“They are much appreciated, my old friend,” Sarah said, beaming at him. “Do let all of the servants know and see that a bottle of wine is served to them with their dinner. I should like everyone to be a part of the celebrations.”
“Very good.”
Sarah took off her poke bonnet and handed it to him. Margaret did the same. They linked arms and walked toward the sitting room. A young lady was already in there. She stood and gave Sarah an awkward curtsy. She was obviously Christopher’s other sister. There was a marked family resemblance between the three siblings. They all had the same blonde hair, predominant blue eyes, and small mouths.
This sister wasn’t as classically beautiful as Margaret, but her countenance was much more expressive. Her face was heart-shaped rather than oval, and she was shorter and thinner than her sister as well. But something about the tilt of her chin and the obstinate line of her pouty mouth told Sarah that this sister would be much more difficult to guide than Margaret. Not that Sarah doubted her own abilities to find a high match for the younger sister. She had run a large estate for years.
“Deborah, may I present Lady Sarah?” Margaret began, gesturing to the other young woman.
“Simply Sarah.” Sweeping a perfect curtsy, Sarah bent her knees only a few inches and lowered only her eyes. She gave the girl her most ingratiating smile, but the tilt of the schoolgirl’s defiant chin did not lower. Sarah was going to have to work very hard to win this stubborn chit over to her side. “What a pleasure to finally meet you, Deborah.”
The younger woman huffed. “I am not sure why you sayfinally,since you have been acquainted with my brother for less than a fortnight.”
Her mother had always said that bad behavior should be ignored or isolated. Sighing, Sarah chose to ignore Deborah’scomment and sat down on her favorite chair. “Margaret and Deborah, you both have such lovely names.”
“They’re from Christian martyrs,” Margaret said as she sat near Sarah on a sofa. “Our mother was quite religious.”
Sarah’s mother had been only fashionably pious. Sarah knew most of the biblical stories, but the previous vicar’s sermons had been dull enough to put the most devout person to sleep. And he’d rarely preached of women at all, except to focus on Eve’s transgression and how Rebecca had fooled her husband into giving the wrong son the birthright. He’d used them as examples of why women were not trustworthy.
“I know the story of Margaret of Antioch,” she said, “but I confess I do not know the story of Deborah.”
“She was a prophetess in the Bible!” Deb said loudly and then pinched her lips shut.
Raising her eyebrows, Sarah said, “A prophetess. How very interesting. What great miracles did she perform?”
She could see that Deborah wanted to tell her but was fighting her own stubbornness. The young woman was clearly determined not to be civil to Sarah. And, truthfully, Sarah was interested to know. She’d been unaware that womencouldbe prophetesses. Deborah’s need to boast must have overcome her desire to snub Sarah. “She led an army to victory.”
This was intriguing. Perhaps a little flattery would help the younger sister put down her defenses. “Then you were named well, Deborah, for I perceive that you are brave enough for anything.”
Deborah stuck out her chin again and gave Sarah a mulish look. “Don’t think you can flatter me.”
Sarah touched her chest in mock humility. “I would not dream of it. At least, not with such a small compliment.”
Margaret stood and walked toward where the harp was, in the corner of the room. “Do you play the harp, Sarah?”
She was obviously anxious to change the conversation and perhaps prevent her younger sister from being uncivil. Yes, Sarah did play the harp. Or, at least, she had played it when her mother was still there to hear her. After seven years, her musical talent was probably very rusty, like an unused door.
“My mother taught me,” Sarah said at last.
Deborah walked to the harp and plucked a string, then jumped a little at the noise it made. “I’ve always wanted to learn. So has Margaret.”
This was Sarah’s opportunity to win over Deborah, and she was not such a fool as to let it pass by. Margaret, too, had spoken of her interest to learn to play more instruments on the ride to the church. “Then I will teach you—both of you—if you’d like.”
Mr. Wigan brought in the tea tray, and Sarah was surprised at just how hungry she was. But she poured her new sisters-in-law their tea before filling up her own plate with sandwiches and biscuits. It was no fancy wedding breakfast with her family in attendance, nor was there a cake with several tiers and sugar icing. It was not at all the sort of meal she would have expected on the day of her marriage. They ate in relative silence, and what little conversation they had was strictly on the weather. It had started to rain quite hard. The drops pelted loudly against the windows.
Margaret set down her teacup and dabbed her napkin against the edges of her mouth. “I do hope the servants got all of your things inside before it began to rain.”
Getting to her feet gracefully, Sarah took a deep breath. “Shall we go see?”
“I should like that,” Margaret said and walked to stand by Sarah. “Are you coming, Deb?”
Deborah stuck her chin out again, but Sarah saw her curiosity overcoming her stubbornness. “I suppose. There is nothing else to do in the country but twiddle your thumbs.”
Sarah didn’t take them outside, but up the stairs to the mistress’s rooms. Mrs. Harmony and Nelly would have ensured that the crates and trunks were inside before the downpour. The housekeeper also knew where all the trinkets and knickknacks had been positioned only a fortnight before. Sarah didn’t need to oversee every little detail. She knew it would upset the servants. They had earned their positions through their hard work.
When she opened the door to the mistress’s rooms that had once been her mother’s, she felt the familiar pang of loneliness. How she missed her mother! Even the smell of her perfume. The touch of her hand. The sound of her laughter. Over time Sarah’s memories had lost the senses. Only vague images remained.
Her previous lady’s maid, Nelly Mills, was already in the room, putting dresses away in the wardrobe. When Sarah had left only a fortnight before, Nelly had been demoted to an upper maid, but she had reclaimed her old position now that Sarah was back. Nelly set down the dress she was holding and curtsied to Sarah and the sisters. Sarah tried to hide a smile. Nelly had never curtsied for her benefit. Having grown up together as friends, not as servant and mistress, their relationship was less strict than most. Nelly rarely bothered to show Sarah any deference at all in private.
