had begun spreading rumours about the nature of Andrea’s death. Charles had, of course, dismissed it as spiteful nonsense. He was very angry that letters and whispers were circulating.
‘How anyone could think it for one moment!’ Charles had burst into furious speech when they were alone the previous night. ‘John is the last man on this earth I would suspect of having killed his wife.’
‘Why would anyone wish to spread such a rumour?’ Arabella had asked him. ‘It is scandalous and cruel. Someone must hate him to do such a thing.’ She frowned as a thought occurred to her. ‘Could it have anything to do with that other business?’
‘You mean because of the part John played in thwarting Sir Courtney’s attempt to abduct you and force you to marry him?’
‘Yes,’ Arabella replied, looking anxious. ‘John risked his life for our sakes, but why should he be the one to suffer now? And Captain Hernshaw fired the shot that killed Sir Courtney when he tried to kill Sarah and I…’
‘As well us as John if someone wanted revenge for that affair,’ Charles agreed. ‘No, I think this has more to do with John. There is something else…something that runs deeper.’ He explained that John had found some of Andrea’s possessions in his room. ‘Someone must have put that stocking on his bed. It did not get there of its own accord.’
‘Is that so surprising? I dare say the maids found it tucked away somewhere. My things often get left in your room. It could have been caught under the bed or some such thing.’
Charles shook his head. ‘I do not think John’s marriage was like ours, Belle. He would never speak of his intimate situation but…I have never thought it a love match.’
‘Nor I,’ Arabella agreed. ‘He was attentive and kind to her—but not as a man in love might be.’
‘John thought it right to inform me of the rumours and mentioned that he was under a strain. However, he said nothing of their relationship. What I have told you is merely my opinion.’
‘I had already formed my own,’ Arabella said. ‘It seems that John has an enemy, Charles.’
‘Yes, that was the conclusion I formed. I made him promise to seek out Tobbold—you may recall that both Daniel and I have found him a useful man?’ She nodded. ‘John needs someone to help him now. He must discover who is spreading malicious lies. Meanwhile, this remains a secret between us. Mama is not to be told, though both Elizabeth and Daniel have been informed. John wanted them to know because of the ball.’
‘You don’t think…’ Arabella was dismayed. ‘I imagined the gossip was confined to John’s village and home. It will be uncomfortable for him if it becomes generally known and believed.’
‘It will not be known from any of us!’
‘No, certainly not,’ she agreed.
Seeing the sadness in Sarah’s eyes after John had left them, Arabella was tempted to confide in the girl. However, on further reflection, she decided against speaking. It was not truly her affair. John might resent it if he knew that his secret had been betrayed. After all, had he wished Sarah to know, he would no doubt have told her himself.
‘I should not have rejected him before I left for Italy,’ Sarah said, breaking the silence between them. ‘He would have spoken then had I allowed it. I thought for a while that I should never wish to marry anyone.’
‘And now?’ Arabella asked, but before Sarah could answer, the door opened and both Elizabeth and Mrs Hunter came in. ‘Ah, there you are. Did you see John just now? He has been taking his leave of us. He has important business elsewhere but has promised to come up to town for your ball, Elizabeth.’
‘Has he?’ Elizabeth was surprised. ‘He must have changed his mind, for he seemed to think he would not manage it. I am glad that he will come. He looks tired and drained, and I am sure that it is no wonder. He needs to be with friends.’
‘Yes, that is what Charles thinks,’ Arabella agreed. She glanced at Mrs Hunter, who was clutching some letters. ‘Did those just arrive?’
‘Your housekeeper gave them to me,’ Mrs Hunter said. ‘One is for you, Arabella—and one for you, Sarah.’
Sarah took the letter from her mother. She walked over to a small table by the window and sat down on an elegant parlour chair, breaking the seal. She knew who had sent it—it carried the wax impression of the Conte di Ceasares’ seal. She scanned the few lines swiftly.
‘This is from the Conte,’ she told her mother. ‘It is just to say that he hopes we had a good journey.’
Mrs Hunter looked disappointed. ‘I had thought he might have written to say he intended to visit London.’
‘No, Mama. It is simply a polite letter to inquire after our health.’
‘Did you wish to see him again, Mrs Hunter?’ Elizabeth said with a teasing look, for she had no idea of who the Conte was or what age he might be. ‘Or perhaps Sarah…’
‘He was very taken with Sarah in Italy,’ Mrs Hunter said and looked thoughtful. ‘Had she been more sensible, she might have been married to him by now.’ She gave her daughter a straight look.
‘Mama!’ Sarah cried, blushing bright pink. ‘I pray you will not say such things.’
‘And why should you pray that, miss?’ Her mother looked at her in some annoyance. ‘The Conte is rich, attractive and charming—and not so very much older. You are foolish not to have taken him when he asked, Sarah.’ She nodded as Sarah stared at her. ‘I am aware that you refused him without reference to me. Had you asked, I should have advised you to take him.’
‘Please, Mama, do not,’ Sarah begged, feeling as if she could sink. It was so very embarrassing.
Elizabeth had realised her mistake. She sent Sarah an apologetic look. ‘Tell me, Mrs Hunter, where do you intend to take Sarah for her new clothes when you are in town? Have you heard that we have a new and very talented modiste? Her name is Madame Henriette Deloir and she made a wonderful gown for me this spring. Everyone thought that it must have come from Paris.’
‘You mean your green gown,’ Arabella said. ‘It is exquisite, Elizabeth. The lace she used to trim the sleeves is finer than anything I have. I shall ask her to make something for me once the baby is born.’
The conversation was successfully turned as Mrs Hunter asked for the modiste’s address. Sarah stood looking out of the parlour window, her back turned to the others. She had not realised that her mother knew she had refused the Conte’s offer and it was a shock to learn it so publicly.
Tears stung her eyes as she thought of how different it might have been had John asked her to marry him.
Staying here with Arabella, watching as she and Elizabeth held their children in their arms, holding the babies herself, Sarah had come to realise that she wanted a home and children of her own. Her heart belonged to John, but if he no longer cared for her…
Sarah sighed. She was not sure that she could marry just for the sake of a home and children, though she knew that it happened. In Italy most marriages were arranged and many of them turned out well. Some of the ladies she had counted her friends were completely happy with the husbands their families had
