Chapter 24
Sarah hurried into her room, shut the door behind her, locked it, and leaned against it. The wood felt cool through her dress and helped her feel a bit calmer. Her breath came unevenly, each inhale catching as she tried to keep herself from sinking to the floor.
The evening replayed itself in fragments that she could not push aside.
His Grace sitting there, silent. His aunt’s voice cutting through the room.
Lady Arabella watching with wide, uncertain eyes.
And the moment Sarah realized he had known about the interference all along.
That moment had brought her the most pain.
Clara stirred in her bed, shifting beneath the blankets. She lifted her head, her hair mussed from sleep, her eyes still heavy but alert. She pushed the covers aside and crossed the room with slow, careful steps, as though she sensed her mother needed gentleness.
Sarah tried to straighten, but Clara reached her first, wrapping her small arms around her waist.
Something inside Sarah gave way. She lowered herself to her knees, pulling Clara close, her cheek resting against her daughter’s hair. Clara held on, her breathing soft and even, offering comfort simply by being there.
Sarah closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel the full ache of what had happened.
She lifted Clara into her arms and carried her to the chair near the window.
She sat down slowly, settling Clara on her lap.
Clara curled against her, her cheek resting on Sarah’s shoulder, her small hands gathered at the front of Sarah’s dress.
“Goodnight, Mama,” Clara whispered.
Sarah whispered back, “Goodnight, my love,” her voice barely above a breath.
She felt Clara’s body relax, the tension leaving her limbs one by one. Her breathing deepened, warm and steady against Sarah’s collarbone. The peacefulness of her daughter soothed something inside her, even though the ache of the evening remained.
When Clara finally slipped into sleep, Sarah held her for a moment longer, savoring the moment of calm.
Then she lifted her gently, careful not to wake her, and carried her back to her bed.
She laid her down, smoothing the blanket over her daughter.
Clara did not stir. Sarah brushed a hand over her daughter’s hair, her fingers trembling, then stepped back.
She crossed the room and sat at her desk.
The chair felt cold after the warmth of Clara’s embrace, but Sarah welcomed the change as it helped her focus.
She pulled out a sheet of paper and reached for her pen.
Eloise was the only person she trusted to offer guidance, and she needed that guidance more than ever.
Sarah began writing, her hand moving quickly.
She described Lady Spencer’s words, the intense humiliation she felt at the table, the shock of learning the full truth, and the ache that had settled in her chest when she realized His Grace had known all along.
She felt a bit stronger getting everything out and on to paper, but the hurt she felt stayed with her.
Sarah called for a maid and handed her the note, watching the girl hurry down the corridor with it.
Once the footsteps faded, the room seemed to quiet.
She moved to the washstand, splashed cool water on her face, and quickly changed into her nightdress.
She wanted to sleep, or at least feel the quiet that came before it, but her thoughts kept circling back to the dining room and to His Grace’s silence.
She settled into the bed and pulled the blanket up to her chin. She could hear Clara’s soft breathing and tried to settle, but every time she closed her eyes, she saw the guilt in His Grace’s eyes as he was looking at her.
You should not think about this now, she thought, as she turned onto her side, then onto her back, then onto her side again. The night stretched on, broken by moments when she thought she might sleep, only for her mind to pull her awake again.
You cannot stay here. Not like this.
She pressed her hand against her forehead, trying to quiet the ache behind her eyes.
You need distance and clarity. You need to be able to breathe, and you need to be somewhere that is not Roxburghe.
When morning light finally crept across the floorboards, she felt as though she had not slept at all. But she had made an important decision.
Sarah rose from the bed and dressed first, choosing clothing that would not draw attention. She picked up the small traveling bag she used for errands in the village and set it on the chair, thankful that it was the sort of bag no one questioned.
She filled it with only what she might reasonably carry for a day’s outing, including a change of clothes for Clara, and a small book.
Then she quietly added a fresh shift, a light shawl, and a small comb wrapped in a handkerchief for herself.
She packed the bag before waking Clara so her daughter would not sense anything unusual.
When everything was ready, she walked to her daughter’s bed and gently touched Clara’s shoulder.
“Wake up, my love,” she whispered. Clara blinked up at her mother, still warm with sleep. Sarah helped her sit up, then guided her through dressing, fastening each button with slow, gentle care.
She took Clara’s hand and led her downstairs. Mrs. Hensley was arranging linens in the hallway, her expression softening when she saw them.
“We are going for a walk,” Sarah said, keeping her voice even.
Mrs. Hensley nodded with quiet understanding, her eyes lingering on Sarah a moment longer than usual. Sarah suspected she knew more than she said, but she was grateful for the silence.
The village lay just beyond the estate gates, close enough that Sarah could reach it in just a few minutes. She held Clara’s hand as they walked down the lane. The child chattered beside her, pointing out the hedges, the birds, the way the sunlight caught on the stones.
“Do you think the baker will have anything new in the window today?” Clara asked.
“Perhaps,” Sarah said, though her mind was elsewhere.
Each step felt like a step away from the night before, but she could not get away from the memory.
Clara tugged at her sleeve, eager to show her a patch of wildflowers growing near the ditch.
Sarah nodded, managing a small smile, but her thoughts raced.
They reached the village green, where a few carts were already set out for the day.
Sarah paused, scanning the street. She had a small reticule of her own money, saved from the wages she had earned before coming to Roxburghe.
It was not much, but it was enough for a short hire.
She spotted a hired carriage near the inn, the driver adjusting the harness on his horse.
She approached him quietly. “Are you free to take us a short distance?” she asked, praying he could not detect any uncertainty in her voice.
He looked up, nodded, and named a modest fare. She paid him without hesitation. To anyone watching, it would look like a simple errand, a mother and child taking a ride to a neighboring house.
Sarah lifted Clara into the carriage, then climbed in beside her. Clara leaned against her, her eyes bright with curiosity.
“Where are we going?” Clara asked.
Sarah smoothed her daughter’s hair. “We are going to see Lady Eloise.”
“Truly?” Clara asked, her face and voice brightening with excitement.
“Yes,” Sarah said softly. “Truly.”
The driver set the horse into motion, and the carriage rolled forward. The village slipped behind them, and Clara leaned against her, humming a little tune under her breath. With each turn of the wheels, the tightness in Sarah's chest eased, and she felt herself begin to breathe.
The carriage turned onto the long drive leading to Eloise’s house, the trees providing a protective canopy that made Sarah feel completely safe.
Clara looked out the window, unable to stay still as the house came into view.
When the carriage stopped, Sarah stepped down first, then lifted Clara to the ground as the child looked around with wide eyes, letting out excited squeals.
They moved up the path together, the child happily skipping as she held her mother’s hand. At the door, Sarah lifted the brass knocker and let it fall. They could hear the sound booming through the entry hall, and a few moments later a servant opened the door, his expression polite but curious.
“Good morning,” Sarah said. “I am here to see Lady Conway.”
The servant glanced toward the staircase. “Is Her Ladyship expecting you, madam?”
“No,” Sarah said, keeping her voice even. “But I believe she will see me.”
He studied her for a brief moment, taking in her bag and the child’s hand in hers, and then he stepped aside.
“Please wait here,” he said. “I will inform Her Ladyship.”
Sarah and Clara stood in the entry hall while they waited, listening to the sounds of the busy household. A few minutes later they heard footsteps grow closer, and Eloise appeared at the top of the staircase.
Her gown brushed lightly against the banister as she descended, and her smile was gentle as her eyes remained fixed on Sarah’s face. When she reached the bottom of the stairs she quickly crossed the floor and reached for her dear friend.
She then turned and looked down at the child.
“Good morning, Clara,” Eloise said, bending slightly. “I am glad you are here.”
Clara smiled brightly. “Me too!”
“I am sorry to impose,” Sarah said quietly. “We came without notice.”
“It is not an imposition,” Eloise replied. “I am happy to see you both.” She gestured toward the corridor. “Come. Let us sit where it is more comfortable.”
She led them into a drawing room with tall windows and pale blue walls. A small fire burned in the grate, giving the room a gentle warmth. The furniture was arranged in a way that made the space feel welcoming. Sarah pointed over to a window seat, knowing that Clara would love it.
“Mama!” Clara said. “The window seat. My favorite. May I sit there, please? Lady Conway, may I?”
Eloise smiled. “Of course, my dear!”