A Worthy Gentleman

‘Yes, that is very sensible of her,’ Arabella said and sighed, easing her back, which had begun to ache. ‘I wanted to tell her that the latest monthly journals arrived earlier. I believe there are some fashion plates that might be of use to her when she is planning her new wardrobe.’

‘Oh, I am sure she will be pleased to see them,’ Mrs Hunter said, looking at her anxiously. ‘Are you quite well, my dear? You look a little strained.’

‘I have a backache,’ Arabella said. ‘I do not regard it, Mama. It will pass in time. Indeed, I think I shall take a little stroll in the gardens to ease it. I might meet Sarah as she returns from her walk.’

‘Oh, I wonder if you ought to go so far?’ Mrs Hunter said. ‘You must take care of yourself, Arabella. It is so easy to miscarry a child. I lost two and it was a great sadness to me.’

‘I shall not overdo things,’ Arabella replied and gave her a patient smile. Her mother-in-law did tend to fuss a little too much, which could be irritating if one allowed it to be. However, she had decided that she would take it as well-meaning concern, and would not allow there to be friction between them. ‘Please do not worry, Mama. I am quite well.’

She got up and left the room, glad to escape into the fresh air of the garden for a while. It was quite warm that morning, the chill air of the past weeks seeming to have gone for the moment. However, her intention to walk as far as the lake to meet Sarah was curtailed as she saw a carriage arrive and knew that it was her guests.

She went to greet Elizabeth as one of the grooms handed her down. They kissed and greeted each other with pleasure, the earl waiting until they had finished before taking his turn.

‘It is so good to have you here,’ Arabella said, linking arms with Elizabeth as they moved towards the house. ‘But is John not with you? I thought you might all travel together?’

‘John drove himself,’ Daniel Cavendish told her. ‘He cannot be far behind us, though he intended to stop at the blacksmith in the village to have one of his horse’s shoes looked at. He thought it might be coming loose.’

‘Ah, I see,’ Arabella said. ‘Well, come in, my dear friends. Charles had some business this morning, but he will be back at any moment. Mrs Hunter is sitting with me in the parlour, and Sarah has gone for a walk. I dare say she will be back quite soon.’

Sarah stood watching the swans gliding effortlessly on the lake. They had kept to the far side and she had not been able to entice them nearer because they were fiercely guarding their very small cygnets. However, she had collected a crowd of rather noisy ducks about her, and she laughed as they squabbled over the last scraps of bread she had begged from the kitchens.

It was peaceful here and the scenery was beautiful, less wild than the rugged country she had been used to in the past couple of years. The hills of Tuscany had their own charm, and the gardens of the villas owned by Conte di Ceasares were very beautiful. Just before Sarah had left Italy, the villa garden had been a riot of colour, flowers spilling over from large terracotta pots, and the overpowering scent of their blooms heavy in the air. She thought that she would miss Italy and the people she had counted as friends.

She ought to be returning to the house. She had made her escape earlier because she was aware of her mama’s silent disapproval. Mrs Hunter had been cross with her daughter because she believed that she had discouraged the Conte di Ceasares from making her an offer—she would be very annoyed indeed if she knew that Sarah had twice refused him. Sighing, Sarah turned away from the lake and began to walk slowly across the grass. She had liked the Conte very well, and perhaps she ought to have obliged her mama…

Walking with her head down, lost in thought, Sarah was not immediately aware of the man standing quite still a short distance ahead of her. He was on foot and had come through the woods to the left of the lake from the direction of the village. It was not until she drew near to him that he spoke to her, making her start.

‘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 still had a golden sheen to it, and she looked very beautiful as she came down to join the others in the drawing room.

She was the last to arrive, perhaps because she had taken particular trouble over her appearance that evening. It had taken her half an hour to make up her mind which gown she wished to wear, and even now she was not sure whether she had chosen the right one. She was not certain why she felt it was so important, except, of course, that she wanted John to think that she looked nice. She was trying to be sensible, to stop herself hoping that he might find her attractive. His manner earlier had convinced her that he was still in love with his late wife, still grieving for her—and yet he had cared for Sarah once. If she had let him, he would have asked her to be his wife before she left for Italy.

Sarah had often wondered if she had made a big mistake by telling him that she did not think she would ever wish to marry. It was true that she had felt like that for a while, but the feeling had passed. She was still not certain that she wished to marry—but for very different reasons. Once she had thought that she could not be any man’s wife, but now she knew that there was only one man she wished to wed.

She had realised it after parting from John and going up to her room to tidy herself for lunch. Meeting him again so unexpectedly had made her heart race wildly and she understood why she had refused the Conte when he had asked her to be his wife. She had liked him. She had liked Captain Hernshaw when they met in Rome, but neither of them had touched her heart the way John Elworthy did when he looked at her. His smile made her breathless and she was certain that she could be happy as his wife—but she was not sure that he would ask her. Perhaps he would not wish to marry again. It was obvious that his heart had been broken by Andrea’s death. However, he had mentioned that his son would miss having a mother, so perhaps it was possible that he would take another wife for the sake of his son. Sarah did not know whether she was prepared to accept a man who needed a wife for his son’s sake. It might prove too painful to know that one could only ever be second-best.

‘You look lovely, Sarah dear,’ Arabella said as she took a seat by her on the sofa. ‘But that was a pensive expression on your face just now. Serious thoughts?’

Sarah laughed and shook her head. ‘Not at all, Belle. I was just wondering what was for dinner. I am feeling hungry.’

It was a lie, of course, but it covered any awkwardness. John had glanced at her once when she entered, but his face remained impassive. She had no idea whether he thought she looked well or not. He seemed intent on his conversation with Charles and did not look her way again until dinner was announced. He came to her then, a polite smile on his lips.

‘I believe I have the honour of taking you in, Miss Hunter?’

‘Oh, do you?’ Sarah said. She felt her stomach clench as she laid her hand on his arm and felt proud of herself because it did not tremble. It was difficult to know how to behave with him. He had called her Sarah when they were all staying at Arabella’s manor two years previously, and she had felt that he truly cared for her at that time. Yet now she was unsure. He was polite, and of course, John Elworthy would never be less than attentive or kind to any lady, but there was a new reserve in him. She was sure it had never been there in the past—either before her abduction or after. ‘That will be very nice, sir. We may continue our conversation about Italy.’

‘Yes, of course,’ John said. ‘Did you attend many balls in Italy, Miss Hunter? I dare say you will be invited everywhere when you go up to town.’

‘We shall give a small dance of our own,’ Sarah said. ‘But Lady Tate has told all her friends, so I imagine we shall be invited out quite often.’

‘I am sure you will,’ John said. ‘Elizabeth and Daniel are going up at the same time. They have told me that they are giving a ball. Daniel made me promise that I would attend. It is some time since I danced with anyone…and I am not sure that it is convenient, but perhaps…’

‘Oh, you must,’ Sarah said. ‘I shall know hardly anyone, Mr Elworthy. I hope that you will attend and that you will dance with me.’

‘Well, perhaps,’ John said and gave her the gentle, sweet smile she remembered so well. For a moment the air of sadness that hung over him had vanished and he was just as she had known him when she was a young girl. ‘But I am sure that you will soon have many admirers, Miss Hunter.’

‘Admirers are one thing, friends are another.’ The look she gave him was so direct that John caught his breath. She was the girl he had remembered, but so much more! Italy had changed her, making her the woman she had been destined to become.

‘Yes, very true.’ John’s eyes focused on her face and she thought she could read regret and a faint wistfulness in their depths. ‘Yes, I think we might be friends, Miss Hunter. At least, I see no reason why we should not…’

‘No, of course there is no reason why we should not be friends. We always were, John. You did so much for me—and for Arabella too. I thought we were friends before I left for Italy?’

‘Yes…’ John hesitated as if he wished to say more, but then stopped. They had reached the dining room and he drew her chair for her, seeing that she was comfortably settled before seating himself. Discovering that Elizabeth Cavendish was on his other side, he turned to exchange a word or two with her, leaving Sarah to speak to her brother on her other side.

It was not until the first course had been served that he spoke to Sarah again. ‘This is very good wine, is it not? I must ask Charles who his wine merchant is and where I may find him. I should like to lay a stock of this down in my own cellar.’

‘It is Italian, I think,’ Sarah replied. ‘The Conte di Ceasares was an important winegrower in the district and he taught me many things about wines. I believe I am not wrong about this, though it was not grown in Tuscany—perhaps it comes more from the north of the country.’

‘You seem to have known the Conte very well?’

‘Yes, he was our close neighbour. We actually stayed in a small villa he owned. It belonged to his family and he sometimes allows others to hire it for a while. We were very lucky to stay there. It was beautiful, though not as magnificent as the Conte’s own villa.’

‘He is, one imagines, quite wealthy?’

‘Yes, indeed,’ Sarah agreed. ‘And very kind and a good friend to us.’

‘You were fortunate,’ John said. ‘One hears of travellers who return less than satisfied with the conditions they discover on their travels, but you seem to have been well served.’

‘Yes, we were,’ Sarah said. ‘I do not think Mama would have stayed so long otherwise. She came home to visit Arabella and Charles, of course, and to see her grandson. We shall stay for the birth of their second child, but I think Mama might wish to return to Italy for the winter sometimes. She likes Italy very well.’

‘And you—will you return?’

‘I am not sure,’ Sarah said. ‘I have many friends there, of course—but it depends on…’ She shook her head because she simply could not answer his question without giving too much away. ‘I confess that I like the climate. England can be very cold in winter.’

‘Ah, yes,’ John agreed. ‘Their winters are far less harsh than our own, of course, especially in the south, I believe.’

‘Oh, yes, considerably better.’

Sarah was aware of a slight restraint on his part. He lapsed into silence and then turned to speak to Elizabeth again. After a few moments he laughed, and Sarah was a little envious of his ease of manner with the countess. It was obvious that they were good friends. She wished that she might have been as easy with him, but they exchanged only a few words throughout the rest of the meal, discussing the various dishes and complimenting Arabella on her chef.

Sarah was a little relieved when the ladies left the gentlemen to their port. John was clearly not entirely comfortable in her company and she thought it a shame—she had hoped for something more.

‘How do you find it here in England?’ Elizabeth Cavendish took a seat next to Sarah and smiled at her. ‘I expect you will miss Italy. It is very beautiful. Daniel took me there on our honeymoon. I loved it. We talk of going back again one day, but I should like to have a daughter first. Once our family is complete, then we may travel more.’

‘Yes,’ Sarah agreed. ‘Arabella is taking great care. She would have liked to come to London with us, but has decided against it because the doctor warned that she ought to take things easily. Being shaken for hours in a carriage is not exactly a good idea when a lady is with child.’

‘No, you are right,’ Elizabeth said. ‘We are coming up at the same time as you go to town, Sarah. We have decided to give a ball for our friends. My brother was married last year and this is the first time we shall all be together again. We decided to make the most of it—in case I cannot go up to London next year.’

‘It will be nice to have some acquaintance there,’ Sarah said. ‘I have been used to having friends in Italy and I shall feel a little awkward at first, I think.’

‘Oh, I dare say you will soon make many acquaintances,’ Elizabeth told her. ‘But we must meet often, Sarah. I shall be delighted to take you into my circle, though we are rather inclined to be bluestockings. I hope you like to read?’

‘Yes, indeed I do,’ Sarah replied, her face lighting up. ‘I love poetry, though I do not mind novels—but poetry is my first love, and music, of course.’

‘Do you play the pianoforte?’

‘Yes, a little,’ Sarah replied. ‘I play the harp as well, but I think I prefer the pianoforte.’

‘Then we shall be good company,’ Elizabeth said. She wrinkled her smooth brow. ‘Tell me, was John in spirits at dinner? I have been concerned for him recently. It was difficult to persuade him to come with us on this visit. He spends too much time alone these days. Daniel and he are such friends, but even he sees less of John than he would like. Before he married he visited us almost every week.’

‘I dare say he has been grieving,’ Sarah said. ‘He has had an unfortunate loss.’

‘Yes, though I am not sure if…’ Elizabeth shook her head as if she had said too much. ‘I know that he has been grieving, but it is more than a year since Andrea died. He cannot keep himself shut up from the world for ever. He blames himself, of course, but it was not his fault.’

Sarah would have liked to ask more, but at that moment the gentlemen came into the room and she did not like to push for more information. Now was not the time. She would ask Elizabeth what she meant another day.

Arabella was beckoning to her. Sarah got up and went to her, agreeing to a request to play for them. Sitting down at the pianoforte, she began to play a sonata by Mozart that she was very fond of, her face assuming a dreamy expression as she was carried far away. Sarah was smiling as she thought of an evening in Italy when she had played this piece. It was the night when Conte di Ceasares had first proposed to her.

‘What are you thinking?’ a voice asked and she discovered that John had come to stand by her side. ‘You look as if you are lost in the music.’

‘Yes, I was,’ she said and stopped playing, for she had reached the end of the piece. ‘Do you not love Mozart’s work? I think he was so wonderful, but his own people did not appreciate him until it was too late.’

‘Too often the case,’ John said and reached over her to play a few notes himself. Sarah smiled and let him play for a moment before joining in again.

‘You enjoy music, sir. Do you often play?’

‘Sometimes,’ John said. ‘Perhaps we may perform a duet one evening, Miss Hunter?’

‘Yes, why not?’ she said. ‘We must practise together before we play for others, I think.’

‘Oh, yes,’ he said and smiled oddly. ‘But I have interrupted you. Please continue.’

‘I think Arabella has sent for the tea tray,’ Sarah replied and stood up. ‘Another time, perhaps.’

‘Yes, perhaps,’ he said. ‘Excuse me. I am promised to Charles for a game of billiards. I shall hope to see you in the morning, Miss Hunter.’

‘Yes, of course,’ Sarah said. ‘Goodnight, Mr Elworthy.’

She watched as he, Charles and Daniel left the room, before taking her seat close to Arabella so that she could help to pass round the tea.

‘John plays the pianoforte very well,’ Arabella said to her. ‘I have not seen him take an interest for a long time, but he certainly enjoyed your playing, Sarah.’

‘Oh, I am not as proficient as many ladies are,’ Sarah said. ‘But I like to play sometimes.’