Page 14

“You are too kind, Mar—” Sarah began to thank her but was distracted by what she saw outside the carriage window.

Workers were standing on the roofs of the cottages on the Manderfield estate.

The old, rotted thatched roofs were being scraped off and new ones put on.

Her heart warmed for the first time that day.

Her eyes flitted back to the stranger she had married. “You did it.”

“What?” Christopher asked, turning in his seat to see what Sarah was looking at. “Oh yes. The rethatching. It was the top item on your list, and they were in bad repair. I had Mr. Pryce find workers at once.”

All the frustration she’d felt toward him at the ceremony evaporated.

He had not only read her suggestions; he had begun to implement them.

Her father had ignored her the dozen times she’d asked him to repair the roofs of the tenant cottages.

He’d said that she was a foolish young woman who didn’t understand business.

Yet Christopher, a successful and wealthy businessman, had followed her advice.

A surge of hope filled her heart. Perhaps their marriage could grow into something more than one of convenience.

“You’re doing all the improvements I suggested? ”

Raising one eyebrow, he gave her a wry smile. “They were suggestions? I thought they were demands.”

Sarah blanched but then realized he was not trying to offend her but to tease her.

She laughed and then gave him her first genuine smile.

Her limbs felt light, and she had an overwhelming feeling of weightlessness.

“I am so glad. Although, probably not as glad as your tenants, who will no longer have leaks when it rains. Have you met the tenants yet? They are most excellent people.”

Christopher shook his head. “Am I supposed to?”

Taking a deep breath, Sarah explained, “It is a good idea. And I am sure you will be the most popular landlord in the county after these new roofs. If you’d like, I could accompany you and introduce you to everyone.”

“Very well,” he said, folding his arms and leaning back against the carriage seat. “If you think it is a good idea.”

She did. Sarah knew all the tenants very well.

Her mother had taught her that although women did not always have control over their lives, they could carve for themselves little “pockets of power.” Mama was never allowed to go or stay when she wished to.

By law she had to obey her husband’s wishes and receive his permission before traveling to London or visiting Sarah at school.

Her mother had not wanted to send Sarah to a boarding school.

She’d wished to keep Sarah close to her at home by hiring a governess.

Papa had ignored his wife’s feelings and sent Sarah off to Bath at the age of eight.

Children, like wives, were legally the property of the husband.

There was nothing Mama could do, except teach Sarah how to find her own little pockets of power.

At school Sarah had learned all the girls’ names and what they liked.

She’d even curried for her teachers’ favor.

A good student received more privileges than a naughty one.

And a popular girl needn’t worry about what people said behind her back. What she said was what mattered.

Both Sarah and her mother had carved a pocket of power by knowing, respecting, and serving their tenants.

Mama had always brought a gift when a tenant had a child.

She was attentive when someone was sick and generous with holiday baskets.

The tenants had loved her and despised Papa.

If Mama asked them to do something, they did it, whether or not the steward required it of them.

The mistress held all the keys of the house, symbolically and physically. Her mother had poured all the love that she had not found in her marriage into Manderfield Hall and its inhabitants. She had taken great care of it and always ensured that each room was filled with flowers.

She had also been a powerful figure in London Society.

She was a well-connected countess and a lady-in-waiting to Queen Charlotte.

Her beauty was much admired, and she liked to set fashions.

It was perhaps her favorite pocket of power.

She had loved when other ladies mimicked the style of her hair or the cut of her gown.

One time she’d worn a single white daisy in her hair to a ball.

By the next day, nearly every woman of the ton had a daisy in her hair.

Silly? Perhaps. Influential? Definitely.

Sarah would need to use all of her pockets of power to bring the Moultons into fashion and Society.

Christopher did not speak again for the rest of the trip to Manderfield Hall.

Sarah was busy with her own thoughts, and his silence this time did not bother her.

He seemed to speak only when he had something to say, and he felt no need to utter polite nothings to keep the conversation moving.

She would have to teach him the social niceties and how to speak cleverly about nothing at all.

When at last they arrived, he assisted Sarah and Margaret out of the carriage and then went into the house without a word to either of them.

He did not bid Sarah farewell, nor tell her where he planned to go or what he was doing.

Resentment blossomed in her chest like a rose.

She had been beginning to think upon him favorably again, but she realized that bringing him into Society was going to be a much larger job that she had previously anticipated. He had a beard and behaved uncouthly.

Sarah spun around to see the grounds. She’d been gone only a fortnight, and yet she could identify the smallest of changes brought by the turning of the seasons.

On the west side she was relieved to count no less than three wagonfuls of crates and Mrs. Harmony standing by one of them, ordering the servants to take Sarah’s trunks inside.

The only sign that the housekeeper had seen her was by the slight upturning of her lips as she continued to direct the lower servants.

Margaret gasped. “You must have a great deal of clothes.”

Chuckling, Sarah shook her head. “Those crates are full of trinkets, fine china, and the silver I inherited from my mother. Only the trunks have clothing in them. Most of my gowns have been made over at least once. My funds have been tight for the last few years.”

Margaret’s eyes were still wide. “I should like to see them. They must be very fashionable.”

“If that is the case,” Sarah said with a wink, “you can help me unpack. But let us have some tea first. I’m famished. I had no idea that getting married could make one so hungry.”

Mr. Wigan held the main door open for them, and if he was surprised to see Sarah, he did not show it by so much as raising his thick eyebrows.

Sarah wondered if Christopher had told the servants, or if he’d not bothered to speak to them about something he thought was not their business.

He would soon learn that in the country, everything was the servants’ business.

“Dear Mr. Wigan, could you have tea sent to the sitting room, please?”

Placing a hand on his stomach, he bowed. “Of course, Lady Sarah.”

Sarah held out her left hand with the gold circlet around her fourth finger and smiled.

Mr. Wigan bowed to her again. “Allow me to offer you my sincerest congratulations, my lady.”

“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 say finally, 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’s comment 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.”