, you have to talk to Madame Lou since
he can’t talk to you directly. He’s tried, but you can’t hear him. Madame Lou
can though. And he has something he can’t tell me. I think he doesn’t want to
scare me."

"Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear." Sabrina knew she
sounded like a parrot, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. "Oh dear."

Alice giggled.

"Well, if your father insists," Sabrina finally
said. "I suppose I must. Maybe I’ll do that tomorrow. But right now, Miss
young clairvoyant, I think we should be heading back."

"I’m so hungry," Alice exclaimed, jumping to her
feet. "Let’s hurry home."

Sabrina smiled as Alice pulled her to her feet and dragging
her mother along. It was comforting to think of the house on Park Lane as home,
and she was glad that Alice thought of it as such. Someday soon, she hoped that
it would be made official. It had only been a day since she had last seen Ford,
but it felt like they’d been apart for a week. She picked up her pace to match
Alice’s skipping step, just as eager as her child to get back to the comfort
and security of Ford’s house. Sabrina could barely contain her eagerness as
they entered through the kitchen. She wanted to ask if Ford was back yet and go
to him immediately if he was. But she couldn’t be so obvious, not yet at least.
Luckily, Mrs. Dixon was forthcoming with the information she wanted.

"You beat Mr. Northcliffe home," Delores said,
spooning up stew and slicing fresh bread for them. "He must have a lot to
talk about with his lawyer this afternoon. We’ll have to make sure we have a
nice pie for him tonight when he gets back."

"Can I help?" Alice asked in between mouthfuls.

"Of course you can, dove."

"Yes, you stay with Mrs. Dixon in the kitchen while I
finish going through Mr. Northcliffe’s latest correspondence." Sabrina
finished her bread and butter and wiped her hands on a linen napkin. "I
shouldn’t be very long."

Sabrina made her way to the small study and began to go
through the stack of letters. Once again she was struck by the familiar names
she encountered. People she had once socialized with. She wondered if she and
Edward had ever met Ford at one of the parties they’d attended? But that wasn’t
likely considering that the man rarely left his laboratory. A French postage
mark caught Sabrina’s eye as she was neatly separating the invitations. This
one didn’t look like the others. It was actually a letter mixed in with the
more formal cards and holiday greetings. The seal was broken, so she assumed it
must be something that needed a decision and she began to read the elegant,
feminine script. At first it just seemed to be the typical kind of letter one
would get from a friend or relative who was traveling abroad. Details of the Louvre
and the Eiffel tower, Notre Dame and the Seine. The writer had been to Spain
and Greece, Portugal and Italy. Sabrina was fascinated by the details of
Florence and Pisa and she was certain that a visit to Rome was the most
interesting part of the letter. But then the correspondence took a decidedly
personal turn and if she hadn’t already been so deeply involved in its
contents, she might have stopped reading. She later wished she had followed her
instincts and put the missive down. But by then it was too late.

And as she continued reading the correspondence, her world
fell apart. The letter was from a woman named Luella Ellison, and apparently
she was Ford’s fiancée. Fiancée! This was impossible, wasn’t it? But no, this
Miss Ellison went on to say;

‘my dear Ford, have you decided when we will formally
announce the engagement? I would like a spring wedding, so I was thinking that
we should probably put something in the Times no later than August.’

Sabrina felt sick as she read the rest of the letter that
was signed ‘fondly, Luella’. All of her hopes and dreams were as flimsy as the
piece of paper she held in her hand. Ford was engaged to be married, and he was
taking her, Sabrina, to his bed every night. Oh God, that made her the other
woman. Her heart was shattering into a thousand pieces as she tried to erase
from her mind the images of her and Ford making love. Sabrina wanted to forget
his sweet words. They all were just lies designed to seduce her. Sabrina had
never felt so betrayed in her whole life. She had trusted Ford body and soul,
and how had he repaid her? By misrepresenting his status as a bachelor.