It was a small, quiet affair and Mr Wilkins seemed significantly cheered by the occasion. It was said that he had not been in good humour when he married his sister to Noah a few weeks before. Quinta thought that in Beatrice Faith would have at least one customer in her shop. When their vows were exchanged and Patrick had slid the ring on her finger, they moved to the font. Patrick George Joseph Ross protested as Mr Wilkins splashed cold water on his head.
Faith carried him away afterwards to play with her glossy black ringlets entwined in scarlet ribbons. She sang new songs to him, the old slave songs of her ancestors, which he liked. Quinta and Patrick walked outside to her family grave, placed half of her wedding posy in front of the memorial stone and said a prayer. Patrick was taking them all into town next to put the other half of the flowers on his father’s grave. He had used his father’s gems and gold to purchase his own pony and trap and he was very proud of it.
‘Did you see Sir William at the back of the church?’ Quinta commented as they returned to their new form of transport.
‘Yes. We exchanged a few words while you were talking to your friends from the Hall. Does he attend all the marriage ceremonies of his villagers?’
‘I don’t think so. We were honoured by his presence. What did he say to you?’
‘Not much; he was pleased I had decided to return. He shook my hand.’ Patrick sounded surprised.
‘Did he?’ Quinta raised her eyebrows. ‘Then he will receive you at the Hall.’
‘I believe so. He said he was going in for one of those new steam engines for the harvest this year and asked me over to see a demonstration.’
‘Will you go?’
‘Of course I shall! I am a farmer and steam is our future.’ He kissed her briefly, fully, on her receptive lips, and their eyes exchanged a mutual smoulder of passion. ‘I love you, Mrs Ross.’
‘I know,’ she replied happily. ‘I love you, too.’
Percival Wilkins retreated to his study at the vicarage to write in his parish records. Since Beatrice had left, the house was quieter. He had employed a housekeeper who looked after his domestic affairs with diligence and patience. Consequently, he had spent more time of late reading his church records and organising them in his bookcase. His interest in the Haig family had been encouraged by this recent difficult affair, but he had been surprised to learn that Quinta had been born on exactly the same day as her elder sister, Eliza, had died. And when he examined the records more closely, checking and cross-checking the names, he was astonished.
Percy heard the clang of the front-door bell. A few moments later his new housekeeper announced that Sir William was in the hall.
‘Show him in here and bring whisky.’ His benefactor came in, nodded briefly and sat by the fire burning fiercely in the grate. Percy left his desk to join him. ‘I noticed you were in church for the ceremony, Sir William,’ he said.
‘Yes. I wanted to see this affair through to the end. Well done, Percival.You did the right thing by coming to me in the first place.’
‘Well, thank you for your help, too. I can only apologise again for allowing my sister to behave as she has.’
‘She is well suited to Noah and his farmhouse. If she is blessed with good health, their marriage will be a happy one.’
‘I pray that Mr and Mrs Ross have the same good fortune.’
‘I, too.’
There was a short, awkward silence until Percy said, ‘I did not know about young Quinta until recently.’ He waved his arm at the record books open on his desk. ‘It’s all there.’
‘That is why I am here. I’m told how fond you are of the archives. How much have your learned?’
‘I know that Laura Haig was not Quinta’s mother.’
Sir William rested his elbows on his knees and interlaced his fingers. ‘She was her grandmother. Joseph Haig was her grandfather, not her father, and her real mother ...’
‘. . . was Eliza, who she thought was her sister and who died on the same day as she was born.’
‘Quinta was born out of wedlock. That knowledge has been kept a secret so far. I can rely on your discretion, can’t I, Percival?’
‘Of course you can, sir. Now she is safely married, I should not wish any young wife’s life ruined by scandal. But there must be others who know.’
‘Surprisingly few; and becoming fewer by the year. It was a Hall matter at the time and well concealed. Even I didn’t know until my mother was on her deathbed.’
‘She told you?’The biggest shock for Percy had been discovering the identity of Quinta’s father. He could not believe his eyes. But it was there, handwritten by his predecessor in the register. ‘She told you Quinta was your half-sister?’ His mouth snapped shut as the study door opened and his housekeeper brought in a tray.
‘Ah, whisky; just what I need,’ Sir William exclaimed. ‘May I presume?’ He got up and poured a glass for each of them.
Percival accepted his gratefully. ‘I’m surprised your mother told you about your father’s indiscretion.’
‘My father’s indiscretion?You had better show me the record.’ Sir William moved to the desk.
Percival checked the lettering on the book spines and selected one. He had been distressed by the entry but the old Squire was well known to be a rogue.
‘When I read it,’ he said, ‘it explained Quinta’s name. She was his fifth child. Your father had had four children and lost two sons. Even so, I was shocked. Eliza, God rest her soul, was only fourteen.’ He ran his forefinger down the entries. ‘There. Quinta’s father is recorded as William Clarence Egerton Swinborough. Your father, I believe.’
Sir William gave a rueful smile. ‘I suppose my father wanted those who knew to think that; it was the lesser scandal. He wished me to marry money and a bastard child would never do for the wealthy manufacturers of the Riding. But you believe wrong, Percy. I am William Clarence Egerton Swinborough too, named for my father. Quinta is my daughter.’
‘You! Dear Lord, Sir William, I never supposed it was you! You must have been very young at the time.’
‘I was seventeen and Eliza Haig was preparing to be a nurse-maid for my sister’s children. Her parents had a tied cottage on the far side of the estate. She was very pretty, as her mother was, and, oh Percy, her daughter looks so much like her! I used to meet Eliza in Five-acre Wood, well away from the Hall. I was wild in my youth and out of control. But I - I adored her. My father found out about my secret trysts and made sure I was kept busy with my education until I had matured. When I came home from University my mother told me Eliza had died. She said nothing about a baby.’ He finished his whisky. ‘I was married soon after.’
‘So your father set up the tenancy of Top Field to give his granddaughter respectability?’
‘Eliza’s parents were decent, God-fearing people and I had wronged them. They were almost destroyed by the trauma of losing their only child. The scandal of illegitimacy for their grandchild was already too much for them to bear.’
‘Yes, I see how they would also wish for secrecy.’
‘My poor darling Eliza.’ He shook his head and sat down wearily. ‘She took herself off to Five-acre Wood to have her child alone. When her parents found her she had died from loss of blood and the cold. If I had known I could have told them where to look for her! Her baby survived and thrived in the care of her grandmother.’
‘And no one told you?’
‘My mother did eventually; a few years ago, just before she died. She unburdened herself of the truth and made me promise to keep the secret for Quinta’s sake. She had agreed with my father that Farmer Bilton would provide well for her. Their children would be properly educated and accepted as gentry. It made sense to me. I can never tell my wife about Quinta; it would cause her too much distress. So I decided not to interfere. ’
Percy Wilkins thought of Sir William’s childless marriage. The Lord had dealt him a harsh punishment for his wickedness. Nonetheless Percy felt rather proud of his clever parishioner
s as he considered how hard they had worked to bury the truth and overcome this tragedy. Illegitimacy was indeed a dreadful stigma and the Haigs and the Swinboroughs had conspired well to avoid a scandal in the parish.
‘Your secrets are safe with me, Sir William,’ he said kindly.
He closed the registers, locked them in his bookcase, dropped the key in his waistcoat pocket and gave it a reassuring pat.
A Mother's Sacrifice Page 36
