‘I’m delighted to see Norah following my example,’ she confided to Mrs Rogers, the vicar’s wife. ‘The girl was quite wild when I first came to Willow Farm but I have taught her the importance of charity and it’s most pleasing to see my influence bearing fruit.’
With her daily lessons with Mrs Beecham, her private studies and her regular food trips into the village, Norah saw little of Arthur that winter but he did take the opportunity, when it presented itself, to tell her how much he admired what she was doing. She was walking past the stables when she heard his voice calling her name and turned back. He was in the middle of feeding the farm horses and she immediately began filling hay nets. She had missed the smell of the stables and, she realised, she had missed Arthur’s company.
He had grown taller and filled out over the years he'd worked on the farm and Norah could not help but notice how well-muscled he now was. He gave her a grin.
‘Good to see you haven’t forgotten how to do that, now you’ve become a young lady,’ he teased and she reddened slightly.
‘Don’t be daft!’ She finished filling the hay nets and deftly started hanging them up. ‘There wasn’t much point hanging around here with no horse to ride. I do miss Trojan. I hope he’s settled well in his new home.’
‘Let’s hope they feed him well,’ Arthur retorted. ‘He was the greediest horse I ever knew! That was a fine thing you did,’ he continued. ‘Selling him like that. It couldn’t have been easy.’
Norah turned away, feeling uncomfortable under the warmth of his praise. ‘It was nothing,’ she shrugged. ‘I don’t have much time for riding these days, not with all the embroidery Mrs Beecham is having me do. I’m constantly amazed at just how exciting my life has become!’
‘Well I know a lot of folks who are very grateful to you. You have a good heart Norah.’
She looked up and felt flustered by the intensity of his gaze. His brown eyes were glowing with an emotion she struggled to identify and she swallowed hard.
‘Right, best be off,’ she said hurriedly retrieving the basket she’d put down. ‘Things to do, people to see and all that.’
She was very aware of his eyes on her as she continued up the lane towards the village and it made her feel very self-conscious. It was a most strange sensation, she decided, and not one she had encountered before or one she liked. She subsequently found herself daydreaming about Arthur at odd moments of the day and wondered what it would be like to be kissed by him. It was fortunate that she would soon be leaving for Oxford. Study at St Hilda’s would soon extinguish such girly, romantic fancies.
◆◆◆
Snow fell in mid-December and continued for the rest of the month. On Christmas Day, a blizzard raged and Norah was thankful that she did not have to go out. She thought of those who would be feeding the cattle and horses and considered herself fortunate to sit beside the fire.
This was their first Christmas with Adele and Hope; Norah missed the comfortable days she had spent celebrating alone with her father. Traditionally, Mrs Morris and Elsie would spend the day with their own families and she and George would eat cold cuts and toast chestnuts on the fire. This year, though, Adele had insisted that she needed the servants to serve Christmas lunch, a small goose she decided, and that only once that had been cleared away were the servants free to do as they wished. The blizzard, however, made it impossible for them to leave and, as evening approached, Norah found them sitting in the kitchen.
‘I’ve brought you both a glass of sherry,’ she announced. ‘You certainly deserve it. That was a delicious lunch, Mrs Morris. I’m so sorry you can’t get home. Won’t you both come and join us in the sitting room? Hope is playing Christmas carols on the piano so it’s quite jolly.’
‘No, no, I don’t think Mrs Dunn would approve,’ the cook said hastily and Elsie nodded her agreement. ‘The sherry’s a kind thought though and most welcome. A real Christmas treat.’
‘Well alright, if you’re sure you can’t be persuaded,’ Norah said and then smiled. ‘I’ll bring you a top up in a little while.’
She made her way back to the door of the sitting room and peered around. Hope was halfway through O Little Town of Bethlehem, Adele was sitting opposite and her father was nowhere to be seen. Norah felt a twinge of anxiety. Even for him, he had been uncommonly quiet throughout lunch and had then spent the next two hours reading yesterday’s paper which Norah was sure he had already read. She decided he must have retreated to his study and resolved to do her best to entice him out of his gloom. She headed to the drinks cabinet to pour him a glass of his favourite malt but the bottle was gone. He'd obviously taken it with him.
George’s study was a small room tucked away beyond the dining room. As Norah approached, she detected something which sounded like a low moaning noise. It was this which made her hesitate to knock on the door and she listened more intently. It sounded like sobbing. With a heavy heart, she quietly turned the handle and peered around the door. There was her father, sitting slumped at his desk, his head in his hands and crying as if his heart was breaking.
Norah watched him for a few minutes, unsure what she should do, before silently turning away and closing the door. She knew that her father had been troubled for the past year but this was much worse than she'd thought. When the moment was right, she would have a chat with him and attempt to find out the
