“How do you do?” Will said. “What is your name?”
Mary spoke again. “This is Sarah, and she’s as shy as they come. Barely says a word. I thought she’d be a good fit for this ungodly household, and will keep her mouth shut in the village about whatever she sees here.” After Sarah nodded meekly, Mary went to the fireplace and began vigorously thwacking the burning log with a poker, releasing sparks into the room. “She’s sent by her parents to find work, after they lost it all. Her father was a gambler and a fool. She’s staying at the boardinghouse. My sister recommends her.”
Angelika waited until the blushing, downcast girl chanced a glance at her. “How do you do, Sarah? It’s quite all right if you are a shy sort.”
The girl gulped and nodded helplessly.
“Is the boardinghouse comfortable for you? Is it warm, and are you given a hearty supper?”
Angelika regretted the question when the girl grimaced, rubbing her hands together as if in memory, and looked at Mary’s back. Of course she would not speak against her landlady with her sister present. “It is too cold,” Angelika surmised. “And the food is slop.”
When Sarah made eye contact again, there was humor in her expression. She risked a nod before Mary turned back to them.
“Whilst not compulsory, reading and writing is a nice thing to do,” Angelika continued. “Have you had those opportunities?”
Sarah spoke for the first time, soft and halting. “I went to school, until Father had his troubles. I have not kept up my writing and reading.”
“Well, it is not too late to start again. You can borrow books from the library here,” Angelika told her, and the girl nodded. To Mary, she ordered: “Sarah will have one hour, paid, after breakfast, to practice her reading and writing. You are not to make her feel guilty about it. Am I clear?”
Mary grumbled. “It’s about ruddy time I had some help around here, now she takes time off? The messes I find in the morning! The library was ransacked last night.”
“It was probably just how Victor left it.”
“Hardly. I think we had another thief. And a message from the military academy arrived.” Mary added in a bellow at Sarah, “Give her the mail. Are you heading to war, mistress?”
At that exact moment, a movement caught everyone’s attention.
Angelika clapped. “Victor!” It wasn’t her brother, but it was his pigeon on the sill. Angelika went to the little messenger and gave it a crust while she unfastened the leather tube from its leg. Sarah’s mouth hung open. Unrolling the minuscule parchment, Angelika said, “Finally, we have some news. Victor will be here tomorrow morning. And Lizzie is also on her way and will be here by tonight.”
Because she enjoyed secrets, Angelika decided not to read aloud his postscript: Get Grandmama’s big diamond ring out of your jewelry box and polish it, Jelly! I hope it’s fit for a duchess’s finger. It made her grin. At last, a sister. “Where shall we put her?”
“We’re running out of space,” Mary said, but it wasn’t her usual complaining tone. The mere presence of Sarah, with her youth and energy, had apparently lifted a weight from her ancient shoulders. “If Master Victor did not use so many bedrooms for storage, we could accommodate an entire wedding party.”
Will volunteered in an instant. “Is there a bed in the servants’ quarters? I’m taking up space that you do not have.”
“No room upstairs, neither.” Mary thought for a moment. “There’s the servants’ cottages on the hill past the orchard, but they’re barely fit for Belladonna. Won’t she be pleased to have Victor back? Never would I have believed that a pig could pine.”
“Those cottages will be fine. I cannot believe I did not consider how many rooms were available. I’m very sorry,” Will said. “What an inconvenience I have been.”
“There is plenty of room,” Angelika told him, walking to clasp his shoulders. He did look ever so rattled. When Mary and Sarah had left the room, she unfolded Christopher’s correspondence. She’d expected a date and time to visit Clara Hoggett but was confronted by a full-page letter. “Of course his handwriting is this neat,” she said, reading.
“What does he say? That he was positively enchanted by you?” Will said, downing his tea with a vicious gulp. He turned in his chair, and Angelika stood between his boots, stroking through his hair as she read.
“He was a little enchanted . . .” Angelika felt her cheeks heating again under Will’s stare. “But I’ve received letters like this before. It doesn’t mean anything.” At the foot of the page was a postscript about their joint mission to visit Clara in her time of need. “We are going to visit the widow tomorrow.” She folded the letter back up and pocketed it.
“I wish you wouldn’t find it strange that men want to know you,” Will said. He held up his hand in a silent request.
“They’re sore? And cold. My goodness.” As she massaged, unbending his curled fingers, noticing his winces and hard blinks, she wondered if he would still experience these tremors of jealousy and possession if another had not appeared on the scene.
A dreadful thought occurred to her. “You should be warned that if you fall in love with Lizzie, Victor will drain your life right back out of your body. And I might help him.”
“I won’t,” Will replied with a glint in his eyes. “It wouldn’t be possible.”
“She’s young and lovely, and so very funny.” She heard the worry, so patently obvious, in her voice. Rub, rub—she put her heat into his hands, until he took them both back, testing his fingers.
Gently, he repeated: “I won’t. Thank you. They feel better.” He reached up and smoothed both hands down the sides of her body in a long stroke. It felt like: I could never prefer another over you. Her head knew otherwise. Then those same comforting hands gripped the trousers tight on her thighs, making her look at him. “You’re not to fall in love with Commander Keatings.”
“Not until you’ve fully explored your options and found your way back home. I’m sure that’s what you mean.” She strode from the room. “Oh,” she said as a bell rang out a loud ding above their heads.
Will, close on her heels, flinched at the sound. “What was that?”
“It’s Lizzie, I think. She’s arriving early. Mary!”
“I heard,” Mary called back from the kitchen. “Gracious. Never a dull moment ’round here. Another teacup, Sarah.”
Will was still confused by the bell above the door.
“When Victor and I were children, we invented a way of knowing if a carriage crossed into our drive. Copper wiring, buried alongside the road, connected to a pressure plate with a spring under the gravel. You’ll hear a sound from that.” She gestured up to the brass bell above the door. “We did it over the summer when I was eight.”
“Must have been quite a roll of wire.”
“We dug a trench for weeks. It was so hot, we did it at night.” She caught Will’s gaze on her face—that admiring, astonished expression he had when he thought her clever—and gave him a self-conscious look. “I’ve been creating solutions for a long time. It’s typical Angelika. Again, I’m sorry you were caught up in it.”
“I’m standing here breathing, so I don’t mind.”
“Mary only hears it now when she is standing close by. Perhaps I could make her life a little easier and hang a red scarf from the bell, so she might see it flutter.”
“That would be most thoughtful,” Will praised her. “I like you best when you are like that. I’m pleased you offered to help Sarah with her education.”
They went outside and watched as the carriage grew closer. As the horses rounded the bend, Lizzie hung out the window, waving madly. She was leaping out of the carriage before it had even properly stopped.
“Jelly! I couldn’t wait, so we set off early and traveled all night—have you been expecting me? Vic said he’d send a bird.”
Angelika caught her future sister-in-law in her arms. “It must have been flying only a quarter mile ahead of you. Victor is arriving home tomorrow. I’m so happy to see you.”
“I thought I remembered you wrong,” Lizzie said with fondness, cupping Angelika’s chin in both hands. She glanced at Will to involve him. “As the carriage turned the last corner, I said to myself, She doesn’t really look like a fairy queen. But here she is, her hair both red and gold at the same time, and big green eyes full of naughtiness, and this magical beauty mark on her cheek that the late Marie Antoinette herself would have died to possess.” This, Lizzie kissed. “You understand of course, sir, she’s wearing trousers so we don’t see up her skirts when she flies off.”
“That makes perfect sense,” Will replied.
Lizzie was not finished making her theatrical address. “I thought my future sister-in-law was a daydream.”
“Just a girl,” Angelika said, her eyes filling with tears.