“I can’t and won’t pretend otherwise, sir. Forgive me if itsounds selfish. I’ve been loyal to the family all my life. I wouldhate to see it all come to an end.”
Crispin noddedin appreciation of the old man’s honesty. “So, I take it, you knewmy grandfather well?”
“Yes, I’m afraid so.”
Crispincouldn’t help but chuckle at the apprehension in the man’sresponse. “Not much of fan, eh?”
“I don’t like speaking of the Harlow family withdisrespect.”
“Oh, come on.” Crispin paused in front the latest door theyapproached. “You’re allowed to tell me. Technically, I am one ofthem. I’d like to know what I’m getting into. Go on, give me theinside scoop.”
“Very well, Master Crispin.” Jones opened the door and gesturedfor him to enter ahead. “I was never a fan of your grandfather’s.The man was a heartless, cruel bastard!”
Crispincouldn’t help but chuckle in response. “So I’ve heard… Hey, what’sall this?” Crispin asked, looking around the ultra femininebedroom, decorated in its overwhelming pink and pastel hues, in thecentre was a four poster bed covered in teddy bears. Before Jonescould even answer, he felt a chill throughout his body, and healready knew in who’s room he stood.
“Cassandra Harlow’s bedroom,” Jones said, watching Crispinslowly make his way around. He walked to the south facing window,the sun catching his long dark hair with its rays. “Your… mother’sroom. I thought you might like to see it. She spent most of herdays here. Quite often by the window, exactly where you’restanding. We’ve kept it just as she left it, under your unclePiers’s orders.”
Only halflistening, Crispin ran his fingers over the drapes, the same oneshe recalled from Piers’s photo. With a deep breath, he took in theview of the garden, the stables, and the forest beyond. “Tell meabout my mother.” He turned and slowly made his way to the bed, hisfingers hovering over the vast array of stuffed animals.
“Cassandra… such a lovely girl,” said Jones with a sigh.“Terribly shy. But as you can see, she loved herteddies.”
“Yes, it would seem so,” Crispin said, picking up aparticularly scruffy bear from the middle of the others.
“She hated dolls, though. Apparently, they scared her,” Joneschuckled fondly. “That’s Crispin you have there. Be careful, he’svery old, and despite being well-loved, he’s in a bit of a state,barely held together by a thread.”
“Crispin?” he repeated with a sad smile as lightly stroked thebrown bear, sub-consciously bringing it to his nose. He should findit odd that his mother named him after her beloved teddy, butinstead, the thought brought a wistful smile to his face. He hadalways liked his name, uncommon as it was. Now he knew why and heblinked back the moisture from his eyes.
“Your mother’s favourite. She slept with him well into herteens. Others came and went. But Crispin Bear remained number onein her heart, bless her.”
“A sentimental sort, she was,” Crispin said more to himself ashe placed the beloved Teddy Crispin back in its place. He then ranhis hand over his mother’s pillow.
“Very… and very sheltered,” Jones said. “She and Piers wereextremely close, too. She loved her little brother.”
“Did you know my father? This supposed stable boy?” Crispinasked, making his way back to the window, studying thestables.
“I knew of him,” Jones said pensively. “He wasn’t here longenough for any of the staff to learn much about him.” He joinedCrispin at the window. “My wife Iris tells me he was quite thehandsome devil. Your young mother fell hard. She hadn’t experiencedmuch love or attention from her father. Her own mother died whenshe was only a child. I’m afraid it left her quite impressionableand vulnerable to the slightest attention, especially with yourfather being as handsome as Iris claims.”
“Did he love her in the slightest, this handsome stable boy?”Crispin asked with a frown. “Or did he… did he simply takeadvantage of her?”
“You grandfather claimed he took advantage and therefore hadhim sent away,” Jones said. “But Iris knows better. You can ask heryourself. The boy was only seventeen and quite smitten with yourmother.”
“Really?” Crispin asked. “How is Iris so sure?”
“Well, she caught Cassandra sneaking off more than once to meethim. There was no stopping the girl either. And, well, Iris beingthe hopeless romantic, she couldn’t bring herself to tell on her.She knew Cassandra hadn’t experienced much joy, and apparently, shehad never seen the girl so happy as the few times she had caughther sneaking back into her room at night.”
“He’s right, Crispin,” Iris said, stepping in from the hall.“Pardon my interruption, but I was just walking past when Ioverheard you both talking. I did try to warn your mother, but sherefused to listen to me.”
Crispin turnedand nodded in acknowledgement at Iris, Jones’s wife. He had taken aliking to the slight, older woman the moment they had beenintroduced. He could tell she was curious about him, too. Nowonder. It shouldn’t surprise him since she had indirectly beenresponsible for his existence.
“So, it’s you I should thank for my coming into this world,” hesaid with a stern voice. When the old woman frowned, he winked ather, and her frown turned to a blush.
“Oh, what could I have done?” Iris said guiltily. “I’d neverseen Cassandra smile before your father came to work for thefamily. They were so in love. I wanted to see her happy. I had noidea things turn out the way they did. I blame myself, truly. If Ihad told on her, your grandfather might have run him off before shegot with child. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I just wantedher happiness. I didn’t mean for her to be sent away. You shouldn’thave had to grow up alone, an orphan. I’m so sorry,Crispin.”
“Iris, please,” Jones said, coming forward. “You couldn’t haveknown the old man would be so cruel.”
“He’s right,” Crispin said, placing a hand on her shoulder.“None of this is your fault. Not really.” He punctuated his wordswith another wink. “I don’t regret being born. I do regret neverhaving met her, my mother.”
“You look so much like her.” Iris reached out and cupped hischeek. “Listen to me,
