Erik threw down the paper with an exasperated sigh.
Sara's Christmas cheer and gentle kindness to the journalists had ignited a kind of war in the newspapers between those that espoused the cause of the diamond mine heiress and those that continued to get their information from Miss Minchin, her Cook…and even Cook's policeman.
The crowd of journalists had been replaced by curiosity seekers, and for two days now, he had been prevented from going across the square to see her, or rather Carmichael. In truth, he had no valid reason to see Sara, other than the way his heart cried out for her. He wondered if the next day would bring a resumption of Sara's 'music lessons.' Hope was dreadful but addictive.
The monkey scampered across the floor and picked up the discarded newspaper, holding it up in a mockery of reading it with great solemnity.
"Bugger off," Erik muttered at the monkey, who tilted his head to one side and unleashed a ferocious grin at him.
"You're all against me," he added morosely.
The monkey blinked and went back to 'reading' the paper.
Erik glared at the creature before going back to his post by the window.
"No, these gloves," Janet insisted, snatching a modest pair from Sara's grasp and handing her instead a lovely grey kid leather pair.
"But, those are my Sunday best!" Nora protested, standing among the wreckage of the ransacking of her wardrobe by Janet.
"Yes, and they'll just do for visiting the Countess of Surrey!" Janet retorted.
"Lady Bradley is a countess?" Sara asked, trying to hide the sudden nervous tremor in her voice.
"Did I not mention that?" Janet said absently as she rearranged the angle of Nora's hat on Sara's head. "Now, we'll add in my fur stole and matching muff-"
"If she has a muff, why does she need my gloves?" Nora complained, then added, "It's nothing against you, Sara, you are truly welcome to all my things, but Janet has made free with my things since we were little girls. I had thought it would end when she was finally married and could buy her own things, but it seems she still prefers mine!"
Sara tried to laugh, but her heart was beating too rapidly to allow for much breath or much laughter.
"It is not my fault you were always tall for your age and of a size with me," Janet scolded. "Half your things suited me better, anyway!"
"So you liked to think, but that one Easter bonnet with the beautiful pink silk ribbon made you look like a diseased ostrich!"
"It looked far better on me than on you! It made you look like a malnourished Pekingese!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
"Girls, girls!" Mrs. Carmichael chided from the door. "Janet, you shall be late if you do not leave instantly. I'm sure her ladyship will understand that we have not had time to take Sara to a modiste. Nora, it is very good of you to lend Sara your things. I expect both you and Janet to clean up this mess when she returns."
"Yes, Mama," the young women replied in a dutiful chorus, as if they were once again in the nursery.
Sara found herself hustled down the stairs and into the waiting carriage with Janet. The smell of the leather and rattle of the wheels brought her back to a moment so many years ago when she had snuggled against her papa's side as their cozy carriage clattered through the dark streets. Her heart ached for little seven-year-old Sara, knowing what was to become of her.
"Are you well, Sara?" Janet asked, leaning forward and laying a comforting hand on her own. She blinked hard to force herself back to the present moment.
"Oh, yes," she replied. "I just realized that this was the first time I have been in a carriage for many years."
Janet smiled sadly at her and shook her head. "You will ride in many more and finer carriages from now on, dear. I'm sure Papa will speak with you soon about acquiring your own equipage."
Sara nodded, too numb from shock to reply.
"Lady Bradley shall help us find you a proper ladies maid as well," Janet continued. "Nora's Jenny is a sweet girl and very good for our sort, but you will need a French maid, I think. It is a good think we have several months before the season truly starts to get you all equipped."
"Equipped!" Sara laughed. "You make it sound as though I am preparing for a military campaign."
"It is nothing short of a military campaign," Janet sighed ruefully. "And, you shall be facing foes more cunning than Napoleon, more fierce than Hannibal, and more ruthless than Alexander the Great!"
"What? Who?"
"Why, all the other young unmarried ladies and their mamas, of course!" Janet said solemnly before bursting into laughter.
Sara joined her, though her secret worries grew more burdensome with every word. She had long 'pretended' that she was a soldier to survive the harsh conditions of living with Miss Minchin, but, now, she wondered if she was serving in the wrong branch of the military entirely.
Lady Bradley's pug whuffled sleepily as noises from the hall trickled into his dreams. Rousing himself slightly, he found there was a sweet new scent in the air as well. The faint aroma of cake and tea coming up the stairs convinced him it was worth opening his eyes and being present for the occasion.
"Ah, Ambrose, you have decided to join us," Lady Bradley said affectionately, bestowing just the right sort of scratch behind his ears. "I trust you will be quite observant and share with me all of your opinions afterwards. You know how I rely on your judgment."
Ambrose licked his chops in reply, feeling it was the most appropriate response as it implied an equal trade for his services in cake.
Seppings, the butler and a fine man with a liberal hand with biscuits soaked in port, entered the salon and announced, "Mrs. Bradley and Miss Crewe, ma'am."
"Show them in, show them in." Lady Bradley waved her hand regally. "And, where is tea? I am near expiring of hunger, as is poor Ambrose."
"I shall see to it immediately, ma'am," Seppings replied, bowing and ushering two young women into the room.
As was only polite as a gentleman, Ambrose stood on their entrance, but then found he was too overcome with excitement to remain where he was. He bounded over to Mrs. Janet Bradley, whom he knew to be a reliable source of the most delightful belly rubs, and greeted her enthusiastically. The young lady standing next to her smelled quite nice, though there was a distinct cinnamon note of nervousness. Still, there was no reason not to wag his tail politely at her, and he was highly gratified to see her glance down at him and give him quite a beautiful smile.
"Your ladyship," Janet said, curtseying, and the young woman next her, Miss Crewe, did the same.
"Janet, my dear, it has been an age since I have seen you!" Lady Bradley cried.
"I called upon your ladyship two days ago," Janet said, confused.
"Yes, and that is quite too long without your dear face and good cheer, now, come give your very old aunt a kiss," Lady Bradley said, holding out her hands.
The younger woman smiled, revealing dimples, and went straight over to the lady, taking her hands and kissing her cheek.
"Now, then, won't you introduce me to your friend?" Lady Bradley said after releasing Janet.
"Of course! Your ladyship, may I present Miss Sara Crewe?"
Sara curtseyed again, and Ambrose reciprocated by a most gracious play bow.
"Come here, my dear," Lady Bradley said, patting the place next to her on the settee.
"I'm very pleased to make your acquaintance, your ladyship," Sara said as she complied. Ambrose found he liked her soft voice very much.
Without further preamble, he jumped up into her lap. It was best to get the formalities over and assess her talents right away. Was she the type to give excellent ear scratches? Or, would she provide gentle, if generic, petting?
"And, how do you do, too, sir?" Sara laughed, inclining her head to him.
He barked his reply, pleased to have been acknowledged so properly. He watched as she tilted her head to one side and considered him. Then, she lifted her hand and with lovely, slender fingers, began to gently rub him between the eyes.
Oh, heaven!
"Janet has told me so much about you, my dear," Lady Bradley said kindly. "You are a very brave young woman."
Sara looked startled. "I…I beg your pardon, ma'am, but I don't think I am brave."
"But, to have survived everything you have, Miss Crewe! Surely that required a great deal of courage. I'm sure I would have expired in the first week."
Ambrose noticed Sara was biting her lip and frowning. Well, that was too bad, but at least she had not stopped attending to him and had now moved to deliver soft little scratches below his eyes.
"Perhaps, ma'am," Sara said slowly. "I agree that I survived, but I am still unconvinced that it required anything more than getting up every morning, and if you sleep, it follows that you must wake up in the morning, and then there is nothing to do but get up."
"And therein lies courage," Lady Bradley affirmed triumphantly. "You must give me leave, Miss Crewe, to believe you quite an extraordinary young lady of most remarkable bravery and determination."
Sara flushed and looked down, and Ambrose gave her his most comforting look. Perhaps his tongue hanging out one side of his mouth lessened the effect somewhat, but the intent was there.
The arrival of tea provided a welcome distraction for everyone, and Ambrose surveyed the cake stand with a critical eye, deciding whether he would begin with the seed cake or a piece of treacle tart. He noted Sara looked at the food with wide, hungry eyes as well. He approved of this. A young woman with an appetite was a young woman bound to commiserate with the plight of a starving dog and share her cake.
"I am so grateful your ladyship has agreed to help us," Janet said. "There are so many things we need to do to prepare Sara for the season that I confess to feeling a bit overwhelmed."
Lady Bradley regarded Sara thoughtfully over the rim of her tea cup. "Oh, yes, quite," she said. "A thousand and one things of infinite importance must be attended to before Miss Crewe makes her curtsey to the queen."
Ambrose felt Sara tense and become very still. He used his opportunity to snaffled the last bit of seed cake from her plate. It was doubtful that she had been going to eat it in any case.
"The queen?" Sara whispered.
"Yes, yes, the queen." Lady Bradley made a dismissive gesture with her tea cup. "She is really quite a good sort of person, when you get to know her."
Sara looked a little faint, and Ambrose administered a series of sharp licks to her hand to bring her back to the present.
"Do you not wish to meet the queen?" Lady Bradley asked softly, watching Sara closely.
"I…I do not know, ma'am."
"Would you not like to wear pretty dresses and attend balls and garden parties?"
"I do not know. Forgive me, your ladyship. I have no experience of such things and have heard such different accounts of them as to be unable to decide whether they are instruments of pleasure or torture."
Lady Bradley laughed, and as always, something in her laughter made Ambrose itch to join in. So, he did, barking loudly.
"Quiet, Ambrose!" Lady Bradley scolded, sobering. He obeyed sulkily. He had only be laughing. "I see you are a cautious young lady, which, now that I think of it, is not to be wondered at, given all you have endured. Cautious and clever, now, that is an excellent set of weapons to have at your side as you enter the fray of the season."
"I told you it was a war, Sara," Janet piped up.
Ambrose saw that she still had some treacle tart on her plate and promptly abandoned Sara for Janet, who immediately obliged with both a bite of tart and a belly rub.
"Yet, it would be unfair to throw such a green soldier into the fiercest fighting at the front," Lady Bradley chuckled, tapping her lips with her forefinger. "Perhaps an opening skirmish or two might give us all a better sense of how to equip our campaign."
Ambrose let his head loll to the side so he could watch Sara and Lady Bradley, even as Janet continued with his belly rubbing. Sara was attempting to smile, but there was something in her eyes that suddenly made him instinctively feel tense. He sniffed the air, searching for a foe, but all he could smell that was new was a sharp scent of citrus confusion coming from Sara.
"I have it!" Lady Bradley exclaimed. "Miss Crewe, you shall come to my Twelfth Night ball. It will be the perfect introduction to society for you."
"Can I attend a ball without having been presented, ma'am?" Sara asked.
"That is the beauty of Twelfth Night, my dear! It is known to be an informal affair with a great deal of family attending. Older children and those who are not yet out in society may attend and even dance. It is also a masquerade, therefore, you may meet people anonymously without being instantly known as the diamond mine heiress."
Ambrose thought it quite interesting that Sara flinched ever so slightly at those words.
"Yes, yes, that is capital," Lady Bradley continued. "I shall consider it quite settled. You shall attend with Janet and my great-nephew, and we shall see how you fare in your first battle."
A hard, determined little look came into Sara's face. "I shall attend only if all of the Carmichaels may attend as well."
Janet gasped, and Lady Bradley blinked rapidly at such audacity.
"You would not send a soldier to war without his regiment, would you?" Sara added sweetly, though there was a faint ring of sabre steel in her voice. "I shall not attend without those who have been closest and kindest to me."
Lady Bradley gave Sara a searching look then nodded.
"Very well," she said. "They may attend you this once. But, know that you shall be transferred to an entirely new battalion after this."
"Yes, sir!" Sara replied with a smart little salute.
"At ease, soldier," Lady Bradley said with a smile and sipped her tea.
"Well, Ambrose? What do you make of Miss Crewe?"
Ambrose considered his response carefully as he watched Lady Bradley dress for dinner.
Finally, he felt it was most appropriate to answer with two barks, a wheeze, and a bark.
Lady Bradley nodded sagely. "My thoughts exactly."
