Chapter 17
Sarah awoke, to the pungent smell of sal volatile and with a rather dizzy recollection of listening to the Duke tell a story. She tried to sit up but was gently restrained as a very familiar voice recommended that she lie still for a while. As the room came back into focus she discovered she was lying on a couch, her head resting in Martha’s lap and attended by Madame and the elderly lady she had seen next to Martha earlier. Suddenly she remembered what had happened and her eyes flashed back to Martha.
"Are you...?” she began but got no further as Martha placed her finger across Sarah’s lips.
“Shhh.” She said gently. “And yes, I am your mother.”
“I do not think,” said Sarah carefully after taking in this information and thinking about it for a minute, “that I can take many more shocks, but” she smiled confirming she had recovered her equilibrium somewhat, “I pause to observe that three months ago I was an orphan. Now I have two mothers one father and,” she glanced across at the elderly Mrs Arterbury, “also a grandmother and grandfather. I am also the Sister of a Viscount. That makes me the Honourable Sarah Leighton. At this rate by tomorrow I shall have been elevated to the peerage. I wonder, do I have Aunts? Cousins?” She determinedly sat up and fixing Martha with a broad, but nonetheless compelling smile, “you do realise, M ...Mother,” the word feeling uncomfortable on her tongue, “that the obvious question is, Why?”
Martha thought about her reply for a while.
“If you do not object my dear,” she said squeezing her daughter’s hand gently, “I think it would be a good idea if we asked the men to return and for the Duke to complete his story. He appears to have done so well thus far that, although I think I know most of what he will say, I would like to hear him say it.”
“Yes. Yes,” Sarah’s response was enthusiastic. “Please call him in?”
It was five minutes before the company was once again assembled. Sarah sat between her real mother and her adopted mother holding a hand of each. The Duke satisfied himself that Sarah was ready to continue.
“As you have all of you gathered, the lady sitting there is the Honourable Sarah Leighton, sister to the real Viscount Borden. The Viscount was, when last heard of, in the West Indies but I have been told by Admiralty house that they will expedite his return home. The erstwhile Viscount will of course have to relinquish his title since he was never entitled to claim it, but his Majesty the King informs me that, in view of his services to the country over many years he will replace his old title with a new one. His Majesty,” he looked at the man who had until recently been the owner of Borden house, “asked me to tell you that you are, in no sense, responsible for what has happened here and that furthermore, the foreign secretary had already spoken to him about your years of faultless service to him, and his father. The letters patent are being prepared as we speak, you are to become Earl of Righton and Kinver.” Edward Leighton bowed deeply to the Duke,
“I apprehend, Your Grace that I owe this to you ...” he got no further.
“You owe this to your industry and commitment to your country and to nothing else,” flatly contradicted the Duke “and in my humble opinion, this honour is long overdue.”
“It is,” agreed Sarah, “he has supported a number of foreign secretaries, has never put a foot wrong and, even by those who have no love for us, is trusted and respected.”
Faced with this encomium, the newly created Earl had little to do but gracefully accept the congratulations of his friends and family, embrace his niece and sit down, a considerable look of embarrassment on his face.
“To continue,” said the Duke when he had once again secured the attention of the room. “We have arrived at a point in my story where I can speculate, but do not know, what happened. Perhaps Mrs Leighton,” he politely indicated Martha giving her the correct title for the first time in many years, “you could tell us how you came to be employed as your own daughter’s maid and why you remained in that position after your father in law’s death?”
Martha frowned, but as she had anticipated that she would be called upon to tell this part of her story she was not surprised.
“Most of what I told Sarah was true,” she said, “following Christopher’s death I had only the small amount of money we had saved. Our friends helped us all they could, but a junior officer’s pay is little enough and they had their own families to feed. My own family, would not, as I thought,” she cast an apologetic look at her parents, “wish to know me after my clandestine marriage and therefore, and only as a last resort, I applied to my father in law. I believed that he would, whatever he thought of me, want to know his grandchildren. I was mistaken, he did not really want to know them at all. As you can imagine he only received me reluctantly and he looked on my children with acute disfavour. It was at this point he told me my marriage had been set aside and he produced a formal piece of paper in support of his version of events. I still have it somewhere. He was most persuasive. I often wondered what had, in the end, persuaded him to take my children and I could never arrive at a convincing explanation. You must understand that, until today I did not know that my marriage had not been set aside. I now think it was because he knew, even if I did not, that the marriage had not been annulled. I assume that he thought if he kept my children on the estate and brought them up to believe that they were little more than charity cases, the prospects of his deception ever coming to light were small. He could pass his title and estate on to his younger son, tell everyone with perfect truth that his eldest had died on duty and, as no-one knew we had ever married, his secret was safe."
"Giving my children up was the hardest thing I ever did,” Martha cast an apologetic look at her daughter. “Your grandfather told me that he would take you, ensure you were clothed and fed and he would bring you up safely. Naturally, I wanted to remain with you but he said that he would not take you if I remained. He agreed however, that I could visit every six months to see you, as long as when I came I did not tell you I was your mother. I believe he thought that I would soon lose interest when my children did not remember me. He paid me a sum of money, not much, but enough to live on and informed me that, if ever I should seek out my parents, he would never pay me another penny and he would prevent me seeing my children ever again.” At this point a most impish expression crossed her face as she looked at her daughter. “Even at three years old you were a very naughty child. A year after I left you with your grandfather I arrived on my visit to see you. You had long forgotten who I was and of course your brother was too young to have any memory of me at all. You had just caused your nurse to leave your grandfather’s employ. I understand that as she departed down the drive she was heard to refer to you as a “hellion.” Certainly, when I arrived you were loudly causing havoc. Your grandfather was shouting at the top of his voice that someone should control you and various servants were trying to persuade you, unsuccessfully I might add, to quietly return to the nursery.”
“Some things, muttered the Duke under his breath, “never change.”
“Just so Your Grace,” replied Martha with a laugh. “It took me a matter of seconds to restore order. I picked you up and carried you, screaming all the way, back to the Nursery where I smacked you very hard. Your grandfather was so impressed by my skill and so relieved at the peace, that he offered me, subject to my agreement never to disclose who I was, the post as your nurse. When your Grandfather died I did think about revealing my identity to the new Viscount but the story seemed so fantastic that I was concerned I should not be believed. You were only seven and your brother five and I could not face the thought of being parted from you; so I remained quiet.”
“You should have told me Martha,” the recently ennobled Earl of Righton and Kinver stated. “I knew what sort of man my father was and I would have believed you. I always thought you were far more committed to my niece and nephew than the nurses employed by those of my friends who have children. You never took any holidays, you never asked for a raise, yo
u did not have a day off. Now,” he finished ruefully, “I know why.”
“I did not know you then Sir,” said Martha automatically reverting to the mode of address she had used with him for years. “By the time I had realised that you would have listened to me it was too late; I had deceived you for too long. You asked how I dealt with my situation. It was not hard. Sarah’s Grandfather pretended we did not exist, you were rarely at home, I had nowhere else to go and I was with my children. I cannot say I was happy, but I was not unhappy either. I became used to my position. There were a few times when Sarah was younger that she gave me orders and I positively itched to tell her the truth, if only to see the look on her face but, by the time she was seventeen we were more friends than anything. In truth, I would do the same again.”
At this point Monsieur Leighton stood up.
“So, to summarise your story thus far; he began. There was a quarrel between my brother and I. As I was assisted in my departure from England by my friend Mr. Arterbury my brother decided to blight the happiness of his own child, his daughter in law and his own grandchildren. Consequent upon the Duke of Sale’s investigation my nephew’s wife has discovered that she always was married to my nephew and is thus the Dowager Viscountess of Borden and my great nephew is now restored to the position he should have held from his birth. My great niece has discovered that the lady she always thought of as her maid is in fact her mother and moreover that she has surviving maternal grandparents. Do I have that right?” he asked sardonically. Upon receiving a chorus of nodding heads he continued, “I apprehend however that there may yet be more shocks to come and, judging by the expression currently residing upon the face of my astoundingly acute great niece, she may have some idea what they are.” He looked at Sarah, “my dear, might I suggest you share your thoughts with us.”
“There is something,” Sarah responded slowly,” in this story that does not ring true.” Sarah said with a very thoughtful expression on her face. “I have been trying to work out what it was. I believe I now have it.”
“Pray enlighten us,” responded the Duke a look of polite enquiry coupled with a grin of anticipation on his face.
“Your Grace told us that my mother and my father met at a party hosted by your father, the Sixth Duke.” Sarah said slowly, clearly still following the line of thought in her head. “I did not know your father, he died before you were born and you are older than I. However, from all I have heard of him he was every bit the stickler as was my grandfather although he was, by all accounts, a great deal kinder. He would no more have invited a mill owner to his house than he would a mill worker. She looked at Martha’s elderly parents who were looking at her with an expression of pride not unmixed with respect. “Sir, Ma’am, just who are you?”
“The last Viscount told Sarah and Christopher that their mother was the child of mill owners,” Martha interrupted. “It was a shrewd decision which had the effect of discouraging them from seeking any more information. They were already low born; they would never want to be associated with the mill trade.”
“I have managed to work out for myself that my mother never was the daughter of a mill owner,” Miss Leighton said impatiently. “I know who you are not, it is who you are that I need to know now.”
“I told you, did I not, that it is very difficult to fool your granddaughter,” the Duke said to the elderly couple. “It is easy to see why she was such an asset to her uncle.” Sale turned to Sarah and reached for her hand. “Your mother is not Martha Leighton, she is Lady Marta Leighton the only child of the Earl and Countess of Stowe.”
“B-b-b-b But that would mean,” Sarah stammered, reeling from yet another piece of life changing information.
“That means,” said the Duke that you are the Honourable Sarah Leighton, sister of Viscount Borden and Granddaughter of the Earl of Stowe.” He paused for a few seconds to allow that to sink in before asking her, “can you take yet another shock?” he asked. For once Sarah was unable to think of anything to say and just looked up at him and nodded mutely. “Your grandfather has no living relatives of the male line to whom he can pass his estate and so when he dies the title will die with him. He tells me however that he intends to make his will in favour of your brother who therefore inherits the estates of both his grandfathers. I can tell you that your brother will have little difficulty reviving the Earldom and, if he chooses to do so, as the sister of an Earl you will become Lady Sarah Leighton. Furthermore, your grandmother tells me that when she married she was herself an heiress. Her fortune is settled on her daughter and as such will eventually come to you. When the gift from the French government and the estates belonging to your Uncle have been taken into account, you are now amongst the wealthiest heiresses in the country.”
At that moment, he heard the door close quietly behind him. Turning his head, he saw that the spot where Francis was standing was now empty. He shot a look at Sarah’s mother who nodded gravely.
“Yes, he said cryptically, we shall have to do something about that.
“Your Grace,” this time it was Madame who spoke up. "How do you propose to deal with Sarah’s change in circumstances? We cannot, having spent some weeks in London introducing her as my daughter, now go back and say we were mistaken as to her parentage.”
“Of course we cannot,” interrupted the Earl of Stowe, “she will have to remain, at least as far as the world is concerned, the child of my good friend Rupert Leighton and yourself. As far as my wife’s fortune is concerned, Sarah is an heiress in any event. The fact that she will receive a further large sum in the future will not even be noticed. We shall deal with Christopher simply by saying he was a lost heir and the victim of an unhappy misunderstanding. The man who had succeeded the Viscount with whom I was acquainted had no idea that his older brother had married and fathered a son before he died. His father had never discussed the matter with him other than to inform him that his older brother had perished at sea and that therefore he was now heir to the title. I will say that I knew about, and had forbidden, the marriage but my daughter eloped and cut off contact with me. After so many years I had assumed she was dead and I had no idea of the existence of a grandson. I assumed that that the man who had succeeded the Viscount knew all about the marriage and naturally, given the relationship between our two families I had never broached the matter."
"The mistake came to light when my daughter, unable to bear the separation any longer came to see me. The quarrel had long since been forgotten and I welcomed her with open arms. She told me that the marriage had produced an heir, born posthumously, but who was nevertheless properly Viscount Borden. The current incumbent had no rights whatsoever to the title. She will explain that, cast adrift upon her husband’s death and convinced that I would never receive her she sought assistance from her father-in-law who agreed to provide financial assistance providing her location and identity and that of her son were never made known and providing she never made a claim against the estate. Her son would be provided for but only if his existence remained a secret. Upon hearing his story, I was consumed with rage and confronted the man who fraudulently called himself Viscount Borden and I demanded he recognise my daughter and the rightful Viscount immediately. I was surprised to discover that the entire story was completely new to him, he had no knowledge of his nephew as his father had told him nothing. When the story becomes public the world will vaguely remember a past scandal and the fact that the old Viscount was not well liked and no-one will look any further. The current Viscount will be generally lauded for his honesty although a few uncharitable people will say that it matters little to him anyway as he has just been granted an Earldom.”
An hour later it was a thoughtful party that returned to Borden House. The Earl of Righton & Kinver had ridden on ahead to talk to his butler and housekeeper about the further changes that would take place. He did his work well. Not by a blink did the butler betray that Marta Leighton had been, until that morning Martha, Miss Sarah’s maid.
Ther
e was a further addition to the Borden household. Before leaving Sale Park, Miss Leighton had, with the Duke’s permission sought out Jenny and offered her the post as her maid. Unsurprisingly Jenny had leapt at the opportunity and Miss Leighton was glad for the opportunity to assist the girl who had been for some years her only friend.
The following day the whole party returned to Sale Park in preparation for the party. Sarah was allotted rooms next to Madame and Monsieur. Marta, making her first appearance in society for more than twenty years was next to the Earl and Countess. Throughout the day a steady succession of neighbours and acquaintances arrived and the many newly renovated guest rooms started to fill up. The Duke could number many prominent people amongst his circle and the fact that he had returned, reopened Sale Park and was arranging a house party was at the top of the list of on dits in the society newspapers.
First to arrive was Lady Castlereagh, now a widow as her husband had died while the Duke had been on his travels. With her came my Lord and Lady Jersey. Although Sarah had never met either Lady Jersey or Lady Castlereagh she knew of them by reputation. There were few people whose approval was more necessary to social success than these ladies. Not only could they, on a whim deny her entry to Almacks but as the acknowledged leaders of society, they could blight a career if they indicated that they did not approve. Sarah was therefore a little surprised when Lady Jersey approached her and introduced herself.
“We have not been introduced but unless I am mistaken, you are Miss Leighton. How do you do?” Sarah curtsied and confirmed that Lady Jersey was correct. “I thought so,” said this Lady. “I understood you had been here and as Lord Gideon, such a dear man, described you as very pretty and one of the smallest ladies he had ever seen it was hard to believe you could be anyone else.” Lady Jersey had been nicknamed ‘silence’ as a result of her continuous chatter, but Sarah, never one to accept another’s assessment at face value, thought she saw keen intelligence and a fierce determination behind the facade.
“I am grateful for Lord Gideon’s recommendation but cannot allow him to be a judge,” Sarah said with a smile. “Almost anyone would be small when compared to his substantial bulk.”
“So true my dear.” Lady Jersey abruptly changed the subject. “I understand you and your Mama travelled under Sale’s escort when you came to England,” Sarah nodded but remained silent “so where has he been these last three years?”
“I understand, Your Ladyship, that he had been in Strasbourg before I met him but where he was before then I have no idea,” replied Sarah civilly.
“Which means either you don’t know or you won’t tell,” summed up the Lady succinctly and shooting an assessing look. Seeing that Sarah was not intimidated and would say nothing more she laughed appreciatively. “Oh my dear,” Lady Jersey laughed, “you will do very well. Shall I provide vouchers for Almacks for you and your mama?”
“Your Ladyship cannot surely expect a response to that question from me. That is a matter which will have to be decided between you and Maman. I am led to understand however that Mama may well have already secured Vouchers from Princess Esterhazy.”
“I like the new heiress,” Lady Jersey observed to Lady Castlereagh in an aside over dinner that evening. She is no-one’s fool, doesn’t give herself airs but she is no retiring miss either. Who is she?”
“You wouldn’t remember my dear,” responded her friend. “It happened before I was born, but my dear Robert’s father told me about it once. Sarah’s father,” Lady Castlereagh indicated Monsieur Leighton, “quarrelled with his elder brother and disappeared. It appears he has been living in France where he made his fortune. She is his daughter.” She lowered her voice, “have you heard that Edward Leighton may not be Viscount Borden after all?” She looked around before whispering, “it appears there is a lost heir and that lady,” she nodded towards Marta, “is his mother. She is Stowe’s daughter.”
The Duke, covertly observing this exchange smiled to himself. Matters were going exactly as planned.
So it proved, when the party broke up a little over a week later, the story, with a few embellishments, had been completely accepted. Lady Jersey was an inveterate gossip and it would not be long before everyone would know that there was a new Viscount Borden and how it came about. Madame and Monsieur had indicated that, while their plans were not fixed, they would remain in England, a guest at Borden, until at least the end of the summer. He wanted to meet the new Viscount, re-establish links with some of his old friends and, of course there was the question of his daughter’s come out and presentation at court.
The Earl of Righton & Kinver was making plans for the building of a new house but would remain at Borden at least until the new Viscount came home. The size of Sarah’s inheritance grew every time it was discussed and as the precise location of Monsieur’s property in Saumur was unknown no-one was going to be gainsaid. Véronique had received three very generous (and flattering) offers of employment from the Duke’s guests impressed with her energy and attention to detail. She received one offer of marriage, from a very drunk Marquis, after she had found him wandering hopelessly lost in the servant’s wing. This she politely declined after restoring him to his valet. She also received another offer, much less flattering, from the son of one of the Duke’s guests, which she impolitely declined and which led to a very public dressing down by an outraged father. Francis conspicuously avoided Marta and ducked any attempt by the Duke to raise the matter with him and the Duke did not, despite Miss Leighton’s conviction that he would, declare himself.
On the morning that the last guests were due to leave Marta came to the Duke in his study. He looked up as she closed the door behind her.
“Well Ma’am?” he asked.
“I haven’t seen him in days.” Marta replied correctly interpreting his request as an enquiry as to the progress in the relationship between Marta and Francis.
“He is avoiding me too,” remarked the Duke, “he is doing his duties as well as ever but he is becoming adept at slipping away.” The Duke sighed heavily, “You know what the problem is of course?”
“He thinks he isn’t good enough for me and he doesn’t want to live off his wife’s money.” She frowned, “that is just stupid pride.”
“You can’t blame him for not wanting to be dependent upon his wife.” said the Duke reasonably. “Are you sure your father won’t object to the marriage?
“No,” She shook her head emphatically. “He would like to see me creditably established, but he won’t interfere. In any case, first there is Sarah.”
“Ah yes,” responded the Duke with a definite gleam in his eye. “There is, as you say, Sarah.”