allow Sarah to achieve some essential peace of mind and put the events of the past finally to rest. Furthermore, Judith had to acknowledge that Sarah Russell could, when challenged, be a lady of considerable determination. It was rare to see her cornflower-blue eyes shine with quite that depth of emotion. Sarah was not to be dissuaded.
So, it seemed that in Sarah’s mind the matter was settled. But Judith was not at ease with the outcome.
Wisely, Sarah allowed Judith some space in which to ponder the advantages of her taking up the appointment in Lord Joshua Faringdon’s household, holding to the thought that she would soon see the sense of it. Then, when she knew that the Countess of Painscastle had spent some frustrating time in undertaking to engage the required staff for her brother, with limited and haphazard success, she broached the subject again as if the matter were indeed settled.
‘Will you tell me about him, Judith? Lord Faringdon? After all, he will be my employer and I would wish to have some knowledge of his requirements.’
Judith tutted—but in reluctant agreement. Finding an experienced butler and cook at such short notice was proving difficult enough, even without the educated and proficient person. So if Sarah was quite determined …
‘Are you indeed sure?’
‘Certainly I am. I think that heaven has smiled on me in dropping this chance at my feet. I would be foolish to ignore it.’
The ladies were taking an airing in Judith’s barouche.
‘I would not put it quite in those words. Neither, I fear, will you after living under my brother’s roof. He can be somewhat—ah, unreliable.’
‘Unreliable?’ This was not what she had expected, although Lady Beatrice’s unexplained disapproval could not be overlooked. ‘I wish that you would tell me about your brother. I do not think I have ever heard you speak of him. And why your mama is so … so …’
‘So unforgiving,’ Judith supplied with a rueful smile. ‘Well, now. He is older than I by a little less than ten years—so we were never close as children. I admired him—the splendid older brother, as you might imagine. He had no time for me, of course—the younger sister still in the nursery—but I worshipped from afar.’ She wrinkled her nose a little as she searched her memories. ‘By the time that I had my coming-out Season, he was no longer living at home. I suppose the truth is that I do not know him very well, although he was never unkind to me as some brothers might be,’ she added ingenuously.
‘Does he have red hair like you?’ Sarah cast a quick glance at Judith’s fiery ringlets.
‘No.’ She chuckled, reasonably tolerant of her own dramatic appearance, even though it prevented her from wearing her favourite shade of pink. ‘Fortunately for him, Sher is dark like the rest of them. I was the only one to be afflicted by Mama’s colouring. How unfair life is! But his eyes are grey—sometimes almost silver—not green like mine. He is outrageously handsome, of course.’
Of course. Sarah knew only too well, claiming close acquaintance with the charm and good looks of both Henry and Nicholas Faringdon.
‘And he lives in Paris, I understand.’
‘Yes. Mostly. Although he has property in England. Sher married a French lady—before I was myself married—Mademoiselle Marianne de Colville was her name. The marriage was very sudden, so I think it must have been a love match. I only met her twice, once when they were wed, but I remember that she was an arresting lady—not a beauty exactly, but one of those dazzling women who take the eye, with dark hair and dark eyes. Very French, you understand, with a most stylish wardrobe. I remember being highly envious as a young girl, when fashion meant far more to me than it does now …’ Judith did not notice Sarah turning her head to survey an approaching landaulet and to hide a smile at this remarkable admission. ‘But anyway, she died in Paris more than three years ago now. It was all very sad and sudden—quite tragic—some sort of fever that did not respond to any of the advice given by the doctors. We were all quite taken by surprise—from what we knew of the lady, Marianne had always seemed so full of life. But there … She was buried in France, probably at her family home somewhere in Provence.’ Judith lifted her hand in recognition of the occupants of the landaulet. ‘I did not know Lady Portinscale was back in town. But where was I …? Sher does not talk about Marianne and her death. I expect that he was stricken by remorse, losing the love of his life. Not that you would guess from the manner in which he has conducted his life since,’ she added drily. ‘But perhaps I should not have said that.’
Sarah thought about this. Knowing Judith well, there was no need to ask the lady’s enigmatic meaning. The Countess would assuredly confide every detail to her friend before they completed the first circuit of Hyde Park. ‘Why do you call him Sher?’
‘It is a family name—Joshua Sherbourne Faringdon. A childhood thing—Hal and Nick always called him that. I think I got into the habit because Mama disapproved. It was not the thing, she said. But Sher did not object—he always did what he could to annoy her.’
‘And so he has a daughter?’
‘Yes. Celestine. She must be a little older than John. Perhaps eight years old now.’
‘And has lived in the country.’
‘Sher sent her to England, even before her mother died, when she was quite a little girl, hardly more than a baby,’ Judith explained. ‘He has a house at Richmond on the edge of the Park, so the child has grown up there. He thought it better than keeping her in Paris—or even coming to London. She travelled with her nurse. One cannot but pity her, brought up by servants, with no other company and no one to play with. Perhaps I should have brought her to live with us—but that was before the birth of Giles and we set up our own nursery. Celestine would have been just as lonely in Grosvenor Square as in Richmond.’
‘Poor child. She will have missed her mother.’
‘I suppose. It will be better for her to be in London with a governess. I barely remember her, but on the one occasion Sher brought her to visit us when he was last home it seemed to me that she was a very plain child, silent for the most part and quite timid. As I said, she has not had an enviable life.’ Judith slanted a glinting smile at Sarah. ‘Perhaps it is a good plan after all—that you take over the care of her.’
Inclined to agree, Sarah sat quietly, piecing together her newly acquired knowledge. Poor child indeed, robbed of both parents. Had her father done anything to keep in touch with her? Sarah decided that, as a prospective employee, it was a question too delicate to ask. For herself, she could not imagine abandoning her own son in quite a different country, to be raised by paid employees who had no personal connection with the child. But, she supposed, that was not for her to question.
‘Why does your mama not talk of him?’ She returned to the blank spaces in her knowledge. ‘As the only son and heir and now head of the family I would have expected her to welcome his return.’
‘Not at all!’ Judith took a breath. Here it came! Gossip was the spice of life to her. ‘Sher has … well, he has a reputation. If you had been out and about in polite society, dear Sarah, you would undoubtedly have heard.’
‘Oh.’ Sarah nodded thoughtfully. Lady Beatrice’s caustic words had suggested that such might be the case.
‘A string of mistresses. And very expensive.’ With little encouragement necessary, Judith now had no compunction in filling in the detail. ‘When he was younger, Sher was often in debt and, when Papa was alive, he expected him to bail him out. Gambling, you understand. Horses and cards. He lost a great deal of money playing vingt-et-un at one of the gaming hells in Pall Mall. I think it was the cause of some harsh words between him and Papa. Understandable, of course, but words that became unforgivable—on both sides.’
‘I see.’ Sarah’s eyes widened in amazement. She had had no idea.
‘And then there was the notorious Grayson affair in London.’ Judith leaned confidingly toward her friend, all animation. ‘The lady was married!