On Sparrow Hill (37 page)

“Yes, sir,” said Chad.

“I have my mobile phone and you’re to call me if she’s found.”

Chad nodded again, and his pace was quicker back to the barn.

Quentin led Rebecca, Dana, and Talie outside the paddock. “Let’s split up, but not beyond sight of one another.”

The three fanned out, looking ahead at the wheat field, the wooded glen, the fallow field, and the numerous hedgerows along the rolling countryside. Ponds and lakes dotted the landscape, but Rebecca couldn’t bring herself to ask if Padgett could swim.

They passed the cottage the land agent used as his office. Rebecca saw Quentin head there. If Padgett had come this way, perhaps she’d been attracted to the house with its gingerbread-style roof.

Watching Quentin traipse across the uneven land in his expensive shoes and tailored suit made one thought stand out in Rebecca’s anxiety-ridden mind—one she would contemplate later, once they had Padgett safely back in her mother’s arms. Quentin Hollinworth was as much a servant as she was, or he wouldn’t be out looking the same way the rest of them were.

The office must have been empty based on the lack of response Quentin received from his knock.

“Everybody’s praying, right?” Quentin called as they resumed their search. With only a short distance between them, Rebecca had no trouble hearing the words she welcomed almost as much as any others. A reminder of the One who was really in control, who knew exactly where Padgett was this moment.

Just then Rebecca heard the chime of Quentin’s mobile phone. Hope flared.

“Yes, Chad? . . . What’s that?” Quentin’s voice hinted the same hope he must be holding. “Oh.” Hope abandoned them all in that single, deflated word. “No, that’s fine. Tell her it’s silly to wait; I’ll not be available the rest of the day.”

Rebecca kept walking, praying. Each of them took turns calling Padgett’s name. Rebecca listened as she’d never listened before. She prayed for Padgett’s call in return or Emma’s bleat.

“Here! Look at this.” Dana rushed a few feet ahead, bending low to pick up something from the trimmed meadow grass. Rebecca recognized the toy immediately.

“It’s Padgett’s toy Emma!”

“At least we know we’re heading in the right direction,” Quentin said.

“Wait,” called Talie from Dana’s other side. “Did you hear that?”

All four stopped. Rebecca heard nothing, but a moment later Dana dashed forward, racing beyond Talie.

“Padgett! Padgett, can you hear me?”

Rebecca saw Dana scale a rise and nearly disappear in a dip in the ground. Sprinting after her, Rebecca saw what she expected: the other side green and blue with a pond reflecting the wide blue sky.

And there, lying on the bank, was Padgett beside Emma.

The lamb struggled to its feet, bleating at the sight of rushing oncomers, although tethered to a rope and unable to go far. Padgett lifted her head at the lamb’s warning, and to Rebecca’s first glance she looked groggy.

“Oh, hi, Mommy,” she said, rubbing her eyes.

Dana pulled her into her arms, and the tether connecting her to the lamb dropped, but the lamb stayed nearby.

“Is that all you have to say, young lady?” Dana said through her tears. “Why are you so far from Rebecca’s? Why did you leave without telling me?”

“I just went out to think, same as you did, Mommy. Only I couldn’t find that lake you liked for your thinking time. Emma led me to this one, and then I lost my—oh! You found Little Emma.” She grabbed the stuffed animal from her mother’s hand.

“You were looking for the lake outside the front of the Hall?” Dana moaned, cuddling her daughter closer. “You only needed to go to the front . . .” She didn’t finish her sentence, kissing Padgett again. “Padgett, don’t you ever, ever do that again. Never leave without telling me, so I know where you are, okay?”

“Okay. But I wonder about something. You know how you went to sit next to the pond to think ’cause you were sad? I was doing that because I was sad for you, because you were crying all night, only I didn’t know what I was supposed to think about. So I just said that prayer Rebecca says about God making everything. Is that okay?”

Dana laughed first, and Rebecca, Quentin, and Talie joined in. It was a balm to frayed nerves.

“You, young lady,” said Quentin firmly once the laughter dwindled, “need to think about something else right now: how to make your mommy never worry again. Can you do that?”

“Okay. She wasn’t supposed to worry now.”

“And how would you have gotten back home, Padgett?” her aunt Talie asked. “Do you know which way goes back to the Hall?”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t, but I thought maybe Emma would. She always knows how to find her mommy back at the farm, so I thought she would lead me back. That’s why I took her on the leash, so she wouldn’t go too fast and leave me behind.”

Quentin took up Emma’s rope leash, and the lamb did indeed lead the way back to the Hall while he called Chad on the mobile to let them know Padgett had been found. The staff was to resume “Featherby mode,” as he called it with a grin.

The judges were due any minute if they weren’t there already.

Rebecca’s relief and gratitude over finding Padgett was too soon replaced. The judges awaited . . . and so did Quentin’s decision about where he wanted to be—here or in his London flat.

56

* * *

Mr. Truebody was shocked to learn of the O’Shea plot to close our doors. I will not say that he went so far as to admit he should never have given up hope, but I will say this: when Simon MacFarland is in the room, the embodiment of true power in this country (so stark a contrast to our justice of the peace), Mr. Truebody is a man nearly tolerable. He assured me he would do all he could to calm residual fears of both parents and benefactors alike and see if the Commission might approve Finola’s residence with us (an option he never bothered to broach to this point!). He also offered a bit of advice. . . .

“It is commendable that Mr. MacFarland has accompanied you here today, Miss Hamilton,” said Mr. Truebody. “He has not only expressed his own confidence in having you run Escott Manor but has taken full responsibility for the reports in the papers regarding his sister’s misunderstanding. I have only one thing to add.”

Berrie waited, not daring to glance Simon’s way. It had been humiliating enough to stand in this office with him at her side, listening to him explain that a kiss had indeed taken place. He went on to tell Mr. Truebody that the kiss was not at all scandalous, given that it had been accompanied by a proposal of marriage, albeit that proposal had been flatly refused for the sake of the school that was now endangered.

“You ought to have accepted that proposal, young lady,” continued Mr. Truebody. “If you truly want to save the institution, then let me assure you it should be run by a married woman rather than a maiden such as yourself. It would offer much greater security to the benefactors. I can safely vouch for this office that if you were under the safekeeping of a man, a man to whom you are first responsible, I am certain such benefactors would be assured of the highest quality of leadership and protection from any further scandal.”

Myriad protests went through her mind, a demand as to what made a man better fit to oversee her school, but she knew this was neither the time nor the place. Besides, she had already seen Simon humble enough to publicly admit he’d been refused; she didn’t need to announce to one and all she refused to need him, or any man, to help her in this mission.

Instead, she imagined what a demure young lady would say. “Thank you, Mr. Truebody. I’m sure you’re right.”

“Then this session is at an end. I trust Mr. Duff Habgood is already on his way back to Escott Manor since you first went to the constable’s office with Miss O’Shea. He is welcome to remain in the employment of the hospital, Miss Hamilton, but under the circumstances it would be best if he resided outside manor grounds, especially if we are to gain the Commission’s approval for Miss O’Shea to return. Until memories fade.”

“And myself?” Berrie asked.

“You may resume your role. If there is any change, I will summon you here and give counsel. You will, in turn, inform me if your status as an unmarried woman changes?”

Berrie grew warm, sparing no more than a glance at Mr. Truebody, who wasn’t eyeing her but rather looked at Simon beside her.

She was sure her step was a bit quicker on the way out than it had been on the way in. Simon stayed at her side, opening doors when necessary, taking her hand to help her board his carriage outside.

“So your school is saved,” he said, sitting across from her.

She couldn’t help smiling. The past two days had been little more than a blur of misery. “Yes, thanks in no small part to you.”

“Me? It was you, Berrie.” He held her gaze a moment, then shifted to look out the window. “I would say you proved quite thoroughly that you don’t need anyone, despite what Mr. Truebody wants to believe.”

Berrie looked down at her hands, glad they were covered in gloves. Despite the cool weather, her palms were moist. If she was honest, she would blurt the truth, that she’d missed him and regretted her refusal. How could she admit that now? He would think she did so only to follow the advice of Mr. Truebody and thus ensure the survival of the school.

“It would never work, you know,” she whispered, more to herself than to him.

“What wouldn’t?”

She looked at Simon, swallowing away the lump in her throat, forcing down the fear of making an utter fool of herself. If she was to speak to him honestly, it must begin now. “You would think I married you only to save the school, or at least my place in it.”

“And . . . would you? Marry me, that is?”

Berrie let her gaze float out the window, too afraid he would see something she wasn’t ready to reveal just yet. “Are you asking me under those circumstances? That I marry you to secure my position?”

He laughed so easily she knew he felt none of her uncertainty. “No, Berrie, I most definitely am not.”

His words only added to her confusion but no less than when he slid from his seat to settle beside her. He took one of her hands.

“If you were to marry me, Berrie, it would not be a marriage by arrangement or convenience. It would
not
be in name only, nor for the sake of your school, your position, your reputation, or your future. It would be a marriage in the fullest sense, where we shared the same breakfast, tea, and dinner table, the same washbasin.” He leaned closer so that he was whispering in her ear. “The same bed.”

The heat beneath her gloves spread throughout the rest of her. She looked at him, knowing she couldn’t hide that his insinuation was neither frightening nor unappealing. Still, she had to bring up thoughts that should surface better sooner than later. “And share the same arguments?”

“Fight the same fights,” Simon corrected, “on the same side for a change.”

“But what of my duties? And yours? I didn’t refuse you because I didn’t want to be married to you, Simon. I refused because I wanted to spare us both the frustration that will come if either one is torn from what we must do.”

He put a hand on each side of her face so that she could look only at him. “I prayed that was true.”

“Did you, Simon? Have you been praying for us?”

He nodded. “You believe that school is a mission from God. If that’s the case, then how could I hope to wrest you away unless He wanted me to share in some part of that mission? I believe it’s possible, Berrie. I have a staff already in place who can take care of some of your paperwork.”

She grinned. “You might have mentioned that the first time you proposed, Simon. I’m sure I couldn’t have said no to that.”

“And judging from Mr. Truebody, any time you have to appear before him, it would undoubtedly be best to have a male voice—a mouthpiece, I admit, but one from whom he would obviously prefer to hear.”

The thought of never again appearing alone before Mr. Truebody was heady indeed. Still, Berrie frowned. “Simon, you needn’t convince me of my benefit from marrying you. From the time you first kissed me, I’ve fought against wanting to marry you, and I’m more than ready to give up such a fight. But what possible benefit can I bring to you except the burden of a wife who will speak her mind and split her time between hearth and mission?”

“Don’t you recall, Berrie?”

She shook her head.

“I must confess that my words during my first, ill-conceived proposal to you have been burned into my memory—much to my shame. I claimed that I did not need someone who was madly in love or blind to my faults. I merely wanted a woman who respects and honors my thoughts and opinions. I know now that you do. And if you can love me as well, that’s all I ask.”

“I do, Simon; that I do.”

57

* * *

The judges arrived precisely on time. The new scripts, new wardrobes, refurbished teaching tools had been in place for over a month and the staff and Hall were ready, only within minutes of the judges’ arrival.

Though only one Featherby official was required, there were three today. A director of the program, Eva Wetherhead, explained that Hollinworth Hall had long been one of her favorite garden properties, and she didn’t want to miss the opportunity to visit. She brought with her two judges, one who was in training.

“As you know,” said Eva Wetherhead, “our goal is to promote good practices in education, particularly through historical environments.” She turned to the other judges, and Rebecca guessed the one with slightly widened eyes to be the one in training. “Hollinworth Hall is known for its association with those who have a love of learning, as far back as the Viscount Peter Hamilton, who was renowned for his contributions to science, to the last viscount, who donated so much time and money to Cambridge.” She looked at Rebecca, who stood next to Quentin. “Will you both be leading our tour?”

“Yes,” said Quentin as smoothly as if they’d been leisurely awaiting their arrival instead of having spent the last hour in such commotion. “Miss Seabrooke planned for us to start in the ballroom, then visit the cuddle farm. I believe we’ll finish the outside portion on the veranda with the Victorian tea and end the tour in the gallery. Is that right?”