A Dark Gentleman Read online

  ‘No, but I believe her to have been a very wayward child. Gossip has it that her parents despaired of her. She never married you know.’

  ‘Oh Nellie,’ Sarah gave lose the laughter, ‘Shame on you. Why you would have me believe we are in a veritable witches’ coven.’

  Nellie shrugged and began to coil up her long hair and pin it in a bun on the back of her neck. Sarah’s hair was short as was the fashion and curled naturally around her ears and across her brow.

  Hustle and bustle was all around them at eight o’clock as they made their way along the passage and down the great staircase.

  ‘I do hope you will be happy here, Sarah,’ Nellie whispered as they observed the group of people standing in the hall.

  Sarah smiled, ‘I am sure that I will be perfectly happy. Please do not worry or you will make my father anxious when you return home.’

  ‘I would say nothing to disturb the Reverend m’dear.’

  ‘My mother used to say that Aunt Charlotte was always eccentric, but that she had a very kind heart.’

  ‘I am pleased to hear it.’

  Once in the hall Sarah could hear Nellie tutting her disapproval and it was some time before she realised that the female in the outrageous puce gown and red wig holding everyone’s attention including her own was in fact none other than Aunt Charlotte herself.

  At that moment she looked up and caught sight of Sarah standing at the foot of the stairs. ‘Sarah!’ the great voice boomed out above the rest of her company’s conversation and everyone’s gaze turned to follow as she cut a path through her guests like a plough a furrow. Reaching Sarah’s side she stretched forth her strong arms to enfold and crush her into a voluptuous, beflowered bosom.

  ‘How pretty you are, child. Come and meet some of my friends and neighbours.’ Taking Sarah’s hand she whisked her away without giving her time to introduce poor Nellie.

  Sarah sat in a window seat a few days later waving goodbye to Nellie. It had taken much persuasion to convince her that Charlotte was harmless, but eventually she had agreed to go home. Joe had rattled up to ‘Greenfields’ in the Vicar’s newly-repaired coach the day before looking none the worse for his adventures and with surprisingly few grumbles about the incident.

  * * *

  The day after their arrival, Charlotte had sent for Sarah and a list of preparations were drawn up for Sarah’s introduction into London society. First on this list was the allocation of a personal maid. Charlotte had been happy to leave this task to Sedgewick, her own personal maid of many years.

  Sarah however was wary of the blunt-faced severe maid and asked if she might not have the child that had taken care of her on her arrival. Sedgewick’s nose tightened to the point where it lost what little natural colour it had possessed and Sarah was very much afraid she had offended the woman.

  Now Betsy, who insisted on being sixteen despite having the undernourished stature of a child of twelve, entered the drawing-room to inform Sarah that the dressmaker had arrived, for this was the second item on Charlotte’s list.

  ‘If we are to show you off child then we must do so with panache,’ she had said, causing Sarah to swallow the gulp that dropped like a stone to her stomach, for Charlotte’s dress sense was not what she had envisaged for herself. In the days that followed her fears were proved totally unfounded as Charlotte gave the dressmaker carte blanche.

  ‘It will do, it will do,’ cried Charlotte one afternoon as Sarah pirouetted for her inspection of yet more new clothes. ‘You will be all the rage child.’

  Sarah gave a whimsical smile at what she considered to be her aunt’s over enthusiasm. ‘I am one and twenty aunt,’ she reminded Charlotte, ‘a bit long in the tooth to be the rage.’

  ‘Rubbish,’ growled Charlotte, ‘how is the dancing coming along?’

  ‘Wonderful, Mistress Primrose says I am a natural and quite outshine her nephew whom she brought with her to be my partner.’

  ‘Good, brought you up to date with all the new steps did he?’ She was nodding her head and chewing at the inside of her mouth, something Sarah had noticed she did when she was being particularly thoughtful.

  ‘I have lost count of the years since I last attended a ball, but I still have all the right connections, you can be sure of that. You will not lack for opportunities, oh dear me no.’

  At one of Charlotte’s frequent supper parties where everyone stayed up late into the night, Sarah on reaching the drawing-room found herself being furiously beckoned by Charlotte.

  ‘Here she is,’ Charlotte chuckled as she linked an arm through Sarah’s and turned to face the elderly gentleman by her side. ‘Well, did I not tell the truth, is she not beautiful?’

  Sarah’s gasp of embarrassment was heard only by the gentleman, who smiled and said in a soft voice, ‘She is indeed beautiful.’

  ‘Sarah, Lord Richard Elderton, a very dear friend of your father and myself. Richard, my niece, Sarah Ann Littlejohn.’

  Lord Elderton was a man in his eighties still tall and straight though on the thin side, whose hair while sprinkled liberally with grey was being stubborn to whiteness. I like him, Sarah decided, as he brushed her knuckles with his lips.

  ‘Beautiful enough for that grandson of yours would you say?’

  What is she planning now, Sarah wondered and would have left them to their conversation had not Charlotte’s hand held Sarah’s arm in a tight grip.

  The Earl smiled sympathetically. ‘You are embarrassing the girl, Charlotte. Let her go.’

  Charlotte released her grip and as Sarah turned away she overheard the last of their conversation.

  ‘You may well be right Charlie, we will have to wait and see,’ the Earl said.

  * * *

  On a bright morning two weeks later, Sarah returned from a shopping trip. Her aunt had been very generous to her despite her cranky ways which had from time to time upset and angered Sarah, but on the whole they rubbed along very well. Although living under the same roof they did not see each other that often for Charlotte was a late riser and with a great struggle would make herself available to visitors from noon until two at which time they would have luncheon.

  The rest of the afternoon would be spent in a flurry of small tasks until she must retire before dressing for dinner and the long evening ahead.

  At dinner, Charlotte really came into her own blossoming forth from her rooms like a butterfly from its chrysalis she would be the life and soul of the part until well into the following morning. Sarah wondered if her father knew of Charlotte’s frequent parties and decided with a shake of the head that in all probability he did not.

  After a while it became obvious that Sarah was not happy to fit in with this life style, and as Charlotte turned a blind eye to how she spent her time as long as her dancing lessons and dress fittings proceeded to plan, left her free to rise early and leave the parties well before the end.

  The two had grown close despite Sarah’s refusal to have anything to do with the cards that were her aunt’s life.

  Sitting in a large chair in the morning room Charlotte, her feet on a stool because of their habit of swelling later in the evening, watched Sarah spread her purchases out for her aunt’s inspection. Charlotte was teasing her over a particular purchase when the butler, France, announced a visitor.

  ‘Mr Robert Rossingham, ma’m.’

  Sarah started to tidy up, but her aunt waved her to be still.

  ‘He will be but a moment. He has come to see if the gossip is true.’

  Sarah looked up, curious as to what gossip her aunt referred to.

  Charlotte’s eyes narrowed as Robert Rossingham entered the room and lifted her hand to his lips.

  ‘Welcome Robert, and what brings you to those parts?’

  A young man of medium height and trim figure with blond hair and eyes not quite as blue as her father’s turned in Sarah’s direction and exclaimed, ‘Are you not going to introduce us, Charlotte.’

  ‘Sarah, Robert Rossingham, nephew of
Sir William Rossingham, my niece Sarah Littlejohn.’

  Sarah rose to her feet and smiling offered her hand. ‘Mr Rossingham.’

  His visit was short and after he had left, Charlotte gave out a great gale of laughter. ‘Impressed you did he?’ She laughed again. ‘You will have to learn to sort out the wolves from the sheep child.’

  Sarah did not like the sound of that statement, but she smiled and felt a flutter of excitement.

  Charlotte quiet now, gazed down at the rings on her fingers, then smoothing her skirts she said, ‘Tell Betsy we move to the town house tomorrow. Now gather your bits and pieces and be off.’

  ‘Oh,’ Betsy squealed, when told that she would be accompanying Sarah to town. ‘I ain’t ever been there afore, Miss.’

  Word of the move spread round the house at a speed that left Sarah breathless.

  * * *

  After luncheon Sarah decided to walk down by the river that bordered the far side of the village green. She had attended the small, but beautiful, village church every Sunday much to the delight of the parish vicar who had given up hope of anyone from ‘Greenfields’ ever using their empty pew in his life time.

  Her freedom to walk in fields as had been her habit at home had been a great relief but tomorrow would change all that, she knew. She could not discern whether the twisting feeling inside her was one of fear or excitement, as she turned to retrace her steps.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The next day dawned fair, but chilly, as they embarked on their journey to London. Sarah and Charlotte with Sedgewick and Betsy and a few personal belongings shared the first carriage while the baggage and the handful of servants who were classed as indispensable followed in a wagonette. They completed their journey without mishap and arrived in Beverly Square in the late afternoon.

  The elegant square was surrounded on three sides by terraced houses. In the centre of the square a railed garden enclosed a statue of Queen Anne. Sarah turned from viewing this garden to find Charlotte already out of the carriage and climbing the steep steps to the front door.

  The door opened into a large hall floored in black and white marble with various busts on marble plinths in several alcoves and a great curving staircase leading into the upper regions. Sarah followed her aunt and heard the front door close behind her.

  Before Sarah managed to memorise the layout of this much larger establishment, invitations were sent out for the first of Charlotte’s card parties, but on a far grander scale to anything so far envisaged. To Sarah’s surprise, trades people began to arrive with ready-made clothes for her. Day dresses, evening gowns, two riding habits, one of grey and one of blue to match her eyes. Betsy ran here and there exclaiming in ecstasy as she unwrapped parcel after parcel.

  There were matching shoes, hats, and gloves, scarves and shawls. Nightwear, underwear, all unpacked, admired and put away until Sarah began to feel that she had stumbled into a veritable treasure trove and if she looked too hard it would all disappear.

  As Betsy dressed Sarah’s hair for dinner one evening several days later, Sarah tried to erase the feelings of unease that had begun to surround her here in Beverly Square. There were no more cosy chats with her aunt who lay abed much later here. No Nellie Green to advise and scold. In short there was no company to share her pleasures, surprises and problems, other than Betsy. Although they were on easy terms with each other, Sarah felt it would not be to the girl’s advantage to give her too much licence.

  There were many people in the large drawing room when Sarah descended the stairs that evening. Too many faces with names for remembrance, thought Sarah, as she struggled to put a name to the face talking to her. Her companion’s conversation was not a subject of interest, but upon his wife’s ailments, which it seemed had rendered her appearance here tonight impossible.

  Sarah allowed her gaze to drift over the company, searching for her aunt, when she stiffened with a gasp. The gentleman at her side much appreciative of the gasp of horror at the mention of his wife’s possible decline, was therefore confused when with a brisk dismissal she left him.

  ‘Ah Sarah, there you are. Come along I want you to meet someone.’

  ‘Aunt Charlotte, before you do I wish to ask. . .’

  ‘Yes, yes dear child in a moment.’ Taking hold of Sarah’s hand she plunged into the crowd and came up in front of the very person whose eye contact had shaken Sarah only moments before. Charlotte’s next words compounded the shock numbing her mind with confusion.

  ‘Dear child I want to make known to you, Jack Edgeworth, Lord Elderton’s grandson. Jack my niece, Sarah Littlejohn.’

  With raised eyebrow and cynical smile he bowed low over her hand and murmured, ‘Charmed, Miss Sarah.’

  ‘Mr Edgeworth,’ the words choked in her throat.

  ‘Have we not met before,’ he asked with a definite catch in his voice, that convinced Sarah he was laughing at her.

  ‘Most certainly not, for Sarah has only this moment arrived from the country. Now do not button up, Sarah. Jack has agreed to escort you into dinner and I promised him an entertaining as well as beautiful partner.’ After which piece of effrontery, she left them.

  In fury Sarah tucked a shaking hand behind her back. How dare Charlotte do this to her. She glanced up through her lashes at the man before her. He had not mentioned the incident of their first meeting and neither would she, she decided.

  It was very disconcerting when after a smattering of small talk over dinner he persisted in escorting her through the rest of the evening. An hour after dinner the card room was opened and many of the guests disappeared within. This was the time Sarah usually chose to retire.

  * * *

  Tonight several factions within her refused this option. Her anger with her aunt of placing her in this person’s company without letting her explain her discomfort of him. His persistence in staying so close to her side during the evening. All still bubbled beneath the surface disrupting her normal peaceful nature.

  She knew she would not sleep if she went to her room now and her concentration was not inclined to reading. Looking up she caught her escort watching her yet again. It would have been flattering if his heavy lidded eyes had glowed with warmth, Sarah thought, but they were deep and intensely watchful and Sarah’s discomfort grew until all the little hairs on the back of her neck stood up in prickles.

  At last she could bear it no longer and with a cool apology hurried from the room.

  In the long back garden of her aunt’s home the moon shed silvery shadows across the paths and trellises before sliding away to a darkened arbour buried deep in the tall privet hedge. This had become Sarah’s favourite haunt and it was here she hid tonight, though she was not about to admit that hiding was what she was doing.

  Why had she allowed that detestable man to throw her into such a state. Was he seeing if she was worth staying at home for as Charlotte and his grandfather wished him to do. Was he an already established suitor stamped with Charlotte’s approval.

  She had been led to believe that she was to mix in London society, to enjoy herself with a view to perhaps meeting someone she might grow to care for, even to marry, she admitted to herself. But there had never been any mention of an arranged marriage. Her father could not possibly know of such a thing, for he would most surely disapprove.

  A smell of tobacco smoke insinuated itself into her consciousness and she stiffened. So she was in someway forewarned when a soft voice spoke out of the darkness.

  ‘Charlotte tells me you are to spend the season with her here in London. It will be a sharp contrast from a vicarage upbringing I think.’

  ‘Oh, I am not quite the country bumpkin. My father insisted on a good education, believing this to be essential to all, be they male or female.’

  The smile was back in his voice when he said, ‘and no brothers or sisters, an only child.’

  ‘Hardly a child, I am one and twenty, sir.’

  ‘Maturity depends upon your experiences not your years.’
r />   Sarah nodded her head slowly. ‘Well if carelessness and bad manners are your qualities for maturity sir, I will gladly remain as I am.’ With that she rose to her feet and would have left him but he placed a detaining hand on her arm.

  ‘Be careful little Sarah, Charlotte is a gambler and wealthy, there are some dark people prowl the parameters of her company.’

  Sarah drew herself up to her full height, shrugged loose her arm and her reply was cold enough to freeze her breath as she said, ‘So I see, sir.’

  Sweeping her skirts aside she passed him to move back up the garden and into the house. Once inside the safety of her own room she bounced angrily down on the bed, fear and anger making her whole body shake. She had thought to freeze him with her disdain yet she could have sworn she had heard his mocking laughter follow her up the garden path.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Robert put in an appearance in Beverly Square the day after Sarah’s first invitation to one of Lady Amersham’s soirees. Charlotte had kept him waiting forty-five minutes, grumbling that he had no business making calls at such an ungodly hour of the morning, though it was already past midday.

  Sarah came in from the garden carrying a trug of early roses, her blue eyes still flashing with the sun’s sparkle. She smiled when she saw Robert and was immediately asked if she would go riding in the park with him the following morning.

  Charlotte encouraged them. ‘Of course you must go child, get some good fresh air into you.’

  * * *

  Next morning Sarah was up and ready, dressed in her smartest morning gown and pacing back and forth across the double windows of the long drawing-room. When a carriage drawn by a pair of excitable looking chestnuts drew up to the door Robert threw the reigns to his tiger and jumped down on to the pavement. The knocker sounded and Sarah had great difficulty in restraining herself from rushing off to answer it.

  ‘Mr Rossingham, Miss,’ French announced.

  Sarah crossed to the hall doorway. ‘Good, I am ready.’