"I didn't know what was going on at first," she continued. "When I was sick, I thought I'd just eaten something that didn't agree with me. And then I started getting fatter, and I couldn't understand it because I'd always been thin. I mentioned it to Robert, that was his name, because I was worried he wouldn't like me if I got fat, and he just got this sort of strange look on his face and said I shouldn't worry, it was just part of growing up. And then he stopped visiting his mother and disappeared and I never saw him again. I think that's why I went to Liverpool later. I was hoping to see him there, silly cow that I was.
"After a while, about six months, I couldn't hide it any more. Stupid as I was, even I knew what was happening then because the baby had started kicking and everything, but I just thought I could have it and not tell father somehow. When he found out he went mad. He made me tell him everything, and I did, except the bit about Philip sneaking off. He flogged my brother anyway, just for not watching over me well enough. And then he beat me, not with his belt like he usually did, but with his fists. I thought he was going to kill me."
"Did he turn ye out?" said Maggie. "Did your mother no' stop him?"
"My mother died when I was five," Sarah said. "No, he didn't turn me out. He dragged me to church on Sunday and made me stand in the pulpit in front of the whole village while he read a sermon on Delilah and Jezebel and how Satan can be found even at the very door of the house of the Lord. I assume I was Satan, and he thought he was the Lord by then, the bastard. I remember looking down at the sea of faces. I'd never been up on the pulpit before, and all of them were looking at me as though I was dirt. I was standing there, all crooked because he'd kicked me in the back and I couldn't stand up straight, with my nose broken and my face black and blue and nobody had a kind word or look for me, and I thought then, if this is the house of God and these are Christians, then I want none of it. That's when I started to hate, which has helped me a lot over the years, even if you're not supposed to. Hatred gives you strength. He never mentioned the father at all, except to say he was a married man with three children who had been led into temptation by his slut of a daughter, which was a bit of a shock, because I hadn't known Robert was married till then. He obviously didn't blame Robert at all, which seemed really unfair, but I still would have stayed at home to have the baby, I think. I didn't know what else to do. Until he told the congregation that although I was a sinner, and my child would be a sinner, it was his Christian duty as a minister of the Lord to show mercy and bring my bastard up to follow the right path, though it would be very hard, as the baby would be doubly cursed, with bastardy and an evil mother."
"Or trebly cursed, if it was a girl as well," said Maggie, who had now got the measure of the Reverend Browne, and whose own troubles had paled into insignificance beside this remarkable woman's.
"Yes. I hadn't thought of that," said Sarah. "Anyway, he never got the chance to beat my child to a pulp. It was knowing what he would do to her that gave me the courage to do what I did. I walked down from the pulpit, down the aisle and out of the door. He shouted for me to come back, but I just kept on, although I had no idea where I was going. And I walked and walked for miles, until it was night and I found a little hut in the woods, all falling down, and I slept there. Next morning I got up and had a look round, and then I decided to stay where I was, on my own. So I patched up the hut as best I could and lived on berries and stuff, and water from the river. Lucky it was summer, or I'd have starved to death. The rest you know."
"My God, you're amazing," breathed Maggie. "Does Beth know all this?"
"No," said Sarah. "Only you. And I'd rather she didn't know, or Sir Anthony either. I'm not amazing, I don't want you to think that. I was just desperate, that's all. And now I'm not. And I don't ever intend to let any man try to ruin my life again. Are you going to get dressed, then, if you're getting up? I could do your hair in a nice simple style."
"How could I no' get up now, when I havena been through half of what you have?" Maggie said, a little shame-faced.
"I didn't tell you this to make you feel pathetic," Sarah said. "I told you because you asked, and maybe because I needed to tell someone. And you need to get on with your life. You've got a good job and a nice husband. Have more children. Bring them up to be kind, gentle people."
"I'm no' sure if they'll be gentle," Maggie said, struggling into her stays. "But I'll make sure they're fair-minded and honest, at least. I've got another problem though, one I'll have to face as soon as I go downstairs. Maybe ye can advise me." She grinned.
"If I can," said Sarah smilingly, sensing that this was not going to be an Earth-shattering dilemma.
"How the hell am I going to cope wi' Sir Anthony and Beth's smug faces when they see that their wee plot worked?"
"Let them have the satisfaction. They deserve it," Sarah said. "They're lovely people."
"Aye, they are," said Maggie. "And you're no' so bad yourself, either."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Beth made a final inspection of the cream and gold dining room, eyeing the linen-covered table with approval. It was immaculate. The polished silver and crystal reflected the light from the chandelier and the scented candles on the table. A comfortable padded chair was provided for each diner. Clearly-written name cards were in each place. A huge fire had been burning in the hearth all day to ensure the room would be comfortably warm when the guests arrived.
In the kitchen Maggie was taking charge of the small army of helpers who had been drafted in to prepare the food for the dinner for twelve and the larger buffet meal that would follow for the extra guests who were joining the others in the evening to play cards in the drawing room.
Duncan was instructing the extra servants who had been discreetly hired to take guests' coats, serve the meal and generally hover, anticipating their every wish. Duncan, Iain and Angus were perfectly capable of dealing with twelve dinner guests and thirty or so card players without help, but it was a sign of wealth and prestige to have a superfluity of servants, and Beth, normally so careless of polite opinion, was out to make a good impression tonight.
She repositioned a knife, refolded a napkin, and looked anxiously at Caroline, who was standing in the doorway watching her friend with an amused smile on her face.
"Is it all right?" she said.
"It's beautiful," Caroline assured her. "Perfect."
"What about the flowers?" Beth persisted, frowning at the elaborate arrangements of white and yellow blooms.
"I've never really noticed this before, with you looking so different from the rest of your family," observed Caroline, "but you really are a Cunningham after all, aren't you?"
Beth looked up in surprise.
In what way?" she asked.
"In the way you're fussing and fretting about ridiculous details when everything is absolutely perfect. You'd give Isabella a run for her money at the moment. Stop it. It's lovely. It will be a perfect evening. Everyone will go away with the impression that Sir Anthony is rich and influential, not least because he is rich and influential. That's what you want them to think, isn't it?"
"Is it that obvious?" Beth said.
"Only to me, because I know you, and I know how much you hate entertaining and how little you care for the social niceties when you go to other people's entertainments. You hardly notice the floral arrangements and lighting, and you could be eating roasted ants off banana leaves for all you care, if the conversation is interesting. So the fact that you've now noticed that a knife is half an inch out of line is a sure sign you're up to something."
Beth laughed, and resisting the temptation to reposition a name card that was not quite central, joined her friend in the doorway.
"You're right," she said. "It doesn't do any harm to remind people of Anthony's status from time to time, though."
"True. But this statement is meant exclusively for your brother, isn't it? What are you trying to tell him?"
Beth cast a final glance round the room then led the way down the hall to the library, which was the favourite room for the family to be intimate and cosy in. She sat down, beckoning Caroline to another seat.
"I'm trying to tell him that even though he's now irrevocably married to a woman who is far richer than us, with his captaincy in the bag, he does not have either influence or the respect of society, both of which have to be earned, and both of which Anthony has. And that therefore he'd better not hurt Anne, because if he does I, through Anthony, will bring as much of that influence as possible to bear on him. I don't want him to think he can do anything he wants, without restraint."