The Affectionate Adversary (28 page)

“I love you dearly, Sarah,” Prudence cried, sobbing into her handkerchief as she sat on the end of her sister’s bed.

After the disastrous encounter in the walled garden, the three women had retired to Sarah’s bedchamber to talk, while Delacroix and Mr. Heathhill went into the drawing room to smoke cigars, drink port, and discuss the evening’s events. Mr. Locke, it must be assumed, had left Bamberfield House for London.

Though Sarah would have preferred to be alone, she could hardly dismiss her sisters, who were nearly as distraught as she. The ornate bedroom, with its blue brocade curtains, cut-velvet bed hangings, gilded chairs, carved picture frames, and thick Persian carpet could do nothing to comfort any of them. Still fully dressed, Sarah lay back against the pillows and pulled the down-filled bedding to her chin. Prudence curled at her feet, her white hankie damp with tears. And Mary sat on the vanity stool, occasionally glancing into the mirror as if to make certain she displayed the proper expression for this somber and most worrying occasion.

“Delacroix told me he had not been able to persuade Mr. Locke to join us this weekend,” Prudence explained to Sarah, “and I very much wanted him to come. That is why I wrote to him—I hoped he would cheer you.”

“You hoped to flirt with him,” Mary corrected. “You and Sarah are the two most foolish sisters any woman could ever have to endure. I thank God I am married and settled happily with my dear Mr. Heathhill. Sarah, your piety and melancholy will drive us all to distraction. And, Pru, your irresponsible trifling with men is abhorrent. You are the most audacious coquette in the kingdom, and you subject all of us to ridicule with your behavior.”

“Well, you are a profligate spendthrift,” Prudence whimpered over her damp hankie, “and you will squander every farthing in poor Mr. Heathhill’s coffers.”

“I shall not! I merely keep my proper place in society—though I should do a better job of it if Sarah would stop clinging so tightly to her purse strings. Honestly, sister, you proclaim yourself a missionary with one side of your mouth and kiss Mr. Locke with the other!”

“I did not kiss Mr. Locke,” Sarah insisted.

“How can anyone kiss a man with one side of her mouth, Mary?” Prudence tossed out. “Really, you are too ridiculous to be believed.”

“I saw her in the garden! I saw what she was doing with that man. Oh, Sarah, what a shock you gave us all. He was holding you, and you were kissing him—”

“I was
not
kissing him!”

“If it had been me in the garden, I should have kissed him straightaway.” Prudence folded the wet hankie and tucked it into her sleeve. “I believe Mr. Locke is the most dashing, the kindest, and certainly the handsomest of men.”

A soft knock on the door drew the attention of all three sisters. As a head emerged into the room, Sarah recognized her lady’s maid. The young woman stepped inside, curtsied, and drew her night robe more closely to her throat. Her brown hair done up in curl papers, Anne was panting a little, as though she had been running.

“Beg pardon, my lady,” she said, glancing at the other women. “Lord Delacroix’s valet woke me and said there was a to-do in the garden just now, and I must hurry to you at once. May I be of assistance?”

“Thank you, Anne,” Sarah told her. “All is well. I was speaking to Mr. Locke when my sisters and the baron happened upon us. Now we are discussing the matter at hand in order to draw some conclusions. Your services are not needed, but I thank you for—” She paused. “Anne, your father is a minister, is he not?”

“Yes, madam. A rector.”

“And you are a Christian?”

“I am, indeed. Very much so.”

“Come and sit with us, then. Perhaps you will have some valuable advice to contribute.” Sarah pointed to a chair. “Mary, Prudence, this is Miss Anne Webster from Nottingham. She knows the particulars of my current situation, for I have not attempted any secrecy. I have found Anne to be more than a lady’s maid. She is a friend.”

Flushing bright pink, Anne perched on the edge of the chair and folded her hands in her lap. Sarah felt as though the young woman had been sent by God and not the valet. If Anne would speak her mind—as she very often did—the communication would be one of good sense born of a solid education and well-founded religious instruction. And that could only bode well for Sarah.

“Now, then, Pru,” Sarah addressed her youngest sister, whose expression betrayed her dismay at this unexpected violation of their privacy, “you were telling us that you find Mr. Locke exceedingly handsome.”

“I do,” Prudence returned. “I cannot think what he sees in you, Sarah, for you are quite determined to be dull on every occasion. But he does like you; that much I know. He only came to Bamberfield because of you, for I truly believe he did not know Delacroix had asked me to write that letter.”

Sarah tried to swallow her anger. “I can hardly accept that you and Delacroix plotted against me to bring Mr. Locke here. How devious of you! And Delacroix intended to pay Mr. Locke to promote his suit!”

“Why should Mr. Locke not accept such an offer?” Mary asked. “He has your friendship, but he stands to gain nothing by it. Delacroix no doubt promised Mr. Locke a handsome sum should he press you into accepting a marriage offer.”

“Pay him for such a service? No, that cannot be true. Neither man would stoop so low. But Delacroix claims that Mr.

Locke’s kindness to me is born of a desire to have my fortune for himself.” Sarah glanced at her sister. “Do you think that is true, Mary?”

“Of course it is true! What reasonable man thinks of anything but money? You told us yourself that Mr. Locke has dreams of establishing a tea company, and clearly he intends to have it by whatever means possible. He may be poor and untitled, but he is not stupid. My husband informed me that he had spoken to Mr. Locke during their fishing expedition this morning, and that the plan for the tea company is a good one. Mr. Locke will be able to use his influence with Sir Alexander of Marston to make many useful associations.”

Mary paused a moment, considering the situation before continuing. “He cannot have done himself any good tonight by offending Delacroix. My husband will have to distance himself from Mr. Locke as well—at least for a time. Even so, the Marston connection is a strong one, and it will serve him well enough. When he has become a barrister, Mr. Locke can further associate himself with influential men and build his fortune. Once established as a gentleman of means, he will use his connections to apply to investors. From then, it should be quite easy to move into the tea trade.”

Sarah could not deny what her sister was saying. Surely Mr. Heathhill had heard the plan from Charles himself. “But why would Mr. Locke risk all good opinion by attempting to seduce me?” she asked.

“Lady Delacroix’s question is a good one,” Anne spoke up suddenly. “Mr. Locke would not behave in such a way. The danger to his reputation would be too great.”

“Thank you, Anne,” Sarah said, gratified to have an advocate. “Mr. Locke is a sensible man. He values his standing in society too much to jeopardize it.”

“Oh, Sarah, your fortune is far greater than any risk to Mr. Locke’s reputation,” Mary said. “If he can win you over—if he can convince you to throw off your family and friends in favor of an ill-conceived marriage to him—then his future is assured. He will hardly care what anyone thinks! And why should he? He will have enough money to build an entire tea dynasty and see to the future of his heirs for generations to come.”

“But I am sure Mr. Locke truly cares for Sarah,” Prudence insisted.

“He is well liked below stairs,” Anne added. “All the staff find him most agreeable. He is a kind man. A generous man. And I believe he is an honorable man.”

“The material word in that, Miss Webster, is
man
.” Mary stood and smoothed down her skirts. She had rushed out to the garden in her dressing gown and mobcap, but the white cotton and lace headwear had fallen off in her haste. Now her hair flowed down onto her shoulders, making her look younger and sweeter than her tone implied.

“Mr. Locke may care for Sarah,” she continued, “but he cares far more for her fortune. I am sorry to be the one to give you such disappointing information, ladies, but I must assure you that men do not fall in love. Not with women, anyway. They love pounds, guineas, and pence. They love horses and strong drink. And they love dallying with pretty girls. But they marry for rational reasons. Woe betide the man who would let his fondness for a woman overcome his good sense. No, indeed, men are very measured in their thinking. They rank us, you know, each one of us on a scale of usefulness to their aims. Sarah is not a great beauty, but she rates the top position on any eligible man’s list of desirable women. Prudence, you
are
beautiful, but you must fall far lower than Sarah, because you have not even half her fortune. I was lucky to win Mr. Heathhill, who both admires my appearance and appreciates my dowry, such as it was. Miss Webster, despite her father’s position as a clergyman, has little hope of making a profitable marriage. I am sorry to say that ladies’ maids may marry only other members of a household staff. Or peddlers who come to the back door to sell their wares.”

“I cannot believe all men are such schemers,” Prudence protested. “After all, what of Shakespeare’s sonnets and John Donne’s professions of passion—”

“Shakespeare wrote sonnets to his mistress, and Donne was a minister!”

“Yes, but Milton—”

“He was blind.”

“Alexander Pope—”

“Essays and epitaphs. Come, Pru, you cannot toss any more poets at me without drawing the same response. No man actually loves his wife—not in the way he might love God or his mistress or his own cherished philosophies. Mr. Locke came to Bamberfield to accomplish one of two ends. He planned to press Sarah to marry Delacroix—by which he could enrich his own coffers. Better yet, he hoped to win Sarah and her fortune for himself. Can either of you deny it?”

Sarah stared down at her hands, so ardently kissed by Charles Locke not an hour before. How sweet his words had been. How loving his embrace. How perfect and gallant his behavior toward her. Nothing he had said or done had been truly ungentlemanlike. In every way he had appeared the honorable friend he claimed to be.

But Mary could not be wrong. The enormity of Sarah’s wealth once again weighed too heavily to be discounted. Charles did want it. Not even he would deny that. How could she even be sure of his motive in climbing over the garden wall? Had it been to inform her that he meant to leave her forever … or to lure her into an alliance from which he would accomplish everything to which he aspired?

“I have a very decided opinion on what ought to be done after tonight’s events,” Mary announced. “Will you hear me out?”

The women nodded. Although her sisters could never fully know her heart, Sarah had to trust that they did care for her. Through their many years apart, the letters had flowed—always a flurry of information about joys and woes from Mary and Pru, and a return of the details of her studies and schoolmates from Sarah. At Christmastime, the three had slept in the same room and stayed up far too late each night engaged in discussions much like this one. Each girl had taken her own path into adulthood, but the bond among them remained strong.

Now Mary stood to impart her wisdom, the proud and knowledgeable married sister. Sarah could not deny that Mary knew more about men, more about society, more about real life than either she or Prudence. They might not agree with her, but certainly they would listen.

“It is my judgment,” Mary proclaimed, “that you, Sarah, ought to marry Delacroix. He knows you are a valuable prize, and he will treat you accordingly. He owns two good homes and an estate of considerable size here at Bamberfield. He is well connected in society, and he will have to behave himself properly or risk endangering his lucrative marriage. In exchange, you will have comfort and security. Despite your humble origins, your reputation will be perfectly established. And most important, you will bear children to give you joy and care for you in your old age. You cannot object to Delacroix, as you might have your first husband. Delacroix is handsome enough and certainly should be able to provide for you amply in the bedroom.”

“Mary!” Prudence let out a squeal. “How can you talk so calmly about such delicate matters?”

“This is hardly delicate, Pru. It is among the most practical considerations a woman ought to make before taking a husband. She must be certain that her spouse is healthy and strong enough to put her into the breeding way.”

Anne cleared her throat. “Mrs. Heathhill’s point is well-taken. With children, a house, and enough money at hand, a woman may spend her days in contented association with friends and family.”

“Contentment—no matter what her husband chooses to do,” Mary confirmed.

“You are more than practical, Mary,” Sarah said. “You are cynical.”

“I think not. I watched our father maneuver his way through the pitfalls of society, and I know how it is properly done.” She shrugged her shoulders. “The climb to wealth and status is not so difficult as one might imagine. As for you, Prudence, I am convinced that you ought to marry as well. In the past year or two, you have become rash and heedless. Your flirtations are likely to get you into trouble—and to bring all your relations under undue scrutiny. You will need a man who is handsome enough to please your eye, but one who is not too rich to permit you the freedom to go off and be entirely silly. You need a husband with valuable connections in society. And you need someone with the education, the sober demeanor, and the more advanced age to ground you in reality. I believe the man to fit the bill is Mr. Charles Locke.”