The Promise of Change - By Rebecca Heflin Page 0,25
waiting for us.”
They left the gallery and returned to the sitting room where the teacart was set up.
“Did your father finally give you his blessing?” Sarah asked, resuming the story in an effort to take her mind of the disingenuous Alex Fraser.
Actor my ass, she thought. At least he hadn’t lied about his name. What on earth was an Earl doing in an Oxford pub? She gave a mental snort. Wasn’t it obvious? Trying to pick up women. The old accidental bump routine. She should have recognized it for what it was.
She returned her attention to Lady Clara. It wasn’t her fault her grandson was a jerk.
“My father relented when I threatened to elope if he withheld his consent. It pained me to put this ultimatum before my father and risk the alienation of my only parent, my mother having died when I was but fifteen. But I loved Jonathan to distraction and knew he could make me happy.”
“As luck would have it, my Jonathan had a sharp mind and became enormously successful in Leeds’ flourishing banking and finance industry.”
But Mick had asked him about his movies. Well, maybe he lied to Mick as well. Or maybe Mick was part of the game. After all, it’s hard to lie about being in a movie, or three, when a fellow countryman like Mick could check it out for himself.
“Do you take cream in your tea?”
Lady Clara’s question interrupted her internal discourse. She needed to pay attention. In spite of her current preoccupation, she was genuinely interested in Lady Clara’s story.
“Yes, thank you.” Sarah took the proffered cup of tea and helped herself to a couple of the finger sandwiches and a teacake.
“Sadly, my father died a year later, six months after my marriage. When the estate passed to me, Jonathan provided an infusion of cash needed to refurbish Rutherford Hall and reassert its place among Oxfordshire’s small, but illustrious estates. Between my drive to restore my family’s legacy and Jonathan’s acute business acumen, Rutherford Hall once again became a thriving, self-supporting estate.”
“You must be proud and pleased to see what you and Jonathan accomplished.”
“I am.” She looked melancholy. “Jonathan and I had a wonderful forty-five year marriage. He died of a heart attack three years ago, just a few days after our anniversary.”
“I am so sorry,” Sarah said, quietly. “I remember when my mother died, my father seemed so lost. We were very worried about him for a while.”
“Oh, I gave into my grief, cocooning myself in the private apartments we shared, refusing visitors and condolers for over a month. But when I emerged, I was determined to live the rest of my life with the same joy and eagerness I always had. Jonathan wouldn’t want me to just exist. He would want me to live.”
“Would you ever consider remarrying?”
“Oh yes, my dear . . . if the right man ever came along. I don’t know that I could ever love anyone as I did Jonathan, but I wouldn’t deny myself that possibility, even if I am a bit long in the tooth.”
She was thoughtful a moment. “Not a day goes by that I don’t expect Jonathan to walk into my study, kiss my cheek, and invite me for a stroll around the gardens. But I am quite happy with my situation. I am never lonely and always with some purpose or other.”
“Enough about me. I have rambled on incessantly. Tell me about you my dear. Is there a special person in your life?”
It was a mild afternoon, so they’d moved to a terrace overlooking the rolling green hills of Oxfordshire.
“Actually, I’m divorced . . . eight months ago.” Sarah smiled wanly. Divorced. A word that seemed synonymous with failure.
Lady Clara colored. “I’m sorry, my dear, I didn’t mean to bring on unhappy thoughts.”
“It’s okay.”
“So, the trip to Oxford . . . ”
“Initially it was the result of an intervention of sorts by my best friend, Ann, and my sister, Becca.”
“How so?”
“Tired of my moping, they showed up at my door one day and told me to snap out of it and start living. That’s when they gave me the information on the Oxford program, with a warning that they would not accept any excuses for not going, including cost.” Sarah shook her head at the memory. “They’d even spoken to my boss and cleared my vacation time with him.”
“Sounds like two people who love you very much.”
“Yes, I’m lucky to have them, although there are times . . .” Sarah