Lady Sarah's Redemption Read Online Free Page B

in the villainous Sir
Richard Byrd, only that’s another whole story.” She sighed, as if hankering
after this bygone era. “I could tell you a thing or two about Lady Venetia and
this household that would make yer hair stand on end. It were a lot livelier
then!”
    The magnificent oil painting of the late Lady Venetia, commissioned
by Mr Hawthorne as a wedding present, hung near the mullioned windows at the
end of the parquet-floored gallery.
    Poor Caro, thought Sarah, as she stared up at the proud, fiery eyes
that gazed out beneath disdainfully arched brows. Although her eldest charge
possessed her mother’s fine dark eyes and coal black hair all similarities
ended there. The slight upturn of the late mistress’s full and sensuous mouth
hinted at some private satisfaction while her sumptuous gown and rich jewels
indicated a love of finery.
    She wondered if Caro’s refusal to make any attempt at improving her
appearance was simply rebelliousness. Well, she’d soon set the girl straight.
    She also wondered if the swell of Lady Venetia’s creamy white
breasts above her daringly cut evening gown still had the power to move the
master when he stopped to admire the likeness of his late wife.
    Sarah glanced down at her own awful gown. Last night she had
borrowed needle and thread in order to launch a serious attack upon her
wardrobe. Instead of dropping hemlines she’d worked hard to increase the
deleterious effects of shrinkage and staining. Surely Mrs Hawthorne would
remember her offer of cast-off clothes.
    “My mother was the most beautiful woman in Dorset,” came a cool
voice beside her, and Sarah turned to see Caro at her left shoulder staring
dispassionately at the portrait. “Hard to believe when you look at me.”
    Sarah hesitated, sensitive to her adolescent charge’s vulnerability.
Though she’d always been confident of her own beauty, she still remembered the
uncertainties of her adolescent friends and cousins. “There’s little
resemblance but your eyes are finer.”
    Caro arched her brows. “False flattery, Miss Morecroft.”
    “What would you say if I told you I was considered a great beauty
where I come from?” countered Sarah. Laughing, she added, “Your silence wounds
me. But what if I told you that clothes, the artful application of my favourite
Liquid Bloom of Roses and my hair styled à
la Greque , instead of this unflattering topknot, would make me the toast of
the town?”
    At Caro’s sceptical look Sarah’s amusement grew. “Just wait, Miss
Hawthorne. When I’m done you’ll see that you can be both a beauty and a
bluestocking.”
    Sure enough, Sarah’s ploy with a needle and thread worked upon Mrs
Hawthorne’s conscience, for several days later Sarah returned to her room to
find three day dresses and an evening gown upon her bed. Their flounces and
furbelows screamed their decrepitude (three seasons ago!) but Sarah was as
gifted with a needle in creating wonders as she was in wreaking havoc.
    She was gratified by the admiration in young master Cosmo’s eyes as
he greeted her on the stair the following day.
    “Oh, miss, you look lovely,” breathed Harriet when Sarah entered the
schoolroom; and although Caro said nothing, Sarah, who was watching her
closely, registered the surprised widening of her eyes.
    “All it needs is the right bonnet,” Sarah announced, stooping for
the copy of The Iliad which lay upon
the table. “I thought you girls might like to go into town and help me choose
one.”
    Harriet and Augusta regarded her as if she were mad while Caro
actually choked.
    “Did your previous governess never take you on shopping
expeditions?” Sarah looked up from her task of selecting a passage from the
text. She had surprised herself at her desire to devise a curriculum for the
girls that was both instructive and entertaining.
    “Oh miss, do we have to read that?” groaned Harriet.
    Sarah snapped the book shut. “If society decrees that your social
success depends upon