Mistress of Fairlyden by Gwen Kirkwood

Author:Gwen Kirkwood [Kirkwood, Gwen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lume Books
Published: 2016-02-09T05:00:00+00:00

Nineteen

Beatrice did not mention Crispin Bradshaw’s revelations in her letters to Fairlyden but Sarah was sure she sensed a new confidence and a certain contentment.

In August the Bradshaws were once more in residence at the Tower House and Crispin rode over to Fairlyden soon after his arrival. He brought Sarah some welcome news. Beatrice had given birth to a son early the previous day, the twenty-eighth of August, 1890.

‘He was a little early, but he seems perfectly healthy and Dick said Beatrice was very well this time.’

‘Oh, I am relieved!’ Sarah exclaimed fervently, clasping her hands almost as though offering a prayer of thankfulness there and then. Crispin’s expression sobered and he lowered his voice although they were standing in the middle of the farm yard.

‘Beatrice is grateful to you, Sarah. Quietly jubilant in fact. She asked me to give you a message. She said, ‘I do not believe Mother would tell a lie, especially when she knew she would soon be facing her Maker. I think pride, and her own secret shame, could have been the only reason why she withheld the truth from a man as honourable as Mr Logan. I am proud and relieved to think such a man may be my father. I have worried about the qualities which I might pass to my own children. Now I am happy.’ Then she smiled and added, ‘Tell Sarah I have always regarded her with all the affection of a dearly loved sister, but no word of this will pass my lips, since it was my mother’s dying wish.’

‘I’m glad she knows at last, and that she doesna blame my father,’ Sarah whispered huskily. She half turned to look into Crispin’s clear grey eyes. Th-thank you,’ she found herself stammering as nervously as a young girl. Thank you for helping us,’ she repeated more firmly.

‘You know I will always help you if you need me.’ Crispin put a hand on her shoulder. ‘I think—’

‘Aah, so you’ve returned for another visit, Crispin?’ William’s voice startled them both. ‘It doesn’t seem long since you were last here.’ There was a brittleness in his tone which Crispin did not miss, but his own voice was level, his gaze steady as he returned the greeting.

‘William!’ Sarah’s colour came and went almost guiltily and William’s already watchful eyes narrowed even more.

‘You seem surprised to see me, Sarah.’

‘You’re much earlier than usual.’

‘Yes, I am.’ He offered no explanation. ‘So, Crispin Bradshaw, you once told me Strathtod didn’t mean anything to you, yet you seem to like it well enough these days?’

‘I have always liked to visit Strathtod Estate,’ his gaze flickered briefly over Sarah’s face, ‘and its people.’

‘Yet you once described the estate as an ‘indulgence’ if I remember correctly?’

‘Strathtod is my father’s only indulgence; it is proof of his own achievement, more than fulfilment of his boyhood dreams. It means a great deal to him because he earned it through his own sweat and toil. It can never be that for me; I have done nothing to earn it.

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