A Wealthy Widow. Anne Herries
sir, I dunno as there’s much more I can tell you,’ Fred Lightfoot said and looked into his half-empty tankard thoughtfully. ‘As I said to his lordship, I knew there was summat going on in the woods that night. It had happened afore, see—but there were summat different about it that time. Sir Montague were a rum cove, if you ask me. A lot of them girls what they had up there were whores and it were just a bit of a lark, no real harm done—but the girl I found wandering mazed was gentlefolk. I knew it as soon as I saw her and that’s why I took her to a safe place I knew of. She didn’t seem to understand what was happening to her and I couldn’t look after a girl like that, sir. Like a frightened child she was, whimpering and shrinking from my touch, even though I told her I would not hurt her. So I went off to fetch my Mary and—’
‘When you returned she had disappeared.’ Charles frowned at him. He seemed honest and clearly Daniel trusted him. ‘Could Forsythe have come and taken her away?’
‘I doubt it, sir,’ Fred said and shook his head. ‘That cottage belongs to me now my grandfather’s dead and Sir Montague knew nothing of it. I intended to do it up for me and Mary when I got the time, but I’m going to sell it now we’ve got this place with the Earl of Cavendish.’ He scratched his head. ‘I’m afraid that’s all I can tell you. It ain’t much, I know—but that girl what drowned herself, she were a village lass. And that’s all I know, sir.’
‘I was hoping for more,’ Charles said and frowned. ‘Can you recall what she looked like—the girl you helped?’
‘Yes, sir. Lingered in my mind she has, because I felt I should have done more. A pretty girl, sir, with soft fair hair hanging halfway down her back and eyes that were more green than blue…and I noticed a little mark on her left temple. It might have been a scar or a birthmark, I can’t rightly be sure.’
Charles sat forward, touching his left temple with his forefinger. ‘Sarah had a scar there. She hit her head when playing in the nursery once. My mother dismissed the nurse who allowed it, though it was not truly the woman’s fault.’ He took a shuddering breath. ‘I believe it must have been her—the description fits her perfectly. My poor sister! What can have happened to her? I have been searching for months and this is the first time I have heard anything positive. Where could she have gone after you left her?’
‘I wish as I could help you find her, sir,’ Fred said. ‘She wandered off that night alone, but I doubt she could have gone far. It might be a good idea to start a search in the surrounding district, sir. I’ve got an aunt lives in the village of St Tydyll, not more than eighteen miles distant from Sir Montague’s estate. Not much Madge Lightfoot doesn’t know about what goes on for miles around. I could send her a letter, sir, see if she has heard anything of a girl being found.’
‘Thank you, I shall be grateful for any information Mrs Lightfoot can give me, but now that I know where to concentrate my efforts I shall set my agents on the case.’ Charles signalled to the innkeeper. He was suddenly filled with new hope. Sarah had somehow escaped from the rogues who had thought to use her in their evil rites and he could not think that God would have been so merciful only to let her perish in some other way. ‘If Sarah is still alive, I shall find her. Someone must know where she is.’
‘If she found someone kind hearted enough to take her in, she may be safe, sir—though ’tis a wonder that she has not let you know where to find her.’
‘Perhaps she cannot,’ Charles said. ‘You said that she seemed confused—’ He broke off to order more ale for them both as the landlord approached. ‘It might be that she has lost her memory.’ Or more likely that she was afraid to contact her family because she felt that she had shamed them.
‘Thank you, sir.’ Fred accepted the ale, though he had refused payment in money. ‘I’ll get my Mary to send that letter off today to my aunt. I can’t write more than my name, sir, but Mary is a clever girl. If we hear anything, she will write to you if you give me an address.’
‘You may write to my house in London,’ Charles said. ‘I am grateful for your help, Mr Lightfoot, and would willingly pay for your trouble.’
‘I don’t want money for that, sir. I feel bad enough about what happened as it is. It would be a relief to me to know that she had been found safe and sound, sir—and to her poor mother, I dare say.’
‘I dare not tell my mother anything yet,’ Charles said. ‘She has been ill since Sarah’s disappearance, and if I should disappoint her it might kill her. No, I shall keep all this close to my chest, Mr Lightfoot. If we find Sarah, only her true friends will know what has happened to her. We have not talked of it outside our family and the people I trust.’
Fred nodded his understanding. Until the girl was found, the circumstances of that terrible night and the months succeeding it could not be known. It might be that she was ruined and would never be able to take her proper place in society.
‘You can trust me not to let my aunt know your sister’s name, sir. I shall just ask if she has heard of a young lady turning up out of the blue. If she is anywhere near St Tydyll, Madge will know of it.’
‘I pray God she does,’ Charles said, though he had little hope. Were it that easy to find Sarah, his agents would have done it before now. ‘As for me, I shall return to London tomorrow and set my agents in the right direction…’
‘May I speak with you, Cousin Arabella?’ Ralph asked when she returned from an outing one morning later that week. She had been in town for four days now and had done her best to avoid him as much as possible. ‘I have something particular I wish to say to you—in private, if you please?’
Arabella hesitated. It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse and make some excuse, but she knew that he would continue to pester her unless she acceded to his request. It might be as well to have it out now.
‘Very well, Ralph,’ she said in a crisp, cold tone that she hoped would deter him. ‘If you wish, we shall go into the parlour—but I must not delay long. I have to change for tea.’
He nodded, his eyes narrowing as she preceded him into the front parlour. Arabella took up a position near the pretty marble mantelpiece, turning to greet him, her head high. She looked proud and unapproachable, which made him frown.
‘Will you not be seated, cousin?’ he asked. They were of a similar height and yet he felt at a loss while she remained standing.
‘I prefer to stand,’ Arabella said, her dark eyes flashing silver. ‘Please say what you must, Ralph. I do not wish to not keep Aunt Hester waiting.’
‘You can surely spare a few minutes,’ Ralph said, looking sulky. ‘You have been here four days and I have hardly seen you. You are always out when I call. I waited purposely today to see you.’
‘I did not come to London to sit in the house, Ralph. I have been walking in the park with friends this morning and yesterday I went shopping.’
‘As you did the previous day—but we digress. I know that Mama feels it is time you remarried, Arabella. She is very fond of you, as I am. It seems to me very sensible that we should grant her wish to see you happily settled as my wife.’
‘Does it indeed?’ If Arabella’s manner had been cool before, it was positively frosty now. ‘I am afraid that I have no plans to marry again, but if I did it would be for my own sake and not to please Aunt Hester—much as I love her.’
He frowned, looking annoyed. ‘You know I did not mean it that way. I have always had a high regard for you, Arabella. I am sure we should suit very well. Besides, you have not had any other offers, have you? You can’t wish to live out your life as an old maid.’
‘It is very kind of you to concern yourself on my behalf, but I do not believe it would suit me to marry you,’ Arabella replied with dignity. How dare he say such things to her? She would have liked to be sharper, but struggled to control her anger at his insensitive behaviour for the sake of her aunt. She could see the gleam of resentment in his eyes, but was determined to continue. ‘It is hardly your