The Affectionate Adversary (37 page)

“Perhaps we shall find a husband for you in Brighton,” Sarah suggested. “Miss Pickworth reported last week that Sir Alexander Chouteau and several of his friends mean to holiday there in the coming month. You could not object to a duke’s son, could you?”

“Certainly not!” Prudence said, brightening. “Though the duke of Marston’s son is said to be as great a cad as Delacroix.”

“You are thinking of the elder Chouteau. The marquess of Blackthorne had a terrible reputation. But he died in America.”

“Or so Miss Pickworth reports,” Prudence clarified.

“No matter who is in Brighton, I cannot think of going there with you,” Mary observed. “I have at least a month of balls and receptions on my calendar. Besides, Mr. Heathhill has business in town. He could not come with me, and I should not like to be without him.”

“Even though ‘from experience and observation, you have learned that in the great scheme of life, passion is fleeting’?” Sarah asked, imitating her sister’s moralizing tone of voice. “I believe you and Mr. Heathhill belie your own sage advice, Mary.”

The young woman blushed. “Perhaps we do. I cannot deny that we are warmly attached. And marriage does benefit from an affable and obliging friendship between the two partners.”

Prudence snorted with laughter. “
Affable
and
obliging
! Oh, Mary, you adore your boring old husband, and you might as well admit it. As for Sarah, if she wishes to put herself on the shelf and live out her days as an auntie to our children, why not? Only, dear Sarah, do not go sailing away to India or China and giving away your fortune left and right; I beg you.”

Sarah smiled. “I have made ample allowance for charities, missions, almshouses, and hospitals. Our earthly father would not be pleased, but our heavenly Father must take great joy in the good that those talents He gave me will do. My bankers and barristers advise me well, I believe, and you may rest in the knowledge that as hard as you may try, neither of you is likely to drain us dry in a lifetime.”

“Oh, Sarah, I am pleased to hear this,” Mary said. “I know you mean well, and I agree that the money cannot all be spent upon our pleasures. But neither should it all go to charity and mission work.”

“Moderation,” Anne Webster spoke up from the table she had cleared of toiletries. “Moderation, I think, is the key to all things.”

“Thank you, Anne,” Sarah said, rewarding her maid with a smile. “Perhaps there is more than one key to living a godly life.”

But Sarah could not make herself feel happy as she thought of another key—the small gold one she had worn on a chain about her neck these many months. How could she have known that it represented the end of all she had loved and held most dear? Even now, she wondered if she had misread the look in Charles’s eyes when he opened his chest. But no … he was a changed man, and no longer would she have him.

“I shall pack my trunks too!” Prudence said, all but singing as she skipped out of the room. “Anne, will you help me, for Sarah is nearly finished?”

“Of course, madam,” Anne said as she closed the toiletries bag.

“I cannot wait to go to Brighton!” Prudence sang out. “I believe I should very much like to have a better look at Sir Alexander. And what if he should add a handsome friend to his party? Would that not be delightful?”

“Yes, dearest,” Sarah said as the door fell shut on her sister and the maid. “Mary, will you go down and send for a carriage? And please do not tell Delacroix where Pru and I have gone. Allow us a week or two of peace before we must be faced with his attentions once again.”

Mary chuckled. “As you wish, Sarah. And may I say that I think you are wise to forgo your love for Mr. Locke, no matter how it may pain you to separate yourself from him. He was never meant for you.”

“I appreciate your sentiment, Mary.” As her sister left the bedroom, Sarah shut the lid of her trunk and leaned upon it while recalling another chest, the one filled with gold. Charles, she felt confident, would have a good life. And perhaps her influence would serve him well. Maybe he would be more thoughtful, more generous, more pious than most men in his position. Mary had been correct in her observation that the upper class was as much in need of Christian morality and surrender as commoners.

Well done, Charles,
she thought.
Well done, Danny
.

At the memory of the lad and his eager joy, it was all Sarah could do to hold back her tears. Everyone who knew Charles intimately, it seemed, could not help but love him. Such depth of feeling had brought a young boy all the way across the ocean. It had brought Sarah to a place of utter surrender. How she would dispel that love she did not know, for memories had a disturbing way of lingering—sometimes forever.

  
Eighteen
  

James Locke drew a large white handkerchief from the pocket of his greatcoat and gave his nose a loud, window-rattling honk. Nodding to acknowledge that he was weeping, he held up a hand to silence any condolences his son might attempt to offer. He blotted his cheeks, blew his nose a second time, and finally managed to swallow.

“You make me very … very happy,” he choked out. “Dear Charles, your action pleases me greatly and would … would of course have pleased your … your moth … moth … mother.”

Lest the outpouring of emotion wash both father and son right out the door of the small house on Threadneedle Street, Charles clapped his hand on his father’s shoulder and gave it a strong shake.

“Well, then!” he said, fighting his own feelings. “I am delighted that you approve of my plan, Father. Mr. Martin and I shall pay a visit to the bank directly. After that, we shall call upon Sir Alexander. And, of course, we shall speak to Lord Delacroix as well. I am convinced that you and I shall set forth upon our enterprise with a cadre of investors. And this time, we shall not fail to achieve our aims.”

“No, indeed,” his father mumbled. “No, we shall not fail. You are too good a son. Too loyal a friend. Too amiable and educated to be anything but a great success. I have said it all along, as did your … your dear … your dear late mother—”

“I must be going,” Charles said, rising from his chair before his father could sink them both into the sea of nostalgia. “We have spent three days in our planning and discussion of what to do with the gold, and I believe all London must be awaiting our decision. I am told that the gentlemen at Lord Delacroix’s club can talk of little else, and even the duke of Marston’s letter of enquiry displays a rather impertinent interest in the matter.”

“Aye, that it does!” James chuckled through his tears. “The old cabbagehead himself is eager to know how we mean to make use of his gold now that we have it back. We shall send him a chest of our finest tea when it comes into port, shall we?”

“Compliments of Locke & Son,” Charles said, grinning at the image of the duke’s reaction to such a gift. He motioned to Danny, who was waiting rather impatiently near the library door. “Come, Mr. Martin; shall we be on our way?”

“Aye, sir.” Danny’s habit of hop-skipping had not deserted him despite his small sack of gold, two fine suits of clothing, and comfortable residence in his own bedroom inside the Locke house. “To the bank first, then, sir?”

“No, Danny, my lad,” Charles replied, as he donned his top hat, picked up his cane, and stepped through the front door into Threadneedle Street. “I have a prior commitment.”

Attempting to match the youngster’s brisk pace down to the lane where their carriage was kept, Charles reveled in the glorious afternoon sunshine. “This quest supersedes all others,” he informed Danny. “You may recall that I am engaged to be married to the most delightful, most beautiful, and most amiable Mrs. Carlyle—better known to London as Lady Delacroix.”

“Ye have reminded me quite regular, sir.”

“That dear lady accepted my proposal of marriage three days ago. Her sister, Mrs. Heathhill, writes to me that my lady keeps company with their youngest sister, Miss Prudence Watson, and that all concerned are eager to hear the outcome of my decision regarding my future. It is time now to enlighten them and, if need be, to reassure my fiancée that nothing in the world can alter my commitment to God, my devotion to her, or my determination to make her the happiest woman on earth.”

Danny laughed. “I daresay she has been eager to see you these three days, sir. No lady likes to be kept waitin’.”

Charles stepped up to the carriage he had summoned and followed Danny into it. “She has waited, aye, but through her sister, I have communicated with her each morning and evening.”

As he seated himself beside the lad, Charles mused upon the unsettling fact that Sarah had failed to reply to any of his missives. Might she be having second thoughts now that he had regained his wealth? He hoped not. Mrs. Heathhill had assured him that his beloved was in good health and was hap- pily occupied with her younger sister. He trusted the two were engaged in some female activity, perhaps pertaining to the wedding or to the furnishing of a future home.

“Lady Delacroix lives a far piece from Threadneedle Street, eh?” Danny observed.

“She does. As London grows, it seems the wealthy want less and less to do with the old city and her winding streets, alleys, and open markets. They now congregate around Grosvenor Square and Berkeley Square in the Mayfair District or Belgrave Square in Belgravia.”

“Will ye buy a ’ouse in one of them places when ye be rich enough, Mr. Locke?”

Charles studied the familiar streets of the city in which he had spent all his adult life. “I have found my father’s house a cheerful enough place, small though it is. I should very much dislike to leave it. Society, however, may dictate otherwise.”

Again, a tingle of discomfort tightened Charles’s chest. He hoped Sarah’s decision to depart the drawing room upon the presentation of his gold reflected her desire to be alone with her happy thoughts of his love and her future with him—and not some other, less pleasurable, emotion.

“I am glad ye do not mean to go to sea again, sir,” Danny spoke up. “Although if need be, I would go with ye.”

Charles glanced across at the young boy’s eager smile. “I know you would, my friend. And I should be glad of your company. But I cannot risk the loss to my father and to my wife were I again to encounter such travail as we did upon my first journey. No, I shall endeavor to secure an investor—indeed a full partner—who is willing to risk his life upon our enterprise. He must be a man of adventure, and he must be entirely trustworthy. I cannot say, at this moment, to whom the task will fall, but I am convinced that God will provide.”

“Ye believe God means ye to be a tea merchant, Mr. Locke? Even though ye were nearly killed by them pirates? The old bo’s’n aboard the
Tintagel
would have called that a sign that ye were not meant to take the gold to China. Signs and omens was what he was always tellin’ us about. And he were never wrong.”

“Sometimes difficulties may be seen as God’s way of diverting us to another, better path, Danny. And at other times, they may be seen as barriers intended to be surmounted with God’s help—as we carry on in the same path. ‘The trying of your faith worketh patience,’ as the apostle James explained. We must be patient, slow, careful, and deliberate as we overcome the obstacles in our way along the straight and narrow road God has laid out for us.”

“But how can we tell whether a difficulty be meant to lead us to a new path or whether it is to be attacked and gone over as we stay on the same path?”

Charles pondered the insight behind the simple question. “That is an excellent query, Danny, and the answer is not an easy one. Do you know that in the very ancient days of the Bible’s history, priests used to cast lots in order to determine God’s will? But we no longer abide by that old method, for as Christians we have been given the Holy Spirit. This Spirit is our guide, our counselor. He leads us to discern the will of the Father. In my attempt to hear the whisperings of the Spirit, I have prayed, spoken to my father, searched my heart, and read my Bible. And I believe—most firmly—that I am, after all, meant to surmount all obstacles, marry my dear Sarah, and become a tea merchant.”