Page 34 of A Sea View Christmas (On Devonshire Shores)

EIGHTEEN

“...it was settled that they should be married as soon as the Writings could be completed. Mary was very eager for a Special Licence and Mr. Watts talked of Banns. A common Licence was at last agreed on.”

—Jane Austen, Juvenilia , “The Three Sisters”

Sarah awoke the next morning from a honeyed dream. She and Callum, hand in hand, climbing a heather-strewn hill together.

“Miss? Miss!”

“Hmm?”

Sarah opened her eyes with a start.

Cora stood there, shaking her shoulder. “Sorry to wake you. It’s your mum.”

“What is it?”

“Heard her and Bibi talking. Her sheets are damp through. Bibi fears it’s a fever.”

“Oh no.” Sarah sat up, instantly alert.

“Mrs. Summers said not to trouble you, but I’m that worried. I knew you’d want to know.”

“You were right to tell me.”

Sarah scrambled out of bed. She remembered her mother had felt noticeably warm when she’d embraced her last night.

“I told Emily too,” Cora said. “She is in with her now. Mr. Thomson has gone for the doctor.”

“Good. Good. Would you mind helping me dress?”

“’Course not.”

With the doctor coming, Sarah thought it best to change out of her nightclothes. After a little prompting, the girl was able to lace her stays, albeit rather loosely, and do up the fastenings of her frock.

When she was dressed, they left the room together. Cora said she would try to wake Georgiana, who was notoriously difficult to rouse. Meanwhile Sarah hurried downstairs to Mamma’s room.

She passed Mr. Henshall in the hall. For one second his countenance lit up, then whatever he saw in Sarah’s face doused that light.

She said, “I can’t talk now. Mamma has a fever, apparently. I must go to her.”

“Of course. May I do something? Fetch a doctor?”

“James has already gone.”

“Ah.”

And in his expression she saw dejection and grim resignation.

When she knocked and let herself into her room, Mamma still lay in bed.

She looked up with a frown. “I told Bibi not to trouble you.”

“Cora heard you and Bibi talking and was worried. I am glad she told me. What is it, do you think? Cora mentioned a fever?”

“She woke up burning hot and soaked with perspiration,” Emily said. “Nightdress. Sheets. Bibi has gone for fresh bedclothes.”

“I am sure it is nothing,” Mamma said. “Or nothing serious.”

“You mentioned recently you’ve not been feeling your best.”

“Perhaps I was a little ... off, but I am feeling better already.”

“Mamma, if it’s a fever, then that settles things. I will stay ... at least for now.”

“Sarah, no.”

“But, Mamma—”

“No,” Mamma insisted, sitting up with surprising strength. “You will not postpone your life on my account any longer.”

“But if I am needed here ...?”

“Sarah Jane Summers. Do you hold my life in your hands, or does God?”

Sarah recoiled as though struck. “Well, of course God does, but—”

“Do you number my days—know the future—or does He?”

Emily sent Sarah a sympathetic look.

“He does,” she replied. “Although if you are ill, I will need—want—to look after you, after things here.”

“But I don’t want you to do that. I want you to go. Live your life. Accept the love this good man is offering.”

“Mamma, I...”

“Am I alone? Helpless?” She gestured toward Emily. “Do I not have other daughters, sons-in-law, and friends? Not to mention competent and kind retainers?”

“Yes, but should something happen...”

“Something will happen. That’s a certainty in this fallen world.

Difficult things. Someone you love will disappoint you.

Or fall ill. Or even, someday, die. And not living your own life will not stop any of it.

My days, my health, my life are in God’s hands.

And I raised you to believe that as well. ”

“I know. I ... do.”

“Do you? Sometimes I wonder.” Mamma paused and moderated her tone. “I know your intentions are good and pure. But, my dear Sarah, you are not in control, as much as you or I might wish you were.”

Emily defended, “Her heart is in the right place.”

“Is it?” Mamma asked.

Sarah thought of the words Callum had sung, about leaving his heart with her. Perhaps her heart had not been in the right place.

Chagrined, Sarah hung her head. Then a different sensation washed over her, and she breathed it in and released a long sigh—released much more as well. Her hands, which had been fisted, opened and relaxed.

Bibi knocked and poked her head in. “Dr. Clarke is here, ma’am.”

“Good. Show him in.”

“Shall we stay with you?” Sarah asked.

“No, my dear. Not this time, thank you.”

Leaving the room, Sarah saw Callum sitting on a bench in the hall, elbows on his knees, head bowed in an attitude of prayer.

He rose when she came out. Sarah strode up to him, took his face in her hands, and gave him a firm, decisive kiss.

“My feelings and wishes have not changed, but they may need to be postponed a bit, depending on what the doctor says.”

“I understand.”

“Now, please excuse me. I feel the need to keep busy to distract myself from worry.”

“I understand that too.” He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, and then Sarah hurried away.

A mere thirty minutes later, Sarah was busy belowstairs, helping sort and put away an order from the greengrocer for Mrs. Besley, when Bibi came down and mentioned seeing the doctor go.

Sarah excused herself and hurried back upstairs. Perhaps having seen the doctor leave, Emily and Georgiana came out of the office and caught up with her, and the three sisters entered Mamma’s room together.

“Well? What did he say?” Sarah asked. “Did he give you something for the fever?”

“I have no fever.”

“What? Emily said you were burning up. And your bedclothes were damp through this morning.”

“All true. Yet I am not ill but apparently perfectly normal.”

“Then how did he explain your symptoms?”

“I am simply in my climacteric period.”

Georgie’s face wrinkled. “What’s that?”

“I’m going through the change of life.”

“Oooh.”

“I never thought I’d be happy to receive confirmation that I am getting old, but in this case, I am relieved. For your sakes as well as mine.”

“But you’ve been overheated. And perspiring profusely.”

“Also,” Georgie added, “I hate to mention it, unusually snappish.”

“Yes, sorry. All part of it, evidently. Dr. Clarke was rather surprised I have only recently begun experiencing these symptoms. He said many women begin sooner. His theory is that the late onset of my, well, cycles, and my years of inactivity as an invalid may have delayed the inevitable change.”

“Goodness,” Emily said. “Is there nothing he can do or prescribe for your relief?”

“He said some physicians prescribe bleeding to lower the pulse and heat. But after what Prince Edward went through last year...” She shook her head.

“No, I could not bear the thought. So besides a gentle laxative, he prescribed only less meat, less tea and coffee in the evenings, and less wine, which I scarcely ever take anyway. Oh, and less heating exercise.”

“How long will this climacteric period last?”

“He estimates several months to several years.”

Georgie shuddered. “Horrors.”

“As unpleasant as that sounds,” Sarah said, “I am excessively relieved you are not ill.”

“We all are,” Emily agreed.

“Yes, I thank God,” Mamma said with a sigh. “Although I may have to ask Him one day why He deemed this unpleasant business necessary. One would think pain in childbirth was enough.” She grinned, and her daughters chuckled.

Then Mamma looked at Sarah and added, “I am sorry I was a bit harsh with you earlier.”

“I understand. It seems that a loving parent sometimes uses ‘unpleasant’ things for our good.” Sarah smiled, bent to kiss her mother’s forehead, and turned to go.

Sarah lost no time in finding Callum to tell him the good news. She drew up short, however, when she found him in the parlour, frowning down at a piece of correspondence.

He looked up and rose when she entered. “How is your mother?”

“She is well,” Sarah said, not daring to explain the particulars. “Nothing to worry about, according to Dr. Clarke.”

“I am relieved to hear it.”

“You don’t look relieved. What is it?”

“A letter from my man of business.”

“Bad news?”

“I’m afraid so. A violent storm struck Fife, and Kirkcaldy was hard hit: strong winds, high seas, widespread flooding.

Much of the town is flooded and some of our estate as well.

The storm damaged sections of the roof, and water is getting into the oldest part of the house.

He is doing what he can, but I need to go home as soon as may be to help with the cleanup and repair efforts. ”

“Oh no. I am so sorry.”

He nodded. “As I mentioned, Effie’s aunt Isla has left. Despite her flaws, she had directed the household staff, and in her absence, there is a lack of leadership about how best to manage the extra work.”

“Sounds like you shall need help.”

Again he nodded, expression troubled as he gazed into his own thoughts.

Sarah tapped her chin. “If only you knew someone who was good at managing staff, and organizing, and getting things done....”

“True.” For a moment he continued to stare into the vague distance, his mind clearly elsewhere. Then his gaze snapped to hers, pleasure brightening his face.

A second later, his expression sobered. “I don’t want a housekeeper, Sarah. I want a wife. A helpmeet, yes, but more than that. A cherished partner, true love, and lover.”

At his words, her heart seemed to swell almost painfully in her chest. She nodded. “I want that too.”

He stepped forward, bracketed her shoulders in both hands, and gave her a swift, hard kiss.

“Does that mean you’ll marry me?”

“It does.”

He kissed her again.

Then aloud, Sarah realized, “You will need to leave straightaway.”

“I can remain one, maybe two days at most. He has engaged a few local men to do a makeshift patch job of the roof, which should hold until I can assess the damage and decide how best to proceed. Besides, Effie would hate to miss the Twelfth Night party.”