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Sarah could not live like this. Not any longer. Moreover, she had decided she could not let her child live as a bastard in the shadow of his legitimate children, either. Supposing Lord Hawkmore would keep her in her job. Many lords got rid of their pregnant maids, to hide their mistakes. She would to leave. A solid certainty inside her. She would do it just before it started to show. She would work these couple of months and save as much money as she could. She’d leave; where to, she did not have the slightest idea. Leave she would though. Forsake the man she had begun to feel so attached to pitifully. It would rip her heart in miserable pieces. She would to remain strong, though, for her child; for this wonderful fruit that she already loved tenderly.
She did not know where she would head to, anyhow. A fear cold as the Arctic froze her spine. The things that could happen to her. She would be able to rent a room in the poorest part of the city for only a couple of weeks. And then what? No employer would accept a pregnant employee. Not too farfetched to think she could suffer violence there, being without a protector; with the terrifying consequence of los
ing her precious baby. She could work in the taverns there, of course, and be abused by the low class customers. Without money or a job, she would be pushed into prostitution of the lowest kind. She would be soiled, dirty, lost. If her baby happened to survive this hell, what kind of life would she be capable of giving it? She stepped on the verge of desperation.
One thing she knew, though: Lord Hawkmore would not get the information that she carried his child. Sometimes, lords of his kind also took these children and sent them away or worse. He did not seem this kind of man, but he belonged to aristocracy anyway. They acted mostly the same. She had to find a way to protect herself and her baby. How? Fear and despair filled her as she sat in her cubicle after work. For now, for a couple of weeks still, she would be safe and she would get some more wages.
She would get a couple of hours more of his company. Oh, dear! She had fallen in love with a man placed beyond her reach in any way she thought of it! How stupid she could be! Nevertheless, she could not help it. The love for him an enormous well of feeling that overtook her heart, her mind and her entire body. Tears fell from her eyes as copious rain. Her love, her fears, her despair were overflowing inside her and they were going out in her tears. Crying did not bring her out of her difficulties, but it brought relief and washed away a little of the sadness.
When the tears dried, she felt better. She raised her head in in her dimly lit cubicle, staring at the round small window above. She would find a solution. There would be a way. She would definitely provide for the baby growing inside her.
The weeks went by and Sarah observed more and more changes in her body. Some of them so subtle, that only she took notice. Others were more visible, though. Her hips became rounder and her belly begun to be prominent. The time had come.
That would be their last night together. The thought ripped her heart in weeping pieces, as she lay in the darkness of her cubicle. She had no business feeling like this. She had no business loving him. She stood not as his equal and would never be regarded as such. What right did she have to love a man like him? He obviously would never love a mere servant. Gorgeous as he looked, he could have his pick on any curvy high aristocrat in the Ton. She could not help the way she felt, even though her love would go to waste. She would probably never see him again after tonight.
Hugh arrived home at last; a lengthy dinner party with Adelaide, who shone in her sapphire look. They had never touched the subject about his nightly ascending on the servants’ stairs. She must have noticed he had been going up there. She pretended she did not. What she felt, he could not tell. He suspected she did not feel much, unless it would become scandal.
Moreover, he risked scandal. Especially now. He was about to close the contract on a house rent. For Sarah. He would try to do things very discreetly, but the Ton a hungry snake. Most people devoured scandals on a desperate attempt to fill up their hollow, hypocritical lives, by living other people’s lives. It would be no smooth sail, he knew. The precariousness of the whole situation demanded action. That’s what he would take. With this thought, he left his chambers and sneaked up the servants’ stairs.
As Lord Hawkmore took her to paradise, silent tears rolled down her cheeks. She kept clutching him, arms and legs as if her life depended on that. She caressed his hair, his back, grazed her legs on his hairy ones, trying to imprint in her memory every minimum sensation, touch, smell, image, sound of him. She would miss him tremendously.
He lifted his head from the curve of her neck. All her callus-handed caresses felt so delicious, so inviting! “Sarah? Do you want me again?”
She sighed. “If my lord wants.” She murmured, as her hands went about his lean, tall body.
“It’s impossible not to want you, Sarah!” Especially now that she seemed to be getting a little curvier. If he could not help wanting her before, now it resulted in a lost battle.
He kissed her, held her, entered her, and satiated both of them.
He would go, close the rent this morning, he decided. By tomorrow, they would be lying in their nest.
Sarah got up at five o’clock, just before the staff started the day. Lord Hawkmore had left not an hour ago. She bundled her few belongings, and crammed it in a worn out valise and tidied up her cubicle. Silently, she sneaked out of the house by the kitchen entrance. It would not be possible to give notice to Mrs Talcott. She would communicate it to Lord Hawkmore and only heaven knew what could happen. She just left a brief note to the housekeeper apologizing and saying that she would not work there anymore due to private reasons. She stepped out on the backyard, feeling certain she would do the right thing. She closed the gate to the street, looked back at the Victorian mansion one last time and walked swiftly down the lane.
Soon after breakfast, Hugh checked some papers in the library, when he heard a knock on the door. “Come in.” He answered without taking his eyes from what he read.
“Excuse me, Lord Hawkmore” Mrs Talcott closed the door.
“Yes, Mrs Talcott.” He lifted his head distractedly. “Is there any problem?”
She looked at him quizzically. There hung certain suspicious murmurs at the servants’ quarters. “Well, my lord, Sarah Barrow, the downstairs maid left this morning.”
Ice, sharp as stalactite drew through Hugh’s heart. He blanched. “Left?” He asked as blandly as he could.
“Yes, my lord. She just scribbled a note.” She handed it to him.
He grabbed the note, read it and threw it on the desk. He held his hands on his lap; they shook miserably.
“We will need to hire another one, my lord.”
Impossible to think about any answer. He fisted his hands so hard; his knuckles went white. “So, let’s do it, Mrs Talcott.” He forced out and dismissed her.
Hugh just sat there, staring at nothingness, bereft of thoughts, of feelings. He could not even feel his body, as his blood ran in cold waves inside him. The sole thing that pounded in his head: Why?
Just yesterday they were… Oh, God… She acted a little strange; she seemed, well, needy, really. When he touched her cheeks, they were moist, but he thought it sweat. No. Tears! What the hell had happened, for pity’s sake?
In the days that followed, Hugh became a shadow of himself. He could not eat or concentrate in anything. He did nothing, just stared at the wall in his library or in his chambers. Sleep impossible. The nights were the worst. He missed her like hell. An acute pain assailed him. It felt as if his heart had been thorn from his chest, cold blood. And memories haunted him non-stop: every moment with her, every sensation, every word, every expression on her face, every second in each other’s arms.
The pain so unbearable, he took to drinking to stop feeling. To no avail, it seemed that drinking only made him unleash what went inside him.
