All the same, Sara’s eyes lingered on Linda Erskine and her brother-in-law with something less than indifference. The woman’s simple navy blue dress, worn with matching stockings and high-heeled shoes, served to enhance both a graceful neck and the silken ash-blonde hair that Linda wore in a fashionable chignon. There was a brooch at her shoulder which offered some relief from the rather severe outfit, but Sara thought, rather uncharitably, that its expensive setting was a reminder that Linda had married well.
From Sara’s point of view the exquisite emeralds, set in a twisted coil of white gold, were an all too unwelcome reminder of the home she had once had. Beautiful gems like those were freely available in South America, and Harry had offered to buy her an emerald ring for their fifth wedding anniversary.
Sara determinedly put that thought aside and glanced instead at her own appearance in the mirror over the fireplace. The dress she had been forced to wear wasn’t entirely suitable, being too thin for this northern climate. But it was plain and it was black, and she hadn’t exactly had a lot of choice.
The long coat she had worn to the church was infinitely more suitable. She’d bought it in London years ago, and for some reason she’d taken it with her when she moved. Being made of warm charcoal-grey wool, it had hidden the fact that the dress hung rather loosely on her spare frame. She knew she’d lost weight since Harry’s death, and she hadn’t been exactly robust before that. Food had never been that important to her, and since Harry had been killed she’d found it difficult to eat anything.
In consequence she found her comparison to Linda Erskine decidedly unflattering. Despite the fact that her skin was lightly tanned and clear of any blemishes, she was sure that it suffered from a lack of colour. The other woman’s make-up was smooth and immaculate, a distinctive touch of blusher heightening the impression of a perfect English rose.
Sara’s hand crept almost unconsciously to her hair. Unlike Linda’s, Sara’s hair barely brushed her collar at the back. In the heat of Rio de Janeiro it had been more sensible to keep it short, and although its russet strands were thick and shining it lacked the elegance of a longer style. Perhaps now that she was back in England…
But at that point she arrested her thoughts. For heaven’s sake, she thought impatiently, here she was, at Harry’s funeral, and all she could think about was how dowdy she looked when compared with a woman she scarcely knew. What did it matter to her if she looked a frump? She wasn’t here to gather compliments. She was here to bury her husband.
‘Sara? It is Sara, isn’t it?’
The voice at her shoulder was unfamiliar, and she turned almost guiltily to find Linda Erskine’s husband hovering at her side. His appearance caused her to look with some apprehension across the hall, but Linda was still standing with Alex and seemed indifferent to anyone else.
‘I—why, yes,’ she said, forcing herself to concentrate on her companion and not speculate on his wife’s behaviour. Though if she had been James Erskine she wouldn’t have left them, she thought bitterly. Someone should warn him that people weren’t always what they seemed.
‘I should introduce myself,’ he was saying now. ‘I’m James Erskine. Harry’s father and I have been friends for years. I was so sorry to hear what happened. Harry was a fine man and I admired him greatly. You have my sympathy at this most stressful time.’
‘Thank you.’ Sara wasn’t sure whether she should address him as James or Mr Erskine, and as she was having some difficulty in separating him from the rather envious thoughts she had been having about his wife she decided to use neither.
‘It must all be quite bewildering for you,’ James went on, revealing a genuine compassion for her plight. ‘Coming back to Edmundsfield must have been daunting. Not just another country, but a wintry one as well.’
‘Yes.’ Sara managed a faint smile. ‘You forget how cold it can be. I’m afraid I’ve been spoilt for the past five years. I’ve forgotten what it feels like to wear an overcoat.’
James smiled in return. ‘I, on the other hand, know what it feels like only too well. When you get to my age you have to take care of yourself. It wouldn’t do for me to leave my overcoat behind.’
Sara warmed to him. His friendly smile, his obvious willingness to joke about his age, his understanding all commended him to her. When the news of his marriage to Linda had reached them Harry had mentioned that James Erskine must be considerably older than his wife, but at that time Sara had dismissed the fact as being of no concern to her. But now…
‘How’s Ben taking it?’ James asked. ‘I expect he’s finding it a little strange too. Thank heavens he’s so young. He’ll recover so much easier.’
‘I hope so.’ Sara nodded. ‘He and I will have to sort our future out fairly soon. We won’t be going back to Brazil, of course. That goes without saying. But we have to find somewhere to live, and I have to find a job.’
‘Of course.’ A slight frown crossed his face for a moment. ‘Well, if there’s anything I—that is, Linda or I—can do, you must let us know.’
‘Thank you.’ Sara was genuinely sure that he meant it. ‘It’s very kind of you.’
‘Not at all.’ James patted her hand with gentle warmth. ‘Ah—here comes my wife. I believe you’ve met her. And Alex. I’m sure he must be a tower of strength at this time.’
It wasn’t a description that Sara would have used, but Linda’s intervention forestalled any thoughts of that kind. ‘Darling,’ she said, touching her husband’s hand, ‘we should be going. We don’t want to impose and—Sara!’ Her start of surprise was almost convincing. ‘I do apologise. I hadn’t realised it was you James was speaking with. Let me offer my condolences. It was a terrible thing to happen. You must be quite distraught.’
‘Yes.’ Sara wished that she could respond with as much conviction. ‘I—it was terrible. And so unexpected. Harry thought the men were his friends…’
Her voice was beginning to falter. In spite of herself the strain of the last few hours was getting to her, and the awareness of Alex, standing just behind Linda and listening to every word, was too much. In addition to which there was the unwarranted dislike she still felt for the other woman to cope with, made all the more contemptible because of her husband’s kindness.
‘Well, I’m sure James has told you that if there’s anything either of us can do…’ Linda added, her gracious tone grating on Sara’s nerves. She tucked her arm into her husband’s. ‘Come along, darling. We’ve got the Websters coming at seven, remember?’ She cast a challenging glance behind her. ‘I’m sure we can leave Alex to take care of his sister-in-law.’
‘Naturally.’
Alex’s single word of acknowledgement set the seal on the Erskines’ departure, but Sara was aware that James Erskine cast her another reassuring glance as he allowed his wife to usher him away. And it was some comfort to know that not everyone blamed her for what had happened to Harry. The Erskines were family friends, and could be relied upon to reflect the general mood.
Sara’s concentration abruptly wavered. She wished she could make her departure too. This mannered observation of the required social protocol was beginning to tell on her, and now that Alex had resumed his position at her side she just wanted to be alone.
Watching James and Linda make their way to the door forced her to wonder what
