Chapter 29

Sarah

"Cleverness is not wisdom." ― Euripides

Back at Ivy Cottage, Sarah unpacked the belongings from her travel case and put it away at the top of her wardrobe. Once that chore was done, she went down to the back parlour, taking with her the small passenger carriage that had been left outside her bedchamber door this morning. She coupled it with the locomotive Benjamin had made for her and placed them carefully on the rails.

She had been such a fool! She had let herself be beguiled by Philip, by his handsomeness and his charm, and convinced herself that she loved him when it had not really been love that she felt. And as for her feelings for Benjamin, she had been doubly a fool.

Over and over, she had told herself that what she felt for Benjamin was a delusional fantasy, made up in her head, the product of her fevered imagination at night. How could it be real when they had barely known each other? It was just a correspondence across the ocean sustained over many years, but it could not be real love. Philip, on the other hand, was flesh and blood right here, and he had wanted to marry her. She had thought herself so sensible in accepting his offer, but she had been mistaken.

The door behind her opened, and she heard Ambrose come to stand a short distance from her. "That is a fine piece of craftsmanship," he remarked. "Benjamin's work I take it."

"Yes," she said quietly.

She heard him sigh and turned to face him. He studied her for a moment, then asked gently, "Do you wish to talk about it?"

She shook her head then changed her mind and nodded. He laughed and pulled her into his embrace. He held her comfortingly for a moment, then said, "Come to my study. We shall get Elsie to make us a pot of tea, and then we will talk this out."

This they did, settling themselves comfortably on two frayed armchairs. Ambrose started the thread of the conversation, coming straight to the point. "So, it is Benjamin," he said.

"Yes," she replied softly. "I have been very foolish."

He observed her wryly and concurred, "Yes, you have, but we all have it in us to be extremely foolish at times."

She glanced at him. "You knew, didn't you?"

He looked back at her sadly. "It was not my place to tell you, Sarah. You had to find it out for yourself."

"And so I have," she murmured under her breath.

He smiled. "So you have. What is it that happened last night? Will you tell me?"

"After we all went to bed, I could not sleep and decided to go to the library. I will not go into the details, but I saw Benjamin. We kissed and he declared his love for me."

Ambrose stretched out his legs before him and regarded her thoughtfully. "So why the long face?" he asked.

Sarah looked at him crossly. "It was an immoral thing to do, Ambrose, as long as I am betrothed to Philip."

"Yes," he agreed, "it was, but you can do something about it."

She was quiet for a moment. "I shall have to go see Philip," she said finally.

Ambrose sat up and refilled his cup of tea. He took a long sip and put it down. "The poor man was not looking quite the thing this morning," he said casually. "I suggest you wait until later this afternoon to speak to him. Do you wish me to come with you?"

Sarah stood and came over to him, placing her arms around his shoulders. "I do not deserve you, Ambrose," she said. "But no, thank you. This is something I should do myself."

So it was, later that afternoon, that Sarah set out for Graveley, walking briskly. On arrival there, she was ushered into the drawing room by the butler, who promised to fetch Mr Templeton. A few minutes later, that gentleman entered the room, a puzzled frown on his face. "Sarah, my dear, this is a surprise," he exclaimed. "Did I promise you an outing today? I do not recall."

Sarah rose to her feet and faced him bravely. "Philip, good day to you too. No, we did not have a prior engagement arranged, but I wish to speak to you. It is about our betrothal."

Philip scrutinised her, his expression hardening. "What is it you wish to say?"

This interview was never going to be an easy one, but she had to be strong and do what was right. "Philip," she began. "No one could have been more surprised and flattered than I was when you began to pay your addresses to me. I have long been besotted with you, of which you were no doubt aware, and so when you proposed, I did not hesitate to accept. But I have come to see that we would not suit."

She paused and glanced at him uncertainly. Philip stood still as a statue, his arms crossed as his eyes stared at her wordlessly. She took her courage into her hands and went on, "You do not love me, Philip, and I think in time you would become bored with my company. And also, I have come to understand that the feelings I had for you were a girlish infatuation and not built on true regard. So, I have come today to beg your forgiveness and ask that you release me from our engagement."

Philip continued to stare, looking thunderstruck. Eventually, he muttered, "Well, I'll be damned. So you mean to turn me down."

"I am sorry, Philip, so very sorry."

He sank down into a chair and rubbed a thoughtful hand to his cheek. Then he gave a snort. "This is a turn up for the books. I, Philip Templeton, am being jilted."

"Please do not think of it that way. Perhaps it would be more correct to say that we are both coming to our senses and realising that we would not suit."

He gave her a long look. "I am going to be a laughing stock, you do realise."

"I think perhaps it will be me that will be the laughing stock." She hesitated then, unsure whether she should tell him. But it occurred to her that he would find out soon enough from the village gossips, and it would be best if the revelation came from her lips. "There is more, Philip. I do not know how to say this to you." She took a deep breath in and gathered her courage. "I have also come to realise that there is someone else who holds my affections very deeply."

He pinned her with his stare, then slowly, a look of understanding came into his eyes. "Benjamin Stanton," he said, resolving the mystery.

"Yes, it is him. We have been friends for a very long time, but it has developed into something more."

"I see," he said in glacial tones.

There was nothing more to say. He observed her in silence, his mouth set in a hard line. Finally, he stood. "Well, that is the end of that. I will send word to The Times that our engagement has been called off."

Sarah nodded, pulling off his ring from her finger. "I was very honoured to receive this," she said, "but now I must return it to you." He took it without a word and placed it in his pocket. Then he walked her to the door, the interview over.

"I am sorry it had to come to this," said Sarah stiffly.

"No sorrier than I am, I assure you." Then Philip Templeton bowed. "Good day to you, Miss Cranshaw."

"Good day, Mr Templeton." Sarah took her leave, buttoning up her coat to ward against the chill December air. "It is done," she thought, with a sense of relief. She took the steps down from the house and began to walk away briskly. With each step that she took, she felt renewed hope and determination. She was free! She quickened her steps. There was somewhere she urgently needed to be. Her heart singing, she almost ran in her haste to reach Stanton Hall.

Some minutes later, Sarah arrived at her destination. She hurried up the steps and pulled the heavy doorbell, panting with her exertion. Now that the moment had come, she felt lightheaded with excitement and dread. It took an unseemly long amount of time before the door was opened by a distracted looking Siddons.

"Good day to you, Siddons," said Sarah, smiling widely.

"Good day, miss," replied the butler.

"I have come to see Mr Stanton."

"Miss Cranshaw," said Siddons, a perturbed expression on his face. "It is the strangest thing, but Mr Stanton has gone."

"Gone?" questioned Sarah sharply. "What on earth do you mean?"

"I mean miss, that he has gone. Back to America. After you all left this morning, he informed me that he would be departing within the hour. He came down with his travelling case and took the carriage to the station."

"Did he say why?"

"No, miss," replied Siddons. "It came as quite a shock to us, to be sure. I believe he has left some correspondence for you up in the library."

"Thank you, Siddons."

Sarah was already racing up the stairs to the library. She ran into the room and looked around wildly for such letters. She found three missives stacked neatly on the desk, one of which was addressed to her. With hands that shook, she took it and ripped the seal open, taking out the sheets of paper. She read his letter then, her eyes widening in shock, followed by anguish and then despair.

When she was done, she collapsed on the armchair—that same armchair on which Benjamin had first found her crying. This time, her tears were not for Philip Templeton but for Benjamin. Her heart convulsed in her chest. Benjamin had come for her that day. He had seen her with Mr Templeton. That was the reason for his drunken rage and his bandaged hands. Oh, what wicked fate! Had he arrived even a day sooner, things could have turned out so differently. And now he was gone.

Suddenly, she stood, determination blazing in her eyes. She would go to him. Perhaps she could catch him up before he boarded the ship to America. There was not a moment to be lost. Clutching the letter in her hand, she flew down the stairs, past a bemused Siddons, and out the door. She rushed down the front steps of the house and began to run, all the way along the avenue that led to Ivy Cottage. At times, she had to stop to catch her breath, but then she quickly resumed her journey, wanting to reach her home as soon as possible. It was taking too long to get there, and she did not have any time to lose.

Finally, after what seemed like an age, she reached the front gate of Ivy Cottage. With hands that shook, she unlatched it and pounded at the door. It was opened a moment later by a bewildered looking Elsie.

"Miss—"

"There is no time, Elsie," puffed Sarah. "Get my travel case down from the wardrobe. I need to pack for a journey."

"Miss?" her maid asked doubtfully.

"Do it now!" insisted Sarah, brushing past her and going to Ambrose's study. He was already at his door, gazing at her in concern.

"Sarah, what is it?"

She went to him, but could not speak at first, as she tried to regain her breath. Benjamin's letter was still clutched in her hand, and wordlessly, she handed it to her brother. He took it, perusing the contents quickly. Then he looked up. "Oh, my dear. I am so sorry."

"I must go to him," Sarah said, having finally regained the power of speech.

"Sarah, my love, consider. All this can be resolved in time. Write to him now and explain."

"No!" cried Sarah sharply. "There is no time to be lost. I am going after him, Ambrose, whether you like it or not."

He looked at her in alarm. "I cannot let you go chasing after him all on your own. It would not be right. In any case, how on earth would you catch him up? I believe he already has quite a head start on us."

Sarah's eyes burned with fierce determination. "There is a way. I have it memorised from Bradshaw's Guide. If we use the Great Western route to Birmingham, then we could get a mail train connection to Liverpool and get there by morning."

"The mail train! Sarah!"

But Sarah was beyond listening. "How much money do we have? I will need funds for the journey."

"Sarah!" Ambrose remonstrated again. He stared at her a few moments, then a resigned expression came over his face. "Very well, if that is what you mean to do, we shall both go. Be quick now and pack a travel case for yourself and me with enough clothes for a few days' travel. I will go unlock the safe and take out some funds for our journey."

They each set to their task, Ambrose stopping on his way to find Elsie and ask her to send word to Stanton Hall for the carriage to be fetched. Not a half-hour later, they were ready, their cases safely stowed in the carriage, and on their way to the station.