Before her hair it had been the wedding dress, followed by which shoes Sara should wear. And gloves. She had only ever owned one pair at a time in her life. There was no question over what gloves she would wear.
Her hair was the third hour of the discussion. How could they even speak about a single thing for so long? And how could Claire and Louisa spare so much time away from planning their lessons? They had not cancelled the Governess Club’s services, and the parents would expect to receive the same level of continued service. In fact, Sara was unclear as to why Louisa was allowing them to focus on Sara’s wedding so much; Louisa was the one who consistently insisted on an almost single-minded dedication to their project.
Her breath steadied and side relaxed, Sara continued up the path. The sun was more prominent here, as was the wind, which blew across her face, cooling the sweat on her forehead. She was nearly halfway along the path and she was counting the minutes before she had to return to Ridgestone.
She knew exactly why she was feeling this way. It was his fault entirely. Nathan Grant’s. He was the one who had introduced her to who she could be, what she could have, and then abandoned her. Had his bedding without the wedding, indeed. How could she have been so mistaken about his character? Yes, he had been callous before, but he had never been cruel, not before a few days ago. Berating her for thinking there was more to their affair, for hoping that he had developed some sort of affection for her when he had made it clear from the onset that she was to expect nothing more from him beyond that week.
It wasn’t what he said; it was how he said it. He had felt it necessary to ridicule and humiliate her.
And that made her want to slap him in the face. And if she saw him again, well, she wasn’t sure if she wouldn’t. After Mrs. Glendoe, Nathan Grant would be a piece of cake.
Reaching her destination, Sara took advantage of a well-sized rock and sat down, resting her legs. This truly was a more difficult walk than she was used to. Rubbing her legs, she looked over the pond and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of water. The waterfall, small and little more than a trickle in truth, streamed out of a large cave higher up on the rock face and hit the water with gentle splashes.
At the sound and smell of the water, she became acutely aware of the sweat drying on her body, making her skin sticky and uncomfortable. The water glistened invitingly, tempting her with its coolness and promised tranquility. She looked at the water, contemplating. She had only swum at the privacy of Cloverfields. This place wasn’t a private estate, but she had yet to see anyone else. She looked over her shoulder, her eyes examining the empty path just to assure herself of that fact.
Biting her lip, Sara looked back at the water. Without further thought, she stood and began to strip, starting with her bonnet. Soon everything was in a folded pile on the grass and she waded into the water, relishing the cleansing coolness washing over her skin, the looseness of her shift moving around her knees. When she had gotten to her hips, she turned around and lay on her back, spreading her arms out and floating as Nathan taught her, her now loose hair swirling around her head.
The water covered her ears, muffling all sound. She took a deep breath, her eyes sliding half-closed, her senses focused on the water surrounding her body. Small ripples from the waterfall bounced against her side, not threatening in the least. Her hands were sculling to keep her in place; her breathing, amplified in her ears, slowed as she gazed up at the bright blue sky, the occasional fluffy cloud entering her vision. Serenity flowed over her and Sara felt her limbs and mind relax. She closed her eyes the rest of the way and bathed in the relief circling in and around her body.
She lay there like that for several minutes before she felt her skin prickle, as though someone was watching her. She opened her eyes and lifted her head, looking toward the shore.
No one was there.
She put her feet on the bottom of the pond and righted herself, crouching to preserve her modesty, keeping her shoulders under the water. She looked around, trying to see as far down the path as she could in both directions.
No one was there.
Furrowing her brow, she lay back down, but her relaxed state from moments before did not return immediately. She was sure she had felt someone watching her. But she was being foolish, surely. People did not often take this path; she had not seen any other soul yet today, and even in the entire forest maze she did not often see others. She must have mistaken the prickles on her skin, thinking she was being watched when it was merely the cold water.