“I wasn’t with my mother either.” In the stillness, May-Jewel blew out the lantern and slipped beneath the coarse woolen blanket. “You’re wrong, Katherine, about your skin,” she said softly, “it really isn’t as dark as you yourself see it. Actually your skin is far fairer than my Hispanic nanny’s. I’d call your skin color rather golden.”
But Katherine made no reply.
“And… and,” May-Jewel continued, “I’m… I’m sorry for what I called you a little while ago.”
Katherine’s sobbing ceased. “I, too, am sorry. I realize that we’re both under a great deal of stress. All these revelations are difficult to accept.”
“Yes, and as for our mothers, we already buried them once,” May-Jewel said, wiping away the traces of emotion. “The past is gone… now it’s our turn to live.”
Our turn to live, Katherine repeated to herself, her eyes on the ceiling. I’ve yet to live at all. All this time I’ve hated my mother for giving me life. I’ve hated Sir Robert for giving us an existence at the foot of his grand manor. But the problem was and is in me. Once she admitted this, she felt the weight of a lifetime of anger and resentment starting to lift from her. I must make of myself all that I can regardless of my birth. But was she strong enough to do that? She wondered where her mother had gotten the strength to go on every day, to face those who spurned her. She looked over at May-Jewel and prayed, Oh, Lord grant us the strength we need to face what comes tomorrow, for tomorrow we will be at Wistmere.
Chapter Four
Alexander Fleming gripped the hand strap to maintain his balance on the seat as the carriage raced over the deep rutted road. It had been a week since Neal had notified Robert Craig’s young partner of the impending arrival of the heiresses to Wistmere.
It would be easier to reopen and ready the manor if I didn’t have to work with that cantankerous old fool, Charles. But there’s no way of bypassing him in the preparations. Fifty years of service to the Craig family does entitle him to live the rest of his life on the estate, but I wish he would retire and leave me to handle things myself.
The carriage bounced sideways, throwing Alex against the door, and he silently fumed, At least by now the manor should be in readiness, aired and cleaned. His eyes turned toward the window and he pondered about Wistmere. It had once been a stately manor and it could be again, of that he was sure. But what had Robert known of stateliness? The whole country knew that his only interests were in comely women, drink and dice. Robert, you old fool! Your gambling has cost the line three of its best ships and the near ruination of a business that’s part mine. How stupid to settle your debts with our ships! And what of your daughters? Now their inheritance is only a neglected manor and a decreasing amount of money left in trust. If I could get control of their money, I’d make the shipping line the envy it once was and make Wistmere grand again. Not to mention my own small estate and Rome. He crossed himself and whispered again, “And Rome.”
Alex had put up with his partner’s philandering and gallivanting for the sake of the shipping business and for the hope of finding the fortune that lay hidden somewhere within the crumbling estate. For over twenty years, the gems had been missing, and it was Alex’s intention to find them. Edith, where did you hide them that not even Robbie could find them?
He smiled derisively. Oh, well in recompense for the monies you died owing me, Robbie-boy, for keeping the business afloat, and for my legal portion of Craig & Company, I shall have Wistmere and her fortune. He leaned back, pleased with his decision.
His mind drifted to the heiresses. Imagine the courts allowing Wistmere to go to two women, to two illegitimate daughters at that! You sure had a good lawyer there, Robbie-boy. He stiffened with indignation of not being at the actual will reading. But Neal said Alex’s duty lay in getting Wistmere ready for the women. What kind of women were they? For the rest of the journey he envisioned the meeting between them and himself. He knew that they’d be duly impressed by his bearing and importance, but he also knew that he’d not be impressed with them at all.
* * *
Jiggling the oversized key, Alexander opened the massive door into Wistmere.
“Charles!” His deep voice thundered through the great hall, echoing in its emptiness. The old man didn’t answer. “Perchance he’s dead,” Alex hoped as he entered, agitated and losing patience. As he looked about, he realized that the chances of making a good first impression with Robert’s daughters was lost in the dust and cobwebs he found there.
“Charles!” He yelled. “The heiresses are expected this afternoon, and the manor isn’t ready!” But there was still no reply from the old man. Picking up his bags and cursing under his breath, Alexander crossed the empty hall and continued up the stairs. As he moved up, he was conscious of the reverberating sound of his own footsteps. A twang of guilt ran through his mind but was quickly pushed aside. Then he admitted to himself, I suppose that furniture would absorb the noise and make the manor look a little more lived in. Perhaps I should have left those cumbersome pieces here
