Chapter 14

Sarah

"Love is all we have, the only way that each can help the other." ― Euripides

Sarah woke that morning in high spirits. Benjamin was home from the war, and Mr Templeton had given her compliments. It was enough to fill this spinster maiden's heart with joy. She could not ask for more.

Humming a jaunty tune under her breath, she went down to breakfast, a note on the table from Ambrose telling her that he had taken her letter to Benjamin with him to give to Daniel ahead of his departure for America. She wondered what Benjamin would make of the wanton revelations she had made about her nighttime activities. Something told her he would approve.

Breakfast over, she walked merrily to tutor her young charges at Gorston Manor, avoiding the shortcut through Squire Johnson's woods. In the course of the morning, it was remarked on more than one occasion by her pupils that she looked fine indeed and had a healthy bloom to her cheeks. That should not have been a surprise, for there is no greater beauty elixir than happiness.

On the return journey home, she stopped by a set of rundown cottages on the southern edge of the village and looked in on the Burrells and the Jacksons, two families whose ability to procreate numerous offspring was unequal to their capacity to earn an income. They were often in needful straits, especially at this time of the year when there were fewer casual farm jobs to be had. Sarah, with the full encouragement of Benedict Sedgwick, had made it a habit to check in on their wellbeing each week, taking along with her some donations of food and clothes.

A little urchin of a boy gave her a gap-toothed smile on arrival and ran inside to tell his ma that a lady was there to see her. Mrs Burrell appeared shortly after, a wailing child at her hip, a haggard look to her face.

"Miss Cranshaw, it's good of you to visit," she said softly.

Sarah smiled warmly. "Mrs Burrell, good day. I do not wish to intrude but was just stopping by to bring you these," she said, placing a straw basket on the table. "There are two dozen eggs there and a joint of ham. I've also spoken to Mr Timms. He says there are spare loaves to be had at the bakery at the end of the day. Perhaps you could send one of your older children there to ask for some each day."

"Bless you, miss. That is very kind."

"Not at all, this is the very least I can do. I pray Mr Burrell will have more success in finding employment this winter than he did last year. If all fails, do let him go see Ambrose, my brother, who may have some work for him on the Stanton estate. Please be sure to tell him."

"I will, miss, thanking you kindly."

Sarah turned to leave, "Good day, Mrs Burrell."

Having discharged this duty, Sarah continued on her way home, still in the sunniest of moods. At Ivy Cottage, she partook of a light luncheon then changed into her brown cambric gown. First, she looked in on an experiment she was conducting on the growth of mould on bread. Carefully, she checked each sample and noted down her observations. Having completed this task, she then went to work on her miniature railway, losing herself happily in the meticulous creation of the wheels and axles for her locomotive.

It was perhaps a half-hour later that her happy toil was interrupted by a knock at the door. Sarah heard the sound of a deep male voice speaking to Elsie, her maid. An instant later, the young girl came over to find her. "Mr Templeton is here to see you, Miss," said she. "I showed him in to the front parlour."

"Thank you, Elsie. I shall come along shortly."

Sarah glanced down at her gown. There was no time now to change. All she could do was pat a few wayward strands of hair behind her ear and hope for the best. She walked into the front parlour, cheeks flushed with happy excitement. "Mr Templeton, what a pleasant surprise," she said. "You will have to excuse me. I was not expecting any guests and have dressed in my oldest gown to work on my miniature railway."

He stood and bowed. "Good day, Miss Cranshaw. It is I who should beg for your pardon, arriving in such a way unannounced. Only, I thought you might like to check on our young patient, Mattie. I came in the phaeton to propose we pay him a visit, if you are free to do so now. I have no wish though, to interrupt your work on this miniature railway—which, by the by, I would be most interested to see."

"Oh," said Sarah, a little flustered. "That is a splendid idea! I would very much like to see how Mattie is getting along. Will you give me a few moments to change into something more appropriate for an outing?"

"Of course," Mr Templeton affirmed with a smile. "Perhaps in the meantime, you will allow me to admire your work on this miniature railway. That is, if you do not mind?"

"I do not mind at all," breathed Sarah, "though I should warn you that it is but a small hobby of mine. Do follow me, Mr Templeton, and I will show you."

Her heart still beating far more rapidly than it ought to, she led Mr Templeton to the back parlour room where she had set up her miniature railway. A waft of his cologne drifted her way, and she breathed it in euphorically.

Mr Templeton walked into the back parlour, looking about curiously. "Why Miss Cranshaw," he cried. "You have done yourself a disservice in describing this as merely a small hobby. What an impressive work of craftsmanship. Did you do this all yourself?"

"I had some help in starting it from Benjamin Stanton, but all the rest of the work is mine."

She felt him reach very carefully over her shoulder to take a small wagon into his hand and examine it. Such closeness to his body was overwhelming. She thrummed with awareness of his masculine presence. It was best to beat a hasty retreat before she embarrassed herself.

"If you will excuse me, Mr Templeton," she said in a shaky voice. "I will go and get myself ready."

She hurried out of the room and up the stairs. In the quiet haven of her bedchamber, she leaned against the door and tried to compose herself. She was a mature lady of thirty years, not a chit out of the schoolroom. She should remember to act accordingly. And she should also not read too much into this sudden and singular attention Mr Templeton was paying her, despite that strange feeling that had come over her last night that things were about to change.

Calm once again, she changed into a woollen gown in a shade of deep blue which, oh perfidious vanity, she knew complemented the grey of her eyes. At her mirror, she tidied her hair and added a discreet touch of rouge to her cheeks—and yes, perhaps also a dab of the expensive eau de cologne Daniel had given her as a thirtieth birthday gift. Not wishing to make Mr Templeton wait too long, she then stood and resolutely made her way down to the parlour again. There, she found the gentleman in rapt contemplation of her railway.

"This back panel," he said. "What will you do with it?"

She came to stand beside him, murmuring, "I have thought to have it painted as a backdrop to the railway, though I have not yet decided what scene to depict. It will have to be something simple, for I am no master at painting."

"Let me do it!" he proposed, then checked himself. "That is, if you will allow someone else's hand on your work."

"I–I did not know you painted, Mr Templeton," she stammered wonderingly.

"It is one of my active pursuits. However, of late, I must confess to not having had anything of interest to paint. But I would dearly love to have a go at this panel. I am thinking the northern approach to Hanborough station would be a perfect scene to depict. What think you?"

"Oh, Mr Templeton, it is exactly what I was thinking to do!" she exclaimed. "Except of course, I do not have the skills for it."

"Then let me do it, please."

"I would be honoured," Sarah let out on a fluttery breath.

Mr Templeton beamed. "Then it is agreed. Now, how about we pay young Mattie a visit?" He held out his arm and escorted her to the hallway where she collected her coat and bonnet. A moment later, they were on their way.