There were other duties to take her time. She didn’t have any free hours to worry about Mr. Eston. In addition, sparing her staff to look for him meant that other chores were not being done.
Although the housekeeper was diligent in her duties, Sarah also inspected the work of the maids and footmen. In her absence, all the tasks necessary to maintain Chavensworth had been done, but never as thoroughly as when she was present to supervise. Yet her thoughts kept coming back to Mr. Eston. Douglas.
What if Douglas had somehow wandered off the lane and into one of the traps placed by the farm steward? She would never forgive him. It was one thing to agree to marry her but quite another to disrupt her entire schedule by sheer stupidity.
“Lady Sarah?”
She turned to find Thomas standing there, his face marred by a frown.
“What is it? My mother?” Her heart seemed to beat slower, as if wishing to stop in that moment.
He shook his head quickly. “No, Lady Sarah. Mr. Eston.”
Her heart began beating swiftly again. “Has he hurt himself?”
“No.” Thomas hesitated and she began to tap her toe impatiently.
“Well?” she finally asked. “What has happened to him?”
“The stable master says he came and took the wagon that arrived for him. He gave no indication where he was taking it, but he returned the horses a few hours later.”
She blinked at Thomas. His words weren’t any easier to understand the longer she stared at him.
“Where is he now?”
“The stable master doesn’t know.”
One presupposed worry when one cared for another. Why should she worry? She had no connection to the man save that of a legal nature.
I would like to see your breasts bared.
Dear God, what was she thinking?
“Very well,” she said. Life at Chavensworth would hardly change without him. He was a raindrop in a storm.
She finished her tasks by six, straightened her hair, washed her hands and face, and went to sit with her mother.
“Has she shown any change?” she asked.
Hester shook her head, her gaze on the duchess.
If anything, her mother looked even more diminished today than yesterday. Would she simply waste away? If she didn’t wake, at least to take water, there was every possibility that’s exactly what would happen.
“What shall we do?” she asked, but Hester didn’t answer. The older woman had slipped from the room unobtrusively.”
Sarah moved the chair closer to the bed, placing one hand on her mother’s wrist and the other on her hand. Her skin felt so very cold, as if the grave had already claimed her.
Perhaps if Sarah spoke to her mother, she would hear. Would she come back to life? Would she open her eyes?
“The tablecloth was washed today, the one with the wine stain. It’s the fourth time I’ve had the laundress rewash it, and I think the stains will come out in one or two more washings. I also gave notice that the stable should be painted, and it’s time for the hedges to be measured and trimmed. I know you don’t like them togrow too high,” she said, speaking of the ornamental garden her mother so prized.
“I think the youngest scullery maid is with child,” she said, sighing. “I don’t know how to broach the subject with her. I have hinted broadly enough that I was receptive to any confidences she might care to make. I think she would come to talk to you, Mother, more so than me.” She smiled. “That’s an incentive for you to get well,” she said. “Chavensworth needs you.”
She sat silent for a few moments before beginning to speak again. “I am so accustomed to seeking your counsel, but I don’t know what to do when you don’t answer me. I think I know what you would suggest, and I use my own judgment as you’ve taught me. Sometimes, however, it’s important to have your thoughts validated.”
She picked up her mother’s hand and kissed the back of it softly. “I do wish you would wake. I hope you can hear me.” She laid her forehead against her mother’s hand and breathed in the smell of lavender used to scent the mattress.
A moment later, she forced herself to continue, lifting her head and smiling at her mother.
