Sarah sniffed. ‘I am only trying to help progress your budding romance. If you don’t want to go, then I shall have to go alone with him after all. We mustn’t disappoint him, as he is expecting to go riding. When we return perhaps you could delight him with your musical skills again, or show him your embroidery. I am sure he would enjoy that.’ She left the room, letting the door bang closed behind her.
Rebecca was left bemused. Why was Sarah acting like this? They had always been so close. It broke her heart when Sarah treated her badly. She shook her head. Perhaps she was being too sensitive. She decided to keep out of the way until Sarah and Charles returned from their ride, and to spend some time with him afterwards. He had been invited to lunch with them, so there was plenty of time. She rang the bell for her maid Tilly, and asked for breakfast to be brought up to her in her room. She sent Tilly away with a message: ‘When Mr de Witt arrives, please ask Spencer to tell him I am indisposed for riding but will gladly meet him later for lunch.’
A little while after breakfast, she stood at her bedroom window and watched Charles and Sarah ride across the parkland behind the hall. They looked good together – Sarah’s dramatic red riding habit looked stunning against the grey mare she was riding, and Charles’s green coat contrasted well with his black mount. They appeared to be laughing together at something, as they cantered over the grasslands. Rebecca lost sight of them as they approached the woods at the far side of the park. She turned away from the window. Perhaps Sarah would be a better match for Charles than herself? He’d appreciated her piano-playing last night, and they had discovered a similar taste in literature, but if he wanted an adventurous, lively wife then Sarah would be better for him than she would. If only she hadn’t liked him so much, or if her parents had not planned for her to marry him, she would gladly have stepped aside and made way for Sarah.
But she did like Charles, and she did not want to let him go without a fight.
Rebecca was reading in the library when the riders returned. There was some commotion in the entrance hall, so she put down her book and rushed out to see what was happening.
Charles was standing in the hallway, being relieved of his mud-encrusted green coat by Spencer. ‘Sir, I shall have this cleaned for you, and perhaps you can borrow something of Mr Winton’s to wear on your ride home this afternoon.’
‘Thank you. I fear it is quite ruined. Ah, Miss Winton! We missed you on our ride, did we not, Miss Cooper?’ said Charles.
‘Oh, please, Charles, do call me Sarah. Let’s not be quite so formal with each other. I am so sorry about your fall, truly I am.’
‘Whatever happened?’ Rebecca asked, torn between wanting to reproach Sarah for being so informal, and concern for Charles who was walking stiffly across the hall, rubbing at his shoulder.
‘It was nothing,’ said Charles, taking a seat on a hall chair.
Rebecca crossed the hall to kneel before him. ‘You are hurt? Should Spencer send someone to fetch the doctor?’
‘Not at all. It is just a bruise.’ He smiled at her, and Rebecca felt her heart leap. His smile was warm and made his eyes light up. Was it only for her, or did he use that smile for everyone?
‘Poor Charles,’ Sarah said, coming to kneel beside Rebecca. ‘His horse took fright as we went through the woods. I tried to help but am afraid I could not manage to catch the reins of his horse before it threw him.’ She suppressed a giggle. ‘Oh, do excuse me, but it was rather funny, you see, he landed right on the muddiest part of the path. A foot to either left or right and his coat would not have suffered as much.’
‘But I think my shoulder would have suffered more. The soft mud at least cushioned my fall.’ Charles was unsmiling as he answered Sarah.
‘Come, Mr de Witt. Let’s sit in the drawing room. It is not long till lunch, but I shall ring for refreshments for you immediately.’ Rebecca stood up. Instinctively she held out a hand to pull Charles to his feet, but retracted it before he could take it. She wasn’t sure now whether he was courting her or Sarah.
Mrs Winton joined them at lunch. Mr Winton was in town on business. Sarah told the story of Charles’s fall, once again. Rebecca flinched at her sister’s undisguised glee at the poor man’s misfortune. Mrs Winton seemed not to approve either, glaring at Sarah from her place at the head of the table. She insisted on providing a carriage to take Charles home, rather than allow him to ride with his injured shoulder.
After lunch, when Charles had left, Rebecca and Sarah were making their way upstairs to their sitting room, when Mrs Winton called them back and bade them sit a few minutes in the drawing room with her.
‘Charles has grown into a very pleasant young man, has he not?’ she asked, addressing her question to Rebecca.
She blushed. ‘Yes. I like him very much, Mama.’
‘I like him also,’ Sarah said. There was a touch of defiance in her voice. It worried Rebecca. What Sarah wanted, Sarah generally got, by one means or another.
‘You, my girl, are to stay clear of him. He is promised to Rebecca. We have had an understanding with the de Witts for many years, that when Charles and Rebecca were grown, if they liked each other they should be encouraged to marry.’ Rebecca watched as Mama wagged her finger at Sarah as though she was a misbehaving child, and Sarah set her jaw. ‘Do you understand?’
‘Yes, Mama,’ Sarah said.
‘I am not your mama. Do not forget your place in this household, Sarah. My husband has indulged you for too long. As has Spencer. You will not steal Rebecca’s suitor from her. I hope I have made myself clear.’
Sarah raised her chin and stared straight ahead. ‘Yes, Mrs Winton. Perfectly clear.’
Mrs Winton stood then. ‘I am going upstairs to my room now. I shall see you both at dinner.’
Sarah followed her up, but Rebecca decided to return to the book she had been reading in the library. She felt she needed a break from Sarah’s company for the rest of the afternoon. It was the first time she could remember feeling like that about her adopted sister. Was this part of growing up – growing apart from the person you thought you loved most in all the world? No. It was just a phase. Meeting Charles had disturbed their equilibrium. They would regain it once the excitement had subsided and it was clear which of them he preferred. And if he really did prefer Sarah, even though she did like him, she would step aside. Somehow she would persuade her parents it was the right thing to do. There would be other suitors in time. She picked up her book and settled in a chair near the window.
Screams and a clatter from the hallway sent her running out of the library again almost immediately. Spencer had come running too, along with a couple of maids. Rebecca first noticed Sarah, standing on the gallery at the top of the stairs, leaning over the rails. There was momentarily an odd expression on her face, and then she screamed, one hand clutched over her mouth, the other holding on to the railings. And then Rebecca saw what she was screaming about. Partly hidden by Spencer who was kneeling on the floor, was her mother, lying in a crumpled heap at the foot of the stairs.
‘Send for the doctor, immediately!’ Spencer shouted at one of the maids, who went running off at once.
‘Mama!’ Rebecca ran across the hall and threw herself down beside her mother. Her body was twisted, legs bent at unnatural angles, and her face was deathly white.
‘Oh, Mama!’ Sarah came running down the stairs too, and sat beside Rebecca. ‘She tripped on the stairs! I tried so hard to catch her, but I couldn’t!’
‘Make way, Miss Winton and Miss Cooper. Let me examine her.’ Spencer gently pushed the girls aside and leaned over Mrs Winton, his fingers feeling for the pulse at her neck.
Rebecca watched, her mouth open with shock and tears cascading down