Getting up, she slipped on her peignoir, went over to the pretty lady’s desk near the window and sat in the elbow chair. She picked up her pen, dipped it in the glass inkwell and began to write. She would invite the young woman to come to her for a trial period of three months. If they suited she would continue the contract. In the meantime she might find her daughter.
Having written the polite invitation to join her in Bath and offered a salary of two guineas a month and her keep, Sarah felt satisfied that she would secure the services of the young woman. A girl of little experience was hardly likely to get a better offer. She hesitated for a moment, then took out a fresh sheet of paper.
My dear Marquis,
I had not intended to ask anything more of you, and I assure you this is the very last thing I shall ask, but I wondered if you could arrange to have a young woman fetched from Norwich? I have given her a day, place and time, which I have copied here for you. I am residing in Bath and it is a long way to send my carriage, which I need here. I know you have several carriages at your disposal—perhaps you would be kind enough to have Miss Bancroft brought here to me in the Crescent? I am not yet sure she will accept the position, but as the town of Norwich is not far from your Norfolk estate it might not be too much trouble to send the carriage on the off chance. I shall write again if Miss Bancroft accepts, but if you do not hear please send anyway.
Yours truly, Sarah
Satisfied with her letters, Sarah sanded and sealed both with wax and her signet. She was using her grandfather’s crest. He had left the ring to her and she liked it, wearing it on the middle finger of her right hand.
Smiling, Sarah returned to bed and resumed her breakfast, breaking the soft roll and spreading butter and honey. Had she been reckless in offering a position to a young woman simply on the basis of an advertisement? Her husband would certainly have disapproved. He had summarily dismissed her last companion as unsuitable despite her protests. After that she had managed with the services of her maid. Now she could please herself.
She was certain the young woman who had placed that advertisement was an honest and caring person, and as such she was more than qualified for the position. Sarah would give the letters to her maid when she came for the tray and then she would stroll to the Pump Room and meet her friends.
‘Here you are, my love,’ Betty said, coming into the kitchen one morning later that week. ‘My Ted picked this up for you this morning at the receiving office. Rather than wait until this evening to give it to you, he sent it with Farmer Jenkins’s boy. I think it must be a reply to your advertisement.’
‘At last…’ Eliza took it eagerly. More than two weeks had passed and she had almost given up hope of a reply. Breaking the impressive seal, she read the brief message and sighed with relief. ‘This is almost too wonderful to be true, Betty. I have been offered a position with a widowed lady in Bath—and on generous terms.’
She read the letter to Betty, who nodded her head with satisfaction. ‘Lady Sarah Manners,’ she said approvingly. ‘She sounds like a proper lady and her letter is everything it should be. It says that if you accept you will be met in Norwich market square on the twenty-fifth of July at twelve-thirty.’
‘I must write and accept at once, for that is only two weeks away,’ Eliza said. ‘I think I shall do it immediately and then perhaps Ted will take it into town for me tomorrow.’
‘I think he was going to town this afternoon. If you walked down to the estate office with it, he will take it with him when he goes.’
‘Yes, I shall,’ Eliza said. ‘I had begun to think that I would need to visit the employment office for young ladies in Norwich, but this is just what I need. Do you not think so?’
‘Yes, I dare say it may be,’ Betty said and smiled at her pleasure. ‘It is time something good happened for you, my love.’
‘I consider myself fortunate to have such friends as you and Ted,’ Eliza said and went through to the parlour to write her letter. When she had finished it, she put on her pelisse and bonnet and set out for the earl’s estate office.
***
The Marquis of Cheadle frowned over Lady Sarah’s letter. He had recognised the handwriting instantly and for a few heart-catching moments he had thought she wanted him to visit her again—that she might have changed her mind and be ready to take the first step towards going away with him. It was a ridiculous notion, but one that had taken root in his mind since he visited her. The idea was impossible, of course, for he had his daughter’s future to think of and that must take precedence over his own desires.
Cheadle had lived by his own rules. He was capable of being ruthless, though not actually the rogue some believed. For many years he had suppressed the ache that had never quite gone away, filled his empty life with gambling and high living, but recently the need for something more had overtaken him. He glanced at the letter again before slipping it into the top drawer of his desk as the door opened and his wife entered.
‘Yes, madam,’ he said coldly. ‘Was there something I may do for you?’
‘I wanted to make sure you would accompany us to Bath next week,’ Lady Cheadle replied, her mouth twisted sourly. ‘Accrington hasn’t come up to scratch and I think Marianne is moping. As you know, I had hopes that he would follow us from London, but he has not obliged. I have arranged to visit Bath; we may meet with better fortune there—but I wish you to come with us, at least for the first few days.’
‘Bath…’ The marquis frowned. ‘I had thought to return to London. I am not sure you should rush off to Bath in a hurry, Lady Cheadle. We are in no hurry to push Marianne off. If Accrington needs more time to consider, he must have it. I think he was sufficiently struck to make an offer, but his is an old name and family. He will want to discuss things with his family and his lawyers.’
He reached for the ring he habitually wore and felt its absence as he remembered it was lost, at least for now, given as promise of payment to Daniel Seaton. He would not wear another one, for the ring held memories that could not be replaced by another bauble. He frowned as he thought of the man, of whom he had seen nothing since that evening in town. Seaton might well sell the ring for he was entitled to and he could bear no love for a man who had won ten thousand from his father. Lord Seaton had been drunk. Cheadle had warned him to give up, but he had haughtily refused and the result was predictable. Yet Cheadle had a nagging conscience over it, for he had known the older man was too far gone to realise what he was about.
It was with an effort that he brought his mind back to what his wife was saying.
‘I am determined to go. If Accrington thinks he may lose her, it should bring him to the point sooner rather than later. Have I your assurance that you will accompany us?’
Cheadle narrowed his gaze. ‘Very well, madam. Have it your way. A few days here or there is nothing to me.’
‘I shall miss you,’ the earl said and sighed heavily. ‘Having you here has been a comfort to me, Daniel.’
‘I shall be sorry to leave you,’ Daniel replied. ‘However, there is estate business that takes me home.’
He also had the business of an agent to employ, and had arranged to meet the man in Norwich. He had decided to take up his uncle’s cause to find out the truth about Marcus’s death, and so had decided to stay with the earl whilst he put things in motion. It had taken a few days for the exchange of letters, because the man he had chosen was a Bow Street Runner and
