Emma Lane
Authors: Dark Domino
Dark Domino
Emma Lane
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Aurora Regency
An imprint of
Musa Publishing
Dark Domino, Copyright © Emma Lane, 2012
All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.
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This e-Book is a work of fiction. While references may be made to actual places or events, the names, characters, incidents, and locations within are from the author’s imagination and are not a resemblance to actual living or dead persons, businesses, or events. Any similarity is coincidental.
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Musa Publishing
633 Edgewood Ave
Lancaster, OH 43130
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Published by Musa Publishing, April 2012
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This e-Book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. No part of this ebook can be reproduced or sold by any person or business without the express permission of the publisher.
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ISBN: 978-1-61937-155-2
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Editor: Kathy Teel
Cover Design: Kelly Shorten
Interior Book Design: Coreen Montagna
Dedicated to our Veterans
and especially to their ever patient families.
“They also serve who only stand and wait.”
~John Milton
E
THAN
W
ALKED
Q
UICKLY
T
HROUGH
the orchard. There was a sound of pitiful sobbing, but it was muffled and difficult to locate. He stopped to look carefully around through the branches of the fruit trees and finally spotted a dangling bare foot. Clasping a branch, he swung into the boughs of the tree, wondering briefly if it would hold the two of them. He wedged himself firmly against the trunk and held out his arms. Sarah Louise threw herself into them with a watery cry while he snuggled her close and patted her on the back.
“Why, why? Why do they hate me so much?” Sarah clasped his shirtfront and wept copiously into it. Ethan smothered a smile. Sarah Louise was prone to dramatics, but he knew her anguish was real.
“I know you hate the idea of a finishing school for ladies, Sarah,” he began, keeping his voice soft and soothing. He was not surprised to notice that she had purloined her brother’s clothes again — all except the shoes. She had obviously dispatched with them altogether.
“You could marry me! You know you could. I love you with all my heart!” She turned a pert-nosed face up to his, tears still running down her cheeks. Her blue eyes were swollen from crying, but her freckled face was familiar and dear. He handed her a clean white handkerchief and watched her blow her nose. Still sniffing, she gave it back to him.
“I do love you, sweetling. You are most precious to me. But you already know all the arguments. Fourteen is much too young for marriage. Your mother is right. You need to be introduced to the company of your own gender. You and I — we have enjoyed the delights of the country. You have been my best fishing partner. Our rides were delightful and exciting. You probably have the best seat in the country, but you are never cautious. That trick you pulled trying to stand up on a bare-backed pony was the worst.”
“I did not know my mother was watching!” Sarah seemed to feel that was all the explanation needed. Ethan tried and failed to suppress a chuckle. Sarah threw back her head and glared. “You are laughing at me!”
“No, no. It was a glorious trick. If your mother had not screamed, I am sure you would have succeeded.” He would not admit how his heart had almost stopped when she tumbled from the white pony’s back and lay crumpled in the grass.
“I saw them do that trick at Astley’s last year when we were visiting Aunt Susan. It was a most amazing sight.” She grinned with the memory, and he smiled with her.
“I know. But will you promise me you will not try it again? You scared that pony half to death.”
She nodded and frowned again. “When do you leave?” she asked. She settled her back against the trunk of the tree. Ethan scanned her face to record it well in his memory. Her tangled and sun-streaked blond hair was curling around her shoulders, which were covered by a rough leather vest.
“The day after tomorrow. Shouldn’t you be home packing for your trip in the morning? I know your mother is looking for you, and she sent me to find you. She is upset because you are reluctant to leave for school.”
“She called me a hoyden and said it was time I put up my hair and became a lady. As if that would somehow make me a different person.”
Sarah ran her hands underneath her thick curls, held them up, and then let them fall in a luxurious cascade. Ethan held his breath, then let it slowly out. He could see clearly the beauty she would become soon, although he knew how she would resent the change. He smiled at her, saying farewell in his heart.
Yes, he could marry her. Her parents and his would approve the match in spite of her tender age, but he could not do it. He would not leave her a young widow. If he did not die on the battlefield, he could be gone so long his dear friend would be grown up and married. Probably with a pack of unruly children who fished and climbed trees like their mother. His heart suffered a sharp pang at the thought. Was he making a serious mistake? Those children should be his as well.
“You will be happy to meet the other young ladies at school. You will forget all about me. Imagine how much fun you will have learning to dance the waltz.”
A rising storm flooded her face again. “I will never forget you. Does it mean nothing to you that I love you? I will wait for you forever, Ethan. Say you will come home and marry me?”
Ethan clamped an iron fist over his heart. He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead.
“Yes, of course. I will be home as soon as this war is over.”
He swung himself down from the tree and reached up to catch her. She jumped willingly into his arms where he clasped her to him briefly. She hugged him fiercely around the waist. Holding hands, they walked slowly through the orchard toward the old manor house in the distance.
E
THAN
S
AT
O
UTSIDE
A H
OSPITAL
tent and listened to the moans of the wounded. He could hear the roar of the cannons in the distance as the battle raged on without him. The saber wound in his upper arm was wrapped tightly, but the pain was fierce. He acknowledged he was finished fighting when he couldn’t even hold the reins of his horse. How long he must needs rest here he had no idea. His batman had left him to procure supplies and food for them both. He pulled a package of letters from his pocket, although he had read them all twice already.
One from his mother talked about the harvest and the hunting trip his father was on. He rapidly scanned for the paragraph he wanted. Sarah Louise was home for a visit. A young lady from her school was visiting with her. Someone named Marcia. Sarah had really grown up into a beautiful young lady. She rode side saddle now, his mother noted. The two girls had invited all the young people in the district to dine
al
fresco
on the front lawn on the morrow. She would be there to help chaperone. They were planning archery contests. Sarah had asked how he was.
He deeply regretted now the promise he had given to Sarah’s mother before he left. She wanted Sarah to experience the company of other young people. Would he please not write to her? The first year they were apart, Sarah had written him many letters. Initially she poured out her feelings of homesickness and her hatred of the fine manners being imposed upon her. When he did not answer, and she had chided him many times for not writing, slowly the letters dribbled away and finally stopped entirely. Sarah was angry and hurt. She told him so without mincing words. She still loved him, but she was not going to be his friend if he refused to write to her. Her last letter informed him that she had learned to waltz and it did not hold a candle to fishing and what was he thinking?
He tried to picture her waltzing, but could only think of her dressed in her brother’s trousers and leather vest. Barefooted! It brought a smile to his face, and for a minute he forgot the pain in his arm.
If he lived, someday she would forgive him. He would explain it all to her when he came home to marry her. He pulled out a scrap of cloth and unwrapped it. Inside was a small curl of sun-streaked hair. He pressed it to his lips and closed his eyes to picture her precious face before him. Once he had teased her by counting the freckles on her tiny nose. Three medium sized and two small ones. A couple more were stretched across her rosy cheeks.
He had been in his early teens when Sarah Louise had first joined him on the banks of the creek that spanned their respective properties. She was as intent on catching a fish as he was. She stuck a wriggling worm on her own hook and threw it out into the stream. Not long afterwards, as cool as could be, she had pulled out a good-sized trout. From then on, the two of them had become best friends. It was an unusual relationship, but there were few young people in the neighborhood. Sarah was full of pride and fun. He admired her bravery and her skill on the back of a horse. Although her parents and a too meek governess tried to curb her behavior, Sarah remained a free spirit.
As they grew older, both families grew used to the idea that the pair would marry. It would be a good match. Sarah openly declared her love for him. He could not remember when he realized he had fallen in love with the adorable scamp that was young Sarah Louise. She had burrowed into his heart, and he accepted her as a permanent part of his soul. When he went away to school, Sarah pined and wrote him many sad letters. He decided after a couple of years to leave school and return to help his father with their holdings. Feeling more and more grown-up, he visited friends and had a turn in London with what they called “the debutants.” A country boy at heart, he didn’t much care for the balls and dancing.
Sarah was overjoyed when he returned, and they resumed their wild rides together, pausing only to fish in the cold, burbling stream that ran between their properties. Then he shattered her world by announcing he was going away to war.
“How could you? Your father needs you here, Ethan! Why have you thought to do this? I do not understand.” She had stood in shock in the barn with her hands wrapped around the reins of her mount. Still as untamed as a scrubby schoolboy, she had turned fourteen that summer. Her hair was tied back with a leather thong, and the purloined vest was draped over a riding gown that her mother had insisted she wear.
Ethan would never tell that Sarah split the gown in half and tied it with strings. She then rode astride the same as did he. He could not disagree that a side saddle was dangerous for one who jumped the hedges as did Sarah.
“Your mother has decided you should go to a finishing school for ladies, sweetling. She told me so this morning. You will learn all the arts of the ladies while I am away at war. It will work out, you will see,” he tried to assure her.
“Are you angry with me? Do you hate me because I have no ladies’ skills?”
He could hear the anguish in her voice. “No, no,” he soothed. “You know I love you, my dear. I cannot explain it to you, but you must accept that men must fight in wars. My father understands that I must go.”
He remembered saying that thinking of the glories of war and the bravery he would display. He wondered now why he had thought those thoughts. War was not glorious. Heroes were not the ones who rushed in to fight. They were the ones who held on when all else seemed to be lost.
He pressed the curl of Sarah’s hair to his lips once more and carefully restored it to nestle in a scrap of cloth. He started to rise and was surprised to find the world spinning around him. His batman came up at that point and caught him as he fell.
“Got a bit of the fever, Cap’n.”
Ethan started to protest, but soon the world went black.
“Lady Montpearson and Miss Montpearson,” the butler announced at the head of the stairs to a large group of well-dressed people gathered in a ball room. Crystal chandeliers sparkled in candlelight and were reflected in the mirror-lined walls. Sweet smelling flowers were arranged in several spaces in the room, and violin music spun a happy dance tune over the babble of the guests. Sarah glanced at her mother. Her parent would much rather be home with her father, but she had said grimly to her daughter that she guessed she knew her duty.
There was no use in trying to convince her that Sarah herself would rather be tucked away in the country as well. Her parents were determined that she would be presented at court and rub shoulders with the
beau monde
. To her surprise, she had met many agreeable women at school. They were all counting the days when they would be released to the world as young ladies — no longer school girls. The day was upon them. Here, indeed, was her first ball.
“That dress is perfect for you, daughter. The white trimmed with blue catches the colour of your eyes. Is that the necklace of sapphires your aunt presented to you? I remember her wearing that at her own come out. What a Season she had!”
Sarah was reconciled to the gowns foisted upon her by now. Her protests had been ignored. She shrugged, as there was no place that she would be allowed to ride as she liked or fish anyway. As she wriggled her toes in her slippers, she acknowledged that they would never protect her feet even for a walk to the stables.
An older woman walked up to them and greeted her mother. Soon Sarah was being asked to dance by a slim young man who was apparently the lady’s son. She was indifferent, but agreeable. In the forming square, she spotted a friend of hers from school. It would be acceptable. Perhaps she could endure the party. Sarah was glad she had learned the steps to the dances at school because it made the exercise more enjoyable.