expect you to say!”
Her anger flared to match his. “And how can you behave so righteously, Mr. Ransome? If you believe all this of me, what on earth possessed you to agree to my coming here? You’re a man of as little honor as you credit to me!”
The door slammed behind him.
Sarah’s whole body was shaking and she took a deep breath to try to calm herself. She must write to her father—she must. She could not bear this any longer. The door opened stealthily and Melissa came in. Sarah glanced up quickly as she saw the splash of emerald green of the girl’s riding habit. Melissa looked very lovely, and very menacing, as she stood there, her green eyes gloating malignantly.
The two women eyed each other in silence, and after a moment Melissa turned to go, her scarf billowing behind her. She had said nothing, given no reason for coming back to the dining room, but Sarah knew it had been only to look at her vanquished foe. There came the sound of hooves as Melissa rode out of the courtyard and through the gates.
Sarah slowly left the dining room and climbed the dark stairs. On the landing the Elizabethan lady looked down her nose at the sad little figure. The Buddha shook his head sorrowfully as the wind drew its breath. Outside it had begun to rain again and Sarah stood by the window and gazed out. The glass misted as the rain dashed against it.
Hoofbeats sounded again and she looked out. Was Melissa coming back already? She strained her eyes against the semi-darkness and the weather.
A solitary horseman was riding past the house on his way to the moor. A shaft of light from Martin’s gatehouse momentarily rested on the bright chestnut flank of his horse. The man was hunched against the weather, his top hat pulled down over his face. He was very fashionable, that much Sarah could see, with his high, high collar. His voluminous cravat billowed in the wind. She watched until he was out of sight and then walked on to her room.
She sat by her dressing table quietly while Janie untied her ribbon and began to brush her hair. She thought of Jack and forgot all about the letter she wished to write.
He was free. Would she ever see him again? Would he maybe come to see her? Would he even want to know her after all that had happened?
She closed her eyes as the brush worked gently and soothingly. His kiss seemed to burn on her lips even now. Oh Jack, don’t forget me, don’t forget me ….
Chapter Thirteen
The following day dawned bright and clear. The moor was golden on this first day of March, and from Sarah’s window everything looked warm and spring-like. The ash tree spread its branches like bars across the window, but since Martin had trimmed it early that morning it could no longer touch the glass. The tor shimmered in the distance, swaying in the haze. As Sarah prepared to go down to breakfast she felt her imprisonment acutely and resentment waxed strongly in her heart.
“There, miss, you look very nice. Blue suits you so.” Janie smiled at her in the mirror, putting the finishing touches to the bow which held Sarah’s thick black hair back.
“And who is there to notice how I look, Janie? Mr. Ransome? I think not. He wouldn’t notice if I sat down to breakfast in my undergown.”
“Miss Sarah!” Janie was horrified that her mistress could even think such a dreadful thing.
Sarah’s expression was wry. “Indeed, when I think of it, I imagine he would be completely unsurprised by my doing such a thing, for so low is his opinion of me that he doubtless thinks I make a habit of such behavior!”
She picked up her reticule and went to the door. As she opened it Paul and Melissa were walking along the passage, and they stopped. Melissa smiled sweetly. “Good morning, Sarah. I trust that the storm did not keep you awake last night.” Even the sweetness in her voice sounded so utterly believable.
Sarah returned the smile woodenly. “I slept well, thank you.”
Paul glanced at her. What ailed
Her anger flared to match his. “And how can you behave so righteously, Mr. Ransome? If you believe all this of me, what on earth possessed you to agree to my coming here? You’re a man of as little honor as you credit to me!”
The door slammed behind him.
Sarah’s whole body was shaking and she took a deep breath to try to calm herself. She must write to her father—she must. She could not bear this any longer. The door opened stealthily and Melissa came in. Sarah glanced up quickly as she saw the splash of emerald green of the girl’s riding habit. Melissa looked very lovely, and very menacing, as she stood there, her green eyes gloating malignantly.
The two women eyed each other in silence, and after a moment Melissa turned to go, her scarf billowing behind her. She had said nothing, given no reason for coming back to the dining room, but Sarah knew it had been only to look at her vanquished foe. There came the sound of hooves as Melissa rode out of the courtyard and through the gates.
Sarah slowly left the dining room and climbed the dark stairs. On the landing the Elizabethan lady looked down her nose at the sad little figure. The Buddha shook his head sorrowfully as the wind drew its breath. Outside it had begun to rain again and Sarah stood by the window and gazed out. The glass misted as the rain dashed against it.
Hoofbeats sounded again and she looked out. Was Melissa coming back already? She strained her eyes against the semi-darkness and the weather.
A solitary horseman was riding past the house on his way to the moor. A shaft of light from Martin’s gatehouse momentarily rested on the bright chestnut flank of his horse. The man was hunched against the weather, his top hat pulled down over his face. He was very fashionable, that much Sarah could see, with his high, high collar. His voluminous cravat billowed in the wind. She watched until he was out of sight and then walked on to her room.
She sat by her dressing table quietly while Janie untied her ribbon and began to brush her hair. She thought of Jack and forgot all about the letter she wished to write.
He was free. Would she ever see him again? Would he maybe come to see her? Would he even want to know her after all that had happened?
She closed her eyes as the brush worked gently and soothingly. His kiss seemed to burn on her lips even now. Oh Jack, don’t forget me, don’t forget me ….
Chapter Thirteen
The following day dawned bright and clear. The moor was golden on this first day of March, and from Sarah’s window everything looked warm and spring-like. The ash tree spread its branches like bars across the window, but since Martin had trimmed it early that morning it could no longer touch the glass. The tor shimmered in the distance, swaying in the haze. As Sarah prepared to go down to breakfast she felt her imprisonment acutely and resentment waxed strongly in her heart.
“There, miss, you look very nice. Blue suits you so.” Janie smiled at her in the mirror, putting the finishing touches to the bow which held Sarah’s thick black hair back.
“And who is there to notice how I look, Janie? Mr. Ransome? I think not. He wouldn’t notice if I sat down to breakfast in my undergown.”
“Miss Sarah!” Janie was horrified that her mistress could even think such a dreadful thing.
Sarah’s expression was wry. “Indeed, when I think of it, I imagine he would be completely unsurprised by my doing such a thing, for so low is his opinion of me that he doubtless thinks I make a habit of such behavior!”
She picked up her reticule and went to the door. As she opened it Paul and Melissa were walking along the passage, and they stopped. Melissa smiled sweetly. “Good morning, Sarah. I trust that the storm did not keep you awake last night.” Even the sweetness in her voice sounded so utterly believable.
Sarah returned the smile woodenly. “I slept well, thank you.”
Paul glanced at her. What ailed
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