Chapter 26
Leaving Kilmarin was more difficult than Sarah had anticipated.
She hugged her grandfather, who suffered her embrace in silence. When she drew away, he reached out to touch her cheek, and she was surprised to feel his hand tremble.
“I’ll not see you again, child,” he said. “But I’ll be sure and tell your mother that you’re doing well.”
Without giving her time to respond, he turned to Douglas.
“You need to come home to Scotland,” he said. “Bring my granddaughter back to her home.”
They exchanged a look, and Donald finally nodded, as if satisfied with what he saw. He turned, and without another word, walked back inside Kilmarin, leaving Sarah and Douglas standing beside the carriage in the porte cochere.
Douglas smiled, helped her inside, where she sat next to Florie. Her maid yawned discreetly behind a gloved hand, then smiled a greeting.
Before they could pull away, the carriage door opened again, and Linda peered inside. Her face was radiant; the girl had gone from lovely to exquisite. Her eyes filled with tears, and she reached out one hand to Sarah.
“I don’t know how you did it, cousin, but thank you. Thank you!”
“What did I do?” Sarah asked, confused.
“Grandfather has said that I can marry Brendan, after months of refusing. Months!” Her smile was tremulous but joyous all the same. “Thank you.”
Sarah grabbed her hand and squeezed, wishing that she could have met this version of her cousin earlier.
“Be happy,” she said, knowing that they would probably never see each other again.
Linda startled her again, by reaching behind her and then handing her the box she’d found in her mother’s room.
“Grandfather wanted you to have this, since you found it. Something of your mother’s, to remember your visit to Kilmarin.”
She smiled again, and withdrew, closing the carriage door.
When Douglas opened the box, she glanced at the mirror and then away.
“It’s very old and very ugly,” she said, careful not to look into the mirror. She wasn’t certain of what she’d seen, but she didn’t want to view it again.
“But you’ll cherish it all the same,” he said, returning the mirror to the box, “because it belonged to your mother.”
He placed the box on the floor of the carriage, in the clever little well designed to store small articles, and she smiled her thanks.
She glanced at Kilmarin only once as they pulled away, then concentrated on her clasped hands.
Douglas handed her a handkerchief.
She glanced over at him and smiled, even as a tear fell down each cheek.
His look was compassionate, and much too intimate to be witnessed by Florie.
A glance at her maid, however, proved that Florie was as tactful as she was talented.
Florie was staring out the window as if the view were fascinating.
In the circumstances, it was all too natural for Douglas to lean forward and place a kiss on Sarah’s forehead. She pulled back, blotting her face with his handkerchief and holding on to it as a talisman for most of the day.
The journey back to Chavensworth was, thankfully, quickly done. Or perhaps it had taken the same time as traveling north and just seemed faster to Douglas. The weather was fair; the stops to change the horses and stretch their own legs were the only punctuation to the days.
The same inn at which they’d stayed on the way north had only one room available, and he gave it up to Sarah and Florie. Sarah had slipped her bottle of scent into his hand when he’d escorted them to the room. They’d exchanged a look that had warmed him through the night.
The train was as comfortable; the only difficulty was waiting for their car to be attached and the carriage lashed to an available flatcar.
When Chavensworth was sighted, he almost sighed in relief.
Even the horses seemed ecstatic to have reached the end of their journey.
Their pace sped up, as if Tim couldn’t control them, and all of them had to hold on to the straps mounted above the windows in order not to be tossed to the side of the seats.
Tim pulled to the front of Chavensworth, and Douglas exited first, holding out his hand for Sarah, then Florie. Thomas was coming down the steps, two footmen behind him.
“Have our trunks taken to the Duke’s Suite,” he directed, before turning again to Sarah. “I’ll go with Tim to the stables,” he said. “I need to check on the diamonds.”
She patted his lapel with one gloved hand, the brim of her bonnet shielding her face.
He reached out and touched her cheek, his fingers sliding over the smoothness of her skin, resurrecting other memories, creating a yearning in him for a proper kiss.
She tilted her head back and smiled at him, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.
“I shall see you later?” she asked. “Not much later, I hope.”
Did she ache for him as much as he ached for her?
“If it weren’t necessary to see to the diamonds,” he said, too softly for Thomas or Florie to hear, “I’d accompany you to our room right this moment.”
She flushed, the perfect response, and one that summoned his smile. With that, he bent and kissed her, ignoring the presence of the others. Sarah must have forgotten them as well, because she placed both hands on his shoulders and stood on tiptoe to deepen the kiss.
Finally, he pulled back, smiling at her. She picked up her skirts with both hands, turned, and ascended the steps.
He watched her all the way.
At the top, she turned and glanced down at him, her smile a sign that she was well aware of his perusal.
He entered the carriage again, and when they reached the stables, left Tim, heading for the observatory. Alano had been busy in his absence.
Two dozen square wooden frames were scattered throughout the observatory, propped on ledges and resting against walls.
Each frame held more than a dozen twisted silk fibers.
On each strand were dozens of viscous droplets now glittering in the faint light from a dwindling sun.
Interspersed between the droplets were translucent granules, some no larger than clumps of sand.
He began inspecting the diamond threads.
Growing diamonds was successful only if the area was pristine.
Anything in the air, such as dust or dirt particles, could be transmitted to the granules themselves, resulting in dirty diamonds.
Diamonds with flaws wouldn’t fetch a good enough price to satisfy the Duke of Herridge.
Alano had been fastidious, as usual.
Douglas had replaced the dirt floor with long planks of wood nailed together and sealed with a marine varnish.
Alano had covered the floor with linen to catch any dust seeping up into the observatory.
Likewise, he’d covered the dome ceiling with a canopy of linen, another preventative measure.
Every shelf was carefully dusted and covered, every surface in the observatory was as clean as they could make it.
The clusters fed on the droplets, growing quickly over a period of days. After they dried, the final part of the process was heating the clusters, the most dangerous part of the process, simply because the formula used to grow the diamonds was volatile.
Satisfied with the results inside the observatory, he left the building to inspect the construction of the furnace. Hearing a noise behind him, he turned, expecting to see Alano, and faced, instead, Simons, the Duke of Herridge’s ubiquitous majordomo.
“Simons,” he said. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“His Grace is very displeased, sir. It’s been some time, sir, and you’ve not reported to him. Nor have you produced any diamonds. He’s done his part of the bargain, Mr. Eston; he is most impatient to see that you perform your part.”
“There have been a few mitigating factors, Simons, or has His Grace forgotten the death of his wife?”
Simons had the good sense to look a little embarrassed.
“I understand that you’ve been to Scotland. Is that another mitigating factor, sir?”
He didn’t answer that comment. “His Grace is going to have to be patient, Simons.”
Simons allowed himself a small smile. “Patience is not one of His Grace’s better qualities. You must give me your cooperation, Mr. Eston. I implore you.”
“And if I don’t?”
“The Duke of Herridge is not a man to take lightly, Mr. Eston. He is capable of a great many actions.”
“I’m not worried about what your duke can do to me, Simons.”
“Then are you concerned about what he can do to Lady Sarah?”
Douglas stilled. “What could he do?” he asked.
“You have been out of England for some time, Mr. Eston. Have you heard of the Matrimonial Causes Act?”
Douglas shook his head.
“What His Grace has made happen, he can ensure is undone. If you will not cooperate with the agreement, if you will not furnish the diamonds as quickly as he wants them, he will ensure your marriage ends.”
“You’re jesting,” Douglas said, even though it was all too obvious that Simons wasn’t. “Wouldn’t that require Sarah’s cooperation?”
Simons’ look was pitying. “Do you think she would refuse to cooperate if commanded by her father?”
Unfortunately, Douglas wasn’t all that certain what Sarah was feeling. Passion was one thing, but was that enough to keep her linked to him? Was it enough to turn her back on her past, her upbringing?
“She would have to prove your adultery, Mr. Eston, but trust me, a number of women could be persuaded to come forward with tearful renditions of how you misled them. While it’s true there are a number of other conditions, please be assured that His Grace could provide them.”
“He would do that? Wouldn’t divorce ruin Sarah’s reputation?”
Simons smiled. “Do you think he cares, Mr. Eston? Sarah had one duty, to marry for money. She failed in that.”
“Tell him he’ll have his diamonds in less than a week.”
Simons bowed carefully and respectfully.
“I hope, Mr. Eston, that nothing interferes with your delivery of the diamonds. His Grace, as I said, is not a patient man.”
Simons melted away, the perfect servant.
Douglas unclenched his fists and turned to the furnace.
The structure looked a little like a pyramid, broad at the bottom and tapering to a triangular top.
The large base would provide for a deep firebox; the blaze must be equal to that a blacksmith would use to forge iron.
He’d experimented for months before determining exactly the right range of temperature to cure the diamonds.
Even that process had taken a considerable amount of time.
He’d not lied to the Duke of Herridge about making the diamonds larger. However, he’d not correctly gauged the duke’s impatience or desperation. The man wanted results, and he wanted them immediately, and he didn’t seem the type to listen to rational discourse on the subject.
As for the other, could he actually persuade Sarah to divorce him? Would she? Could the Duke of Herridge actually destroy his marriage?
Douglas had walked into the lion’s den himself, convincing himself that the lion was no more fearsome than a tabby cat.
Unfortunately, the Duke of Herridge was a lion in truth.
If Douglas was devoured, the only person who should be blamed was himself, for not knowing enough about the ruthlessness of the nobility.
“Well, was your journey to Scotland successful?” Alano asked from behind him.
Douglas turned.
“Kilmarin is quite a sight,” Douglas said. “I’m sorry you weren’t with us.”
“I had my own share of discovery right here,” Alano said, sitting on the stack of bricks next to the furnace. “That Mrs. Williams of yours is a firebrand all right. Ignores me as if I’m a wall.”
“That can’t have pleased you,” Douglas said. “Given your reputation with the ladies.”
“She just needs a little extra persuasion.”
“I’d rather you didn’t try to seduce the female staff at Chavensworth.”
“It’s not the staff. It’s that one annoying woman,” Alano said, frowning.
Douglas bit back his smile. He knew only too well what it was like to be at the mercy of one lone woman. Women might act defenseless, but they had their own kind of armament. A hesitant glance, a tremulous smile. And tears. Good God, but he could handle anything but tears.
“Perhaps you could tell Mrs. Williams that we’ve returned,” Douglas said, giving Alano a reason to seek out the housekeeper. “Ask her to prepare an early dinner for us.”
He glanced toward the west, where the sun was beginning to set, orange streaks heralding its passing.
Alano stood. “I could do that.” He eyed Douglas carefully. “What’s got you snarling mad?”
Douglas shook his head, deciding not to confide the Duke of Herridge’s threats. “I’m going to need to see my solicitor,” he said. “I think I’ve gotten myself into a spot of trouble.”
Alano didn’t speak for a long moment. “Is there anything I can do?”
He glanced at Alano. “You’ve always been a friend, Alano, and I’m grateful for that.”
Alano smiled, but his eyes were worried. “You’ll let me know if I can help?”
Douglas nodded, then looked back at the observatory. “You’ve done plenty. Thanks to you, we’ll have hundreds of diamonds for the Duke of Herridge.”
Alano’s mouth twisted at that thought, but his expression soon turned to a smile when he remembered his errand, and his excuse to see Mrs. Williams.
Douglas watched him follow the path toward Chavensworth, his hands thrust deep in his pockets, and his passage accompanied by a whistled tune.
He occupied himself in the observatory, removing the silk fibers from the mature frames and feeding the smaller diamonds. An hour later, Douglas closed up the observatory and went back to the house using his own path.
The moon was an opalescent disc hanging among the scattered diamonds of the night sky.
He was attuned to night, in a way he’d never understood, finding it friendlier, somehow, than stark daylight.
Yet night had never been his friend, at least not as a child.
Night meant hunger and cold, and being afraid.
He was no longer a child but a man who’d made his own way. He’d learned to think deeper thoughts than those focused simply on how to survive. He’d learned to ponder the imponderables of his existence.
What is the meaning of life?
He didn’t know the answer, but he was closer today than he had been years earlier.
What did he want from life?
To matter to someone. To scratch his name on the rock of existence and have some traveler a hundred years hence marvel that he’d been there. To care, and to love, and to experience all that he could know, see, do, taste, feel, and be.
Philosophy, now that was something to twist a man’s mind. Not as much as love, but it would do in a pinch.