leaving Sabrina with only her father. Sabrina had told the Old Duke of Richard’s violence and the fear she felt for her very life now that there was no child between them. Though he was sympathetic for her position, he would not support a petition to Parliament for a divorce. Her very existence was scandal enough, he said, and he would not put the family through another one at her hand.
At her hand.
As though her illegitimacy was her fault. As though her husband’s abuse was her fault.
That day had been a defining experience for Sabrina. Despite the financial care and education the Old Duke had extended to her throughout her life, what people thought of him was more important than her safety. He let her stay at Hilltop through the month to regain her strength, then planned to return with her to Wimbledon and give Richard a talking-to.
Sabrina had known the duke’s “talk” would have no bearing on Richard, and she would suffer for having told. Her body was as broken from Richard’s beating as her heart was broken from the loss of her baby. No one could, or would, protect her.
Sabrina had withdrawn to her room at Hilltop and stayed there. The doctor had told her there would be no more children. She had prayed and cried and prayed again. What could she expect from her marriage now that she could not give Richard the only thing he wanted from her? The only way out would be death, and she began to wish for it.
She had not considered that it would be Richard’s death, not her own, that would free her.
Sabrina had returned to Wimbledon as the sole owner of the Carlisle family’s holdings. Therese cried with her in relief, and then they had both knelt in the middle of the entryway and offered thanks to God for bringing Sabrina safely home. She became a new woman after that day, with a new life she herself could manage. She would not be a mother, but she would do what she could to make the world better for the lives she could reach.
Because of their history, Sabrina did not discard what Therese had to say on any matter. Even regarding Mr. Stillman.
“You think I should talk to him?” Sabrina asked, her own curiosity battling her hesitation.
“I do,” Therese said. “With an open mind.”
Sabrina furrowed her eyebrows. “An open mind?”
“I think you might enjoy his company if you would let down your guard.”
Sabrina huffed, feeling oddly jealous of Therese’s praise of him. Sabrina did not need anyone to tell her to have an “open mind” about anything. She was as open-minded as anyone she’d ever met.
“I have no interest in enjoying his company,” she said as though the idea were preposterous and she felt no draw to him at all. “I simply need him to be healed so he might carry on with his life elsewhere. Have you heard from his family?”
Therese nodded. “Yes, his uncle has agreed to make his London house available as soon as Mr. Stillman is fit to travel. He will await our word on when he should meet him there. They will remain there until Mr. Stillman is fit for travel to Norfolkshire.”
“Well, that is good news,” Sabrina said. “How much longer do you feel he needs before he can remove?”
“Two more weeks at least,” Therese said.
Sabrina nodded. She left for Brighton in three weeks and knowing Mr. Stillman would be gone before then was a relief. Right?
“Did you know he is a poet?”
Sabrina pulled her chin back. “What?”
“He writes poetry,” Therese said, unable to hide her smile. “He wrote a poem for me after finishing his letters yesterday. Would you like to hear it? It is not very long; he said it was Japanese.”
“He knows Japanese?” Sabrina asked, wrinkling her nose, unsure what to make of this information.
Therese removed a small piece of paper from the bodice pocket of her dress and handed it to Sabrina, who took it tentatively.
Bold. Bright. Vibrant. True.
Sunrise, and Therese will come.
The summer starts anew.
“It is a haiku,” Sabrina said. “A form of poetry that originated in Japan.”
Mr. Stillman’s verse wasn’t anything remarkable in Sabrina’s opinion, other than the fact that he had written it at all. Haiku were not expected to rhyme, and she wasn’t sure the pattern was correct either.
“I thought it was very sweet,” Therese said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been compared to a sunset. He said the poem was the only means he