‘Sarah? Miss Hunter…’
Sarah felt a thrill of fear, which was gone in a moment. Just for a few seconds she had been back in the old nightmare, but it faded as she stared at the man standing a few feet away. Her heart raced and she felt a dizzy sensation as she knew him. He was much as he had always been and yet there was an air of sadness about him that she had not remembered. Because of his wife, she realised, as she recalled what Arabella had told her a few days earlier.
‘John? Mr Elworthy…it is you, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’ John stood frozen to the spot, as if he was held by some spell and could not move. ‘I am sorry if I startled you. I thought as I saw you coming this way that it was you, Miss Hunter—but I did not know that you had returned from Italy and wondered if I was mistaken.’
‘We arrived just two weeks ago and have spent most of that time here with Charles and Arabella. We go up to London in about three weeks from now. Mama and I will stay with Lady Tate, though Arabella does not intend to accompany us. She is expecting her second child and prefers to stay quietly at home until her confinement. I believe Charles has some business and may come up for a few days.’ She was talking too much, but did not know how to stop. ‘I was not aware that you were to be a guest here, sir.’
‘I hope it does not displease you?’
‘No, of course not. Why should it?’
Sarah came up to him, offering her hand. He took it for a moment, holding it loosely, as if he thought she might break.
‘Forgive me. I cannot help remembering…’ His eyes were intent on her face. He smiled and shook his head. ‘That seems a lifetime ago. You look wonderful—such a difference…not that you were ever less than lovely. What a mess I am making of this, Miss Hunter. You look beautiful, of course.’
‘Thank you.’ Sarah laughed as she saw his confusion. She had been paid many more effusive compliments during her stay in Italy, but she was warmed by John’s stumbling offering. ‘I know that I look different, Mr Elworthy. Arabella remarked on it when she saw me for the first time. I think perhaps I have grown up, become a woman. I was a lost and rather foolish girl when you last saw me.’
‘A girl perhaps,’ John said and let go of her hand, which he had retained until now, ‘but never foolish. You had been through a traumatic experience, Miss Hunter. I hope that you have recovered now? You seem very well.’
‘Yes, I am,’ Sarah said. ‘Italy did me a great deal of good, sir. I think it was because no one knew anything about me and I was able to make friends without being asked about what happened during that time. Those dark days are a distant memory to me now. I no longer suffer from nightmares.’
‘I am glad to hear it,’ John said. His eyes were serious, dark shadowed, but in every other way he was much as he had always been. John Elworthy was not a striking man, but he had a quiet air about him that was pleasing and his smile touched hearts. ‘You have perhaps been told that I am a widower?’
‘Yes, Arabella told me your news. I am very sorry, sir. It must be a great loss to you.’
‘The loss of a young life is always sad,’ John replied. ‘There is a child—a boy. I have left him with his nurse, but I fear that he will feel the loss of his mother as he grows to understand what has happened.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Sarah agreed. ‘But he has his father and that will sustain him.’
‘Perhaps…’ John was silent for a moment, apparently lost in thought. They had fallen into step with one another. ‘You are planning a season in town, Miss Hunter? I had thought perhaps you might be betrothed, but I see that is not so…’ He glanced at her ringless left hand. ‘Or perhaps there is someone in Italy?’
‘I might have married had I chosen,’ Sarah said for pride’s sake. ‘I have not yet decided what I wish to do in the future, sir. Mama wishes me to marry soon, but I do not know what I want…’
‘You must take your time,’ John said. ‘You are still quite young…’
‘I shall be one and twenty this year,’ Sarah said. ‘I dare say it is not too late should I wish to marry—though I believe I look older than my years.’ She put up a hand to touch the wings of white at her temples. Her hair was in general a beautiful pale golden colour; shining and thick, it had grown in the past two years, though was nowhere near as long as it had been before her illness. She wore it twisted up at the back in double knot. Her gown was a simple muslin with a turquoise blue sash caught high at the waist, its colour almost a match for her eyes. ‘Mama hoped that these would grow out as I recovered my health, but they have not.’
‘I think the wings of white are distinctive,’ John told her. ‘You have an air about you, Miss Hunter—a quiet dignity that sets well with your hair.’
‘Conte di Ceasares thought I was older,’ Sarah replied with a hint of mischief in her eyes. ‘Not that he heeded it, for we were great friends. I made many friends in Italy. Have you ever been there, sir?’
‘Yes, I visited that country when I was young,’ John told her. ‘My father considered it a part of my education. It was a wonderful experience. I spent more time in France and Spain when I was with the army—but I have not travelled overseas since my return home after the war.’
‘You did not go abroad for your honeymoon?’ Sarah asked and then blushed. ‘Forgive me—that was an insensitive question. I had no right to ask it. Indeed, I should not!’
‘You meant no harm by it,’ John said. ‘Andrea was not particularly strong even then. She did not wish to go away. She was quite happy at home with her dogs and her books…’ It was not entirely true, but John could not tell anyone about the strange haunting sadness that had come upon Andrea after their marriage.
‘I see,’ Sarah said, but wondered at the strange expression in his eyes. Clearly it pained him to speak of his wife; she thought that he must have loved her very much. She decided to be careful not to ask such clumsy questions again. ‘Tell me, sir—what part of Italy did you like most? We visited the lakes and many of the beauty spots, but settled in Tuscany.’
‘Yes, Arabella told me,’ John said. ‘I believe I like Florence very well—and Venice, of course. Did you get as far as Venice?’
‘Yes, indeed, we visited Venice almost as soon as we arrived,’ Sarah said. ‘Tilda particularly wanted to take a trip in a gondola…’ She smiled up at him, feeling on safer ground now. It was easy to talk of things and places they had both seen. Much easier than talking of personal feelings. She felt that John had suffered much since their last meeting and something inside her made her want to reach out and heal that hurt—but there was a distance in him. She sensed that he had built a barrier between himself and the rest of the world. He was happy to converse on almost any subject, but that of his wife—and that, she suspected, was taboo.
However, they had sufficient to discuss about the wonderful old buildings and treasures of Italy, and continued their walk up to the house in harmony. So much so that, when Arabella looked out of the parlour window and saw them coming, she was able to smile and consider that her plan had worked out very nicely.
Sarah had dressed in a gown of pale green silk for dinner that evening. She wore a single strand of pearls around her throat, and her maid had dressed her hair so that one smooth ringlet fell on her shoulders. Her skin
