“You aren’t,” Mrs. Hillsman said sagely. “You are a survivor, as am I. Those others, they lose sight of what is important. Eventually, they lose faith.”
“And what is important?” Sarah wondered. Right now, her once ordered world seemed a jumbled mess.
Mrs. Hillsman didn’t even take a moment’s reflection. “Security. It is all any of us need.”
But not me, Sarah wanted to say. I have big dreams. And yet she held her tongue. After all, perhaps the older woman was right and Sarah had been chasing the wrong thing such as her need to see her talent validated.
An assistant came to the door with a shawl in colors that reminded Sarah of a peacock’s tail. “Yes, Eloise, that is what I wanted.” Mrs. Hillsman motioned the girl forward, took the shawl and draped it over Sarah’s shoulders. “With the straw hat we purchased, you are ready for Mr. Talbert. Don’t let him bully you. He is afraid you will have more power than he has, and you will.”
With that confident prediction, Mrs. Hillsman called, “Come, everyone. It is time to leave. We shall send the dresses as we finish them, Mrs. Pettijohn. Wear them with joy.”
In moments, Mrs. Hillsman and her entourage picked up every bolt, pin, and other accouterment of their art and left, just as Mr. Talbert arrived, followed by a footman in the Baynton colors carrying an ebony wooden box with brass fittings in his arms.
The secretary entered the sitting room his usual officious self, but then pulled up sharply at the sight of Sarah.
For a long moment, he appeared speechless.
“Hello, Mr. Talbert,” she said, pulling on the short white gloves purchased for the dress.
“Yes, hello,” he managed and then took another stare as if he still couldn’t quite believe his eyes.
“Are you ready?” Sarah asked, rather enjoying herself.
“There is a vehicle waiting downstairs. However, first, His Grace asked me to see this delivered to you.” He nodded for the footman to put the chest on the table. “He picked it out himself and bid me to tell you that he wished he could give it to you in person. Unfortunately, there are some difficulties over a vote he missed yesterday—” he said this as if she was in some way responsible “—and he is currently in a meeting with the prime minister.”
Sarah took off a glove to run a hand over the smooth wood. “What is it?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps you should open in it,” the secretary said with a hint of a snit.
She lifted the handle and was delighted to discover that the box was a traveling secretary complete with an inkpot, pens, and a stack of paper. She touched the paper, overwhelmed by the gift.
“His Grace said for me to set up an account at Fieldings, the stationer on Pall Mall.” Talbert placed a card on the table beside the box. “Any time you wish to order more supplies, you may do so.”
“This is too generous,” Sarah murmured.
“His Grace is a generous man,” Talbert said. “Now, if you are done staring at the box, we need be on our way. I have a schedule.”
“Of course, let us go.” Sarah picked up the key from the table and locked the door as they left. She had a puzzling moment when she stopped at the top of the stairs to ask the floor steward to remove the dishes and the cold bath from her room. She didn’t know if she should also hand him her key or not.
“He has a key to all the locks,” Mr. Talbert said, rightly guessing her dilemma.
She gave both men a smile to hide her discomfort over her naivetiés and went downstairs.
Sarah had been so disheartened when she first arrived at the Clarendon, she did not remember very much of Baynton’s leading her across the reception area. She now appreciated her lovely clothes that allowed her to hold her head high as she made her way to the front door and out onto the white stone step.
She remembered Mrs. Hillsman’s words about all the gossip over Baynton’s mistress. She wondered if there were those who stared. She tried not to pay attention but moved with unhurried grace to the ducal coach waiting for her.
Apparently, Mr. Talbert was aware of the fuss. “That was easier than I anticipated,” he said once they were in the coach. He knocked on the ceiling to signal the driver to go.
“Where are we going?”
Mr. Talbert referred to his ever present ledger book. “His Grace suggested a place called the Bishop’s Hill Theater. He understood that it might be available for lease.”
Geoff and Charles’s old place would be the perfect stage for Widow. Had the duke known that? She doubted he had. Instead, he would have surmised the landlord would be happy to have a paying lease, and he was.
He bowed and scraped before Sarah and Mr. Talbert to a point that was almost embarrassing.
“What do you think?” Mr. Talbert asked Sarah as they stood on the stage still in need of a cleaning after the Naughty Review.
