Chapter One
London
October, 1816
"Gone?" Sarah Killian asked in disbelief. "How can William
be gone?"
Mrs. Hounslow, smaller than Sarah remembered, and a little
bit grayer, looked as though she might cry. "Believe me, I
had no idea. I sent word that your grandfather had died,
as I wrote to you, and only then did the headmaster inform
me that he'd run away from Westerham."
"But ... all of those letters you sent me. You assured me
William was doing well." Sarah followed Mrs. Hounslow into
the tiny but very clean parlor of the little house on
Gracechurch Street, where she had arrived after three
grueling days on the south-bound mail coach.
"I fear I was sadly deceived by the headmaster," Mrs.
Hounslow replied. "I presume he did not wish to lose your
brother's annual tuition. Not until the source of that
tuition disappeared did he tell me the truth. I have
requested an inquiry by the board of directors, you may be
sure."
"Then ... did William receive none of my letters?" Sarah
couldn't quite grasp the enormity of what had
happened. "He never answered them, but I attributed that
to his youth -- and gender."
The older woman nodded sagely. "Men, and particularly
boys, do tend to be dreadful correspondents. But no, it
appears William left the school before the end of his
first year. I have not yet managed to locate him, as I
only discovered it yesterday."
"His first--. He's been missing for seven years?" Sarah
gasped, a hand going to her throat. "Anything might have
happened to him!"
Horrible visions rose before her eyes. Little William, at
the mercy of far worse than his old climbing master,
beaten, forced to ... "He -- he could be anywhere by now,"
she whispered as tears threatened to choke her. "He could
even be dead."
For eight long years, Sarah's one goal had been to fulfill
the promise she'd made her brother the day she had left
London. That goal had supported her through her first
months at what had turned out to be a harsh school in a
harsh climate, established solely to educate orphans lucky
enough to have benefactors.
That goal had continued to sustain her as she stubbornly
learned everything possible from those teachers willing to
work in that environment. Finally, that goal had driven
her to apply for a teaching post upon graduation, so that
she could earn both the money and experience necessary to
return to London and seek gainful employment.
Now she was here, but her goal was farther away than ever -
- perhaps even unattainable. She took a deep breath,
trying to keep panic at bay. "What of a position? Were you
able to find one for me?"
"Ah, here's Maggie with our tea. Do have a bit," Mrs.
Hounslow urged, taking the tray from the middle-aged maid.
She poured a cup for each of them before answering Sarah's
question.
"I am sorry, my dear, but governess positions are not so
easy to come by as all that. First, you must establish
yourself, demonstrate that you have respectable
connections. Indeed, now I see your face again, I fear it
may be a trifle, ah, difficult to secure such a post."
Sarah set down her cup, untouched. "I should perhaps tell
you that I spent every bit of money I had on my fare to
London, and on this dress." She fingered the brown-checked
country gingham, the best she'd been able to afford after
paying for her journey from Cumberland. "If not a
governess position, I can work as a seamstress, or even a
lady's maid -- or in a shop somewhere."
"Oh, no, my dear." Mrs. Hounslow appeared shocked. "You
come of a good family, whether they choose to acknowledge
you or not. You are too young to be a lady's companion, so
governessing is your only option. That -- or marriage."
She regarded Sarah speculatively. "In fact, I should say --
"
Sarah interrupted this flight of fancy with a blunt
question. "Then how am I to live while I search for
William?"
"Search --? My dear, you mustn't do any such thing. It
would be most dangerous. I shall make inquiries, and I
doubt not we'll discover something of your brother's
whereabouts soon enough."
"Of course I must search for him." How could Mrs. Hounslow
imagine otherwise? To prevent further argument, she
reverted to the other topic. "You were discussing my
options for survival?"
"Oh! Yes. As it happens, I have found you a respectable
place to stay -- a most respectable place. One that may
offer far better opportunities than a governess post."
Mrs. Hounslow's hands fluttered about her as she spoke,
betraying her nervousness. "I have discovered a cousin of
your mother's here in Town, and I'm certain she will allow
you to stay at her home until we can get you settled more,
ah, permanently. When we finish our tea, I shall walk you
to Berkley Square. Lady Mountheath will no doubt be
delighted to meet you."
Lord Peter Northrup drained the last of a well-earned pint
of ale and stood. After a fortnight away, he'd had a
productive morning catching up on the news, political and
social. His talk with a clerk or two at the War Office was
most rewarding, and now he'd concluded with a pleasant
hour among friends at the Guards' Club.
"Leaving us, Colonel?" asked Tom Pynchney, a talkative
fellow who still wore his regimentals despite the fact
he'd done no soldiering since Paris more than two years
ago -- any more than had Peter himself.
Peter hid a wince at the designation. "Aye, I've a thing
or two to do at home before readying myself for the
evening," he replied, twitching the fit of his coat back
to its customary perfection ...
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