Sara,” Mrs. Wood said, with a weary shake of her head.
“Just realistic. I’m contented to be single. Let Mary marry him. She’s the one who is eager to meet his smart London friends.”
“I won’t meet them if you won’t pose for him,” Mary pointed out. “I’ll stay with you every minute. I’ll distract him if he tries to flirt with you. Please, Sara. Pretty please.”
“Oh very well. But I refuse to dress up in any silly costume.”
As the ladies were about to leave the table, the servant came and announced Lord Haldiman. This threw the group into consternation. “What on earth can he want with us?” Mrs. Wood asked.
There had been plenty of traffic between Haldiman Hall and Whitehern at the time of Sara’s betrothal. After Lord Peter’s disappearance, the visits had continued for some months to discuss the tragic mystery, gradually petering out as it became clear that Peter was not returning. Lady Haldiman still dropped by occasionally, but a call from Lord Haldiman usually had some serious reason. He came at election time to introduce his member, and after Mr. Wood’s death, he had stopped around a few times to offer his assistance in business matters. The family considered him a good neighbor, but not a close friend.
“He wishes to speak to you, ma’am,” the servant informed Mrs. Wood. “Alone,” he added ominously.
“Good gracious! I thought his mama must have taken ill, but he would not want to see me alone if—” Her questioning eye slid to Sara. Surely he hadn’t come to offer for her! He was always very careful to stand up with Sara at all the assemblies. It was taken as a mark of respect for her association with Peter, but his name was never linked with any other lady. Lady Haldiman often mentioned that her son wished to marry. Perhaps he had decided to choose a local bride and save himself the bother of running up to London. Really, she could think of no other possible reason for this call.
Sara looked at her mother, and some silent message passed between them. Their thoughts ran in the same groove. What other possible reason could he have for coming? Mrs. Wood noticed that Sara had turned dead white. Of course she said nothing, the oyster, but her staring eyes told the tale. “What shall I tell him?” she said.
“First you must hear his question,” Sara answered in a voice trying for calmness.
“If he—if it’s an offer ...”
“An offer of marriage! Don’t be absurd,” Mary exclaimed, and fell into a noisy peal of laughter.
This reaction restored the group to reality. Mrs. Wood bustled into the salon and listened with racing pulse while Lord Haldiman opened his budget. Gradually shocked disbelief yielded to credulity and soon escalated to joy. “I decided I should speak to you first,” he said, when he was finished. “Shall I tell Sara, or would it come better from you?”
Mrs. Wood was beyond thinking. “But this is wonderful!” she exclaimed a dozen times. “She will be so thrilled. And he still wants to marry her?” she asked, a watery smile lighting her eyes.
“Yes, but he has been married already. He’s widowed and has two sons,” Haldiman repeated. “That will surely quench her ardor somewhat.”
“Yes, of course. She will be in a snit at first, but she will forgive him. There has never been anyone else, Haldiman. Just this very morning she repeated her vow to remain single. I’ll let you tell her, as you are in possession of all the details.
“Shall we get on with it then?” he suggested, steeling himself to the unpleasant interview. If Sara was still that madly in love with Peter, she would take his marriage harder than her mother had done. But Sara was a perfect lady. Whatever her private anguish, her public display would be a model of restraint.
Mrs. Wood asked the servant to call Sara to the salon. She waited till her daughter arrived. “Sara, Haldiman has something astonishing to say to you,” she smiled.
Sara saw the look of
“Just realistic. I’m contented to be single. Let Mary marry him. She’s the one who is eager to meet his smart London friends.”
“I won’t meet them if you won’t pose for him,” Mary pointed out. “I’ll stay with you every minute. I’ll distract him if he tries to flirt with you. Please, Sara. Pretty please.”
“Oh very well. But I refuse to dress up in any silly costume.”
As the ladies were about to leave the table, the servant came and announced Lord Haldiman. This threw the group into consternation. “What on earth can he want with us?” Mrs. Wood asked.
There had been plenty of traffic between Haldiman Hall and Whitehern at the time of Sara’s betrothal. After Lord Peter’s disappearance, the visits had continued for some months to discuss the tragic mystery, gradually petering out as it became clear that Peter was not returning. Lady Haldiman still dropped by occasionally, but a call from Lord Haldiman usually had some serious reason. He came at election time to introduce his member, and after Mr. Wood’s death, he had stopped around a few times to offer his assistance in business matters. The family considered him a good neighbor, but not a close friend.
“He wishes to speak to you, ma’am,” the servant informed Mrs. Wood. “Alone,” he added ominously.
“Good gracious! I thought his mama must have taken ill, but he would not want to see me alone if—” Her questioning eye slid to Sara. Surely he hadn’t come to offer for her! He was always very careful to stand up with Sara at all the assemblies. It was taken as a mark of respect for her association with Peter, but his name was never linked with any other lady. Lady Haldiman often mentioned that her son wished to marry. Perhaps he had decided to choose a local bride and save himself the bother of running up to London. Really, she could think of no other possible reason for this call.
Sara looked at her mother, and some silent message passed between them. Their thoughts ran in the same groove. What other possible reason could he have for coming? Mrs. Wood noticed that Sara had turned dead white. Of course she said nothing, the oyster, but her staring eyes told the tale. “What shall I tell him?” she said.
“First you must hear his question,” Sara answered in a voice trying for calmness.
“If he—if it’s an offer ...”
“An offer of marriage! Don’t be absurd,” Mary exclaimed, and fell into a noisy peal of laughter.
This reaction restored the group to reality. Mrs. Wood bustled into the salon and listened with racing pulse while Lord Haldiman opened his budget. Gradually shocked disbelief yielded to credulity and soon escalated to joy. “I decided I should speak to you first,” he said, when he was finished. “Shall I tell Sara, or would it come better from you?”
Mrs. Wood was beyond thinking. “But this is wonderful!” she exclaimed a dozen times. “She will be so thrilled. And he still wants to marry her?” she asked, a watery smile lighting her eyes.
“Yes, but he has been married already. He’s widowed and has two sons,” Haldiman repeated. “That will surely quench her ardor somewhat.”
“Yes, of course. She will be in a snit at first, but she will forgive him. There has never been anyone else, Haldiman. Just this very morning she repeated her vow to remain single. I’ll let you tell her, as you are in possession of all the details.
“Shall we get on with it then?” he suggested, steeling himself to the unpleasant interview. If Sara was still that madly in love with Peter, she would take his marriage harder than her mother had done. But Sara was a perfect lady. Whatever her private anguish, her public display would be a model of restraint.
Mrs. Wood asked the servant to call Sara to the salon. She waited till her daughter arrived. “Sara, Haldiman has something astonishing to say to you,” she smiled.
Sara saw the look of
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