Sarah's Legacy by Valerie Sherrard Page A

Eliza and Burgess Fennel, had invited me to a card party, an event I normally detest. Not that I mind playing hearts, which in itself is a pleasant enough pastime. No indeed, but what passes for wit in the accompanying conversation wears thin very quickly.
    Mother insisted that I must go, though I tried to beg a sick headache. I might have managed the excuse if I’d thought of it earlier in the day, but alas, it was nearly time to leave when Mother reminded me of the event.
    â€œYou spend too much time in solitude,” she said brusquely, “and not enough with people of your own age. Now, get dressed. Your father is sending the carriage around directly.”
    It was useless to protest. I put on my brown dress with the gold collar and went with some reluctance.
    The other parties had already arrived and I waited in the hallway for what seemed ages before Eliza came to take me to the others.
    â€œMr. Anderson King is here,” she whispered as we walked toward the parlour, where tables had been arranged for the games. The very mention of his name made my heart quicken, though I
said nothing. How I wished I’d worn my blue dress, which is ever so much nicer than the brown!
    I felt certain that I was flushed when we entered the room and I could only hope that no one would guess the cause of my heightened colour.
    â€œAllow me to present my dear friend, Miss Sarah Wentworth.” Eliza’s voice was full of importance as she introduced me to Mr. King. Of course, he was most proper, bowing and declaring himself delighted to make my acquaintance. I felt at once that these words carried meaning beyond their formality, an impression that grew steadily throughout the evening.
    Unlike the local ruffians, Mr. King was attired in a proper evening suit. I must say that this served to enhance his attractiveness, although he would be handsome in farmer’s wear.
    During the third game, at which time I was seated in that gentleman’s company, Mr. King solicited my opinion on several matters of discussion. In fact, so steady were his attentions to me that I felt sure he would inquire as to when I might be receiving visitors. The one disappointment in the whole evening was that he made no suggestion of calling on me. Still, all in all, it was a glorious night, and one that shall not soon be equalled.
    I confess that, for the first time in my life, thoughts of courtship and romance are not so unappealing after all.

C HAPTER T WENTY
    I fell asleep reading Aunt Sarah’s diary and woke in the morning to find my light still on and Arthur the Fifth purring contentedly on the pillow beside me. I vaguely remembered Plunk being there through the night too, but he was nowhere to be seen when I got up.
    The clock told me it was past nine, and for a moment I thought I was going to be late for school. Then I remembered that it was Victoria Day and we had the day off. But it was pretty late, and I was supposed to help Mom with the servants’ quarters again, so I scrambled out of bed and hurried to wash and get dressed. Then I headed to the kitchen.
    I could hear from the shuffling sounds that Mom was already hard at work. A peek out the window to seeif Stan was there too told me the coast was clear for the moment. At least, there was no sign of his car.
    I had a glass of orange juice but didn’t bother with breakfast. To be perfectly honest, I had no appetite at all. The thought of facing Stan if he happened to come over made my stomach churn with guilt and embarrassment.
    Arthur’s appetite, on the other hand, was just fine, as he quickly let me know with loud, demanding meows. I poured some food into his dish and was amused to see a couple of other cats come running at the sound, even though I knew they’d already been fed. Filling a few other bowls to make sure none of them tried to bully Arthur, I made my way out to join Mom.
    â€œMorning, dear.” She smiled. “You must have been worn out