Sons and Daughters (35 page)

He ran towards her and took her hand, skipping beside her the rest of the way to the front door.

‘You’ve got your hair so different, and you look so pretty. Papa – Papa – come and see,’ he called as he bounded up the steps and in through the front door. ‘Miss Charlotte’s home and just
look
at her.’

Miles appeared from his study and Ben, halfway up the stairs, paused and turned to look down at her, his mouth gaping open.

Blushing a little, Charlotte submitted herself to their scrutiny. Dressed now in a fashionable coat and hat, she knew she looked very different from the drab creature they had known before.

‘My dear, you look wonderful. What a transformation! Oh, I’m so sorry,’ Miles added at once. ‘That’s sounds dreadfully rude.’

Charlotte threw back her head and laughed out loud. ‘But true. You can’t offend me, Miles. I’m too busy basking in your compliments.’

‘Where’ve you been?’ Georgie was tugging at her hand. ‘We’ve missed you, haven’t we, Papa? Even Philip. He says he’s no one who’ll answer him back now.’

Charlotte sobered and her glance went to Miles. ‘How is he?’

Miles shrugged. ‘No improvement, I afraid. Physically – or in his temper. I’ve had to ban Georgie from going in to see him. The little chap comes out crying.’ He ruffled the boy’s curls affectionately. ‘And Ben only pokes his head in now and again. He tried to read to him, but Philip only snatched the book out of his hands and flung it across the room.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll see what I can do later, but first, could I talk to you, Miles? I – I need your advice.’

Miles blinked. ‘My advice? It’s usually me coming to see you for advice about farming matters.’

‘This has nothing to do with farming.’

‘Ah well, in that case, please come into the study. Georgie – run and play, there’s a good boy.’

‘Please may I ask Brewster to drive me to see Tommy?’

‘After luncheon.’

The little boy beamed and looked up at Charlotte. ‘And will you come and play with me in the playroom after you’ve finished talking to Papa?’ Artfully, he added, ‘You can play with the dolls’ house.’

‘Maybe I’ll come tomorrow, Georgie. I’ve only just come back from my holiday. I haven’t even been home yet. But I’ll come and see you and Philip tomorrow.’

Releasing herself from his hold, she waved her hand at both Georgie and Ben, who was still standing on the stairs gazing at her, and followed Miles into his study.

‘So,’ he said as they both sat down either side of the fireplace. ‘How can I help you, Charlotte?’ Just like his son, he was still gazing at her as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

She took a deep breath and relayed to him all that she’d learned. ‘I still can’t believe that my father could be quite so devious. And how he managed to arrange a funeral without a body, I just don’t know.’

Miles’s mind was working fast. He was remembering his conversations with the Warren family, how they had been mystified as to why old Harry had insisted on seeing the vicar before he died and how he’d been buried next to Alice Crawford’s grave. A woman, who, Miles now learned, was not dead at all.

‘Leave it with me, Charlotte. I have a suspicion as to how it was done, but will you trust me to find out for you?’

She nodded. ‘Of course,’ she said simply. ‘I can hardly ask my father, can I?’

‘What do you plan to do?’

She sighed. ‘I really don’t know. I have Mary and Edward to think of. They’ve devoted their lives to me, even though they’ve hidden this secret all that time.’

‘Don’t blame them. I expect your father put an intolerable pressure on them.’

‘No, I don’t.’

‘But?’

‘But I don’t know if I want to go on living at Buckthorn Farm, running the place when it isn’t even going to be mine eventually. I’m sorry,’ she added swiftly, ‘to sound so blunt.’

Miles grimaced. ‘It’s the truth, and I think you know I don’t like it any more than you do.’

‘If I could find a position for Mary and Edward, then I would leave.’ She’d already told him that her aunt and uncle had offered her a home.

‘They could come here and they would be welcome,’ Miles said at once and then asked gently, ‘but what of your father? I know you’re angry with him and you have every right to be, but would you really leave him?’

She shrugged. ‘He can employ people to do everything I do.’

‘But they wouldn’t be a daughter to him.’

Charlotte looked him straight in the eyes and her words broke his heart.

‘He’ll not miss me. He’s never wanted me. All he’s ever wanted was a son.’

It was getting late when she entered Buckthorn Farm and went straight to the kitchen. Mary and Edward, seated at the table eating their evening meal, looked up. Mary’s spoon clattered on to her plate and she threw up her hands, giving a little scream. ‘Oh, Miss Charlotte, whatever will he say? You look lovely, but – but whatever will the master say?’

Charlotte peeled off her new gloves and smiled at Mary. These two people were very dear to her. They’d been like parents to her – better than either of her own. For she had to face the reality that, whatever her reasons and however good those reasons were, her own mother had abandoned her. She hoped that she could persuade Mary and Edward that she didn’t blame either of them, even though they’d kept such a dreadful secret for over twenty years.

Mary bustled about the kitchen, spooning food on to a plate.

‘I’m not hungry, Mary, truly, though I’d love a cup of tea. Then, please, sit down. I want to talk to you both.’

Husband and wife exchanged a glance but neither of them could foresee the bombshell that Charlotte was about to drop.

She told them everything that had happened over the past week. When she got to the part about meeting her mother, finding out at last that she was still alive, Mary’s eyes widened and she burst into noisy tears. Edward hung his head and refused to look at her.

Charlotte clasped Mary’s hands across the table. ‘I don’t blame you – either of you. You’ve always cared for me. You’re the only people in this house who’ve shown me any love.’

‘The master made us promise never to tell you,’ Mary sobbed. ‘He’d’ve sent us packing if we hadn’t agreed. And I’d promised your mama that we’d look after you. Besides,’ she added, as if it explained everything – and it did – ‘we do love you, miss, like you was our own. We always have.’

‘And do you know how he managed to arrange that travesty of a funeral? Because that’s what it was.’

Again, Mary and Edward exchanged a glance.

‘No, we don’t, miss,’ Edward said. ‘We never did know. That I promise you. When we got to the church gates that day, he sent us all packing. Said he wanted to be on his own. Just him and the vicar. None of us knew what happened after that.’ He glanced at his wife. ‘Of course, me an’ Mary knew it wasn’t really your mama in the coffin.’

‘Then who was it? Or was it empty? Was it all just a charade?’

‘I don’t know, miss,’ Edward said, looking harassed. ‘Truly I don’t.’

Slowly, Charlotte rose. Mary looked up at her nervously. ‘What are you going to do?’

‘I’m not sure yet.’ Charlotte grinned impishly. ‘Maybe the shock at the sight of the new me is going to be quite enough for the moment, don’t you think?’

‘You Jezebel! You whore! You – you wicked, ungrateful girl. When I think of all I’ve done for you and this is how you repay me.’

‘All you’ve done for me, Father?’ Charlotte repeated. ‘Tell me – exactly what have you done for your
daughter
?’

‘I’ve fed you and clothed you – kept a roof over your head. What more do you want? To be pampered and cosseted and spoiled, I suppose.’

‘There’s been no fear of that,’ she retorted.

His eyes narrowed to spiteful slits as he looked at her. ‘You’re getting very cheeky, miss. I can see Euphemia has been a bad influence on you. I might have known. She always was a flighty piece. Ran off to marry that good-for-nothing against our father’s wishes. Thought herself better than the rest of us. We Crawfords have always worked for our living and worked hard.’

‘And you think I haven’t?’ Charlotte said, deceptively softly.

He gave a low growl and his disdainful glance raked her from head to toe. ‘You’ve been useful, I’ll grant you that.’ It was the closest he’d come – or was ever likely to – to giving her praise. ‘So, you can take off those fripperies and get back to your work.’

‘You told me to leave, not so long ago.’

‘You’ll do as you’re told, miss.’

‘Why should I work to keep this farm going for someone else?’

His lip curled. ‘You’ll be taken care of. D’you think his father won’t make an offer soon? His son’s a cripple now. He’ll never walk again. His fancy notions of a career in the law are gone. And Thornton – if he’s any sense, which I sometimes doubt – will want to secure his son’s future. It’s too good an offer to turn down.’

‘And your will is made, is it? In favour of Philip Thornton.’

‘It will be. I’ll see to that.’

‘I see,’ she said quietly. For a long moment she was silent. She’d entered this room determined to face him with the news that she’d found out his dreadful secret; that, despite all his efforts to hide from her the fact that her mother was alive, she’d met her and talked to her. Moreover, she had the offer of a home with her aunt and uncle – and her mother.

But something held back the words. She saw him hunched before the fire, an old man before his time, his shoulders rounded, his back bent, his face lined with bitterness and his eyes joyless, and the words would not come. She had the uncomfortable feeling that such news would cause a seizure – one from which he might not recover. Oh, she would tell him – eventually. One day she would demand an explanation, but perhaps the sight of her transformation from the drab, docile creature he’d always demanded she be, was enough for one day.

‘Get out of those clothes,’ he said again. ‘Burn them, d’you hear me? And find another pair of spectacles to wear. You must have an old pair somewhere. You look like a woman of the streets, dressed like that.’

As she turned to leave the room, devilment made her deliver her last remark. ‘Well, if you’re turning me out, that’s what I may have to become.’

‘I couldn’t do it, Mary,’ Charlotte laughed ruefully. ‘There I was coming home dressed in all my finery, thinking I was this changed woman who would stand up to my bully of a father and, at the last minute, I couldn’t do it.’

‘Maybe now’s not the right time, Miss Charlotte.’ Mary’s relief was obvious. ‘I mean, do you really need to tell him at all? Isn’t it enough that you know? That you can keep in touch with your mother in secret? Maybe see her from time to time?’

Charlotte took the older woman’s hands into hers. ‘Mary – darling Mary – what are you so frightened of?’

‘Him. I’ve always been frightened of him.’ Tears spilled down her face again. ‘The times I’ve had to stop Edward from squaring up to him. And, sometimes, I haven’t been able to stop him and I thought we’d be thrown out on the spot. But – but I think the master knows that he’d be hard pressed to find anyone to take our place.’

Charlotte laughed wryly. ‘It would be impossible, I’d say.’

‘He’s hopping mad that the Warrens have left.’

‘But he gave them notice. He said it in front of half the village.’

‘I know, I know. But your father says these things and he doesn’t mean them. They’re all threats to keep people under his thumb.’ She smiled wistfully. ‘But he threatened your mama once too often – and she went.’

‘Leaving me,’ Charlotte whispered.

‘That was the last thing she wanted,’ Mary cried at once. ‘It broke her heart. But she knew that if she took you, he’d hunt her down.’

‘I don’t know why, when he obviously didn’t want me anyway. Because I’m a girl. Why didn’t he just let me go – let us both go?’

Mary bit her lip, knowing what she was going to say was going to be painful for Charlotte. ‘Because – because you were better than – than – ’

‘Than what?’

‘Than nothing,’ Mary whispered. ‘And besides, you don’t take anything from Osbert Crawford whether he really wants it or not. He’s a vicious, cruel, self-centred man, who doesn’t know the meaning of the word “love”. I doubt he ever loved your mother. He just wanted someone to bear him a son. There now, I’ve said it – even though he’s your father.’

Charlotte shrugged. ‘My mother said as much herself. She said it was a marriage arranged by their fathers.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘My two grandfathers, weren’t they?’

‘I never knew anything about all that,’ Mary said. ‘I only came to work here when your mother and father were married, and Edward only a few months before me. But I loved your mother. She was a sweet, innocent creature – and very young – who was cruelly used. I never blamed her for running away. She suffered cruelly.’ Mary paused and looked at Charlotte. ‘I hope you can find it in your heart to understand and forgive her.’

Charlotte nodded, but at the moment could not make that promise wholeheartedly – not yet.

‘What happened to her when she left here?’ Mary wanted to know. ‘Did she tell you? Has she been all right all these years?’