Chapter 30 #2
Sarah opened each one in turn. One letter congratulated her with sincere warmth, written by a woman she had known years ago. Another asked pointed questions about the engagement, phrased politely but unmistakably designed to gather more information.
Sarah answered each one with the same calm courtesy, her handwriting poised. She did not allow her hand to tremble, nor did she allow her replies to reveal anything she did not wish to share.
William visited the room often, usually in the late morning. He would pause in the doorway, watching her write, then step inside and sit across from her. He did not interrupt her work. He simply remained nearby offering quiet company.
On the fourth day, after she had finished a particularly long letter, he spoke. “You have had many to answer.”
“Yes,” she said, folding the paper carefully. “More than I expected.”
He nodded. “People are curious.”
“They are,” she said. “Some are kind. Some are not.”
William leaned back slightly in his chair. “What do they say?”
Sarah placed the folded letter aside. “Variations of the same things we heard in town.”
William walked closer. “Does it trouble you?”
Sarah shook her head. “No. As we said, let them talk.”
The next afternoon felt as if the house had somewhat returned to normal. Clara and Henry worked in the schoolroom, their voices rising and falling as they practiced their lessons.
Clara sat at the small table with her slate, writing letters with careful precision. Henry sat at his desk, copying a list of sums while Sarah sat at the larger desk near the window, going over Henry’s work.
Suddenly a knock sounded at the door.
Sarah looked up. “Come in.”
A footman stepped inside, bowing slightly. “Mrs. Shaw,” he said. “Lady Arabella has arrived. She asks if you will receive her for tea.”
Sarah set down her pen. “Yes,” she said. “Please show her to the garden sitting room. I will be there shortly.”
The footman bowed again and withdrew. Clara looked up from her book. “Why is Lady Arabella here?”
“She has come for tea,” Sarah explained.
Henry straightened his slate. “Will she stay long?”
“I do not know,” Sarah said. “Continue your lessons. I will return when we are finished.”
Henry nodded solemnly. “I will make sure Clara stays on task.”
Sarah smiled before leaving the schoolroom and walked down the corridor toward the small sitting room that overlooked the garden. The door stood open, and Arabella was already inside, standing near the window with her gloves held neatly in one hand. She turned when Sarah entered.
“Mrs. Shaw,” Arabella said. “Thank you for receiving me.”
“Of course,” Sarah replied. “I am glad you came.”
They exchanged polite smiles and Sarah gestured toward the sofa. “Please sit.”
Arabella had barely settled into her seat before she spoke with a quiet earnestness that surprised Sarah. She lifted her cup, then set it down again without taking a sip.
“I am very thankful,” Arabella began, “that we were able to clear the air during our last meeting. I had not expected it to go as it did, but I left feeling lighter than I have in some time.”
Sarah nodded. “I felt the same.”
Arabella folded her gloves neatly on her lap. “I wished to call today to offer my best wishes on your betrothal. It is a happy occasion, and I wanted you to hear that from me directly.”
“Thank you,” Sarah said, meeting her eyes. “That is very kind.”
Arabella hesitated, her fingers brushing the edge of her gloves. “But I also felt I should tell you the rest of the story. It did not seem right to leave anything unsaid.”
Sarah nodded. “I am listening.”
Arabella lifted her cup with deliberate care. “Lady Spencer encouraged me to pursue the duke from the moment I arrived.” “She insisted it was my duty. She said it would restore the family’s reputation.”
Sarah did not interrupt.
“She spoke of it constantly,” Arabella continued. “She told me that my future depended on it. She said that I must not waste the opportunity, and she made it clear that my own wishes were not part of the matter.”
“I always suspected she had a strong hand in it,” Sarah said, nodding.
“She did. She believed she was acting for the good of her family, and she never considered whether it was good for me. Or him, for that matter.”
Sarah waited, letting Arabella speak at her own pace.
Arabella looked toward the window for a moment, her eyes fixed on the garden beyond. “I understood early on that His Grace’s heart was not mine to win. He was courteous, and he was attentive in the way a gentleman must be. But he was not interested in me in the way his aunt hoped.”
Sarah’s voice remained gentle. “Did you ever wish to marry him?”
Arabella paused. She looked down at her gloves, then back up, her expression thoughtful. “I am not certain I was ever asked to want anything,” she said. “I was asked to comply. That is all.”
Sarah did not rush her reply. “I know what it is to have one’s life shaped by other people’s opinions.” “I know what it is to be spoken about without being considered, and I know what it is to have one’s future decided by whispers.”
Arabella listened closely, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
Sarah continued. “After John died, I moved from one household to another. Every place had its own view of me. Every place had its own version of what I should be. I learned to keep my voice quiet and my head down. A single rumor could undo everything.”
Arabella’s expression softened. “I did not realize how much you carried.”
“I did not realize how much you carried either,” Sarah responded, gently.
Arabella shook her head. “It seems we were both placed in positions we did not choose.”
“Yes,” Sarah said. “By the same hand.”
Arabella gave a small, rueful laugh. “I often felt more like a guest in Lady Spencer’s schemes than a participant.”
Sarah found herself laughing as well, the sound light and unforced. “I understand that feeling.”
Their shared amusement eased the last of the formality between them. The conversation shifted naturally to lighter matters. Arabella asked after Clara, and Sarah explained her daughter’s fondness for Henry and her determination to direct every game they played.
They spoke of the schoolroom and the improvements Sarah hoped to make before autumn. Arabella mentioned her plans to visit her mother for the summer, describing the quiet of the countryside and the comfort of familiar rooms.
The tea grew cold as they talked, but neither woman seemed to notice. The conversation moved easily, shaped by a warmth that felt new yet comfortable. Sarah realized she had never truly known Arabella before then.
She had seen her only through the lens of expectation, rivalry, and Lady Spencer’s ambitions. In that moment she saw her as she was; thoughtful, perceptive, and far more independent than she had been allowed to appear.
When Arabella rose to leave, Sarah stood with her. They walked together to the front hall, where the late afternoon sunlight fell across the floor in a soft, even glow. Arabella paused near the door, a gentle expression crossing her face.
“Thank you for receiving me,” she said.
“I am glad you came,” Sarah replied. “Please call again. Not as the duke’s former prospect. As a friend.”
Arabella’s eyes warmed. “I would like that very much.”
She promised she would return before stepping outside, her carriage waiting at the end of the drive.
Sarah watched her go, aware that something had changed between them. With no rivalry left, no expectations, and no schemes, she could see clearly that they might become very good friends.
She closed the door and returned to the sitting room, where the empty teacups were still resting on the table. She gathered them slowly, her thoughts drifting to the orchard where she and William had stood together under the stars.
She remembered the warmth of his hand in hers, the quiet certainty in his voice, and the soft tremor in her own breath when she had chosen him. She remembered the kiss that had sealed their promise, gentle yet steady, shaped by trust.
She thought of Clara, who had already begun to speak of Roxburghe as though it were her home. She thought of Henry, whose laughter had returned with a brightness she had not seen since her arrival.
She thought of William, whose growth had astonished her, whose sincerity had reassured her, and whose love had given her the courage to try again. She felt a quiet joy rise within her, shaped by nothing but gratitude.
She knew the gossip would continue. Society would always find something to whisper about.
But she no longer feared it. She had chosen her path freely, and she would walk it with her head held high.
She had William beside her, steady and unwavering.
She had Clara’s happiness to guide her. She had new friendships forming, shaped by honesty and understanding.
She had a future she had once believed was impossible.
She looked out the window toward the orchard, the evening light casting long shadows across the grass. She was no longer defined by whispers. She was no longer bound by fear.
She was Sarah Shaw, soon to be Duchess of Roxburghe, and she had chosen her future with courage.