The Princess and the Phantom

Chapter 12: War and Tea

Erik threw down the paper with an exasperated sigh.

Sara's Christmas cheer and gentle kindness to the journalists had ignited a kind of war in the newspapers between those that espoused the cause of the diamond mine heiress and those that continued to get their information from Miss Minchin, her Cook...and even Cook's policeman.

The crowd of journalists had been replaced by curiosity seekers, and for two days now, he had been prevented from going across the square to see her, or rather Carmichael. In truth, he had no valid reason to see Sara, other than the way his heart cried out for her. He wondered if the next day would bring a resumption of Sara's 'music lessons.' Hope was dreadful but addictive.

The monkey scampered across the floor and picked up the discarded newspaper, holding it up in a mockery of reading it with great solemnity.

"Bugger off," Erik muttered at the monkey, who tilted his head to one side and unleashed a ferocious grin at him.

"You're all against me," he added morosely.

The monkey blinked and went back to 'reading' the paper.

Erik glared at the creature before going back to his post by the window.

***

"No, these gloves," Janet insisted, snatching a modest pair from Sara's grasp and handing her instead a lovely grey kid leather pair.

"But, those are my Sunday best!" Nora protested, standing among the wreckage of the ransacking of her wardrobe by Janet.

"Yes, and they'll just do for visiting the Countess of Surrey!" Janet retorted.

"Lady Bradley is a countess?" Sara asked, trying to hide the sudden nervous tremor in her voice.

"Did I not mention that?" Janet said absently as she rearranged the angle of Nora's hat on Sara's head. "Now, we'll add in my fur stole and matching muff-"

"If she has a muff, why does she need my gloves?" Nora complained, then added, "It's nothing against you, Sara, you are truly welcome to all my things, but Janet has made free with my things since we were little girls. I had thought it would end when she was finally married and could buy her own things, but it seems she still prefers mine!"

Sara tried to laugh, but her heart was beating too rapidly to allow for much breath or much laughter.

"It is not my fault you were always tall for your age and of a size with me," Janet scolded. "Half your things suited me better, anyway!"

"So you liked to think, but that one Easter bonnet with the beautiful pink silk ribbon made you look like a diseased ostrich!"

"It looked far better on me than on you! It made you look like a malnourished Pekingese!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"Girls, girls!" Mrs. Carmichael chided from the door. "Janet, you shall be late if you do not leave instantly. I'm sure her ladyship will understand that we have not had time to take Sara to a modiste. Nora, it is very good of you to lend Sara your things. I expect both you and Janet to clean up this mess when she returns."

"Yes, Mama," the young women replied in a dutiful chorus, as if they were once again in the nursery.

Sara found herself hustled down the stairs and into the waiting carriage with Janet. The smell of the leather and rattle of the wheels brought her back to a moment so many years ago when she had snuggled against her papa's side as their cozy carriage clattered through the dark streets. Her heart ached for little seven-year-old Sara, knowing what was to become of her.