IT WAS the next day that Sarah realized that she must decide on some immediate course of action. She could delay no longer.
Lady Murdoch had been so busy in the previous few days that she had given far less thought than usual to eating. It was to this fact that Sarah attributed the improvement in her digestion. But Lady Murdoch swore that it was the magic of the waters at work. She continued to go to the Pump Room each morning to drink her pint of torture. Sarah accompanied her the morning after her walk on the Crescent.
She was greeted like a long-lost friend by people she had considered mere acquaintances. Mr. Phelps declared that though the sky had been blue and totally free of clouds, the sun had not shone since she had injured herself. Mr. John Staple came to ask her earnestly if she had taken the advice he had offered Lady Murdoch the day before and tried Scot's Improved Pills.
"It is true that they are intended mainly to cleanse the body," he explained, "but they are also reputed to comfort the nerves, and I am sure your nerves must have suffered from so nasty an accident."
The Misses Seymour came to tell her that she had missed a gathering at Colonel Smythe's the afternoon before, when they had discussed the news of Lord Wellesley's successes against the French troops in Spain. Colonel Smythe was chafing to go there himself to help in the rout. And Mrs. Smythe declared that if he went, she would go too.
"I do think it brave of her," the elder Miss Seymour said. "I have heard that there are some wives in Spain, but conditions are said to be far from comfortable. And I am sure there is a great deal of danger."
"But if I had a husband in the army," Stella added, "I am sure I should prefer to put up with discomfort and danger than be separated from him perhaps forever."
And Hannah came across the room to where Sarah stood beside Lady Murdoch, bringing Cranwell with her. She was smiling warmly.
"I am so pleased to see you, Miss Fifield," she said. "Yesterday I feared that perhaps you had ventured out too soon and would be forced to stay at home for a few more days."
"I really am feeling quite fit," Sarah assured her, carefully avoiding Cranwell's eyes.
"We are to have breakfast in Sydney Gardens today," the girl continued, "and walk there afterward. Grandmama said that the weather is just too lovely for us to have to go inside merely to eat. Will you come too?"
"I think it likely that we will return to Brock Street," Sarah said. "Mrs. Bergland will be expecting us."
"But someone can be sent to let her know that you will not be returning," Hannah said. "Oh, do come. Your grace, do persuade Miss Fifield to come with us.
Sarah was never to know how Cranwell would have responded. At that moment Lady Murdoch turned to them.
"Sarah dear," she said, "Bertha has kindly invited us to breakfast with her in Sydney Gardens this morning. Is not that a splendid idea? Perhaps I shall recover some of my appetite in the open air, dear. I have quite lost it lately. Mr. Staple has been obliging enough to offer to call at Brock Street to tell Mrs. Bergland not to expect us until dinnertime."
"There! You see?" Hannah said triumphantly.
So here they were again, Sarah thought. There was no avoiding the association. She was almost glad to see Winston approaching, smiling with friendly charm at the whole group. She must have been regarding him with unusual warmth, she realized afterward; he looked at her appreciatively and almost immediately asked her if she would take a turn around the room with him. She took his arm without hesitation.
"Ah, Sarah," he said as soon as they were out of earshot, "how you put every other female into the shade. You look particularly dazzling this morning. Is it the primrose color of that very fetching gown? Or is it that very absurd little bonnet, which allows only a teasing glimpse of your hair?"
"How long are you planning to stay in Bath?" Sarah asked conversationally.
"What?" he said. "Trying to get rid of me, Sarah? I plan to stay as long as you do. And how long is that?"
She sighed. "You know there is no point in this line of conversation, Win," she said. "We might as well change the subject. What have you heard about Aunt Myrtle? She seemed somewhat oppressed by loneliness the last time I had a letter from her, but that was a few weeks ago."
Winston shrugged. "She is finding the adjustment hard," he said. "She was so used to doing everything for father before he died."
"Poor Aunt Myrtle," Sarah said. "She deserves some happiness now."
"Well, you did not help matters much," Winston said. "You know how upset she was when you were involved in such scandal. And you made no attempt to deny anything, Sarah. In fact, you even made matters worse by lying about committing adultery, though to this day I cannot imagine why you did so unless it was to protect my name. After all, I could hardly have been lying with you when I was in Italy at the time. However it was, you hurt your aunt and perhaps precipitated father's death."
"Oh, don't say that, Win," she said, looking up at him in distress. "I… Don't say that."
"Well, it was all very silly, was it not? Why did you have to marry Cranwell in the first place? You could not have really wanted him, Sarah. I am not unduly conceited, but I don't think you could have been very satisfied with him after being with me. And you were courting disaster trying to deceive someone quite as high in the instep as Cranwell. If you had not become ambitious but just waited for me to come home, everything would have been all right and Mother and Father would not have had to suffer so much. Mother is very fond of you, you know."
Sarah blinked her eyes fast. She must not show distress in such a public setting. "I stayed away from them," she said. "I tried to atone."
"But you have not made any effort to make things up to me," he said. "You have consistently rejected me ever since that time. You even threatened me on that first occasion I went to see you in your cottage, Sarah. Said you would go to that vicar friend of yours if I did not go away. As if I was about to ravish you or something! When are you going to realize that your future lies with me? I am not the one who abandoned you and publicly humiliated you."
"Let the matter rest, Win," Sarah said. They were approaching Cranwell and Hannah, Captain Penny and Fanny, who were strolling toward them.
"For now, perhaps, Sarah," he said, smiling down at her with a warm earnestness that she imagined was as much for the benefit of the approaching audience as for her. "But I want you and I shall not give up. Not ever. "
Somehow Sarah found herself walking for the remainder of the promenade around the Pump Room with Captain Penny. Winston was smiling at Fanny and bending his head close to hers to talk and listen. She was glowing up at him.
Sydney Gardens were designed to entertain all comers. One could enjoy merely wandering over the lawns and along the walks. One could enjoy the labyrinth, the grottoes, the Chinese bridges, the manmade waterfalls. And each day there was a public breakfast. At night there were frequently concerts and fireworks displays. But now it was early morning, and the park sparkled in the sunshine. The Misses Seymour, Captain Penny, and Winston had been persuaded to join the party.
Sarah again had to endure the company of those she wished to avoid. Fanny sat next to her at breakfast. and talked to her almost exclusively. Hannah asked her to take a stroll afterward while the others were still sitting at the table. And when Sarah rose to her feet, unable to think of a reasonable excuse, the girl linked an arm through hers and began to walk in the direction of a waterfall without looking for the company of anyone else.
"I am so happy that you are better again, Miss Fifield," the girl said. "I find it easy to talk to you. I do not know why that is so. Do you find that some people are easier to talk to than others? Maybe not. You have a poise that I envy. I hope you do not find it dull to be with me. I did not think of that." She looked at Sarah in some dismay.
"No," Sarah said, uncomfortable despite her smile, "of course I do not find you dull."
"Thank you," Hannah said. "I do find all this most bewildering, you know. This time last year I was still with my governess. Papa never would send me away to school. Not that I was sorry. I would have hated to go away. I am very.attached to my home, you see. Have you ever had pets, Miss Fifield? If so, maybe you will understand how desperately I miss Argos. And my horse, too, but not quite as much."
"I never had a special pet," Sarah said, "but I think I can sympathize."
"And then there are Iris and Donald," Hannah continued. "They are our neighbors, you know. They are not very rich or particularly important, Papa says. But I had not thought of that until recently."
"You miss them too?" Sarah asked.
"Oh, yes," Hannah said. "I had not thought I would ever leave home. Silly isn't it? Of course girls must leave home. They must marry and go to live with their husbands. It does not seem quite fair, does it?"
The girl's manner was bright and nervous, Sarah noticed. She was usually so quiet, almost lusterless.
Sarah could not resist the question. "Do you not wish to marry his grace?" she asked.
"Oh," Hannah said, turning to give her a bright smile, "you are riot to think that. He is a very important man, you know, and it is a quite dazzling match for me. And he is kind. He is very patient with me and, never scolds or preaches as Papa frequently does."
"But you do not love him?" Sarah was hardly aware of the fact that she held her breath.
"Papa says love has nothing to do with marriage," the girl said, again with that bright, empty smile. "Love is something one outgrows, he says. One marries for security and position. I shall be a duchess. That is much better than being merely… Well, one has to marry. It does not do to become an old maid."
"I hope you will be happy," Sarah said carefully. "I think the duke is a kind man."
"Oh, yes," Hannah agreed, "he is. He was married before, you know."
"Was he?" said Sarah.
"Yes. He divorced her. I do not know why. Papa would not tell me. But it must have been for something dreadful. She must have been a very bad woman, I think."
"Yes, she must," Sarah agreed.
"But it does make me a little afraid," the girl confided. "If he could dismiss one wife, would he do it again? I hope I shall be able to please him."
"Oh, Hannah," said Sarah, startled into familiarity with her companion, "of course you will. You are sweet and very innocent. You must not even think you will offend him. His first wife was more evil than you could even imagine. The fault was not his at all."
Hannah's eyes had grown as round as saucers. "You know what happened?" she said.
"I heard some rumors," Sarah said evasively. "It is not worth even talking about. Just look at the rainbow in the spray from the waterfall. Is it not spectacular?"
Hannah's attention was diverted for a few minutes. When she spoke again, it was of Fanny.
"She likes Lord Laing," the girl said confidentially, and I am quite sure he has a preference for her. Would it not be splendid, Miss Fifield, if he offered for her? Then you and I would have some slight connection through marriage."
Sarah controlled the shock she was feeling. "I think your conclusion must be precipitate," she said placidly. "They scarcely know each other. Such a connection as they enjoy is quite natural in a place like this, you know."
"Oh, but he has expressed his regard for her in the warmest terms," Hannah said earnestly. She giggled suddenly. "He even kissed her at the last ball, Miss Fifield. Fanny said that she scolded him severely, but he smiled, she said, and declared in the most speaking manner that his intentions are entirely honorable. Fanny pretends to think nothing of it, but I know she is in hourly expectation of his speaking to his grace."
Sarah could scarcely hide her dismay. "And does she mean to have him?" she asked.
"Oh, I am sure she will," Hannah said. "She is quite in love with him, even if she will not admit it. He is so handsome and charming and amiable. He seems quite too good to he true, in fact. You were fortunate to grow up in his company."
"Yes," Sarah said, her brain humming. "And how would her brother receive a proposal, do you think?"
"He speaks of Lord Laing in the warmest terms," the girl replied. "I do not believe he will make any objection. Quite the contrary."
As they were strolling back to the tables where most of the others still sat, Sarah could see that Winston had again singled out Fanny and taken her to look at a nearby flowerbed. He was clearly using the full force of his charm on her. Sarah's unease was compounded when the two walked back and Winston addressed Cranwell.
"I look forward to that ride to Beacon Hill this afternoon," he said. "The weather is perfect for such an outing, "
"Yes, indeed," Cranwell said. "My sister, Lady Hannah, and I will be glad of the exercise. We are all more used to the countryside than to the city. You will meet us at Laura Place after luncheon, Bowen?"
"Indeed," Winston said, smiling warmly at Fanny. "I would not miss being one of the party for worlds. It will be a great honor to accompany Lady Fanny."
When Sarah dared glance their way, it was to find George giving Winston a measured but unsuspicious look, and Fanny looking very pleased with the world. Captain Penny, she fancied, was annoyed but was talking determinedly to the younger Miss Seymour. Winston, of course, was looking sincerely charmed. But he turned around quite deliberately, met Sarah's eyes, and raised his eyebrows in a look of unmistakable challenge.
Yes, Sarah thought as she helped Lady Murdoch into the carriage that had been brought to convey them to the bookseller's on Milsom Street, she had to make some sort of active decision. She could not bear this situation much longer, yet there seemed no hope that the pattern of their days would change of its own accord for perhaps several weeks. She could no longer sit back and hope that the problems would go away. She was going to have to do something.
This fact was reinforced most painfully during the evening. She was at the Upper Rooms taking tea with Lady Murdoch. Mrs. Marchmont and her daughter and Mr. Phelps sat with them. Sarah was feeling a little more relaxed than she had for several days, as Lady Cavendish and her party had been invited to a private dinner.
But there was to be no respite. Winston joined their table and conversed amiably with the whole group until the opportunity came to draw Sarah a little apart.
"Have you been to Beacon Hill?" he asked. "It is a very pleasant area for a ride, Sarah. Perhaps you and I could go there one morning."
"You are wasting your breath, Win," she said. "You know I would not agree to anything so improper."
He grinned. "We could invite other people to come too," he said, "just to satisfy your very correct mind. You used not to be such a prude, Sarah."
She did not reply but tried to return her attention to the conversation of the others at the table.
"I think Fanny would come again," Winston said. "She is quite a bruising rider. She has obviously had much practice."
"Fanny?" said Sarah sharply, looking back at him. "Do you speak so familiarly when you are with her, Win? And in her brother's hearing?"
He smiled into her eyes. "I believe I might soon do so without raising a single eyebrow," he said.
Sarah could not resist the bait. "What do you mean?" she asked.
"I believe I might not be rejected out of hand if I decided to pay the young lady my addresses soon," Winston said.
"You would not!" Sarah said. "Oh, you would not, Win. Just because she is very wealthy?"
"Hush, Sarah," he said, lowering his own voice and leaning closer to her. "You would not believe that I have a tendre for the girl? No, perhaps not. But really, I do not find the prospect of being leg-shackled to her entirely displeasing. She might make an interesting armful. And if I cannot have the woman I want, then I must make do with the next-best one."
"You are unspeakable!" Sarah hissed under her breath. "You would not really marry her. You are merely trying to goad me into agreeing to go away with you. Why would you think you will succeed? Why would you think I care?"
"Ah, but I know you do care," he said, still smiling at her with gentle warmth. "For some reason-pride, I suppose-you do care what Cranwell thinks about you. And you are afraid that I will disgrace you further in his eyes by mistreating his sister. You are quite wrong, you know. If I marry the chit, she will find me a most indulgent husband."
"You would not," Sarah said weakly.
Winston smoothed the lace of his shirt cuffs over the backs of his hand. "It is a little soon," he said. "I have known the lady for only a few days although I have perhaps… ah… hinted to both brother and sister that my intentions are serious. And not been discouraged by either, Sarah! I believe I must wait at least… er… a week? After that I think I will be ready to make my declaration."
The challenge was unmistakable.
Winston turned back to the group and joined in the conversation as smoothly as if he had not missed a word. Sarah was left to confer with her own thoughts until Mrs. Marchmont asked her opinion of the new milliner on Milsom Street.
That night, alone in her room at last, Sarah sat before her dresser brushing out her long hair slowly. She was in no hurry. Although the hour was late for Bath and she was clad in her nightgown and had already drunk her bedtime chocolate, she had no intention of going to bed yet. She knew that it would be impossible to sleep. Her brain was racing as if it were trying to reject all the unwelcome information with which it was being asked to cope. She must somehow sort everything out and decide on some course of action before trying to sleep.
Some points were clear. One was that if she stayed in Bath and allowed life to continue as it was, she would be daily in the company of George, Hannah, and Fanny. And more than that. Hannah considered her to be a friend. The girl was shy. Sarah guessed that she was the sort of person who had few friends, but who held fast to those she had. And Hannah liked her. Fanny, too, although she apparently knew the truth, seemed to wish to extend their acquaintance.
Was she willing for these things to happen? That was one of the questions with which she had to grapple. She did not believe that she would actively corrupt either girl by being connected with them. But the truth remained that she was a fallen woman, one whose honor and reputation were permanently tainted, one whom no respectable person would receive if she were known. It was not fair to either girl to remain in their company if there was any way she could contrive not to do so.
And certainly it was undesirable to be in George's company every day. Even if she did not love him, it would be painful to be reminded of all that had happened in the past. As it was, she did love him, as deeply and as passionately as she had from the start. She would not even try to hide the fact from her own heart. She had wronged him terribly in the past. And while she could do nothing to change what was over and done with, she could perhaps do something about the present. It must be ten times worse for him to have to face her every day than it was for her to face him. Sarah's face burned with shame as she thought again of what she had deliberately made him believe four years before. As if the truth had not been bad enough!
She must do something, then, to remove herself from daily contact with all three. The problem was, what? There was still the idea of applying for a position, but that would take far too long. The need to leave soon had become quite urgent. And then, too, there were Lady Murdoch's feelings to be considered.
Even all that was not the end of her problems. There was Winston too, and his threat to offer for Fanny if Sarah did not go away with him. He certainly knew best how to have his way. There was no particular reason why she should be concerned about the welfare of Lady Fanny Montagu, but she was. And Winston knew that she was. The girl was George's sister, and she loved George. Somehow it seemed to be her responsibility to save Fanny from what could only be a disastrous marriage.
And if Hannah were to be believed, Fanny would be quite receptive to Win's addresses. It was to be expected, of course, Sarah had to admit if she looked at the matter objectively. Fanny was in society for the first time and she had been singled out by surely the most handsome and charming man in all of Bath. What girl would not be flattered by such attention?
But would George allow it? Would he not refuse to allow his sister to be swept into matrimony so soon? But then, why should he? Winston must seem perfectly eligible to him, and short courtships were not frowned upon by the ton, provided the match was respectable. Then, with his own marriage pending, it might seem convenient to have Fanny removed to a different household. And both Hannah and Win believed that George would support the match.
She must do something to prevent the marriage. Tell George the whole truth? Impossible. She would not be believed, and she did not think she would have the courage at this late date to face him with her story. Lure Win away? She was not sure, of course, that even if she did agree to go away with him, Winston would leave Fanny alone. It was quite within the bounds of possibility that he would contrive to satisfy both of his desires. He wanted her person, but there was nothing else to be hoped for from her. She had no money, and Winston was always chronically in need of that. Fanny, on the other hand, was undoubtedly a very wealthy young lady. She would appear an extremely desirable bride to Winston. He might marry Fanny even if Sarah became his mistress.
The brush paused in its slow journey through Sarah's hair. She realized in some horror where her thoughts were leading her. She was not seriously considering resuming her affair with Winston, was she? The prospect was entirely unthinkable. She had decided quite finally after her divorce from George that no other man would ever possess her. In her heart, she would remain his faithful and obedient wife. And least of all Winston Bowen. She would never allow hint so much as touch her ever again, she had decided.
And was she now to go back on that decision, resume of her own free will the degradation of her former existence? She did not believe she could allow Winston those intimacies again and remain sane. The very thought made her stomach churn and her palms grow cold and clammy.
Could she do it for the sake of her love of George? She gave a short and bitter laugh, which sounded startlingly loud in the quiet of her room. What an irony! Her love of one man was threatening to send her into an illicit affair with another man who repelled her. Her sense of honor was forcing her to consider giving up the shreds of her reputation and decency.
And it might all be in vain. She might take him away, give up her own damaged virtue, even her own sense of personhood, merely to find that she was mistress to the husband of the girl for whom she had made the sacrifice.
She could not do it.
She must do it!
There was, of course, another alternative, one that would make the future safe for the family that had been hers for a short time. It was a definite choice, but it would involve her in deeper degradation than anything else she had considered.
Sarah closed her eyes and replaced the brush on the dresser. Could she?
She had to.
She wanted to vomit.
Perhaps something else would occur to her before morning.
The Duke of Cranwell was also in his bedchamber, clad in nightshirt and dressing gown. He too was still up, pacing back and forth in the narrow confines of his room. He had dismissed Peters half an hour before.
He did not normally consider himself an indecisive man. For many years he had borne the responsibility of running enormous estates almost single-handedly. He employed both a bailiff and a secretary, but his was the hand that was firmly in control. And he had made a success of his lands. They were prosperous and progressive. There was not a tenant or laborer on his land who was in want or who had a grievance that had not been heard and redressed where possible. He was a man who expected respect from both his peers and his subordinates simply, because he felt he had earned it.
Yet now, taken out of his milieu by the demands of his betrothal, he suddenly felt very much out of control of his destiny. And he was not happy with himself. He was allowing life to happen around him and making no effort to shape it according to what he knew to be desirable and right. He had agreed to accompany Hannah to Bath because he had considered it right to be seen with her in public and to give her a chance to be seen in society before their nuptials. And he had decided to bring Fanny with him because it was time that she too began to take her rightful place as an adult in society. The plan had seemed sensible and thoroughly respectable.
And then everything had collapsed around him. Sarah was in Bath too. And if that were not bad enough, she was in company with one of Lady Cavendish's closest friends. And for almost a week now he had stood weakly in the background, totally inactive, as she had wormed her way into the affections of Hannah and Fanny. Now matters had reached a point at which both girls considered her to be a friend, even though Fanny knew who she was.
Perhaps it seemed a little unfair to put the blame for the developing friendships entirely on Sarah. It seemed as if it was the two girls who were pressing the acquaintance. If he did not know Sarah, he would not think to blame her at all, perhaps. But he did know her of old. He knew that she had a consummate skill in getting what she wanted while seeming to do nothing at all to gain her own ends. She had lured him into marriage by seeming almost to discourage him. Now she had lured the girls into friendship by exactly the same tactics.
It really was an uncanny gift that she had. She must be the most devilish person he had ever known in his life. Cranwell paused at the foot of the bed and rested one hand on a sturdy post. He swore satisfyingly into the silence of the room. Even on him, who knew her better than anyone, she was working some of the old magic. When they were in company together, he could not rid himself of his awareness of her. And it was not just the awareness of hatred and discomfort. He was aware of her vivid beauty and of the vibrance that he sensed in her, though she kept it very much in restraint as she had when he first knew her. No other woman had ever made him as aware of his own bodily needs. In unguarded moments he could even now find himself looking at her and wanting her.
Cranwell swore more viciously, and his knuckles turned white against the bedpost.
There was no point at all in waiting around hoping that Miss Sarah Fifield would do the noble thing and leave Bath. There was no point even in offering her more money to do so. For some reason she seemed more interested in staying and tormenting him than in acquiring for herself independence and a modest fortune. Unless, of course, she was holding out for a much larger amount. It seemed entirely likely that her design was to wreak some sort of vengeance for the ugly publicity he had caused her during their divorce.
He could not rely on Sarah, then, to leave. There was only one alternative. He must leave Bath, and both Fanny and Hannah must leave with him. He did not know how this was to be accomplished when they had arrived barely a week before. Lady Cavendish fully intended to remain for at least four weeks. But he must think of something, some reason for leaving that would be acceptable to the ladies.
God, but he had loved her! He doubted that he would have ever divorced her if he had not loved her so much. His pain at finding out the truth about her had been so unbearable that he had been able to think of nothing else to do but rid his life of her, sever all ties with her, as if he had expected to be able to erase her from his heart.
Even so, despite all the pain, which had robbed him of his ability to think clearly and reasonably, he did not think that he would have carried through the divorce plans just on the evidence he had collected. He might have been weak enough despite it all to have forgiven her, to have tried to patch up their marriage somehow. The saner part of his mind could not bear the thought of completely destroying her reputation through the publicity of divorce.
He had visited her uncle's lawyer, against the advice of his own, to try to persuade the man to talk to her, to see what might be arranged. He had pointed out to the lawyer what that individual surely knew already, that his case against his wife must be very shaky if only her premarital behavior was in question. He had urged the lawyer to explain this to Sarah. He- had been offering her a way out. He had expected her to break down and protest that her life was now blameless. He had hoped that he could go to her and win from her a commitment to their marriage, a renunciation of her past.
He had loved her enough. He would have forgiven her.
Her uncle's lawyer had reported in almost cruel detail what had happened during his interview with the duchess. She had freely admitted adultery. She had laughed in his face as she confessed.
And he had been blind with grief, anger, humiliation, shock-every nameable painful emotion, in fact. He had hardened his heart and continued with the divorce, which she had now made relatively easy for him.
His own pain had made it impossible for him at the time to ask himself why this woman who had gone to such lengths to trap him into marriage had seemed to go to almost equal lengths after the marriage to release herself from its bonds. He had never asked himself that question until now, in fact. And there was no point whatsoever in teasing his mind with it. He would never understand such a devious mind as Sarah Fifield's. It was too purely devilish.
Tomorrow he would think of a plan to get away from this city, which he was beginning to hate more each minute. Away from Sarah.