Elisabeth Kidd (20 page)

“…despite her foolishness because she truly has the happiness of others…”

Why was it so difficult for her to think of the happiness of others? she wondered. She had always considered herself a loving, generous person. Surely she had been when her father was alive? Yet, she saw now that she was no better than the Ashtons, or at least…well, not Robert. She could not fault him for not attempting to mend the family quarrel.

“…none of us can expect to be beloved of everyone…”

She had chastised herself ever since that dreadful scene in the spinney for wishing to be loved but not making any effort to be loving. She need not have treated Robert so shabbily. She had not set out to do so. Where had she gone wrong?

She was on the point of getting up and announcing that she needed some fresh air, rain or no, when Dulcie’s twins came into the room, shepherded by their nurse, a cheery old lady, nearly as wide as she was tall, known to Ivor and Ian as well as to their father and uncles as “Muffin.”

“Mummy, see what I’ve made!” Ivor exclaimed, waving a sheet of drawing paper at her.

“Me, too!” Ian exclaimed, attempting to climb up into his mother’s lap as well. Ivor having firmly established a beachhead there, however, Ian had to settle for his Aunt Sabina’s more ample skirts. She put her arms around her tow-headed little nephew and kissed the top of his head, drinking in the clean, sweet, soapy smell of his velvety skin and fine hair. For the first time in her life, she wondered what it would be like to hold her own child like this. It was a pleasant picture.

Ian had no such sentimental thoughts, however, and squirmed as he tried to show her a pencil drawing of some sort of animal with very large, dark eyes and pointed ears.

“What a beautiful horse!” she exclaimed, freeing one hand to hold the drawing up admiringly.

“It’s Bunny—my pony,” Ian informed her, pointing to the animal’s forehead. “See, that’s his diamond.”

Sabina glanced over at Dulcie, who mouthed “thank you” at her. She had been praising Ivor’s drawing without, Sabina guessed, having the least idea of what it was intended to represent.

Taking Sabina’s lead, the subject of horses in art was thoroughly investigated, and Alicia told the boys that more drawing paper would be obtained for them so that they could execute studies of all the horses in the stables, if they liked. Her expression told Sabina that she hoped this would speedily exhaust their interest. Ivor expressed an interest in broadening his subject matter, but Ian scoffed at wasting his talent on any subject less noble than a pony.

“Come along now, young gentlemen,” Muffin said at precisely the moment when the countess’s tolerance of talkative six-year-olds was reaching its limit. “It will soon be time for your nuncheon, and you must put away your toys first.”

“Not toys,” Ivor said firmly, as his nurse shooed him out the door. “Pencils. And…drawing paper.”

“We’re artists,” Ian added proudly.

When the door had closed behind them, Dulcie asked Sabina, “However did you guess that it was a horse?”

Sabina laughed. “You must ask Henry about my own blighted artistic career—I had no one to appreciate that I had drawn a horse and not a cow or a goat. I was particularly proud of my houses, but everyone thought they were hayricks. I gave up my artistic career before attempting portraiture—goodness knows what would have been made of those.”

Even Alicia smiled at that, remarking that she would not have dared to attempt something she had no talent for.

“Oh, but I did not know I had no talent,” Sabina exclaimed. “Father always led me to believe that I could do anything, so of course it never occurred to me that I could not.”

Her smile faltered slightly at the memory—and the belated realization that there was sometimes a price to pay for the arrogance of believing one was always right. Why had Papa never explained that to her?

“Are you feeling unwell, Sabina?” Dulcie asked, frowning at her expression.

Sabina recalled her smile from exile and assured her sister-in-law that she was perfectly fine.

“In fact,” she said, rising, “I believe I will go and answer Edina’s letter while it is still in my mind. Then I may ride down to the village to post it if the weather clears in the next hour or so.”

Alicia looked up from her petit point and said, “Do be careful, Sabina dear. The rain will have left the roads muddy.”

Sabina smiled. “Don’t worry about me, Alicia. I don’t fail at the same fence twice.”

“At least take a groom with you,” Dulcie called after her as she left the library, “so we will know when you come a cropper!”

* * * *

The gardener was right about the weather, as it turned out. By mid-afternoon, a watery sun was shining through the thinning clouds, and the flowers Sabina could see from her window sparkled with drops of the vanished rain.

She obeyed Alicia’s instructions to take care on the roads, but disregarded Dulcie’s to take a groom with her. She kept her horse to a sedate canter and slowed still further as she turned onto the towpath. The air smelled as fresh as spring, and the birds singing from the rushes along the canal sounded as if they were delighted that the sun was out again. Sabina felt herself in perfect sympathy with them, and her spirits rose as she approached the Theaks’ narrowboat.

She was momentarily disconcerted when it appeared deserted; no one was on deck, and there was no sound from within. Sabina reined in, disappointed, but then she heard her name called from farther up the path.

“Lady Sabina!”

Rose Theak was hanging some shirts from a line strung between the side of the lockkeeper’s cottage and a row of lime trees. She put down her laundry basket and waved.

Sabina waved back and rode up to the cottage. “I forgot that you are not living on the boat any longer. Is the house all finished then?”

“Come and see,” Rose invited her, pinning up the last of the shirts to flutter like a sail in the breeze.

When Sabina had dismounted, Rose indicated the clothesline and said, “George likes the smell of the outdoors in his shirts, so when the weather is fine, I hang them beneath those lime trees and they retain some of the fragrance.”

She opened the cottage door for Sabina, who ducked her head and entered the low-ceilinged parlor. It was a moment before her eyes adjusted to the change of light, but then she saw that the Theaks’ new home was really quite cheerful. The walls had been painted white, several braided rugs were scattered about the stone floor, and Rose had hung thin blue curtains and painted a border of red roses around the doors and windows. She had not quite finished, Sabina saw, for the design around the two small windows facing away from the canal were only drawn on, and several pots of paint stood on the still-raw table.

“You are so clever,” Sabina said admiringly, seating herself in the chair Rose pulled away from the wall and held out for her. “I wish I could paint.”

“Did you not study watercolors with your governess?” Rose asked, putting a kettle on the fire, “I thought all young ladies of quality had lessons in the arts.”

“Oh, I had lessons certainly, but not the talent.” She laughed and told Rose about Ivor and Ian and their artistic endeavors. “Fortunately, Muffin is never a harsh critic, so perhaps the boys may be encouraged to continue their efforts. I remember that it was very lowering to be pitied by my tutor.
He
, of course, was a master of every art.”

“He?” Rose asked.

“Yes, I had all my lessons with my brothers—or at least with Lewis and Henry. The others were much older. I rebelled at nursery lessons as soon as I discovered that the subjects the boys were studying were much more interesting. As a result, I can do sums in my head and recite Julius Caesar’s histories in Latin. Much good has it done me.”

“Nonsense. No knowledge is wasted. If nothing else, it exercised your brain, just as your riding here today exercised your body.”

Sabina laughed. “I think my horse had all the benefit.”

She reached out to squeeze Rose’s hand and said, “Thank you, Rose. It makes me feel better just to talk to you.”

“Are you feeling sad, deary?” Rose asked sympathetically, taking the kettle off the hob and two mugs down from the shelf.

Sabina was surprised to find herself blinking back tears. Why did the least kindness of late make her want to weep?

“Oh, Rose, I don’t seem to be able to do anything right!”

Over several cups of tea, Sabina poured out the story of her meeting with Robert. She supposed that he might already have informed Rose of the result, and she did not think he would have said anything ungentlemanly about her behavior, but she had to make Rose see her side just the same.

When she had stumbled to an end of her tale, she raised her cup to her lips, found it empty, sighed, and put it on the table beside her. Rose did not refill it, somehow sensing that she did not need refreshment, but renewal.

“I think…” Rose began, then hesitated. When Sabina looked at her appealingly, she went on, “I think you believe you have behaved badly and want forgiveness. You are frightened that things will not work out as well as you hope, and you are waiting for something to happen or someone to tell you that you deserve to be happy.”

Sabina nodded. “I suppose so. I do feel as if I am hovering between a stormy sea and the solid shore. Perhaps I am waiting for someone to bring me safely to dry land.”

“But who do you think will do this? Robert?”

“No! I mean, I cannot ask him to do more, or try harder, or say any more than he has already said.”

“His family, then? Is their opinion important to you?”

Sabina thought. “I should like to be friends with them, but not if it is not important to…him.”

“Then I think that leaves only one person who must act. One person who can end the quarrel between your families. One person who can let you love the man you love without qualms.”

Sabina looked at Rose, but the other woman only waited.

“You mean—myself?”

“Yes, deary. There is no one else anymore.”

Sabina sighed again. “You are right, of course. I wish you were not so wise, Rose. I do not think I can do it.”

“It is only pride that prevents you, Sabina. And pride is a poor substitute for love. It will not keep you warm on winter nights or strong to face life’s smaller tests.”

Sabina was silent for several minutes. “I don’t know what to do next, Rose.”

But there Rose would not help. She only smiled, patted Sabina’s hand and said, “That is something you must decide for yourself. You have nearly done so, I think, and the rest will come more easily than you expect.”

She placed her hands flat on the table and rose. “Meanwhile, my lady, you may take off your pelisse and roll up your sleeves. You are going to help me paint this table.”

* * * *

Time passed quickly on the canal, as Sabina happily helped Rose with her daily chores. The simplicity of the work put her mind at ease, and although she had begun the day berating herself for her selfishness and had finally made up her mind to accept her fate as a poor spinster relation rather than make Robert’s life miserable with her pride, by the time she left Rose, she had come to view her fate as not so terrible after all. At least it would bring her some peace.

She was nearly late for dinner and hoped no one had begun to worry that she had met with yet another accident. To the contrary, however, when she entered Bromleigh Hall through the garden doors in order to go up to her room unseen, she heard laughter and voices from the hall.

There was a palpable excitement in the air, although when Dulcie saw her on the stairs, she said only, “Oh, there you are, Sabina. Do hurry and change. We have something to celebrate tonight!”

“What is it?”

“Come and see!” Dulcie called back, disappearing into the drawing room where, judging from the rise in the volume of voices, the rest of the family was gathered. Could they have had some unexpected visitor? Yet only Georgina ever merited this kind of jollity.

Her maid soon revealed the source of the excitement.

“Whatever is the matter with everyone, Emily?” Sabina said as the girl pulled off her boots and quickly unbuttoned her riding habit.

“Oh, my lady, it’s so romantic!” Emily exclaimed, pulling off Sabina’s jacket. “It’s Mr. Lewis and Miss Georgina. They’re to be married!”

Sabina paused in the act of washing her hands and face in the bowl Emily held out to her. She looked up, face dripping, and stared at the maid. Emily handed her a towel.

“I don’t understand—when did this happen?”

“Just now, my lady. Mr. Henshaw—the butler, that is—overheard when he was asked to bring champagne into the drawing room. They made the announcement when everyone was gathered there before dinner.”

Everyone but me
, Sabina thought.

She supposed it was just as well, since she might well have put a thorough damper on the excitement had she been as surprised as everyone else. She was happy to welcome Georgina into the family, of course—not that she had not always seemed a part of it—but she could not help the pang of jealousy that the news aroused in her. It would not subside quickly, but when she went downstairs, she must be happy for her brother and cousin.

“I shall wear that dark green silk, Emily,” she said. “And the silver eardrops—no, the emerald ones. I cannot go downstairs looking gloomy tonight.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Emily said happily.

Ten minutes later, Sabina had composed herself sufficiently so that when she entered the dining room as everyone else was taking their places, she was able to smile and tell Georgina when she bent over to hug her, that she was so glad to welcome her as a sister.

To Lewis, she said, “Well, you are a surprise, Lewis. I thought you would never come to your senses about Georgina.”

Lewis grinned. “I was overwhelmed by superior forces,” he confessed. “
She
proposed to me.”

Georgina’s musical laugh confirmed this. “Well, I could not wait any longer. I shall soon be on the shelf.”

Sabina’s smile at this sally was wrenched out of her at the sudden memory of her wretched “proposition” to Robert. Still, that was finally and truly behind her. Had she not just today made up her mind to accept her spinster fate and learn to enjoy it? She would be independent and comfortable, after all, and live as she chose in a place she loved. What more could she want? Tonight was the perfect occasion to forget the past and begin looking ahead.