Cheryl St. John by The Mistaken Widow

Author:The Mistaken Widow
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-07-07T00:29:50+00:00

Chapter Ten

As though in a slower-than-life motion, with all other sounds faded into the background, Sarah watched in horror as Claire’s mother reached one of the landings and stumbled toward the banister where an enormous fern sat in a ceramic pot on the oak ledge that was part of the banister’s decoration.

From the servants’ hall below, Penelope appeared, laden with a silver tray and tea service. She caught sight of the throng of guests and paused hesitantly.

Just as Penelope glanced upward to view the subject of everyone’s riveted attention, Claire’s mother tripped and slammed against the base of the blue and white container. The leaves shimmied. The pot turned over. And the weight of the plant propelled it over the side of the banister.

The women gasped.

Nicholas lunged forward, snagging the servant across the front of her chest and knocking her over. She fell to the floor beside him, the silver service banging across the tiles.

The huge planter careened to the foyer floor and smashed with a deafening crash of ceramic pot and imported floor tiles. Shards shot in all directions, and black dirt and pebbles spread in a starburst spatter, showering Nicholas and the stunned Penelope, and reaching the toes of the horrified guests.

One of the women next to Sarah emitted a squeal.

Sarah couldn’t move for what seemed an eternity. The deafening sound still echoed in her ears. From above came slurred laughter and a loud “Whoops-ie!”

The woman had fallen in an undignified and embarrassing spraddle-legged sprawl on her fanny and elbows, her skirt hiked around her fleshy thighs, her bright hair and the ridiculous bow askew. As if in a daze, she blinked and blew a hank of disheveled hair from her face. One shoe dangled from her toes.

If Sarah could have had one prayer answered immediately in her entire lifetime, it would have been the one right then and there to have the floor open up and swallow her whole.

Nicholas assisted Penelope to her feet and they brushed dirt from their clothing. Nicholas leaned forward and ruffled his hair. Particles fell out and bounced on the floor.

Sarah couldn’t face him or his guests or his mother.

Forcing her numb legs and feet into action, she gathered her skirts and climbed the stairs as quickly as her tender leg would carry her.

The murmur of Leda’s soothing voice rose, taking control of the situation with the guests, urging them on to the activities they’d planned.

One of the men chuckled.

The horrible woman looked up as Sarah approached. Sarah converged on her before she could say or do anything more. She’d already caused enough damage. Wanting nothing more than to grab her around the throat and squeeze the air from her, Sarah took her firmly by one arm and urged her to her feet and up the stairs.

“What the hell—” the woman objected.

“Hush, Mrs. Patrick,” she shushed her. “You’ve made enough of a spectacle of yourself already. You’re going back to your room.”

They’d reached the upper hall, away from the eyes and ears of those below.

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