Leave a Widow Wanting More by Charlie Lane
Chapter 28
Just like her first morning at Cavendish Manor, Sarah woke up cold and alone. Henry had already left. Without saying goodbye.
Annoying. He’d probably not said goodbye to anyone else, either, the ass.
How could she possibly miss such an unfeeling ass so much after such a short time? She pulled the blanket over her head with a groan.
However bad she missed him the girls were bound to feel worse. Or maybe not. They were used to being left behind. She ached at the lonely reality. What if he forgot his new wife while away? The ache deepened, ripped at her. Foolish heart to miss someone you never really had.
She rolled into the space he’d so recently vacated and tried to go back to sleep. Impossible. The bed smelled like him. It was warm, too.
Sarah bolted upright. Warm? Henry must not have left too long ago. She could still catch him for one last kiss if she moved quickly enough. She swung her feet over the edge of the bed but hesitated before settling them on the floor. Henry hadn’t wanted to say goodbye. She shouldn’t make him.
She couldn’t allow him to forget her, either, though. She’d write every day. But how would she know where to send the letters? Sweet Gutenberg, now she felt like crying. How horrible to feel so useless, so forgettable.
She didn’t like it. Not at all.
Sarah jumped from bed and pulled her wrapper around her. She rummaged through her meager belongings. When she found what she looked for, she clutched it to her chest and ran down the stairs, out of the house, and to the stables.
His voice rumbled from inside. She wasn’t too late!
She charged into the stables. “Henry! Wait!”
His eyes were wide, bewildered, as he strode toward her and took her hands. “Sarah? You should still be sleeping.”
She shook her head, suddenly shy. “I couldn’t sleep. Henry, I know I shouldn’t, but … don’t go. Please.”
Henry didn’t look at her. His eyes focused on something over her shoulder. “My mother died when I was eight. My sister at sixteen. My wife when she was no older than you are now. My Calliope a few days later.”
Henry expected the women in his life to die. “Henry, I—”
He held up a hand, stopping her sympathy. “The women I love die. Those who remain will follow suit. So, I leave, Sarah.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I leave so I don’t have to be here when they die. I’m not a man of adventure. I’m a coward.” He shook his head, his white-gold hair sparking light in the dusty stable corners. “Everywhere I go—death. Inescapable. I can’t stay. I’m sorry.”
How could she fight his deepest fears? She held out the gift. “Here. Take this. To remember me by.”
His eyes blazed and met hers without sparing a glance for the gift she held out to him. “I could never forget you.”
She searched the ceiling for words. “Yes. But. You’ll be gone for so long. And there are a plethora of beautiful women in the world. And—”
“None so beautiful as you, Sarah-mine.”
Oh, blessed Gutenberg. The tears were back. “You shush. Just take it.”
He did, his fingers brushing hers. “Gulliver’s Travels?”
She nodded. “I’m not giving it to you, though. It’s still mine. But when you leave, you can take it with you, to remind you it … and you … belong to me.” She wrapped her hands around his head and brought his mouth down to hers, kissing him like she didn’t know when next she’d see him. She didn’t. She ripped herself away and ran back towards the house.
He didn’t chase after her. He didn’t even call her name. And the tears she’d been fighting all morning fell fast and hard. She hid in the garden, shivering near what might be a rose bush in the spring until she heard voices shouting inside and outside the house.
“Pansy!” James called from somewhere nearby. “Pansy!”
Sarah ran, finding James in a heartbeat. His shirt hung loose, his hair a rat’s nest. His eyes were full of sleep, and worry lined his face. “James, what’s wrong?”
“It’s Pansy, Mother. She’s missing. Ada says she often runs off, so we shouldn’t worry, but …” He shook his head, his words trailing off into the cold morning air. “She’s so small. Where’s Henry? Nora knocked on your bedroom door earlier, but neither of you were there. Isn’t he with you?”
“No, he’s not with me. He left this morning.”
“Left?”
“For London, to prepare for his next excursion. We’ll all follow in a week, and he’ll take you back to Harrow before he leaves England.” A good plan, even if she had concocted it that very moment. Ada and Nora were ready for London, Sarah needed new clothes, and James needed to get back to school.
And if they all arrived in London before Henry left, Sarah could see him one final time.
James drew a hand through his hair. She could see his brain working through the fog of sleep and panic. “He didn’t say goodbye?”
“No. I suppose he didn’t.”
James frowned then shook his head and straightened his spine. He reminded her of his father in his regimentals, tall and determined. But the set of his chin reminded her of Henry. How had James learned that so quickly? “We’ll find Pansy ourselves, Mother. Don’t worry. Come, Ada’s gathering the house.”
Sarah followed James inside where voices echoed along hallways and through rooms. “Pansy!” they all called. The twins stood in their nightshirts, clinging to Nora’s skirts. She wore her riding habit, as did Ada, who commanded the orderly chaos.
“You go east, as usual, Nora,” Ada said. “I’ll go west.”
Thomas yawned and pulled his thumb from his mouth. “We want to help,”
Nicholas nodded vigorously, thumb still lodged between his lips.
Nora kneeled, pulling the boys in for a hug. “You already told us everything you know.”
“Which was nothing at all,” Ada murmured.
Nora cut her a look. “You already told us you don’t know where she is. That’s help enough. Thank you.” She ruffled each boy’s hair, then stood. “You stay here with Sarah.”
Sarah gathered the twins to her, grateful Nora had jolted her into action. “Yes, of course. Come here, boys. We’ll wait here in case she returns.” Sarah looked at Ada. “Has she ever returned on her own?”
Ada’s lips thinned. “Yes. Often.”
“Often. How many times has she run away like this?”
Ada counted her fingers, then shook her head and dropped her hand. “Too many times.”
“Do you know why?”
Nora slipped her hands into a pair of riding gloves. “Last time she wanted to see what happened to the stars at the end of the night. She thought they might fall from the sky and she could pick one up off the hill.”
Ada pulled on her own gloves. “We found her at the top of a nearby hill, sleeping under a tree. I’ll go west this time, toward that hill.” She turned to a group of footmen standing in the hallway. “Gerald, go south. And John, head north.” She turned back to Sarah. “You might help the maids look for her inside the house.”
“You mean she might not even be gone?”
Ada grimaced. “She’s an exceptional hider.” Ada sounded playful, but doubt flickered in her eyes. How many times had she lived through this? How many times had she thought she’d lost her sister for good?
Sarah laid a hand on Ada’s shoulder. “Do you mind if, when she comes home, when we find her, I speak to her about this?”
Confusion flashed across Ada’s face.
“I don’t want to step on your toes, Ada. You’ve done an impeccable job caring for Pansy and the twins—”
Ada’s jaw set. “No. I lost her. I keep losing her.”
Sarah pulled her into a fierce embrace. “It’s not your fault. Let me take care of it all today, from now on. Will you let me do that? The discipline, the teaching, the mothering?”
Ada pulled away, and for a moment, Sarah thought she’d offended her.
But then Ada threw her arms around her and squeezed tight. “I think you might be the best present my father ever brought home for me.”
Tears pressed behind Sarah’s eyes, so she pushed Ada away. “Go. Find your sister, and I’ll tell her what’s what.”
James joined them, shrugging into his coat and pulling riding gloves from his pocket. “I’m going to look, too.”
Henry had been too kind to her son, outfitting him with everything a young well-to-do buck needed. She wasn’t sure she approved, but James seemed more worried about his new sister at the moment than he did about fine clothes, so she didn’t dwell on it.
James turned to Ada. “How can I help?”
Ada dropped her arm around her new brother’s shoulders and swept out the door and down the stairs to the waiting horses. From the doorway, Sarah watched them mount and ride off in different directions until she could no longer make out their forms. She longed to ride after them, to join in the search, to do something to fix it all.
She could fix it. She’d won Gulliver’s, even if she hadn’t saved her position at Hopkins’s shop. She’d found a way out of poverty by accepting Henry’s proposal. She’d kept her son fed and educated despite being widowed and poor. She hadn’t done any of that by waiting around. She would mount that damned demon horse if she had to, or walk miles in any direction, but she’d act, not wait.
A tiny, warm hand wrapped around her own. “Sarah?” Thomas said … or was he Nicholas? Great Gutenberg, she’d have to learn to tell them apart.
She knelt down to the little boy, and the other crept into view, yawning wide and loud.
Sarah smoothed his cowlick down. “Yes …” She took a guess. “Thomas?” The cowlick popped right back up.
“Can we go back to sleep until Pansy comes home?”
The other, Nicholas she supposed, nodded his head in agreement, swaying sleepily on his feet.
She knew no better creature than a sleepy little boy. Sarah took the twins’ hands and led them up the stairs to the nursery. They fell asleep before she finished tucking them in.
As Sarah made her way back downstairs, she realized they would have been alone if she had run off to the stables or out into the woods to join the search. Yes, they would have had servants, and they would have been well-cared for, but they’d lost their parents, their uncle lived everywhere but home, and their cousin, Pansy, apparently required more immediate attention than they did. Running off, indeed!
Sarah exited the house and sat at the top of the stairs, her thoughts as jarring as the thunk to the cold stone steps. Great Gutenberg! She behaved just like Pansy! Running off all the time, always out to discover and fix and solve.
True, for most of her life, she’d needed to do those things. But now, perhaps not.
Yes, she could mount that damned horse or ride for miles through rain or snow. She could help the servants search every nook and cranny of the house. But if she waited, she would be here if the twins woke up and needed her. If she waited, she might be the first thing little Pansy saw when and if she ambled back home alone.
So, Sarah waited and tried not to think of another Cavendish she hoped would return safely and soon.