A Second Chance (35 page)

‘Then she was born the year after George,’
said Susannah, still looking thoughtful.

‘But surely she was adopted from within the
family, or least from among their acquaintance,’ Charlotte said,
frowning. ‘They wouldn’t have taken a child they knew nothing
about—not people like that, who moved in the best society.’

‘Oh, but that’s just what they did,’
Constance insisted. ‘Henry knows all about it.’

‘Well, I do recall it somewhat,’ Henry
allowed. ‘Though I wasn’t directly involved—I’ve never had the
honour of handling the Millish affairs myself. But I remember
discussions in the office when it was in process. They only had the
one child—a son—and Mrs Millish dearly wanted a daughter. Dewar put
them in contact with a lady who arranged such things, and that’s
how they came to find little Sarah.’

He smiled at the memory. ‘It was supposedly
for his wife’s sake that Fred Millish went to so much trouble, but
he was as besotted with Sarah as she was—probably more so.
Especially after their boy died. I remember he used to bring her
into the office occasionally, right from when she was quite a small
girl. Such a bright little thing, she was. She had a way about her,
even then—she’d look straight at you, with those huge blue eyes of
hers, and somehow you felt you needed to make a good account of
yourself.’

‘But a child they knew nothing of,’
Charlotte said, her distaste clear from her expression. ‘That would
be like taking in one of those grubby urchins one sometimes sees
playing in the gutters. It’s likely enough the mother was a woman
of ill repute. Think of bringing such a child into one’s house! It
might be diseased. Or it might be inclined to wickedness—with a
mother like that, it might carry bad blood.’

To Henry’s annoyance, Constance was nodding
in prim agreement. ‘I must say I never quite approved of the idea
myself,’ she said.

‘Fortunately for the child in question,’
Henry said, making no attempt to keep the sharpness out of his
voice, ‘the Millishes didn’t think in that way. Fortunately for
them as well—Sarah brought them both a great deal of joy.’ He gave
Constance a reproving glance, and was pleased to see a look of
chagrin flit across her face. ‘And in fact—not that it’s any of our
business—they did know a little about the mother. She was a very
young girl, from some tiny place out in the countryside. I can’t
find it in my heart to think ill of such a poor, misused creature.
As for the father…’ Henry grimaced. ‘I believe we can make a
reasonable assessment of his character by the fact that the girl
was left to fend for herself in such a state. I have no desire for
any further knowledge of such a man as that.’

The room was briefly silent. Constance
looked somewhat abashed, and Charlotte’s expression of distaste had
slipped a little. And Susannah… Henry looked at Susannah in
surprise. She had not said a word for some time, but she was
gripping the arms of her chair so tightly that he could see her
knuckles whitening.

She became aware that she was being
observed. She placed her hands in her lap and looked across the
room, as if the far wall had suddenly become of interest to
her.

Prudishness, Henry decided. The mention of
women of ill repute must have offended her sensibilities. Though it
was surely not prudishness leading Jimmy to stare so intently at
Susannah, who was resolutely ignoring his attention.

Constance remarked on the likelihood of fine
weather the next day; Susannah made an equally inconsequential
response, and the strained moment passed. After a few minutes of
such idle conversation around the room, Susannah rose from her
chair.

‘I think I shall retire for the night. I
find myself rather tired this evening. Good night, everyone.’

She left the room too quickly for Charlotte
to have the opportunity to make any further remarks about country
hours.

Henry stood politely to see her out of the
room, then strolled over to the mantelpiece, where he had left his
cup of tea. When he looked back, he saw Jimmy slipping out of the
room in Susannah’s wake.

Jimmy was certainly taking a good deal more
notice of his sister than was his habit. Henry contrived to cross
the room without making it obvious he was following Jimmy;
fortunately Constance and Charlotte were sharing some piece of
interesting gossip. He paused in the doorway, from where he had a
good view of the base of the staircase.

Susannah had one hand on the stair rail, and
was standing on the lowest step with her face on a level with
Jimmy’s. They were conversing rapidly, but in low voices, so that
Henry could not make out what they were saying. Susannah was
clearly becoming more agitated by the moment. Her voice rose enough
for Henry to catch the words, ‘Of course I didn’t know! And I don’t
wish to speak of it. Leave me alone.’

She made to turn away and mount the stairs,
but Jimmy took hold of her arm. When she attempted to wrest it
free, he took a firmer hold and brought his face closer to
hers.

Henry took a few steps forward, deliberately
making enough noise to be heard. ‘Is everything all right,
Susannah?’ he asked.

Susannah gracefully removed her arm from
Jimmy’s grasp. ‘Of course. I was just saying good night to James.’
She nodded to both men, and glided off up the stairs.

Henry turned a quizzical look on Jimmy, who
met it with his usual bluff smile. ‘It’s about time I took
Charlotte home, I suppose,’ said Jimmy. ‘Any chance of a nightcap
first, Henry? I noticed your brandy decanter’s looking comfortably
full.’

‘Of course,’ Henry said resignedly. He
glanced up the stairs, but Susannah was already out of sight. It
seemed unlikely that whatever was going on between those two needed
his further involvement; Henry resolved to try and forget it.

‘
There’s a gentleman at the
door asking to see you, Miss Sarah,’ said Nellie. ‘He sent in his
card.’ She passed Sarah a small silver tray.

Sarah took the card from it. ‘Mr Taylor,’
she murmured. ‘Well, well.’

For a moment, she considered having Nellie
send the man packing. Had Amy still been with her, she would
certainly have done so. He had called several times before, asking
for Amy; on each visit Sarah had instructed the maid to tell him
Mrs Stewart was out, until the last such occasion when Mr Taylor
had been informed, quite truthfully, that she had returned to
Ruatane.

There had been no further visits since then
until today, and this time it was Sarah herself he was asking to
see. He would be sure to call again; and again. Sarah had generally
found it better to deal with unpleasant tasks promptly.

‘
Send him through to my study
in a few minutes, Nellie,’ she said. ‘There’ll be no need to bring
refreshments, he won’t be staying long.’

Her study was the obvious choice for Sarah
when it came to receiving this unwelcome guest. She always felt at
her strongest here, where the very furniture held memories of her
father. With his massive desk placed between her and the world, she
felt ready to take on a far more formidable opponent than she
expected Mr Taylor to be. The photographs of her father were placed
so that he appeared to be watching her as she sat at his desk,
lending his silent support. Sarah’s eye fell on the picture of
herself with Amy; she took it up and carefully placed it in a
drawer. She would not allow that man to leer at it.

She sat behind the desk and ran through the
possible reasons Taylor might have for inviting himself to her
house. A purely business meeting seemed unlikely. And he knew that
Amy was no longer in Auckland. So the most likely explanation was
something Sarah had known to be a possibility ever since Amy had
reported her meeting with the man: he had discovered his connection
to herself.

He entered the room wearing a smile Sarah
was sure he considered charming. ‘My dear Miss Millish,’ he said,
leaning forward and waiting for Sarah to extend her hand. But she
left both hands resting lightly on top of the desk.

‘Mr Taylor,’ she said coolly, nodding
towards the chair she had placed before it. She had made sure it
was the least comfortable the room held. ‘To what do I owe this
unexpected visit?’ She had no intention of referring to it as a
pleasure; still less as an honour.

He kept his awkward leaning posture for a
moment, then accepted that she was not going to proffer her hand.
He took the indicated seat and perched on its front edge, still
smiling brightly.

‘I imagine that what I’m about to tell you
will come as quite a surprise—a pleasant one, I hope.’

‘I rather doubt that,’ Sarah murmured. That
smile of his was becoming more and more irritating.

‘I hardly know how to begin.’

‘Then let me begin for you. Let us waste no
more of each other’s time, Mr Taylor. I’m quite aware of who you
are in relation to me. When Mrs Stewart was staying with me and had
that rather unfortunate encounter with you, she told me all that I
needed to know.’

‘Oh, that makes it so much easier.’ He gazed
at Sarah with what she took for a proprietorial air. ‘My dear girl.
You talk of wasting time—the years we’ve wasted through not knowing
each other! To think of our living in the same city and not knowing
we were father and daughter!’

Sarah felt herself stiffen. He had no right
to the name of father; her father was the man who had sat at this
desk. She gripped the arms of the chair that had been his, and
stared coolly at the man who dared try to usurp his title.

‘Let there be no more wasted time. My dear
Sarah—I may call you that?’ His expression made it clear that he
felt he already knew the answer.

‘No, you may not,’ Sarah said sharply. ‘Mr
Taylor, an accident of blood links us. Nothing more than that. I
have no desire for a closer acquaintance with you, and I suggest
you put such an idea out of your mind.’ She pulled the bell cord to
summon a maid.

His smile barely wavered. ‘I’m prepared to
be patient, my dear. I realise how strange this must seem to
you—I’m still getting used to the idea myself of having such a
lovely daughter.’

‘ “
Strange” is not
precisely the word I would have chosen.’ Sarah looked up when she
heard Nellie enter the room. ‘Nellie will show you out, Mr Taylor.
Good day to you.’ She lowered her gaze to examine some papers on
her desk, glad of the excuse to remove that maddening smile from
her view.

‘I’ll call on you again soon,’ he said as he
rose from the chair.

‘I suggest that in future you request an
appointment first,’ she said, not looking up from the papers. ‘I
have a good deal to occupy my time.’ She waited until she heard the
front door closed behind him before she pushed the papers aside.
That, Sarah hoped, would be the last time she would find herself
allowing Mr Taylor into her home.

*

Jimmy Taylor left the Millish house feeling
thoroughly pleased with himself. Meeting Amy again the previous
month had reminded him of that delightful summer long ago; it had
also revived his almost extinguished hope of having an heir in
spite of Charlotte’s failure to provide him with one. But not in
his wildest fancies had he dreamed of acquiring a daughter like
Sarah Millish.

She was close to perfect. Quite apart from
being a young woman any man would be proud to have fathered, she
presented opportunities for making his life a good deal more
agreeable than it currently was. He foresaw an end to the
aggravation of having constantly to ask Charlotte for more money,
and the resulting humiliation of being interrogated by his own wife
as to where the money was going. It was, of course, completely
inappropriate for Charlotte to question him in such a way, but
Charlotte sometimes showed herself sadly lacking in proper womanly
qualities.

Jimmy blamed his father-in-law for that. Not
only had the man put the house he had bought them into Charlotte’s
name; he had also given her sole control of a substantial bank
account, regularly augmented by the generous allowance he paid her.
No wonder she was inclined to fancy herself as knowing how to
manage money.

The same character flaw was likely to exist
in his daughter, unfortunately. Not that it was the girl’s fault.
But cautious enquiries among his acquaintance had told him that
Sarah had complete control of her financial interests, with no
man’s guiding hand. It was a ridiculous state of affairs, and one
that Jimmy intended to rectify.

He would have to tread carefully. Sarah was
used to having her own way (another flaw she shared with
Charlotte), and it would take her some time to trust him. But it
was worth being patient when the prize was so valuable.

He would leave it a few days before visiting
again; that would give Sarah time to think things over, and perhaps
to wonder if he would return. A small gift next time would do no
harm. He needed to gain her affection, and get her to see that he
had her best interests at heart. The girl was probably anxious over
all her responsibilities, despite her outward show of
confidence.

Once he had gained her trust, it would
simply be a matter of getting the appropriate legal documents drawn
up, giving him overall responsibility for her affairs, and getting
Sarah to sign them. That was the good side of Sarah’s having
complete control over her holdings: all he needed was her
signature. There was no one else whom he needed to convince that
Sarah’s own father was the proper person to watch over her
interests.

He had always wanted a son, of course, but
in these circumstances a daughter was infinitely preferable. A son
would take more convincing that he needed the guidance of a mature
man, but women were naturally more malleable, and less capable of
understanding complicated matters of finance.