“You took the porringer,” I exclaimed. “But why, Thomas?”
Batsy clung nervously to her husband’s hand, hanging her head with shame. Thomas cleared his throat noisily.
“Us thought—us thought that you was a-trying to make out it were all our poor Ned’s fault—I mean, about how he were s’posed to have made Miss Felicity take they pearls. Us wanted to get you sent away from here.” He touched his forelock with an automatic little gesture. “Batsy and me is hoping that you can find it in your heart to be forgiving, Miss Sarah, having in mind the circumstances.”
“Of course, Thomas. We won’t ever speak of it again. I understand how you must have felt at the time. I know that you were devoted to Ned, and I can’t tell you how glad I am that he has been completely exonerated now. Your nephew was a fine young man, of whom you had every right to be proud.”
* * * *
Remembering all these things, I turned away from the window, away from the snowy scene outside. The Pekingese lying stretched before the blazing fire looked up at me, wagging her tail. I stooped to fondle her silky ears.
“No walk today, Foo-foo. You must make do with a quick run in the courtyard.”
At first I had thought that this continual reminder of Nadine would be too much for me to endure. But when Jerome suggested that we should find a home for the little dog, perhaps with someone in the village, I found myself objecting.
“It would seem like taking revenge on a dumb animal. No, darling, let her stay. She’ll be no trouble.”
Mrs. Bardock was crossing the hall, followed by a footman humping a large Christmas tree in a tub. “Put it there, Henry, beside the staircase, that’s right.” She turned to smile at me as I went out to join her. “They should be arriving right soon, ma’am. I thought Miss Ginny might think it fun to help decorate the tree this afternoon.”
“I’m sure she would love that, Mrs. Bardock. I do hope this snow won’t cause delays on the railway.”
“No fear of that, ma’am. Will Lovelace said that he’d had it over the telegraph that the trains are getting through without any trouble. And Thomas Tassell won’t let any amount of snow hold up the carriage. They’ll be here on time, don’t fret.”
Ginny was bringing Miss Fincham home for Christmas. I was glad that the old ties were firmly knotted once more. When deciding the best way to help release Ginny from the shadow of fear under which she had lived for so long, I thought at once of Finchy. My idea had been to invite our old governess to return to Farracombe, but Jerome had been wiser.
“Miss Fincham will have made a new life for herself in Bexhill-on-Sea, and it would hardly be fair to uproot her again. In any case, would it not be preferable for Ginny to have a spell away from Farracombe?”
He had made inquiries, and discovered a school for girls not far from where Finchy lived. It had all worked out exceedingly well for Ginny, because her new friend, Adele, Mrs. Balfour’s niece, had been sent to the school with her. Miss Fincham, with whom the two girls often take tea on Sundays, writes regularly and assures us that Ginny is settling down happily.
The front door swung open and Jerome came in, his reefer coat damp and a little grimy from the fields. As he slipped an arm around me, I could smell the sweetness of hay upon him, and the sharp tang of his sweat.
“Have they arrived yet?” he inquired.
I shook my head. “But they should be here any minute now.”
“Good. I was hoping I’d be back in time.”
Together we stood waiting in the hall, watching for the carriage through the tall windows because the snow would deaden the sound of its wheels. I glanced up at the leaden sky and saw no sign of ravens winging their way homeward. It was months now, I realized with a ripple of surprise, since I had noticed a raven flying over Farracombe.
About the Author
NANCY BUCKINGHAM is the pseudonym of British writers Nancy Sawyer (formerly a medical social worker) and John Sawyer (formerly a director of an advertising company) who have authored 45 novels, under several names, also numerous short stories and serials. Nancy was one of the original members of the Romance Writers of America. In the Romantic Novelists Association in the UK she did her turn as Chairman, and was for many years a Vice-President.
Publishing Information
Copyright © 1973 by Nancy Buckingham
Originally published by Hawthorn Books
Electronically published in 2013 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228
http://www.RegencyReads.com
Electronic sales: [email protected]
This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.
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