Chapter 29
Ambrose
Three months later
Ambrose woke and stared at the ceiling, willing himself to find the strength to leave his bed. It was that way with him these days. He forced himself to go about his day with little vigour and little enthusiasm—for the day was another twelve hours of enduring life without Daniel. Then night came, and he could claim the blessed peace of sleep once more.
It had been three and a half months of gloom and misery since Daniel left, made only worse by the situation with regards to his sister. Sarah, foolish darling Sarah, had gone and gotten herself engaged to none other than Philip Templeton—though he should not cast aspersions, for no one had been more foolish than him when it came to Daniel.
For some obscure reason beyond Ambrose’s comprehension, Templeton had decided to start courting Sarah some months ago, after years of ignoring her affections. This had culminated in a proposal of marriage which Sarah had accepted with alacrity, refusing to stop and consider that perhaps it was another man that owned her heart.
Ambrose could not be sure of it, of course, for he did not have a mirror into Sarah’s heart, yet his power of observation told him that she was not immune to feelings for Daniel’s younger brother. For five years, she had waited eagerly for letters to arrive from America, devouring them in the privacy of her room and emerging dreamy-eyed the following day. Long epistles were written and sent to America in return, until the war had put a stop to that. If this was not love, it was definitely… something. But it had not been enough to prevent Sarah from making the catastrophic mistake of promising herself to Templeton.
Ambrose was as sure as sure could be that Templeton would not bring happiness to his sister, yet he could not stand in her way once she had made up her mind. She was a grown woman of thirty who could decide matters for herself. And then Benjamin Stanton had arrived, tormented by his wartime experience and lovesick for Sarah. Still she had not been able to see the wood for the trees. It had put him quite out of sorts with his sister the other day, and they had exchanged cross words for the first time ever. He felt as helpless for her as he did for himself.
Ambrose had tried to support Benjamin’s efforts with Sarah, in accordance both with Daniel’s wishes and his own, but there was only so much he could do. There came a point where people had to help themselves if they wanted a chance at happiness. He was no cupid, shooting arrows into other people’s hearts. In any case, he was ill qualified in the field of love. Had he not made the biggest mistake of all and betrayed the trust of the man he loved? He could not be trusted to help anyone else when it came to affairs of the heart.
The only bright spot on his horizon was his sweet girl, Emily, who would be four years old next month. He continued to visit every week, and those hours he spent in the company of Emily, Edwin and Lexie were always a balm for his battered soul. After Daniel’s departure, Ambrose had confided all in Lexie, crying his heartbreak on her willing shoulder, and she had comforted him the best she could.
That night had heralded a change in their relationship. Now that his feelings were out in the open with Daniel, it no longer felt right for him and Lexie to be lovers. In all honesty, it had not felt right for a long time. After he had dried his tears, he had looked into Lexie’s kind eyes and finally admitted the truth, “Lexie,” he had said, his voice gruff. “I cannot be the person you need—the one who will desire you and put you above all else. I wish I could have been that person for you, but it is not in me to love a woman that way, and I do not think it fair for either of us to continue with the pretence.”
Lexie had stroked his cheek lovingly. “I know,” she had said. “I have long thought it too but have been too comfortable in the arrangement to make the change.”
Miraculously, they had defaulted to an affectionate friendship with little recrimination. He still made his way to her room sometimes at night, when he needed the comfort of an embrace and a kind ear to listen to his woes. Their clothes, however, stayed resolutely on.
At night they talked of what was in their hearts, of Edwin and Emily, both of whom Ambrose now considered his children, of the future. Ambrose often voiced his concerns about Lexie. With no husband to speak of, and with his own failure to be a good lover to her, he feared she would grow lonely, as he himself felt alone. “What will you do with yourself?” he had asked her just last week.
She had shrugged. “The same as you, darling. I wake each day and face it the best I can. I am fortunate in that I have both Edwin and Emily to keep me company. They are the greatest comfort to me, you know.”
“Yes, I know,” he had murmured. “But how about the other thing. I mean to say, how about your physical needs, Lexie? I know I was but a poor lover to you, but the communion of our bodies brought us both some pleasure. What shall you do now?” A thought had occurred to him then and he had stared at her in horror. “Please do not say you shall take another lover.”
Her laugh had been genuinely amused. “No, Ambrose, I have no plans for another lover. It is grim at times, I do admit, but I have learned to live with it. I have ways to pleasure myself, by the use of my own hand if you must know.”
He had blushed, yes blushed. “I see,” was all he could say.
“Ambrose, darling, do not look so surprised. Is it not what you do too, in the privacy of your room at night?”
“Yes,” he had admitted. “It is. I had not realised that it was something women did too.”
“Well, now you do,” she had smiled. “See what an education I am providing you with into the private practices of females.”
His face had fallen as he had thought of another female close to him. “Do you mean to say that all females…” He had lost the power of speech. No, he would not let his mind go to such an uncomfortable place.
Lexie had laughed. “I cannot speak for all females, however, it is a distinct possibility.”
“Stop, Lexie, please do not put such thoughts into my head. It is most disconcerting.”
She had taken pity on him then. “Very well, let us talk of other things,” and thankfully the subject had been dropped.
Now, as Ambrose stared at the ceiling, he thought of the day that lay ahead. It was New Year’s Eve, and both he and Sarah had been invited to celebrate it with a dinner party at Stanton Hall hosted by Benjamin. This would be followed by an overnight stay at the great house.
Ambrose was not particularly looking forward to spending an evening with Templeton fawning over Sarah centre stage while Benjamin watched pain stricken from the wings. His friend, Benedict Sedgwick, would be there too with Grace, his wife. That was something, he supposed, though those two were very much in love, and no doubt would get more amorous as the night progressed and the alcohol flowed. It seemed at times as if everyone but him was paired up with another. He could not help but feel wistful that those around him could express their love outwardly while this privilege was denied to him and Daniel. It was enough to set him wishing he could stay abed. But no, it was not to be. Reluctantly, he lifted the covers and stepped onto the cold wood floor to go get dressed.
The day passed slowly and drearily. Eventually, it was time for Sarah and himself to make their way to Stanton Hall. Once there, they were ushered into their private bedchambers where they were to dress for dinner. Ambrose prepared himself for the night ahead, donning his best formal clothes for the occasion.
Before leaving the room, he stood for a moment and gazed at his reflection in the mirror. Unlike the heroines of romantic novels who faded into wraiths upon their heartbreak, his trajectory had gone in the opposite direction. Weariness and lassitude had decreased his level of activity, and in the cold of winter, he had sought comfort in food to help get through the dreariness of each day. It had resulted in an increase in girth around the waist. It was not enough to have been noticed by all around him, but it was apparent to him. He was not young anymore, nearly five and thirty, and the thick blond hair of which he was inordinately proud was also beginning to thin ever so slightly. “Daniel will have a disgust of me when next he sees me,” he thought glumly. It was enough to make him want to hide his head under the covers of his bed and never come out again.
With a sigh, he turned away from his dispiriting reflection and went down to join everyone in the drawing room. Dinner was an elaborate meal of ten glorious courses—Stanton Hall’s cook had truly excelled herself. Benjamin had also sent for the finest wines from the cellar.
However, no amount of excellent food and wine could make this evening anything but excruciating. Watching Templeton make unctuous love to Sarah, showering her with compliments and taking her hand to kiss one time too many, while beside them Benjamin gnashed his teeth in frustration, was really not something Ambrose wanted to experience again. He was beginning to despair of Sarah. When would she realise that marriage to Templeton was a mistake? He feared she would leave it much too late. It must be something that ran in the family, he thought. A Cranshaw inability to find success in love.
Dinner was followed by dancing—well, not for Ambrose, who was called upon to play some tunes on the piano. On and on the evening dragged until finally, the clock struck twelve midnight. There were cheers and applause as the party gathered congratulated one another. Ambrose held his arms open for Sarah, and they embraced fondly. “Happy New Year, Sarah,” he said. “May it bless you with joy.”
“Happy New Year, Ambrose,” she smiled, “the best brother in the world.” He laughed at that and kissed her cheek. He doubted that very much, but he did love her. And then, it was time to go up to bed and seek blessed sleep.
The following morning, bleary eyed, he went down to the dining room for breakfast. He was not the only one suffering from the consequences of the previous evening’s overindulgence. Benedict clutched his head and bemoaned his intemperance, while a pale-looking Grace rested her head on her husband’s shoulder and refused any food, contenting herself with a cup of tea. But it was Sarah that captured his attention. She sat furthest away from Benjamin, avoiding his gaze and looking haunted. What on earth could be the matter with her?
The time came to say their goodbyes. Benjamin’s face looked bereft as he bid Sarah farewell, all the while she refused to meet his eyes. They climbed into the carriage for the short journey back to Ivy Cottage. There, Sarah spoke not a word, clutching her hands together and looking distraught. Ambrose watched her in concern and dismay. Something must have occurred last night, after they retired to bed, but what?
Once they reached their home, Sarah went straight up to her room, ostensibly to unpack her overnight bag. Ambrose went to his study and waited patiently for her to come back down. Eventually, he heard her soft footsteps taking her to the back parlour, which was her own private space. He went to find her there. She was placing a locomotive on her miniature railway, her back turned to him. He studied her a moment then asked gently, “Do you wish to talk about it?”
She shook her head then changed her mind and nodded. He laughed and pulled her into his embrace. Then, he led her to his study, ordering a pot of tea from Elsie upon their way, and sat her down to talk. At first, she said nothing, so Ambrose conjectured, “So, it is Benjamin.”
“Yes,” she replied softly. “I have been very foolish.”
He could hardly disagree. “Yes, you have,” he said gently, “but we all have it in us to be extremely foolish at times.” He knew that better than anyone.
She glanced at him. “You knew, didn’t you?”
He suppressed a sad laugh. Of course, he knew. It was plain for anyone with a beating heart to see. But all he said was, “It was not my place to tell you, Sarah. You had to find it out for yourself.”
“And so I have,” she murmured under her breath.
He smiled encouragingly. “So you have. What is it that happened last night? Will you tell me?”
“After we all went to bed, I could not sleep and decided to go to the library,” she replied, looking distressed. “I will not go into the details, but I saw Benjamin. We kissed, and he declared his love for me.”
And that was a bad thing? God save him from the vagaries of females. “So why the long face?” Ambrose enquired.
Sarah looked at him crossly. “It was an immoral thing to do, Ambrose, as long as I am betrothed to Philip.”
“Yes,” he agreed, “it was, but you can do something about it.”
She was quiet for a moment. “I shall have to go see Philip,” she said finally.
“Hallelujah,” he thought.
Ambrose sat up and refilled his cup of tea. He took a long sip and put it down. “The poor man was not looking quite the thing this morning,” he said casually. “I suggest you wait until later this afternoon to speak to him. Do you wish me to come with you?”
Sarah stood and came over to him, placing her arms around his shoulders. “I do not deserve you, Ambrose,” she said. “But no, thank you. This is something I should do myself.”
Later that afternoon, Ambrose waited a trifle anxiously for his sister’s return. He berated himself for letting her go alone to see Mr Templeton. What if the man had become angry on hearing his betrothed break off the engagement? Why had Ambrose not insisted on accompanying her? He walked back and forth in his study, peering out the window every so often, impatient to see Sarah return.
At last, he heard a pounding on the front door then the sound of voices. “Get my travel case down from the wardrobe,” Sarah was instructing Elsie breathlessly. “I need to pack for a journey.”
“Miss?” their maid asked doubtfully.
“Do it now!”
He opened his study door and went to see what the commotion was all about. “Sarah, what is it?” he asked in concern, but she was too emotional to speak. Instead, she handed him a letter which he perused quickly. It was a farewell note from Benjamin. After she had rebuffed his advances last night, he had given up in despair and decided to return to America. He was already long gone.
He looked back at his sister in commiseration. “Oh, my dear,” he said. “I am so sorry.”
“I must go to him,” replied Sarah, having finally regained the power of speech.
His gaze turned to alarm. “Sarah, my love, consider. All this can be resolved in time. Write to him now and explain.”
“No!” cried Sarah sharply. “There is no time to be lost. I am going after him, Ambrose, whether you like it or not.”
Had she lost her wits? He gathered himself up and spoke sternly, “I cannot let you go chasing after him all on your own. It would not be right. In any case, how on earth would you catch him up? I believe he already has quite a head start on us.”
His sister’s eyes burned with fierce determination. “There is a way. I have it memorised from Bradshaw’s Guide. If we use the Great Western route to Birmingham, then we could get a mail train connection to Liverpool and get there by morning.”
“The mail train! Sarah!” Ambrose was aghast.
But Sarah was beyond listening, marching into his study. “How much money do we have? I will need funds for the journey.”
“Sarah!” Ambrose remonstrated again. She could not seriously be thinking of gallivanting across half the country after a man. What would people think? What would they say? It was not to be borne. He was about to put his foot down and insist she stay home when, in that instant, he heard a voice in his ear as if Daniel were there in person chastising him. “Stop being such a pompous ass, Ambrose. So what if people talk? Is her happiness not worth more than cheap gossip?”
He stared at her a few moments more, realising that the imaginary Daniel was right. Sarah loved Benjamin and wanted to catch him up before he sailed for America. How could he stand in her way? Resigning himself to this madcap expedition, he sighed, “Very well, if that is what you mean to do, we shall both go.”
That was how he found himself, several hours later, lying uncomfortably on top of a set of mailbags as they rode the overnight mail train from Birmingham to Liverpool. It was a most uncomfortable journey. What had he been thinking to agree to this? Throughout the long night, he cast reproachful glances at a mutinous Sarah, who refused to be cowed. At long last, they arrived at Liverpool station just after eight o’clock the following morning, rumpled and ill-tempered—at least in Ambrose’s case. They hailed a carriage that took them to the docks and made their enquiries about ships sailing to America, being pointed towards a steamship called The Scotia.
But of course, their adventure had not ended there. Oh no! The steward they spoke to would not let them board the ship to speak to Benjamin, not without a ticket, and there were only a few precious minutes to go before the ship set sail. So, of course they had to go and purchase a passage for America at unimaginable expense. He supposed he could have said no to Sarah and pretended there were not enough funds—but there were, for he had taken the precaution of bringing a bag of two hundred sovereigns with him. Seeing the desperation on her face, he had not had the heart to stand in the way of her happiness. Besides, there was a reason why he wanted to go there too. So, on the ship they had sailed, to America.
Sarah and Benjamin had been married just over a week ago by the ship’s captain. And here they all were, about to dock at New York harbour. For hours, Ambrose had debated with himself about what to do next. He could not absent himself from Stanton Hall for long, nor from Lexie and Emily. He should find a passage aboard a ship returning to England at the soonest opportunity. But finally sighting land in the distance, and knowing that Daniel was somewhere on that land, he knew with a certainty that he was not going to turn back. It was as if a magnet were pulling him inexorably towards Daniel. To Ohio he would go.