Lady Sarah's Secret

XXI. You Need A Better Coat

The wind whipped through the carriageway of Broadcroft estate, and Sarah felt as if it was running through her very skin as well at the moment. Mrs. Green had given her a threadbare coat left behind by what had to have been a stable boy from the stench that came off of it. The ugly thing was too big on her by half, the sleeves continuously falling down around her wrists and the material offering little shielding from the weather. Sarah's nose and toes felt frozen as well, chapping in the breeze that promised a coming snow. Where were her fur lined boots now? She daydreamed to herself. Her fur coat, her warm muff; she'd been forced to leave all behind upon abandoning home, including an adorable woolen scarf of the deepest indigo. Again another gust of wind whipped against her like a punishment; how she missed that old life just now.

"You need a doctor, Mistress," Lottie scolded under her breath as the two maids carried large baskets of food out to the wagon. Charles and Lady Eleanor were delivering food that morning to the cottages.

"Enough, Lottie," Sarah repeated, but in the next moment a fit of coughing seized her.

It has been this way since yesterday, and had she been in her old life Sarah would've taken a hot bath and a cup of hot chocolate. Instead she'd swept the stairs, dusted the house and mopped the Front Hall. Lottie was beside herself, insisting that Sarah was not made for the work of a housemaid and would probably die if she did not throw herself on Sir Charles' mercy that very next moment.

The very same man joined them outside accompanied by Lady Eleanor and both of his sisters. She wanted him to speak to her, missed his company in fact but just the same was still too mortified to face him since that afternoon when she'd begged him not to marry Lavinia. Sarah's face burned with mortification at the very memory and she closed her eyes against it.

"You need a better coat."

Her eyes shot open to see Charles standing before her, his expression a glower mixed with mockery. She blushed profusely, nearly losing her grip on the basket of bread she was carrying as she stared at him. His glowered deepened, she scrambled for an answer.

"I would buy one if my wages were more generous," she retorted coolly. Charles burst into laughter, so loud and deep and like his old self that Sarah couldn't help but grin as well.

"You are very impertinent for a housemaid, Sarah Jennings," he accused, his eyes merry and teasing, "Give me this," he commanded, taking the basket from her arms and passing it up into the wagon for her instead. She instantly felt lighter, but then a fit of coughing began again.

"Are you well?" he asked, his voice going back to that stern tone he'd started with.

"I am fine," she argued, but when she looked up at him again Charles' expression had changed. There was concern in his brow, worry in his eyes and hesitation on his lips. Sarah stared at him, waiting.

"I will have Amelia send you one of her coats," he stated finally, before quickly unwinding the scarf he wore.

With a great tenderness he knotted it around Sarah's neck instead, his fingers barely brushing against her skin. Sarah shivered, but almost wanted to weep at his kindness and tried to push down the longing that threatened to break her. But it enveloped her like an old friend as he brushed a loose strand of hair from her cheek.

"Better?" he asked softly, and Sarah just nodded, her voice not working as she blinked through mistiness in her eyes.

This lie was wearing on her now. Not just the long hours, the back breaking work or the feeling of fear and paranoia that weighed on her. Being close to him, but not as herself was destroying her faster than everything else. She should've left the day he arrived, she thought to herself as she peered into his face. It had been a heartbreak to hear news of his death, but now to have him returned to life and still not want her - Sarah was slowly unraveling. And should Lavinia's plot to marry him work...

"You are not well," he scolded darkly, narrowing his eyes at her. She thanked heaven he couldn't hear her thoughts at that moment.

"Charles!" Caroline was calling him, in fact all three women were watching them with obvious interest.

"The wagons are loaded, my lord you should go," Sarah urged with a nod in the direction of his family, "They are waiting for you." But Charles would not break his penetrating gaze.

"Something has greatly distressed you, I can see it," he insisted, "I wish you would tell me," he said.

"There is nothing to tell, I assure -"

"Charles?" Amelia's voice came from behind him, and she put a hand on his arm, "Are you ready?" she asked, before shooting a suspicious glance at Sarah. Sarah blushed, and wished she were dead the way Amelia was staring at her. In fact, Amelia was doing more than just staring now...

"You look very familiar," she stated cautiously, her eyes narrowing in the same expression her brother often made. Sarah felt as if her stomach had dropped to her toes, what if Amelia identified her? Everything would be lost.

"Let us go, Amelia," Charles urged, taking his young sister by the elbow and steering her towards their mounts. Sarah felt faint as she watched the two of them go. But Charles turned back her once again after leading Amelia several steps ahead.

"Will you come to the study this afternoon?" he asked quickly, and again Charles became vulnerable looking.

"Of course," she answered, how could she manage to stay away from him?

"I will see you then," he promised before going to join his family, leaving Sarah warmed all the way to her toes.