On Sparrow Hill (16 page)

Mrs. Cotgrave smiled. “God will show us the way, Miss Berrie. He’s brought us here for a purpose and isn’t going to abandon us now.”

A surge of hope filled her. She needed to hear those words. But worry wasn’t easily conquered, not with so much weighing on a possible loss. “This will undoubtedly be a legal battle—and a moral one as well. If this Finola O’Shea truly has a claim to half this property, what’s the right thing to do?”

“Then another thing we might do is meet this woman, wouldn’t you say? See what motivates her to do such a thing—the principle of what’s rightly hers or greed.” Mrs. Cotgrave’s smile reappeared. “If all goes miraculously well, we might persuade her to join our list of benefactors.”

Laughter escaped Berrie, though she wasn’t amused. “Now that
would
be a miracle, Mrs. Cotgrave. A miracle indeed.”

With a prayer, Berrie set out for a walk to Mr. Truebody’s office. It was a modest, two-story, Tudor-style home and office all in one, located just outside the center of town. An inviting placard hung outside the door: Tobias Truebody, Justice of the Peace. She wished she believed he might be of some help.

Mr. Truebody read through the letter, frowning. He didn’t seem surprised she brought with her a problem that needed to be addressed.

“As you know, we don’t offer solicitor services in this office, Miss Hamilton.” His gaze never left the letter. “I was afraid something might come up along these lines, having so many women involved in the transfer of property.” He’d proven more than once his skepticism over one of her gender running Escott Manor, even if she and Mrs. Cotgrave did answer to him, a board of guardians, officers of health, and the Lunacy Commission—men all.

Berrie ignored the irritation his words inspired. “You might point me in the direction of finding someone, Mr. Truebody—someone who might not charge an exorbitant fee, since we cannot afford to pay very much, as you know.”

He nodded. “Yes, I’m well aware of the costly nature of your institution.” He raised his gaze to meet hers, his slate eyes void of everything except severity. “You realize this could be the end of your hospital, don’t you? Before it’s even begun to bud?”

Berrie’s patience was tried to its end. She snatched from his hand the letter, which came away without trouble. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Truebody. As you know, my family is not without influence. I will take this matter to them. If we have any need of—” She stopped herself from the direction her words had taken her. Berrie had yet to decipher what services he provided that she welcomed. He kept a rein on their money, was a zealous clerk to their paperwork, stern mouthpiece for the rules. “If we can think of any way you might be of assistance, we’ll contact you immediately.”

Then she left his office without caring about the possible repercussions of insulting a man who thought himself more necessary than he was.

23

* * *

Rebecca honked the horn, seeing Dana and Padgett emerge from the train onto the platform.

“Here I am!” Rebecca called, staying by the car.

Dana and Padgett rushed to her side, passing through the hustle of the busy Northamptonshire station as tourists and travelers embarked. Padgett threw herself at Rebecca in a fierce hug and Rebecca bent to give her a proper one before embracing Dana. One meeting and a few dozen e-mails, and they were nearly family.

“I can’t tell you how grateful we are to be invited to stay at the Hall,” Dana said. “Aidan didn’t like the idea of us staying at an inn on our own, even in a friendly village like yours.”

“Quentin was glad to extend the offer, and I’m so pleased to have your company.”

They turned to her car, and Rebecca noticed for the first time that Dana gripped a large suitcase and Padgett pulled what looked like a haversack on wheels. Rebecca frowned, having forgotten about luggage when she’d offered in her e-mail to pick them up. Rebecca had emptied the car of everything unnecessary and could accommodate Dana in the front seat, Padgett and her bag in the back. Dana’s large suitcase was the challenge.

“We’ll have to tie the bigger case on top and pray the rain holds off until we get to the Hall,” she said, reaching beneath the passenger seat to retrieve a rope. “Ready?”

Dana looked skeptical. “Maybe we can find someone to help. My bag is full of papers—copies of the Escott Manor records. It weighs a ton.”

Rebecca tested the bag, agreeing it was indeed heavy. But she’d never been one to rely on too much help. “You’ve been married too long, Dana,” she said with a chuckle. “We can do it ourselves. Come along.”

Between the two of them, they awkwardly lifted the luggage despite laughter sapping some of their strength. Rebecca tied the piece in place, confident her knot-tying abilities hadn’t been lost since her days at the university when she’d toted every belonging she’d owned on a roof just like this one.

“Now we race the rain!” Rebecca hopped behind the wheel just as Dana and Padgett got in.

Thankfully for the clothes and especially for the papers inside Dana’s luggage, they made it to the Hall before the first raindrop fell from heavy skies. After settling the Walkers into a suite of adjoining rooms on the same wing as Rebecca’s bedroom, they shared a lunch Helen presented, chatting over tales of Ireland and America and England. Padgett was the kind of child who made motherhood especially appealing with her frequent giggle, her polite manners, and her wide blue eyes. When Rebecca told her there were often schoolchildren visiting the Hall, the child’s interest was piqued.

“I’m going to school when we get home,” said Padgett. “I’m big enough now. Mommy says I’ll like school. I already know how to write my name. And I can count, too, all the way to ten. And I can tell the time on a real clock. Mommy says I do it right twice a day. Is it 9:30 yet? That’s the time I get it right.”

“Not yet,” Dana said with a grin. “You’ve missed it for this morning, and I think you may be sleeping by that time tonight.”

“But I’ll be sleeping here, right, Mommy?”

“That’s right. In the room Rebecca showed you, right next to mine.”

“And where does your cousin Quentin sleep, Mommy? This is his house, isn’t that right?”

“Quentin is living down the road in the next village at another house a bit like this,” Rebecca explained. She looked at Dana. “His mother’s side of the family brought another estate to the family line, and she prefers that home to this. Quentin is staying there when he isn’t in the city.”

Dana smiled. “Aidan was sorry he couldn’t get away from his responsibilities and see Quentin again. I think they enjoyed meeting one another. Will he be here for dinner?”

“His mother asked him to accompany her to a charity event in the city tonight, and there are meetings with the board of the recipients this afternoon, so he won’t be here until tomorrow. He would have been with me at the station to meet you otherwise.”

“Oh, that would have been fun,” Dana said with a grin. “We’d have had to strap him to the roof, too, but at least he could have lifted the bag up there for us.”

Rebecca laughed, thankful yet again for Dana’s company. Maybe she’d lived too long in the isolation of country life.

“So will we be meeting his mother anytime soon, then?”

“I’m not sure,” Rebecca said slowly. “Perhaps.” Rebecca eyed Padgett, who was now pulling the crust from the remains of her sandwich. “We have a new lamb as of a month ago, Padgett. And do you know what it’s missing?”

She shook her head.

“A name. Would you like to choose one for her?”

She nodded, eyes widening again. “Can I see her first, so I know what she looks like?”

Rebecca looked out the window from the breakfast room, where they’d shared lunch. “The rain has stopped again. I think it might be nice to walk down to the barn.”

They made their way to the cuddle farm, passing gardeners at work and, in the distance, one of the land agents surveying a crop of wheat.

“Is that Hollinworth land too?” Dana asked, pointing to the field below.

“Yes, they own two thousand acres. Not huge by American standards, I’m sure. Respectable by English. Most is leased, as it has been for about two hundred years.”

Dana sighed. “Things are certainly different here. History doesn’t seem so long ago.”

Rebecca asked the keeper to bring out the new lamb, and Padgett was officially introduced to the nameless little one. They laughed over possibilities, names Rebecca had never heard of, evidently from one American cartoon or another.

At last Padgett held up her index finger. “Mommy! We should give her the name you were going to give me. How about Emma?”

Dana nodded. “I’ve always liked that name. It would be nice to give it some use, wouldn’t it?”

“Can we, Rebecca?” Padgett asked. “Name her Emma?”

“Emma it is. I’ll have the stable keeper make a sign as soon as he can, so everyone who visits will know who she is.”

“Yippee!” Padgett said, bending low once again and talking to the furry creature as she followed it along the paddock.

Rebecca watched with pleasure. “She’s a lovely child,” she said to Dana.

“Thank you. We’re blessed to have her.” She cleared her throat to say something, stopped, then started again. “There is something I’ve been wanting to clarify.” They were far enough from Padgett so she wouldn’t hear, engaged as she was. “About what Padgett said when we were here before. About her cousin Ben being the reason we adopted her.”

“No need to explain anything to me, Dana,” Rebecca said. “I didn’t make any judgments from the comment.”

“I did,” Dana said, adding with a grimace, “of myself. I must have said what she heard, only for the life of me I can’t recall saying it. Even Aidan vaguely remembers me saying it. It’s true we didn’t want to risk bringing another child with a disability into this world, but when we filled out the adoption papers, we said we’d be willing to take a child with a disability. We’ve had some experience because of Ben, and it seemed like the right thing to do. Not add a new little one with difficulties—rescue one instead.”

“But Padgett seems fine.”

“She is. Now. When we adopted her, we thought she suffered from partial fetal alcohol syndrome because of her mother’s lifestyle. Padgett was behind developmentally, malnourished. The birth mother insisted she hadn’t been drinking during her pregnancy, but no one believed her because of Padgett’s lethargy. The woman was telling the truth, though, because once Padgett began getting proper attention and nutrition, she flourished. And now, she really is perfect.”

Rebecca wondered at the sadness behind Dana’s words. “What every mother prays for,” Rebecca said gently.

Dana nodded. “I
am
glad, but it didn’t come without guilt.”

“Whatever for? You’ve changed her life forever, for the good.”

“Yes, I know. But my sister . . . She has the child I might have had if Aidan and I hadn’t been careful not to get pregnant. Every day, my sister, Talie, faces challenges I might have had too. Her son’s delays, the frustrations, the pain of knowing he will never be able to take care of himself. That’s why I couldn’t believe I’d actually said the words Padgett heard, making it sound like I didn’t want a child like Ben and so I adopted her. It didn’t start out that way . . . but I’m relieved enough to feel guilty.” She faced Rebecca squarely. “Selfish, isn’t it, to want a perfect child?”

Rebecca gave a little laugh. “Selfish? Because you’re relieved God has blessed you with a healthy child?” She shook her head. “I don’t think He meant for us to feel guilty over the blessings He sends our way. Look at all Quentin has. Should he feel guilty for having been born healthy to a family with all this? He did have a blood test, by the way, though the physician took one look at his pedigree and insisted something like fragile X couldn’t have hidden so long.”

“Any results yet?”

“Still waiting.” Rebecca looked around, inviting Dana to do the same by pointing to the manor house. “You might easily have been born in his place instead.”

Now it was Dana’s turn to laugh, and Padgett joined them with the lamb in her arms, who squirmed free within moments. She was indeed a blessing; Rebecca could see that without having to study them very hard.

Padgett was the kind of blessing Rebecca wouldn’t let herself dream about in the last few years. She’d chosen the reclusive country life over a bustling city one. She hadn’t let herself think about marrying, having children.

Until now.

24

* * *

I know there will be little, if any, forthcoming help from Mr. Truebody regarding our lawsuit. Why is it, Cosima, that men begrudge women performing a task—even one they have left woefully untended?

Upon leaving Mr. Truebody’s office, I took my leisure in returning to the manor, stopping at the church in town. I enjoy going there, and as I walked, the doors would not let me pass by. I stayed longer than I realized, and it was well past dark by the time I arrived back.

When I approached the manor house in the dim moonlight, I noticed the MacFarland carriage was still here. Katie had been granted another night with us. Which meant, of course, that her brother was still present as well.

Mrs. Cotgrave was halfway across the lawn before we were close enough to speak. I am sure had I not seen the outright worry upon her face over my late arrival I should have guessed it anyway from the moment she walked forth to greet me. . . .

“It’s late, Miss Berrie. I fear it couldn’t have gone well.”

“I stopped at the church to pray. It’ll take God’s help, since I’m sure Mr. Truebody will provide little assistance.” The two women fell in step toward the front door of the manor house. “Are things well this evening?” Berrie hoped any fusses were kept to a minimum while Simon MacFarland was still there. Goodness, she hoped he left soon. Without Katie.

“Well enough.” She smiled. “Eóin snuck into the family bedroom and left a little something for our guest there. You know how he loves to move things about.”

“What was it?” She recalled a pair of shoes he’d left in her room. Mrs. Cotgrave hadn’t been so fortunate; to her, Eóin had delivered a dead mouse.