Chapter Four

Jane helped Sabine dress for dinner instead of getting a maid to help her. Her mother was very talented when it came to hair. Ever since Sabine was a child, whenever she would sit still long enough, Jane would love to create intricate braids with her long, golden hair.

The times held some of Sabine’s fondest childhood memories, though. There was no greater pleasure then sitting while one’s mother brushes their hair. Particularly in the beginning, when Sabine had never known a mother, it was one of her favourite things to do.

“Mama,” Sabine breathed as Jane fixed her braids in place. She sat at her dresser in her bedchamber watching her mother in the mirror as she hummed quietly.

“Yes?”

“Was Mr Rochester invited for me?” she asked, hoping the answer was ‘no’.

Jane looked up at Sabine through the mirror. Sabine could tell her mother looked guilty. “I knew you would return disheartened and I knew Mr Rochester was sweet on you…”

“Mama,” Sabine groaned. “He is the only man on the planet more boring than me.”

“I know,” Jane sighed. “But I thought that you might want someone rather than no – one. Mr Rochester might not be delightful conversation, but he’s a decent and kind man. He would support you and I’m sure he would love you … what more can you ask for?” Jane placed both her hands on Sabine’s shoulders and squeezed them.

Sabine frowned at her mother. “Papa looks at you like you are the sunshine to his eternal darkness,” she said simply. “And you look at him like you couldn’t face the day unless he is by your side. I don’t want someone that might grow to love me, mama, I want someone who can’t imagine their life without me. I don’t want someone that you and papa think has a similar personality to me.”

Jane pursed her lips and then smiled. “Alright, darling,” she nodded. “After tonight Mr Rochester won’t be invited for any social reasons.” She leaned down and kissed Sabine’s cheek. “A very lucky man will capture your heart, my dear,” she promised. “Just when I thought I was going to be alone forever, I fell in love with a man and his beautiful little girl. That beautiful little girl has grown into a woman that we are both so proud of.”

Sabine felt tears fill her eyes. “I know we fight, mama, but I do love you,” she whispered.

“Not as much as I love you,” she whispered back, hugging her around her shoulders.

Sabine watched the two of them in the mirror with a small smile on her face. “You really believe I’ll find someone like papa?”

Jane nodded. “One day you’ll find someone who makes you feel as special as we all know you are. There is somebody out there that is specifically made for you, Sabine, and he will be your passion. You just have to be patient,” she said firmly. “Now,” she tapped Sabine’s head lightly. “What to wear? You can’t dress in your sensible riding gowns, so we’ll select something fine. You know, you really should get more use out of there gowns,” she said as she surveyed the pretty, feminine gowns in Sabine’s wardrobe. “Papa commissions them and they’re out of style before you wear them!”

“I don’t have use for fine gowns, mama,” Sabine sighed. “I will not be subjected to a London season anymore and I spend the rest of my time riding … do you think I might be able to have trousers made?” she asked hopefully, remembering Connor’s remark about riding. She didn’t want to give anyone the opportunity to stare at her legs. After what had happened to Kitty with Sir Walter, she was very cautious.     

Jane frowned as she selected a pale pink gown that was decorated with an extensive amount of expensive white lace. “Whatever do you need trousers for?” she asked.

“Riding,” Sabine replied. “I used to wear them as a child when I rode,” she recalled.

“But you were a child. You’re a lady now – ladies don’t wear trousers. Even working on the farm with grandmamma I still wore dresses.” Jane brought the gown over to Sabine and held it against her. “Yes, you will look lovely in this,” she smiled, satisfied.

“It will just make it easier, mama,” Sabine pressed. “Please. I’ll tailor a pair of papa’s slacks so you don’t even have to pay for them!” she pleaded.

Jane furrowed her brows. “Sabine, money is no issue. It is not the expense that I worry about, it is the propriety. If you wear trousers, every inch of your bottom half is to be on display to the opposite sex. You’ll be on display to Connor, and he’s not a gentleman, he wouldn’t have any qualms with looking!”

“Mama,” Sabine said defensively. “He may not be a gentleman, but it doesn’t mean that he would look at me like that. He stopped a footman from doing so today – a part of my ankle was showing and he stepped in front of me so that the footman could not see it. How can you judge a man by his status anyhow? You were born to a farmer!” she pointed out. She may not have been happy that Connor was doing the job she wanted, by she wouldn’t let him be discredited.

Jane looked apologetic. “I’m thankful for that,” she said sincerely. “And if that footman ever looks at you again, you tell me and he will be terminated immediately. But nevertheless, gentleman or not, Connor is still a man, and men are attracted to beautiful young women like you. I’m afraid trousers are just like a second skin. It is not appropriate, Sabine. It was fine when you were a girl, but you’re not a child anymore. What need have you of them to ride in anyway? I get along just perfectly in a dress.”

What her mother didn’t know was that she was abandoning side saddle … when she was riding alone, anyways. She couldn’t imagine Connor watching her though, he had been the one to intervene, and surely if he were attracted to her he would have just stared also. She was sure he didn’t think of her that way, he most likely found her boring and annoying. “Very well, mama,” Sabine conceded. She surveyed the pretty pink dress and sighed. It did look a little ostentatious, but it was indeed beautiful.

Half an hour later, the Winchester family were downstairs entertaining Mr Percival Rochester. Daniel sat at the head of the table, and Jane sat on his right. Sabine sat on his left and Mr Rochester had been seated beside her.

Mr Rochester was not an ugly man, on the contrary. His hair was dark and neatly trimmed and his eyes were a cool green. He was quite solid and was a similar height to her father, but Sabine could not stand his voice. The way he spoke just made her feel as though he thought he was better than everyone. She despised people like that.

“It is springtime, once again, Lady Sabine,” Mr Rochester commented as he politely sipped his soup.

“Is it? I hadn’t noticed,” Sabine said, playing ignorant. Her mother shot her a look that seemed to say ‘don’t be rude’. She didn’t care though. “Springtime seems to happen every year, how peculiar?”

Mr Rochester didn’t seem to notice her cynicism.

“Sabine enjoys the spring weather, don’t you, Sabine?” her father prompted.

“I enjoy any weather, papa,” she replied simply. She shot an annoyed glance at her father, letting him know that she was not interested in Mr Rochester. He seemed to get the message.

“Even rain?” Mr Rochester scoffed.

“It is just another kind of weather. If we were to dismiss it then we would live inside for half the year,” she said coolly. She played with the peas that were floating in her soup, attempting to push them all to the side of the bowl instead of eating them. She wasn’t particularly hungry.

She was glad her parents weren’t encouraging conversation between herself and Mr Rochester. After a while he and Daniel talked about the business of the estate and what the investment trends were looking like for the following year. After the main course of pork arrived, Sabine really wanted to excuse herself, but she knew that would be too obviously rude. She forced herself to consume three quarters of the dish before setting it aside.

“You have not eaten much this evening, Lady Sabine,” Mr Rochester commented.

Sabine looked at Mr Rochester at that moment. He was looking at her in a way that let her know he fancied her. His pupils were dilated and his breathing was a little fast. “I’m not at all hungry,” she said quietly. “I’m feeling a little faint, actually. Papa, do you mind if I go upstairs to bed?” she asked her father, hoping he would let her retire.

Before he could answer, though, Mr Rochester interceded. “I know just the remedy for that. A turn about the grounds and some fresh air will do you the world of good, Lady Sabine. Would that be alright, Lord Southerby?” he asked her father.

Sabine prayed her father would refuse but he simply nodded. “Don’t go too far,” were is only instructions.

Sabine scowled as she rose from the table, removing the napkin that had been on her lap. She straightened out her skirt and proceeded to walk from the dining room on Mr Rochester’s arm. She hoped that once they were out of earshot that her mother would scold him.

They walked through the house and came to the back door. Mr Rochester held it open for her and then offered her his arm once again. The sun was setting fast on the Southerby estate. The night was substantially cooler and she wished that she had thought to bring a shawl or a wrap with her outside. Mr Rochester seemed oblivious to the temperature as he was buttoned up to the neck in layers consisting of a shirt, waistcoat, top coat as well as his undergarments.

“I am a lover of springtime, Lady Sabine,” Mr Rochester smiled, smelling the air. The gardens of Southerby weren’t particularly filled with flowers. It was mainly open grass and trees so that she had room to run when she was a child. “I’m an amateur botanist, did you know? I could spend hours upon hours scouring gardens.”

“Could you?” Sabine asked, bored. “I suppose Southerby is quite disappointing then.”

“Nonsense, I could spend hours upon hours scouring other things too,” he said coyly. Sabine understood the double meaning. She made a point to keep her eyes forward. With a little force she kept their pace quick and in the direction of the stables. Once there she would have an excuse to part with him.

“What is your favourite flower, Lady Sabine?” Mr Rochester asked curiously.

Sabine didn’t really have one. She selected the first flower that came to her. “The rose, I suppose.”

“Ah, roses. Such a regal flower. Of course, to us botanists we know them as rosa rubiginosa,” he replied happily. “I shall bring you a single rose next time I am at Southerby.”

“Oh really, that’s not necessary, Mr Rochester. I don’t want you going out of your way for me,” Sabine said disinterestedly. She rubbed her arms in hopes to warm them. There was a slight chilly breeze that was blowing at it seemed to cool her right to the bone.

“It is no trouble, Lady Sabine,” Mr Rochester smiled. His smile disappeared just as the stable came into view. The double doors were opened and Connor was standing outside carrying a water pail and was emptying it onto the grass. His usual dirty shirt was tied around his waist and every distinct line that was on his body was in full view.

Sabine’s butterflies returned as she saw him. She didn’t want to think it but she knew that Connor was a very attractive man. As he turned around to pour the contents of the water pail out, she saw his back clearly. It wasn’t as perfect as his muscled torso, it was rippled with scars, scars that told her he had received several lashings, like the one he had mentioned that his sister would have received had she acted the way Sabine had. He had been whipped like a common criminal.

A small gasp escaped her lips as she saw the scars. She heard Mr Rochester sneer.

“Honestly, servants have no decency,” he said loudly, so that Connor could hear him. Connor’s back straightened and he turned around, looking at the two of them standing there. His eyes travelled between the two of them quickly, and his expression was displeased.

If Mr Rochester was not a nobleman, she could tell that Connor would have unleashed some Scottish profanity on the man. But Mr Rochester would just then have him thrown in jail.

“Come, Sabine,” Mr Rochester instructed, making her feel as though she was a hound. “Let us go back up to the house, I trust you are no longer feeling faint.”

Connor’s eyebrows furrowed as he watched Sabine’s reaction to the order Mr Rochester had just given her. “Milady,” he called out. She welcomed his familiar accent. “I was goin’ to go an’ fetch ye. Puissant’s taken ill. I’ve been nursing her. Perhaps ye would like to come inside and stay with her?” Connor suggested.

Sabine immediately panicked. Not her Puissant! Puissant could not be sick. She had been fine that morning. What had Connor done to her? He must have fed her something contaminated! “Mr Rochester, excuse me,” she said hurriedly as she broke into a run. She run up the aisle of the stables and skidded to a stop outside Puissant’s stall. She stood there happily eating from her pail of feed.

Sabine unlatched the stall door and went inside, immediately beginning to check her body for any wounds or bites that could be causing her illness.

“Milady, she’s fine. I made tha’ up. I perhaps should no’ have, but tha’ man …” he growled.

Sabine turned around quickly. “She’s alright?” she breathed.

Connor nodded, entering the stall with her. Sabine felt a flood of relief fill her. “I don’ like it when people behave like tha’. I understand he’s above me, but I don’ appreciate being made to know my place. That’s one of the things I like about ye. Your willing to put in the hard work, ye and your family are good people. No’ like some people I’ve known.”

“I’m sorry he said that. It was completely rude,” she apologised.

“It’s no’ your fault,” he shrugged. “Perhaps I did ye a favour anyhow – ye dinna look like ye were a fan of his,” he chuckled.

Sabine rolled her eyes. “No, Mr Rochester is not my idea of an acquaintance I’d like to keep,” she smiled. She shivered slightly as the breeze blew through the stable window.

Connor looked around before untying his shirt from his hips. “Here,” he offered it to her. “I promise ye that none of the stains are dung.”

Sabine suppressed a giggle as she slipped her arms into the sleeves of the shirt. Even though it was thin, she welcomed the layer. It didn’t smell like anything bad, it smelled rather calming. It smelled quite musky. “Thank you,” she said gratefully.

“Perhaps ye would like to give him twenty minutes before returning back to the house?” he suggested. “Then ye can tell your mama an’ da’ that Puissant is fine.”

“I will,” she nodded. “Where do you sleep?” she asked, remembering that she’d wondered it before.

“There’s a loft above us,” he said, gesturing to the roof. “There’s a small cot an’ some shelves. It’s plenty fine for me,” he smiled his crooked smile that made his face crease. “Why’d your mama an’ da’ invite tha’ man to see ye if ye don’ like him?” he asked suddenly, his brown eyes completely curious.

Sabine flushed, a little embarrassed. “Mama knew I would return home from my season unattached so she thought she was being helpful. She knew I was boring, so she figured that a man as equally dull as me would be a superb match. I’ve quickly put a stop to those thoughts,” she smiled deviously.

“Why do ye put yourself down like that?” he wondered, with his brows furrowed.

“Like what?”

“Ye completely dismiss yourself, milady. A lady as bonny as ye could never be dull. I can swear to ye that I have never met a more interesting person in my twenty – five years,” he said seriously. Sabine’s eyes widened with shock. “An’ now ye are surprised that someone offered ye a compliment,” he chuckled. “I know I’m no’ the type of person tha’ ye wan’ to be receiving compliments from, but I mean it. You’re no’ dull, milady, but ye are oblivious. Ye might find a fella if ye had a little faith in yourself – just a thought,” he shrugged.

Sabine just stared at him with wide eyes. He’d called her ‘bonny’ which she was sure meant ‘beautiful’ in Scottish terms. He’d called her ‘interesting’ … something she’d never been called before. And then he’d reiterated what her mother had said. She needed to have faith and confidence.

“Why do you always know the right things to say?” she asked after a long while.

Connor smiled kindly. “My mama was a good woman. She raised us well, taught us to be truthful and respectful,” he replied fondly. Sabine saw that he loved his mother, but not his father. Piece by piece she was figuring him out.

“Was?” she raised her eyebrows.

“Is,” he corrected. “She’s still alive back in Scotland. I’m no’ in contact with her.”

“Why not?” she asked sadly.

Connor pursed his lips. He took a deep breath and sighed. “She … she sided against me. She chose my da’. I can’ blame her, he is her husband after all,” he shrugged.

“What was the altercation about?” Sabine pressed.

Connor smiled slightly, his eyes were completely blank, not giving anything away. “Ye should probably get goin’. They’ll come looking for ye in a minute,” he encouraged.

Sabine, disappointed that he had not confided in her, slipped off his shirt and handed it back to him regretfully, silently wishing she could have kept it.

“Thank ye,” he nodded. “Will ye be here tomorrow?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied. “Bright and early, ready to annoy you with my way of doing things.”

Connor laughed as he led her out of the stables. “I’ll look forward to it, milady,” he said sincerely. “Sleep well.”

“You too,” she replied happily before scampering out of the stables. The smile she wore as she walked back to the house was hard to lose. Connor was so different to any other man she’d known. He seemed to understand her in ways that nobody ever had. But there was still something about him, something about him that he was hiding. She would find it out eventually, all secrets had a way of surfacing.

---

Hope you liked it :)

Dedicated to Kassilassie for making me my beautiful cover :)

Vote and comment!!