Heaven Made (8 page)

Leaving his rooms and heading for the laboratory again, Ford
stopped mid-stride and turned back toward the library. He had a meeting with
the lovely Mrs. Tremaine to attend. Having slept the whole day away, it was
early evening and time for their second, official meeting. Ford couldn’t help
the smile of anticipation that tugged at his lips. Sabrina Tremaine was a
delectable female. Any man would consider himself lucky to be in her company.
It was a shame that he was practically engaged to another woman, and a blessing
to be sure. Otherwise having Mrs. Tremaine in his employ would be impossible.
If she had some means of her own, she would probably be the most sought after
widow in London. Frankly, she could have her pick of men who only wanted a
mistress, and then money wouldn’t be a problem either.

It suddenly occurred to Ford that it was very odd that she
wasn’t doing just that. Sabrina was far too beautiful to be toiling away for a
modest salary, when she could be living the life of a pampered courtesan for
someone like the Duke of Marlborough or the Earl of Gloucester. Ridiculous,
actually. For the life of him, he couldn’t imagine why she was here. Unless
there was something she was hiding—or someone she was hiding from. Of course,
she may have had a lover and made him angry, perhaps demanding marriage. Or
maybe she wasn’t who she claimed to be at all. That was most likely the case.
Sabrina Tremaine was probably a fraud. She had no doubt been a ladies maid in
some prestigious household and had a peccadillo with one of the young lords. Of
course she would have been dismissed without a reference and subsequently found
herself adrift with no prospects. The agency itself might, in fact, be a facade
for a deceptive little baggage who could act at being a lady. That must be the
story, Ford convinced himself entering the library at last. It was still empty,
but a nice fire crackled in the hearth. He poured himself a scotch and made
himself comfortable on one of the overstuffed chairs near the mantle, casually
glancing around at the familiar room with its two stories of books and various
nooks and crannies where one could sit and lose themselves in a tome. Now that
he had figured out the story of Mrs. Tremaine, he felt quite ready to meet with
her and look for the crack in her demeanor. He was sure he would be able to
distinguish the truth in both her words and actions.

Ten minutes later, Sabrina walked into the room looking as
breathtakingly beautiful and regal as Cleopatra herself. Ford stood and offered
her a glass of sherry.

"Yes, please," Sabrina said with a slight blush. "It’s
been quite a long day."

Ford poured the sweet wine and handed the tiny crystal glass
to her. They both sat, and while Sabrina arranged her skirts with her free
hand, Ford studied her. The plain, but fine clothes confused him. Certainly a
true lady would own similar garments, especially one who was recently out of
mourning. That was a flaw in his recent deductions. And her manners were
impeccable. He would need to study her more closely. Maybe a few carefully
worded questions would help him deduce her true identity.

"Were you able to locate the staff?" he began the
conversation at the simplest place. After all, it had been one of his major
concerns.

Sabrina laughed demurely and set her sherry on a piecrust
table. It was an infectious sound and sent a thrill through Ford’s body so that
he couldn’t help but laugh too.

"Yes, I found them all," she said, sitting
straight in her seat with her feet tucked very properly beneath her skirt, and
her hands elegantly folded. "And they are able and willing to return your
household to its earlier efficiency. I was even able to get a few projects
under way this afternoon. The ballroom is being opened up and by tomorrow we
shall know how many we can accommodate for a fete."

"A fete," Ford exclaimed. "So soon? I’m
afraid you are too efficient, Mrs. Tremaine. I’m not altogether ready for a
party just yet. Maybe a dinner or two would be more suited to my social
abilities at present."

"Of course," Sabrina said, and then paused to take
a sip of her drink. "I’m glad you know what you prefer. That always makes
things easier. It will make going through your correspondence simpler as well.
Your secretary will be sorting out all the business first, I presume?"

"Yes, Henry is very good at handling my business
interests. Thank goodness. I don’t know how a body can manage myriad details of
business and society and still have time for one’s real interests." Ford
raked a hand through his freshly combed hair. He looked over at Sabrina,
sitting with her head tilted in interested contemplation.

It struck him that she would make a lovely wife. She was not
only beautiful to look at, but she had a good head on her shoulders too. He
found himself opening up to her easily. Conversing and telling her what was on
his mind, and she at least seemed genuinely interested in what he said. Most
women just chatted at him and had no interest in hearing what his thoughts
were.

"What days does Henry come in?" Sabrina asked.

"I have no idea," Ford answered, with a smile. "Personally,
I haven’t talked to him in weeks. That’s what makes him such a good secretary."

"I see," Sabrina said, frowning. "Where do
you suppose I should begin then? I don’t want to rifle through your desk
unnecessarily. You wouldn’t happen to know which stack is personal and which
one is business, would you?"

"There is only one way to find out," Ford said,
standing and offering his arm to Sabrina. "We’ll need to move our meeting
into the study and search my desk."

Mrs. Tremaine obliged him and slipped her delicate hand into
the crook of his arm. It was not exactly an intimate gesture, but for some
reason it felt exceedingly comfortable. As if they had done this a hundred
times before. Ford led them to his study where all of the business of his world
was conducted. It was much smaller than the library and had more of a lived in
feel to it. Papers, journals and account books cluttered the massive mahogany
desk. Shelves on two walls held decades worth of historical records that told
the story of the Northcliffe family and their lands. Ford never spent much time
in here. His passion had led him to his laboratory instead. Thankfully, his
father died when he was just a lad and he had never had a chance to be overly
disappointed with his son.

"I know Henry puts my correspondence somewhere around
here," Ford mumbled half to himself as he sat down at the desk. It was not
a comfortable feeling, being lost in one’s own study. "Ah ha!" he
said, triumphantly holding up a stack of neatly opened letters.

Sabrina took the missives from his hand and began to
efficiently sort through them. "Yes, these are what I was looking for,"
she said with a satisfied grin. "I’ll have these in order by tomorrow at
breakfast. That is, if you will be joining me, Mr. Northcliffe?"

Ford had already forgotten that they had established a
scheduled meeting each day. He must have looked unsure when Sabrina had
mentioned breakfast, and thus she felt compelled to confirm.

"Of course," he said with a smile. "Breakfast,
every day. Have you eaten supper yet, Mrs. Tremaine?"

"Well, no, but I was just on my way to request a tray
from Mrs. Dixon."

"Why don’t you join me instead," Ford asked,
standing aside and motioning with a sweep of his arm for Sabrina to walk ahead
of him out of the room.

"Oh," Sabrina said sounding startled. "I’m
not sure if that is at all suitable, Mr. Northcliffe. After all, I am in your
employ."

"And so is Henry," Ford said tilting his head in
contemplation. "And he joins me for dinner at least once a month. I think
we need to come to some sort of understanding about exactly what our
relationship is, Mrs. Tremaine. And I think dinner is the perfect venue to
discuss it. After you."

Sabrina walked out of the study with a frown on her face.
Ford was thoroughly enjoying making her feel uncomfortable, and he had no idea
why. He was watching the attractive sway of her skirts, when he saw something
out of the corner of his eye. Ford stopped in his tracks and turned to look
down the corridor.

There it was again! A young girl in a white gown, her dark
hair flowing behind her.

"Did you see that?" Ford asked Sabrina, making her
turn to look at him. "Wait, over here." He pointed down the hall to
where the apparition had been just a moment ago.

"What am I looking for?" Sabrina asked, completely
confused as to what Ford was talking about.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her to the end of the
corridor. The ghostly figure appeared for a split second before disappearing
again down the back stairs.

"There, did you see that?" He was breathless with
excitement and tugged on Sabrina’s hand to follow him.

But Mrs. Tremaine pulled him back in the other direction
with a force he wouldn’t have believed such a petite woman would possess.

"I didn’t see anything, Mr. Northcliffe." But her
face was contorted into a frown that belied her words. "I don’t have time
to chase after figments of your imagination."

"But, the little girl," Ford stammered. "You
didn’t see her? She looked just like my little sister, Piper."

Sabrina stopped pulling him, suddenly very interested,
unusually so.

"She died many years ago from influenza," Ford
clarified. "I think I may have just seen her ghost."

Sabrina laughed and all the tension that had kept her rigid
just a moment ago, seemed to completely leave her body. "A ghost? That’s
what you think you saw?"

Ford couldn’t decipher why she seemed so relieved. If she
had told him that she’d just seen
her
dead sister, he would have made
her lie down and put a cold compress on her head. But instead, Sabrina was
laughing at him.

"Really, Mrs. Tremaine," he said standing tall and
straightening his waistcoat. "I don’t think there is anything funny in
this situation. Nothing at all. I have just seen a ghost and you think it’s
some sort of a joke?"

"No, no," Sabrina said, getting control of her
laughter. "I just thought, well, there have been moments when I worried
that—" She didn’t finish what she was going to say and instead completely
changed the subject.

"Did you still want to join me for dinner, Mr.
Northcliffe? I can have Mr. Roland put an extra table setting out."

"I’ve suddenly lost my appetite," Ford said,
disturbed by what had just happened. He obviously couldn’t discuss it with
Sabrina. "I think I need some fresh air. I’ll be at my club if anyone
needs me."

"Of course," Sabrina said, keeping her grin almost
under control. "I’ll have Mrs. Dixon keep a plate warm for you. Enjoy your
evening, Mr. Northcliffe."

****

Sabrina was so relieved she almost dropped to the floor.
They had nearly been found out! What in the world had Alice been thinking?
Running around the house in her nightgown and right past Ford’s study. When she
found her daughter, she was going give her a lecture about proper deportment
while they were living under someone else’s roof. Ghosts again. Sabrina was
growing very weary of everyone talking to her about ghosts. And a man of Mr.
Northcliffe’s intelligence talking about spooks, was too ridiculous. Sabrina
followed the path that Alice had just traveled and found her daughter in the
kitchen with Mrs. Dixon and Mr. Roland. She took a deep breath to try to calm
herself before she began to chastise her little girl.

"Alice Elizabeth Macaulay Tremaine! What in the world
did you think you were doing, running through the house in your nightgown where
anyone, and I do mean Mr. Northcliffe, could see you?"

"Wasn’t it funny?" Alice said around a mouthful of
cake. "Did you see the look on his face, Mama?"

"Did you see the look on my face?" Sabrina asked,
with her arms crossed over her chest and one foot tapping in anger.

"Oh, Mama, don’t be angry. Papa wanted Mr. Northcliffe
to see me. He said I look just like Piper, and her brother would think I was
her."

Her head spinning with this latest revelation, Sabrina collapsed
onto the nearest chair, dropping her forehead into her hands. "You and Mr.
Northcliffe and your talk of spirits. Are the two of you trying to drive me
mad?"

Mrs. Dixon and Mr. Roland gave each other a confused look
before unobtrusively leaving the kitchen. Sabrina was relieved she at least
wouldn’t have to answer their questions too.

"Alice, darling, there is no such thing as ghosts. You
have to believe me."

"Cassiopeia believes me," Alice said stubbornly.

"Miss Blakemore was just being nice." Sabrina
looked at her daughter and wondered what she could possibly do to help her
child get over her father’s death. This was starting to become a problem she
didn’t know how to handle.

"I think we should go ask Madame Lou what she thinks."
Alice wasn’t giving up so easily.

"Who is Madame Lou?" Sabrina asked. The name rang
a bell, but she couldn’t quite remember where she had heard it before.

"Madame Lou is Cassiopeia’s neighbor," Alice said
with a child’s superiority. "She has a tearoom and reads fortune cards."

Yes, now she remembered who Madame Lou was. The psychic
woman who talked to spirits. Well, Sabrina was certainly not going to fall for
any of that hocus pocus.

"Alice, darling, why do you keep insisting that you
have been talking to your father?" Sabrina was too tired to argue any
further about the subject, but she couldn’t let it drop until they had come to
some sort of an understanding about it. "I know you miss him terribly, but
there is no reason to make up stories about him. You can come to me anytime if
you want to talk about Papa. He loved you very much and someday you will get
see him again in heaven. But for now, he’s really gone."