The Hawk and the Dove Read Free

reached into her busk and drew forth the treasured letter.
    With eager eyes she scanned the contents, skipping over the flowery salutations and small talk. Ah, here it was….
As mistress of Her Majesty’s wardrobe I do indeed have need of many assistants and I would be pleased to take one of your gentle daughters under my wing, should you decide to send her to court I know that you will appreciate this great opportunity I am offering andassure you that a gentlewoman with manners and breeding may receive many offers of marriage which would be otherwise closed to her. We are at Greenwich until the hot summer months make London an unhealthy place, at which time we go on progress, so I urge you to hasten your daughter’s departure and rest assured I shall welcome any child of yours wholeheartedly. All I ask, dearest Mary, is that you do not saddle me with the little redhead of the volatile temper. I need a girl who is both amenable and biddable, and we both know that the “Wilde” one is neither.
    Sara let the letter fall from her fingers and a single tear slipped down her cheek; all her fine dreams and schemes reduced to ashes. It was almost an hour before she gradually became aware of her surroundings. The smell of leather and horses teased her nostrils and she stirred herself, sighing deeply for what might have been, and walked slowly to the house. As she passed her stepfather’s study, his cold command reached her ears. “Come in here!”
    She pushed open the doors and met his eyes. Suddenly she knew the reprieve of three days’ standing was over. He knew that she had swum naked. She stood motionless through the endless sermon, only longing to know her punishment and to get it over with. She was the scandal of the neighborhood. Her behavior was wanton, wicked, eccentric. She was an instrument of the devil. Her Wilde Irish blood was tainted and she responded neither to chastisement nor punishment; she neither regretted nor repented. She heard him list her long catalogue of sins and waited for his verdict. When it came it was totally unexpected. It was said quietly without anger, yet it was more terrible for her than any beating.
    “From now on you will be deprived of your privileges,beginning with your riding. To ensure your obedience, I sold your horse today.”
    “No,” she whispered, stunned. “Who did you sell her to?” Her mind screamed its denial.
    “Silence!” he ordered.
    Her pale green eyes narrowed. She dipped him an insolent little curtsy and departed with dignity. Cheltenham was a small enough town that she soon discovered where Sabbath had gone. At the moment she was helpless to do anything about losing her, but she resolved to get her horse back come hell or high water when it was possible, and until that time she accepted the fact that she could only visit her occasionally and then only after a two-mile walk in each direction.
    The wedding of Beth was imminent. Such loving attention had been given to each detail of the lavish affair that Sara was sick to death of it all and wished the ordeal were over and done with. She dreaded the wedding ceremony itself with her stepfather officiating at the marriage of his own daughter. Jane’s husband was to walk Beth down the aisle of the English church, which would be packed with all their relatives from Gloucester and all her father’s regular congregation from Cheltenham. The church would echo to the rafters with whispers about why she was not being married. After all, it was her turn, and Beth was almost five years her junior. In Tudor England girls married before the age of sixteen or were considered to be left on the shelf—unsuitable, unmarriageable, unwanted.
    Damn, I’d like to give them something to talk about,
she thought unhappily. She sat in the orchard, thinkingup one scheme after another, rejecting her ideas almost as quickly as she thought of them.
    The deep pink bridesmaid gown, which she hated, was finished and hanging in her room. She