Rubbing her face against his shirt with the perfectly straight row of buttons, Deb whimpered. “Sarah won’t forgive me, and now I’ve gone and ruined my good name.”
He tipped her chin up with one gentle finger. “Sarah has been out all night looking for you. That doesn’t sound like the sort of person who won’t forgive you. Will your escapade cause gossip and possibly a few snubs from local society? Yes, yes, it will. But this time, we will not run away from the consequences, like I did when I took you out of school. The headmistress wanted to discipline you, and instead I removed you from the situation. The fault was mine, and you didn’t learn your lesson. But you will this time. We both will.”
Deb’s eyes and nose were running freely, as well as being very dirty. She appeared very young and very sorry. “Will I never find a good match now?”
“Deb, you are only sixteen years old. Still a child. By the time you debut, all of this will have been forgotten. In the meantime, I would love nothing more than for you to be a part of my andSarah’s family. And we are in no rush to lose you to a handsome young duke with more estates than names.”
His sister let out a watery chuckle. “I should like to marry a duke.”
“Sarah and I will do our best, but let us enjoy you for several more years first.”
Deb squeezed him again, this time tighter than before. He put his arm beneath her shoulders and lifted her to where Mr. Phipps had lowered the rope. Wrapping the cord underneath her arms but high on her chest, he tied a sailor’s knot. “Pull her up gently.”
He lifted his sister as the horse pulled the rope tight. Guy and another groom met Deb at the top of the pit and carefully lifted her out. She immediately thanked them, and Christopher felt proud of her. After untying Deb, the grooms threw the rope back down. Christopher did not tie it around himself but rather around the skeleton. Countess or commoner, this woman deserved a proper burial. The bones were light and held together with the remnants of a tattered dress, its original color no longer recognizable from the elements. The men lifted the skeleton up in a trice. Christopher felt relieved when the rope was lowered a third time, and he carefully tied it around his upper chest. “And up.”
Rather than being hog-tied and dragged up the side of the sinkhole, Christopher put his boots on the side of the boggy dirt and climbed his way out of the pit as the men pulled. The first person he saw was his wife, tears streaming freely down her face as she knelt not by Deb but by the skeleton. Smelly and dirty, Christopher untied himself to kneel and put an arm around her. There was something in her hand. She turned it over, and Christopher saw a grimy green necklace. In its current state, it was impossible to guess the trinket’s value.
Sarah wiped off the green slime on the top to reveal an engraving. “My mother always wore it around her neck. It’s a locket with the Denham family crest. My father gave it to her on their first anniversary. I remember her wearing it that dreadful night that she left.”
Christopher gently removed the necklace from the skeleton. He was no physician, but he could see that the late countess’s neck had been broken. “Your mother’s death would have been instantaneous. She would not have felt any pain.”
“What happened to her?”
Sighing, Christopher shook his head. “I doubt we will ever know the entire story, but we do know that your mother never left you and that she always meant to come back to you.”
More tears fell down her cheeks as Sarah nodded. “She did. She loved me.”
Christopher wrapped his arms around his wife and simply held her for several minutes. He could have cradled her close to him for hours, if Deb hadn’t made a sound of pain. “Mr. Phipps,” Christopher said, “would you see that my sister is brought back on my horse to Manderfield Hall and a doctor called? Guy, would you take one of the saddle blankets and carefully wrap up these remains and bring them to the vicar? The Countess of Manders deserves a proper burial and funeral. The rest of you, once you’ve taken care of your horses, feel free to go back to sleep, and tomorrow I will give you all an extra week’s wages for tonight’s work. Lady Sarah and I will follow in a little while.”
Quietly everyone left to do as he asked. Even his strong-willed Deb.
Christopher, covered in muck, sat on the forest floor and held his wife until she had no more tears to cry. He caressed her hair and whispered soft words of assurance. He’d been devastated when he’d learned of his own mother’s and brothers’ passing and that they had been buried without his attendance. There wasnothing he could do for his wife but be there for her through her grief. Unlike himself, she would not be alone. And, holding her closer to his chest, he knew that thanks to Sarah, he would never be alone again either.
Chapter 21
It did not surprise Sarahthat her father came to her mother’s funeral. He had loved Mama in his obsessive way. Papa had been surprised to learn that the memorial service was for both the Countess of Manders and the late Mrs. Moulton and her children. When Sarah had spoken with Mr. Robinson to prepare for the meeting, she’d felt a prompting to include her husband’s late family members. The service, she knew, would help give her closure with her mother’s death, and she thought that perhaps Christopher needed that too. Unlike his father, Christopher’s mother and little brothers had loved and accepted him as he was.
Mr. Robinson was certainly a young man, but Sarah felt moved by his sermon. In his short life he must have experienced a great deal of sorrow, or he was naturally gifted with empathy. Either way, he was an exemplary vicar. Her heart lifted as he read Isaiah 25:8: “He will swallow up death in victory; and the Lord God will wipe away tears from off all faces.”
Many tears had fallen down Sarah’s face, but she didn’t mind them. Christopher held her left hand throughout the service and Aunt Venetia her right. Smiling through her tears, Sarah wondered which person had cried more—herself or her aunt. Cousin Ralph continually supplied them with fresh handkerchiefs; clearly he had prepared for how they would both behave. Deborah and Margaret sat on the other side of Christopher. Margaret, per usual, was a pattern card of perfection. Deborah looked surly, but perhaps it was her best attempt at being somber.
Christopher had asked Mrs. Harmony to give him a list of every person who worked at Manderfield Hall and requested Deborah write them all a separate note of thanks for their part in herrescue. Sarah’s own note had been short, but she’d felt it was sincere.
After the services, Aunt Venetia hugged Sarah at least a half dozen times. “I am so, so sorry my dearest niece. I know that you have hoped for so long, and I prayed that my sister was still alive for your sake.”
Sarah squeezed her aunt back. “As did I. But I find comfort in discovering the truth. Knowing is better than hoping, even if the result was not what we wished for.”
Aunt Venetia cupped Sarah’s cheek with her hand. “You have always been wise beyond your years. If there is anything I can do for you, let me know. It will be done.”
The corners of Sarah’s lips curled up. “What if I asked you to chaperone two delightful young ladies for a couple months? Christopher and I wish to go on a wedding trip.”
“But what about my wedding party?” Aunt Venetia asked. “I’ve already sent out all the invitations, and everyone is coming. Even your ornery great-aunt Eunice.”
One person Sarah wouldn’t have minded refusing. “We plan to leave directly after the wedding party, Aunt. Indeed, Christopher and I are looking forward to celebrating our marriage properly.”
“With cake. All proper weddings must have cake.”
Despite the circumstances, Sarah grinned. “Of course. And I do believe you mentioned a most interesting tradition regarding the crumbling of the cake.”