Prologue

Benjamin

"If any man cannot feel the power of God when he looks upon the stars, then I doubt whether he is capable of any feeling at all." ― Horace

December 1860, Oxfordshire, England

Everyone was gathered outside to witness the magnificent fireworks being put on display at the Stanton Hall Christmas ball. Everyone, that is, except for himself. Only a minute ago, Benjamin Stanton had sneaked back into the great house that belonged to his grandfather, the Earl of Stanton.

Now, he flew up the servants' staircase, not wanting to call attention to his movements, and made his way rapidly down the long corridor which led to the library. He had plans for tonight. While everyone was distracted by the lavish entertainment outside, he was to have an assignation with Daphne Phipps. He had met her on his arrival in England two weeks ago. She had sat to his right at church, and they had exchanged discreet glances throughout the service.

He had subsequently made it his business to find out who she was and to pursue her acquaintance. Great had been his delight to discover that Daphne, daughter of the village draper, was far from being an angel. A pretty little thing with a pert nose and comely curves, she had welcomed his advances with sly smiles and coy flutters of her eyelashes. In the ensuing weeks, Benjamin had made several visits to the draper's under false pretexts and flirted with Daphne, culminating in a quick fumble with her behind a wooden screen one day when they found themselves alone in the shop. It was then that he had proposed she meet him in the library on the night of the Stanton ball, when everyone else would be engaged in watching the fireworks outside.

He slowed his footsteps as he approached the library door. Very quietly, he pushed it open. It was dim inside, the only light coming from a small oil lamp on a side table. He looked around for Daphne and smiled as he spied a figure seated in the far corner by the window. He shut the door behind him and without a sound, tiptoed into the room. The closer he got to the seated figure, however, the more obvious it became that this was not Daphne. This person was tall, perhaps a foot taller than the draper's daughter, and her hair was dark, arranged in an artful bun on her head, not in blonde ringlets. He saw that she had her face in her hands and that her shoulders heaved.

What could be the matter? And who was this mysterious lady? He cleared his throat, not knowing what to say. At the sound, she froze then dropped her hands to her lap, revealing a tear-stained face and luminous grey eyes. All at once, he recognised her. It was Miss Cranshaw. He had met her once when she had accompanied her brother, the Earl of Stanton's land manager, on a visit to Stanton Hall.

"Are you quite alright?" he asked, then rebuked himself for the stupidity of that question. Of course she was not alright.

"I-I shall be," she stammered, dabbing at her eyes.

"Here, take this," he said, handing her his handkerchief.

She took it and wiped her tears. "Thank you," she murmured.

She made as if to return it to him, but he demurred. "No, no, do keep it," he said. He went to sit on the chair facing her, leaning forwards on his elbows. "Will you tell me what is troubling you?" he asked gently.

She used the handkerchief once more to wipe at her eyes then put it down in her lap with a self-derisive huff. "Mere foolishness on my part, I'm afraid."

He waited for her to continue. When she did not speak, he enquired with stubborn persistence: "What sort of foolishness?"

She sighed and looked away. It did not look like she would answer him, so he was surprised when she said: "The foolishness of hankering for someone who does not merit or return such sentiments."

"Ah. I begin to see." He eyed her with sympathy. "I have not myself ever been in love, but I am sure it must be painful to have unrequited feelings for another." At the tender age of twenty-two, Benjamin had not yet met any female that set his heart aflutter and whom he could imagine falling in love with in the way that his father and mother loved each other. He supposed, if ever he took the time to wonder about such things, that someday he would meet this person. There was plenty of time still for that, and he was in no hurry.

His was a carefree and happy existence, having grown up on the prosperous farming estate in Ohio that his father and uncle had built with their own hands after leaving England to seek their fortunes in America. They had done so to break free from the authoritarian Earl of Stanton, their father, who had used the enormous wealth at his disposal to exert control over his sons. Naturally, this exodus had caused a rift with the earl, which took many years to mend. Now, however, they were all back in England to attend to his grandfather, who was gravely ill. Notwithstanding his illness, the earl had decided to hold a sumptuous Christmas ball, keen to celebrate the return of his family, temporary though it might be.

Benjamin was brought back to the matter at hand by Miss Cranshaw's voice, which wobbled ever so slightly. "Then you should consider yourself fortunate not to have lost your heart to another, for I cannot recommend it."

"Was there something in particular that occurred tonight to upset you so?" He was curious to know what could have sent the outwardly sensible Miss Cranshaw to hide in the library and cry.

She toyed with the handkerchief in her hands as she spoke: "I went out earlier for a walk in the gardens accompanied by Mr Sedgwick, who as well as being the curate of this parish is a childhood friend of mine. We were there to observe the sky in the hope of seeing a meteor shower—astronomy is a particular pursuit of mine, you see. Instead, we came upon the person who holds my affections in a passionate embrace with a lady. You will pardon me if I do not name the individuals. I promised Mr Sedgwick that I would not spread any gossip."

"No, of course. Quite right." Benjamin nodded in understanding, though his curiosity had been aroused. "I suppose this encounter tonight has dashed any hopes you may have had with regards to this person you hold dear."

"Oh, I have long known it to be hopeless," she smiled sadly. "And yet it makes no difference. I continue to yearn for him."

Benjamin could not imagine how one could persevere in harbouring a passion for someone in the face of evidence that it was hopeless. In his experience, if a girl showed no interest in his flirting, it was best to move on to greener pastures. After all, there was no shortage of pretty girls in the universe. What was the point in wasting one's time and effort on someone who did not deserve such attention?

There again, he had never been in love. Perhaps, it was different when the heart was engaged. He tried to think of something useful to say, searching through his mind for a pertinent proverb. His mother often quoted maxims from her beloved classical philosophers, and they had become as familiar to him as they were to her. In the end, he settled on reciting this from Seneca the Younger: "True happiness is to enjoy the present without anxious dependence on the future."

At Miss Cranshaw's blank look, he elaborated. "You say you yearn for him. Perhaps you dream of a rosy future in the loving embrace of this person who has captured your heart. You may imagine yourself carrying his name and bearing his children, if only he could have a change of heart and truly see you. In all truth, nobody can say what will come to pass. It could be that this person is destined for you, and it could be that he is not. None of it matters though, because you do not live in the future, but in the here and now." He laughed a little self-consciously, all too aware that he was beginning to sound like a bore. "What I am trying most inelegantly to say is that happiness does not come from dwelling in the past or the future, but in enjoying the present moment."

"I suppose so," said Miss Cranshaw looking doubtful.

"Take me, for example. I will have you know, Miss Cranshaw, that I came up to the library for an assignation with a young lady who shall remain nameless. Instead of encountering that lady and enjoying a glorious embrace with her, I came across your good self. I could be forgiven for feeling some disappointment that my plans have gone awry, but there is no joy in dwelling resentfully on what could have been. So next, I ask myself, what would make me happy at this present moment? And the answer is simple. It would bring me joy to wipe that sad expression from your face and make you smile."

At this, she huffed and pressed her lips together, though he detected the glimmer of a smile. "What is it with all these secret assignations?" she grumbled. "I am tempted to believe that everyone but me is engaging in illicit activities when no one is looking."

"Maybe not everyone, but I would not be surprised if there are a good many people doing things in private that would be very much frowned upon in public. It is the way of the world."

She studied him. "Mr Stanton, you are a cynic."

He laughed. "Call me Benjamin, or Ben. No, I do not think I am a cynic, merely a realist." He stood and held out his hands to her. She took them and allowed him to help her to her feet. He looked down at her with a smile. "So now, we come to you, Miss Cranshaw—"

"Sarah," she interjected. "If I am to call you by your given name, then you must do the same with me."

He inclined his head. "Very well. So now, we come to you, Sarah. Put aside your woes about the past or the future and bring your attention to what would bring you joy this very minute." He held up a hand. "And before you say it, something other than having a certain man fall to his knees before you avowing his undying love."

Sarah's face took on a faraway expression. He presumed she was imagining that very thing happening. In an instant, it was gone. She took a steadying breath, murmuring, "Here and now, what would make me happy?" She was quiet, thinking about it.

Benjamin observed her as she furrowed a brow, contemplating the matter. She was tall and angular with smooth, pale skin, not the buxom shape he usually favoured. His gaze fell momentarily to her cleavage, covered in the pale blue silk of her gown. He discerned the slight outline of her breasts and pictured them in his mind—small nubs that would easily fit inside his hands. He felt himself grow hard at the thought. Damnation! What was the matter with him?

With an effort, he dispelled these unruly thoughts just as she looked back up at him and said, "I believe, right this minute, seeing a meteor shower would bring me joy. I was so sure my calculations were right and that there would be one tonight."

"Well, I cannot promise you a meteor shower, Sarah, but the next best thing. I hear no expense has been spared for tonight's fireworks display which is about to begin. How about we go out and watch?"

She touched a finger to her still-puffy eyes. "I am not sure I am in a fit state yet to be seen," she prevaricated.

"That is not a problem," he said swiftly. "Come with me." He held out his arm, and reluctantly, she placed a hand on it. He led her out of the library and walked her to the end of the corridor. There, he proceeded to pull open the large sash window, glancing back at her with a grin. "Do you trust me to keep you safe, Sarah?"

"No," she responded reflexively.

He gave her a reproachful look, but continued undeterred, "Outside this window is a wide ledge that leads to a flat part of the roof. There is, I have discovered, a spot where the curvature of the slate tiles is such as to form a bench of sorts. I have been out there a time or two and enjoyed a marvellous vista of the grounds below. From there, we will have an uninterrupted and private view of the fireworks. Do come."

Without waiting for her reply, he swung one leg over the window sill and stepped out onto the ledge. He turned to face her, holding out his hand and speaking reassuringly, "The ledge is wide enough to stand on comfortably, and I shall keep hold of you at all times. Do not be afraid."

She shook her head. "This is madness."

"Don't think, just do," smiled Benjamin, citing another of his mother's philosophers.

"And now you are quoting Horace at me," replied Sarah. "Next, you shall be telling me to seize the day and put the least possible trust in tomorrow."

Benjamin's grin grew wider. "Seize the day, Sarah."

"Oh, very well," she huffed. Carefully, she pulled up the skirt of her dress and lifted a slim, stocking-clad leg over the window sill. With his assistance, she came to stand on the ledge. It was indeed quite wide, though she appeared to avoid looking below to see how far she might fall were she to lose her balance.

"It is but two steps to the right," said Benjamin. "Keep hold of my hand." Slowly, he guided her off the ledge to the flat part of the roof, then walked her carefully to the spot he had described. It was indeed shaped in such a way as to provide an unorthodox seat. Cautiously, she lowered herself down to it, shivering slightly at the cold feel of the tiles beneath her. Benjamin settled himself at her side and noticed the shiver. "I am sorry," he murmured. "I should have thought to bring a blanket. Are you so very cold?"

She shivered again but replied, "No, I will be fine for a short while."

"You are a very poor liar, Sarah," mused Benjamin. He unbuttoned his top coat and draped it around her shoulders just as a loud bang was heard, followed by a flash of bright colours. Together, they watched the fireworks light up the dark winter sky. A minute into this, something extraordinary happened. Above them, a dot of bright light zoomed across the sky. Then it happened again and again.

"What was that?" asked Benjamin.

"A meteor shower." Sarah's voice exuded awed satisfaction at having her wish granted. For several minutes, they were silent, observing the show nature put on for them, nearly forgetting the man-made entertainments that were occurring concurrently.

"Incredible," murmured Benjamin.

"People call them shooting stars, but that is not really what they are. They are meteoroids or rocks in space falling towards Earth and burning up as they hurtle through the sky."

Benjamin turned his gaze towards her. "You seem peculiarly well informed," he remarked.

"Did I not tell you that astronomy is a particular pursuit of mine? I have what some would call an unladylike interest in science and engineering. On various occasions, I have been called an eccentric, ‘an odd one' or a bluestocking by the good people of Stanton Harcourt."

He continued to observe her curiously. "Well, you are a little odd, but in a good way. It reminds me of Mama, who is herself considered something of a bluestocking. She likes nothing better than to bury herself in a book and quote classical philosophers at us whenever the situation demands it."

"Aha! That explains why you've been spouting Seneca and Horace at me this evening," exclaimed Sarah.

"Yes, it does rather. And though I am not quite as wont to do so as Mama, I do think that these philosophers have a thing or two to teach us. Aren't you glad now that you seized the day and came out onto the rooftop with me?"

She smiled. "Yes, I am, improper though it may have been."

"And I would hazard a guess that you forgot about the man that broke your heart for a least a few minutes."

A shutter came down over her expression. "I suppose I did."

"Stupid me! Now I have reminded you of your heartbreak when I was striving for the opposite."

She rested a hand on his arm. "You did help to distract me from my woes, and for that, I thank you."

"I am glad. Now, I can see you are still shivering, so I think it best we head back inside." He stood and held his hand out to her. She took it and got to her feet, handing him back his topcoat, which he quickly shrugged back on. Together, they stepped carefully back towards the window and climbed inside the house. Once they were in, Benjamin brought the window sash down again and turned to her. "Are you ready now to rejoin the ball?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yes, I am sure my brother, Ambrose, is wondering where I am."

"I shall let you go down first, lest our presence together occasions any gossip. Before you go though, I want to thank you for keeping me company this evening."

She could not help but laugh. "Surely it is I who should be thanking you? You have been excellent company, Benjamin, and a true friend."

"Good. I like the idea of us being friends. I do not think I have had any other female friends since growing into manhood, apart from my cousins. Will you allow me to call on you, as a friend, in the days to come?"

She bit her bottom lip in concentration. He noticed it was fuller than the top. "I would not like to call undue attention to myself," she said finally.

"You live in the cottage that lies at the edge of this estate, do you not?"

"Yes, Ivy Cottage."

"Well, if I should walk from the main house to you, I am hardly likely to encounter any gossips from the village. The grounds of Stanton Hall are extensive, so we should be able to take long and private walks together. That is, if you do not mind more of my company? You would be doing me a great favour, Sarah, for life here is rather dull, what with Grandpa being ill."

"Will you not be needed to attend to the earl?"

He shrugged. "Only some of the time. It is mainly Papa and Uncle Jasper who spend their days with Grandpa, and he tires easily, so there is not much for me to do. Will you take pity on me?"

Her lips quirked into a faint smile. "Very well. Goodnight, Benjamin."

"Goodnight, Sarah."

He watched her go, a strange feeling of elation blossoming in his chest. True, he had not had the pleasure of an illicit romp with Daphne Phipps tonight. But he had made a new friend, and was that not better than the fleeting pleasure of a carnal encounter?