Straw in the Wind

by Janet Woods

‘Yes, she is.’

  ‘Since I lost my sight I’ve developed a good memory, along with acute hearing and touch. In fact, my loss of sight, which you considered a disability, has allowed me to discover, and more importantly, bring my other abilities to the forefront.’

  ‘My pardon if I offended you.’

  ‘You didn’t. What I want you to know is that I can still reason, and can smell an evasion from a mile away.’ Then came the question Adam was dreading. ‘You were not passing by, since the road outside my gate leads nowhere. And it seems that you had no intention of visiting me. But you were loitering outside my house for a reason. Now you’re enquiring about my housekeeper, which has intrigued me. I can only come to the conclusion you were spying on her. Why?’

  Adam quickly decided on the truth. ‘I had no intention of intruding. I was hoping to get a glimpse of Miss Finn before I returned home, for identification purposes. I was about to turn back when the storm came on.’

  His host raised an eyebrow. ‘Identification?’

  ‘To see if she resembles those seeking to prove kinship to her. My enquiries are on behalf of a man who thinks Miss Finn may be his daughter. I was not about to approach her at this stage though, since he’s abroad for several more months and I don’t like giving anyone false hope.’

  ‘May I ask who this man is?’

  ‘That I won’t reveal, since it’s a confidential matter.’

  ‘Of course you can’t . . . and now you’ve seen my housekeeper do you think she’s the young woman you’re looking for?’

  Hating himself for doing it, but knowing that curiosity often overcame a man’s natural instinct for discretion, Adam employed a tiny amount of subterfuge. ‘I’ve tracked Serafina over four counties. She certainly could be the girl I’m looking for, but she bears very little resemblance to the family concerned.’

  Leighton’s alert posture told Adam that his host was familiar with the name in connection with his housekeeper. ‘Serafina?’

  ‘That’s a name we call her by. Her file name, if you like.’

  ‘Because . . .?’

  Adam gave a faint smile. Leighton played things close to his chest. This was a man after his own heart, but he dealt with facts and it wouldn’t be wise to tell him that it was a name the wind on the heath had once blown into Marianne Thornton’s pretty ear. ‘We believe she was named after an aunt with that name, who ran an orphanage on the outskirts of Dorchester. Constance Serafina Jarvis her name was.’

  ‘My housekeeper does admit to having a name such as Serafina, but she can’t quite remember some things from her past, since she’s been moved from pillar to post. She has an ambition . . . to reach old age with enough money to own a house with two bedrooms, so she can board a respectable lodger to help her make ends meet.’

  He imagined a white-haired Serafina in a little cottage like Ham’s mother had. Adam’s heart went out to the girl for having such a modest dream. Had she been allowed to remain within her family Serafina’s expectations and desires would surely have been much more advanced.

  ‘A laudable plan.’

  ‘That’s if she doesn’t marry and have children in the meantime, or so she tells me. I think she has a need to feel secure, which accounts for the forward planning.’

  ‘We all do, and having a background, however humble, gives us a sense of belonging. I may be able to provide her with that. Do you have any children, Mr Leighton?’

  ‘I suggest that we use first names, Adam. No children unfortunately, my wife . . . died. It was an accident and I had the reins.’

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, that must have been hard to live with.’ Adam’s head spun and he remembered little Annie at the cottage, with her flushed face and faint pink rash. He dismissed it. She’d had a childhood disease, one he’d probably suffered in childhood himself, therefore giving him immunity. Another fit of the shivers attacked him and his glass chattered against his teeth.

  ‘Are you feeling unwell, Adam?’

  ‘I was chilled to the bone and I’m shivering now and again.’

  ‘It sounds as though you’re coming down with a fever.’

  ‘It’s probably just the cold. I should be all right by morning, though I’m enjoying your hospitality so much that I might fake an illness just to stay here longer.’

  Leighton laughed. ‘You’d be quite welcome.’

  As it was, Adam didn’t have to fake an illness. He woke the next morning with a sore throat, a soaring fever and a rash. He staggered to a chair, rang the bell and was rewarded by the patter of feet, followed by a knock at the door. It was Serafina’s voice – a voice as clear as a crystal bell. ‘Mr Chapman?’

  ‘Don’t come in,’ he said.

  Contrarily, she did the opposite. The door opened and she advanced upon him, stopping a few paces away to accuse him, ‘Your voice is croaking; are you feeling ill?’

  He was at a disadvantage, sitting there in his host’s spare robe with his bare feet sticking out of the bottom. ‘Go away, Miss Finn. I think I’m infectious since I have a sore throat and a rash.’

  She advanced the rest of the way and gazed down at him, concern in her eyes. ‘After living in the workhouse I’ve been exposed to every infection going. Show me your rash.’

  He showed her his neck, where the rash was a blotchy red tide spreading up to his face.

  ‘Is it anywhere else?’

  ‘On my stomach,’ and he clutched his robe tightly against it. ‘I’m not going to allow you to inspect it. Do you know what the cause is?’

  ‘Ah, I see that I have you at a disadvantage now, Mr Chapman.’ She laid the back of her hand lightly against his brow. It was a well-worked hand, but cool and soothing . . . almost motherly. ‘Yes, I know what ails you.’

  ‘Tell me then. Am I infectious?’

  ‘I’m afraid so. But we’ll wait for the doctor. He’s a man, and won’t approve of me diagnosing your illness before he does.’

  He wanted to smile at the thought that this chit of a girl would take advantage of his infliction to criticize the learned doctor. ‘You’re infuriating, Miss Finn. Perhaps you could offer me a prognosis instead.’

  Her head slanted to one side and she smiled. ‘If you stay in bed and rest, drink plenty of fluids, behave yourself, remain calm and do as you’re told, you should be ready to return home in about a week’s time.’

  Finch Leighton sent Oscar to London to inform Adam’s family that the man of the family was suffering from German measles and would be his guest for as long as it took him to recover.

  Oscar returned the next day, accompanied by Adam’s sister.

  ‘Oscar said you wouldn’t mind if I came down to look after my brother. I do hope that’s true and you’ll forgive the intrusion,’ she said. ‘My mother will worry less if I’m here to look after him, and Mr Wyvern tells me you’re a gentleman of good reputation. Are you? I will try and stay out of your way.’

  Her voice was calm and unhurried, like moonlight on water. The hand Finch took in his was warm, the skin like silk. She smelled of honeysuckle.

  Finch had never believed in love at first sight. When he’d fallen in love with Diana it had been her looks that had gradually attracted him, but that hadn’t been enough after a while and her faults had come to the fore.

  It struck him as ironic that he’d had to wait until he was blind to discover that love could be instinctive, and it was a perfectly feasible concept to be attracted to a woman sight unseen, even for one such as him.

  He sensed in Celia Chapman a rare perfection that he was totally at one with. At the same time he felt like weeping. A woman like her could have no interest in a man such as himself . . . so flawed.

  Yet he found he could be no less than gallant and manly in his reaction to her presence. ‘I’m glad you’re here, Miss Chapman; your brother talked so much about you last night that I feel as though I already know you. As for staying out of my way, I’ll never forgive you if you deliberately deprive me of your company. I will, however, for
give any presumption or trespass you wished to make,’ he said, and when he kissed the soft feminine hand he held, she drew in a sharp intake of breath.

  As he was readying himself for bed later that evening he asked Oscar, ‘What do you make of Miss Celia Chapman?’

  ‘Oh, very nice, sir. She’s a sensible, well-mannered young woman. Her bearing is graceful, her manner polite, if a little diffident. Her shyness is appealing, I thought. She’s not the type of woman who would push herself forward to be noticed in a crowd.’

  ‘That was the impression I formed, too.’

  ‘Oh, by the way, sir. I found the key you lost the last time you were here. It was in the drawer of the bedside cabinet. I can’t imagine how we missed it.’

  ‘Odd . . . I could have sworn I’d lost it in the London house. Are you sure it’s my key and not the housekeeper’s?’ He hoped it wasn’t Sara’s. She would have to learn to curb her curiosity and her instinct to clean everything in sight, and he’d specifically told her to leave Diana’s room as it was.

  Nine

  Adam was still asleep when Celia woke. Over breakfast in the kitchen with the gossipy cook, Celia quickly discovered that everyone at Leighton Manor had recovered from this mild version of measles at one time or another, usually in childhood.

  ‘I’m so pleased my brother won’t be able to pass it on,’ she said to Maggie.

  ‘Would anyone mind if I went for a walk, do you think? Compared to London, it’s so lovely and fresh here.’

  ‘You go, Miss Chapman. I’ll tell Miss Finn, and Oscar will see that Mr Chapman is comfortable. He’s a good sort.’

  The morning was beautiful, though cold along the country lanes while the dew was still rising from the ground. Then the sun came out to dispel the frost and everything sparkled. It was such a pretty morning, the air fresh and crisp. Rabbits raced across the fields, birds of prey hovered overhead and a hedgehog trundled across in front of her. Celia had fallen in love with the peacefulness of her surroundings. Leighton Manor was a handsome, yet homely building.

  The long-case clock in the hall was chiming eleven when she got back and she guiltily sped upstairs to see her brother.

  His face brightened when she went inside. ‘Serafina said you’d gone out.’

  ‘It’s such pretty countryside here, and I was tempted to go further than I meant to.’

  ‘It has done you good for your cheeks have a healthy glow to them.’

  ‘Mama said she can’t imagine how you didn’t catch this disease when you were an infant, and that she hopes you soon recover in time to take her to the altar,’ she told her brother.

  ‘I’ll try. How is the agency coping?’

  ‘You don’t have to worry. I’ve put Andrew Parsonage in overall charge of the agency, and Edgar has promised that either he or his clerk will visit every day to advise them on any legal problems that might arise.’

  ‘That’s good of him.’ He smiled. ‘Have you been introduced to Miss Sara Finn yet? She’s been looking after me wonderfully well.’

  ‘That dark-haired young woman?’ She lowered her voice and smiled at him. ‘My dear Adam, I think you’ve made a conquest there. She was taken aback a bit when she learned I’d come here to care for you, until I revealed that I was your sister, then she was all smiles. Even then she told me quite firmly that I wasn’t to tax your strength. At this very moment she’s probably hovering outside the door to make sure I don’t.’

  ‘Then you’d better do as you’re told. Sit in that chair by the window because I have something to tell you about her. The young lady is the object of my search, and although she doesn’t know it I have confided in Finch Leighton. So be discreet, and befriend the girl if you can.’

  ‘Sara Finn is the missing sister! From looks alone I’d never suspect that she’s related to Charlotte and Marianne. Not that she isn’t quite lovely in her own way . . . she is. Such big eyes, and a sweet little face . . . and she has quite a provocative way with her.’

  ‘She certainly has.’

  ‘Sara Finn,’ Celia mused, and smiled. ‘The name is so very nearly Serafina when run together. Do you think she deliberately changed it so she wouldn’t be found?’

  ‘Why wouldn’t she want to be found?’

  ‘Obviously she’s a bright young woman. She has a job that she seems to like, and judging by the appearance of the house she does it very well. She has an employer who is kindness itself, and he treats her with respect. She is earning a living. Why would she want to change that when the chance of her background being beneficial to her is practically nil?’

  Celia was right. Why should she? Adam admitted to himself that he’d missed the similarity of name entirely. That couldn’t be a coincidence, surely. He gazed at his sister with new respect. ‘Actually, there’s a chance that her name could be Mary Fenn. Our Serafina lived on a farm with a family called Fenn. There were two girls about the same age and most of the family was lost to cholera . . .’ He began to shiver. ‘Sorry, this happens now and again. I was thoroughly soaked and chilled to the marrow.’

  Pulling the blanket up to his chin she plumped up his pillows and gently kissed him. ‘Enough talking, Adam. I’ll read your notebook while you try and sleep.’

  Eventually her brother’s teeth ceased their chatter, but he was restless. There came a knock at the door and the housekeeper came in. She carried a tray with a bowl of broth. The aroma made Celia’s mouth water.

  Waking with a start, Adam said apologetically, ‘I’m not hungry.’

  Celia observed the way the young woman handled herself. ‘Just a spoonful or two to warm you up inside,’ Sara Finn said gently and she tucked a napkin under his chin. ‘Maggie made it especially for you, and since a chicken lost its life in the quest to help you regain your health, the least you can do is oblige all concerned – especially the chicken – by eating it.’

  When Adam opened his mouth to protest the housekeeper put a spoonful of broth inside and he had no recourse but to either swallow it or spit it out. Adam would not resort to the latter, he was too much the gentleman, Celia thought, and she grinned when he swallowed it.

  ‘There’s a good boy,’ Sara Finn cooed, something so unexpected that Celia was forced to stifle a giggle when her brother’s eyes widened.

  ‘Damn you, Miss Finn, you’re taking advantage of my good nature and mocking me,’ Adam said weakly.

  ‘Yes, I know. Now do stop feeling so sorry for yourself and eat,’ she said, and managed to slide another spoonful in.

  Celia’s chuckle brought a grin to the girl’s face. ‘Luncheon will be served in the dining room at half past the hour. Mr Leighton said he’d be honoured if you would join him, Miss Chapman.’

  Colour flushed her cheeks. ‘But I’m here to look after my brother.’

  ‘He’ll be taking a nap as soon as he’s eaten this broth, won’t you, Mr Chapman? Doctor’s orders. Besides, you’ve got to eat. We can go down together if you wish.’

  ‘Thank you for being so good to my brother.’

  ‘It’s a pleasure.’

  Celia sucked in a breath when Adam gazed up at the housekeeper through feverish eyes and murmured, ‘Is it a pleasure?’

  ‘Didn’t I just say so, Mr Chapman? Now, do open your mouth and eat this before it gets cold.’

  ‘I’m quite capable of feeding myself.’

  ‘Then why am I doing it?’

  Helpfully, he offered, ‘Because you’ve trapped my arms under the sheet and have given me little choice.’

  After her brother obediently opened his mouth for the next spoonful, Sara stood and held out the bowl. ‘Prop yourself up on the pillows, then.’

  When Adam freed his arms and shuffled himself into a more upright position, she handed him the bowl and warned, ‘I’m staying until you’ve eaten every morsel, mind.’

  ‘Bully,’ he grumbled, and when her brother’s grey eyes engaged those of Serafina, the girl gave him a quick, shy smile and a faint flush appeared on her face. ‘You must tell
me if I become too overbearing. It’s my greatest fault.’

  ‘Is it? It seems to me to be a rather endearing characteristic.’

  When a smile lit her face at the compliment a sudden affection for the young woman surged through Celia. If anyone could nurse Adam back to health quickly it would be Serafina.

  Not only did Celia share a pleasant lunch with Finch Leighton, he made it clear that he expected her company for dinner, and she could only oblige him.

  He looked handsome in a dinner suit. And she was pleased she had her lavender gown to wear, even though he couldn’t see it.

  ‘How is the invalid?’ he asked her.

  ‘Sara has him organized. He’s regained his appetite and is eating a light dinner at the moment.’ She laughed. ‘Maggie has made him an apple pie for pudding, and Sara won’t let him have it until he’s eaten his broth,’ Celia told him. ‘Not that Adam minds. I think he’s rather enjoying being made a fuss of.’

  ‘As most men do when they’re indisposed. There’s nothing like a woman’s concern to make a man feel . . . wanted.’

  ‘Adam should be ready to travel in a few days if the doctor is agreeable. I feel as though I’ve intruded by coming here. It was silly of my mother to panic.’

  ‘If she hadn’t I would have been denied the pleasure of meeting you, and of enjoying the pleasure of your company. You must see the week out, at least. I’m given to understand that your mother is to marry a colleague of mine, Edgar Wyvern.’

  ‘Yes, at the end of January. My mother and I were addressing the invitations when your servant arrived with news of Adam’s illness. I recall that you were on Edgar’s guest list. The invitations are in hand and one will be sent to your London address.’

  ‘My thanks.’

  ‘It’s short notice, I know, but my mother and Edgar saw no need for a long engagement. I do hope you’ll be able to attend. It will be an afternoon wedding service followed by a buffet and a reception at Edgar’s home. Then the following week we’ve been invited to the theatre to see the play The Thirst For Gold. Have you seen it?’ Celia softly laughed. ‘I’m so sorry, I do hope you’ll forgive that slip of the tongue.’