by Sahara Kelly
Sir Gerald nodded. “I agree. Since this is a brand-new venture, the more we learn at this point, the better off we’ll be as time goes on.” He turned to Jessie. “Miss Nightingale.”
“Sir.” She eyed him cautiously.
“Would you be able to tell me if there will be capital available to perhaps set up a weaver’s shop or building or something like that come next year? I don’t anticipate this experimental run to cost very much, so I won’t even bother asking about it at this point.”
Jessie nodded. “There are funds to pay for a weaver, perhaps a couple of helpers to do the carding and so on, and perhaps even a wheel if it’s necessary.” She paused and thought for a moment. “As for next year, a lot will depend on the harvest, of course. And also the results of what you’ve proposed here today. Should the wool be of as high quality as I anticipate, then we must certainly look toward establishing a Crawford weavers’ shop, or something along those lines. I’d prefer Crawford Hall to reap the benefits of Mr Crawford’s sheep by both spinning and weaving, rather than others, although inevitably that will be the case as time goes on.”
Sir Gerald obviously agreed, and Piers endorsed the suggestion. “Excellent point, Miss Nightingale.”
For a few moments, silence fell, broken only by the sound of teacups and saucers meeting with a little clink of china.
“Well,” said Sir Gerald at last, leaning back and touching his napkin to his lips. “I suppose we must address the matter, mustn’t we?” He looked at his son and then at Jessie. “I understand that you two have come to know each other very well.” He paused dramatically. “In the biblical sense.”
Piers cleared his throat as Jessie stared down at her teacup.
“Er…”
“Well?” Sir Gerald’s voice was quite abrupt. “Am I correct?”
Jessie lifted her chin and met his gaze. “Yes, sir. You are quite correct. And I fear we have deceived you in the most appalling way.”
One eyebrow rose. “Appalling? How so?”
“I had met your son previously, Sir Gerald. In London.” She swallowed and felt her cheeks flushing, but refused to look away. If she was going to bare her sins, she would do so without shame. “I was…in a place I should not have been, but fortunately Mr Crawford managed to…protect me from the worst of it.”
“I see.”
“It was a brothel, Father,” interrupted Piers. “Jessie had been seeking shelter and ended up there through no fault of her own. You know her heritage and why she found it so hard to settle anywhere in London.”
“Yes, I do,” he nodded. “Maitland has a heinous reputation. His offspring have been painted with the same brush. But Miss Nightingale knows that I do not hold those circumstances against her.”
“Indeed, sir, and for that you have my eternal gratitude. But still I have deceived you by not informing you of my prior acquaintance with your son.” Jessie swallowed down fear. “That was ill done of me.”
Sir Gerald looked at Piers. “Is this all a plot, then Piers? Did you contrive to place Miss Nightingale where I might find her on a stormy day and take pity on her?”
“Yes, of course I did.” The tone was scornful.
Jessie blinked. “What?”
Piers turned to her, a sardonic eyebrow raised. “How could I have arranged for you to meet my father on the corner of whatever street it was where you encountered each other?”
She frowned and thought for a moment. “Well, you couldn’t, of course.”
“And you, Father, did I not suggest a trip to Barnsley’s for tea? Could I know you’d pass right by where Jessie was sitting? I have a certain native intellect thanks to my upbringing, but even so I’m not that clever…”
“All right, ‘tis an absurd notion. I apologise,” Sir Gerald shook his head. “But if you felt that strongly about Miss Nightingale, Piers, could you not have simply brought her straight here?”
It was Jessie who answered. “I would not come.” She sighed. “He asked me, Sir Gerald. More than a few times. Even knowing my background, he persisted. And I so wanted to say yes, to let him take me away from the squalor and the fear. But I could not.”
“I don’t understand…” Sir Gerald shook his head in puzzlement.
Piers opened his mouth to speak, but Jessie reached out and touched his arm with a little murmur. “No, please. Let me.”
He inclined his head. “Very well, love. ’Tis your tale to tell.”
“All my life I’ve been called bastard, Sir Gerald,” She began. “I’ve been taught my worth is less than naught and those lessons were brutal on occasion. Yes, I have a mind and I’m proud of it, but that matters nothing to those who might have been able to put it to good use. They only cared about my lack of a decent parent. And as you pointed out, Maitland is a name abhorrent to many. His offspring—I suppose I could rightly refer to them as my stepsiblings, although I don’t know any of them in person—have managed to accumulate more than their fair share of notoriety. That is something that spreads and clings, whether deserved or not. How could I possibly bring that stench to the respectable house of a kind and well-respected gentleman?”
“Tosh,” responded Sir Gerald dismissively.
“You say that now, sir,” she shot back. “But if Piers had shown up last month with a bedraggled woman on his arm, one who had come straight from the brothel where he’d…where he’d found her and paid for her body…what would you have said then? Especially if you learned who I was? A Maitland bastard and whore?”
Sir Gerald sighed. “I don’t know, my dear. I have to be honest and say I don’t know. I’d like to think I’d have given you both the benefit of the doubt, as I did when I invited you here to work for Crawford Hall. But…that’s a question I will thankfully never have to answer, since I have learned so much about you during your time working here on our behalf.”
“Are you going to dismiss me now?” The question had to be asked and it came trembling from her lips.
“Certainly not,” snapped back Sir Gerald, almost before she’d finished speaking. “Your abilities are beyond my expectations and I’m very pleased indeed with your results. You are industrious, intelligent and unafraid to approach problems or questions from a fresh perspective. I could not ask for more.”
Piers’ hand reached out and gripped Jessie’s. “So, if I were to state that I intend to marry our estate manager, would you be terribly upset, Father?”
The silence that followed was almost suffocating, and Jessie fought for breath, her mind blank with shock.
“Marry the woman you claimed in a brothel? Marry this particular Maitland bastard? Well, Piers, yes, I’d be horrified,” grinned Sir Gerald. “But only if such a marriage took her away from Crawford Hall.”
Two long breaths were exhaled and Jessie’s hand tightened around Piers’ fingers as she looked at him, a combination of fear and exhilaration churning inside her. “Really? You want to marry me?”
He nodded. “Will you?”
“Yes.”
*~~*~~*
And so, thanks to the Fates, or whoever is in charge of life-changing coincidences, Miss Jessie Nightingale came to wed Mr Piers Crawford in a small ceremony before winter set in.
The happy couple continued to reside at Crawford Hall and the new Mrs Crawford continued to shock those who encountered her by carrying on her work as estate manager. Under her guidance, the Hall flourished, as did the new grain mill, the weavers and their shop, the redesigned agricultural scheme and the growing flocks of sheep that benefitted from Mr Piers Crawford’s stated goal of producing the best damn wool ever.
Though rumours surfaced now and again about Mrs Crawford’s past and parentage, they were ignored by almost everyone who knew the family or who lived near Crawford Hall, since the success of the various undertakings was bringing more business to Barton Craw and enriching the purses of those who resided there.
Aware of these things, Jessie and Piers merely grinned at each other and went about their business, fin
ally delighting Sir Gerald with the news that a grandchild was on the way.
The passion between them grew, the desire never faded, and they created a family that made it their goal to bring smiles and good fortune to others, regardless of circumstance, basing their goal on Mrs Crawford’s unfortunate early experiences.
Sir Gerald himself, when asked about his son and daughter-in-law, praised them both to a high degree, quoting Samuel Johnson’s words “As a man advances in life, he gets what is better than admiration—judgement, to estimate things at their true value.”
And nothing can be more highly valued than love.
About the Author
British born and bred, Sahara Kelly has enjoyed writing and reading Regency romances for many decades, beginning in her childhood with books by Jane Austen, Georgette Heyer and Barbara Cartland.
Arriving in America with her almost-complete collection of Leslie Charteris’ Saint novels, all the original James Bonds, most of the Georgette Heyer’s. and a passion for Monty Python, Sahara’s new life eventually expanded to include a husband, offspring, citizenship, and a certain amount of acclimation to her new surroundings.
She never quite managed to attain a level of comfort with the American way of spelling, however, and creating a Regency novel offers challenges in that regard. So you’ll see words that British readers will recognize, but American readers might perhaps find unusual. It’s a choice… should one write an English romance using English spelling? Sahara has come around to that belief. She can now enjoy the extra “u” which has always seemed so colourful…
After more than two decades of writing, Sahara is now enjoying the greater freedom offered to authors by the rapidly expanding self-publishing scene and looking forward to many more such experiences.
Being freed of external controlling restraints has opened doors—for Sahara and many other writers. There are now no impediments; no obstructions barring the path from writer to reader. Which is, in many ways, exactly as originally intended when that first storyteller sat on a rock outside her cave, tugged her bearskin around her shoulders and smiled at her kids across the open fire with the words “Once upon a time...” (or however it sounded several million years ago.)
To find out more about Sahara Kelly and her writing, please drop by her website and visit her at:
Sahara Kelly’s website
This is where Sahara shares none of the intimate details of her life, but will present you with a list of books she'd like you to buy so that she can go do research on a beach in Aruba and be pampered with massages accompanied by drinks with umbrellas in them. She’ll send you a postcard. Thank you.
When not dreaming of lazing on tropical beaches, Sahara has a modestly active social presence on the Internet. Take a look:
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Also By Sahara Kelly
(*- co-written with S.L. Carpenter)
A Garden for Ivy
The Wednesday Club, Book Three
A Melody for Rose
The Wednesday Club, Book Two
A Gentleman for Judith
The Wednesday Club, Book One
The Dowager Countess
The Saga of Wolfbridge Manor, Book Two
Lady Adalyn
The Saga of Wolfbridge Manor, Book One
The Landlocked Baron
Book 1 in the Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington series
St. Simon’s Sin
Book 2 in the Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington series
Word of a Lady
Book 3 in the Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington series
The Mistress Wager
Book 4 in the Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington series
Blackmail and the Bride
Book 5 in the Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington series
Mistletoe Masquerade
A Ridlington Christmas Novella
Music and Mistletoe
A Ridlington Christmas Novella
~
The Mistletoe Marquess
Outrageous Ladies
~
Honor and Secrets
Book 1 in the Gypsy Gentlemen Series
Control and Compassion
Book 2 in the Gypsy Gentlemen Series
Endings and Beginnings
Book 3 in the Gypsy Gentlemen Series
~
Consent
Sword Play
~
Oh My Laird!
Book 4 in the Regency Rascals Series
Deverell’s Obsession
Book 3 in the Regency Rascals Series
The Fifth Wife
Book 2 in the Regency Rascals Series
Julia and the Devil
Book 1 in the Regency Rascals Series
~
Discreet Madness
The Viscount and the Witch
Feels So Right*
~
Whole Lotta Love Series
Love in the Cards*
Love on the Road*
Love Under the Lights*
~
Haunted Seductions*
Happy Endings*
With a Little Help from my Friends (with Ciana Stone)
Letting Off Steam
Winding Her Up
Stripping Her Gears
My Renaissance Romance
Hired Help*
Open House
So Into You*
Faerieland needs YOU
My Wish
My Prize
My Hero
Showing Off *
And more…
*~~*~~*
Happy Reading.