****
The sound of a carriage approaching startled Sabrina, who had been caught up in the novel she was reading about a man marooned on a desert island. The story intrigued her, for the man named Robinson Crusoe had to learn to do without the trappings of civilization, and lived by his wits and by the strength and skill of his hand. She found herself fascinated by the story, although she could not understand why. Certainly she herself had never had to live by her wits—nor by any sort of work at all.
She rose from her chair and put down her book. When she reached the window, she stared out and saw a carriage she didn’t recognize. Caesar was holding the horse’s head and speaking to the man who got out.
Sabrina watched as the man, a tall individual wearing a dark suit and tall black hat, ascended the stairs. She got one sight of his face and saw that he was a dark-complected, sober-looking individual, almost sour. “He doesn’t look like one of Father’s friends. He looks more like an undertaker than anything else.”
Sabrina was accustomed to individuals coming to see her father and thought no more of it. She went back to her book, curled up on the couch, and soon was completely immersed in the adventures of Robinson Crusoe. She read for more than two hours, stopping once to send Cecily down to bring tea and crumpets up for a snack. Finally she grew sleepy and lay down on the couch, pulling a light coverlet over her. She dozed off almost at once but was soon awakened by an insistent knock on the doorframe. She sat up at once saying, “Come in, what is it?”
She expected Cecily to come in, but instead it was Randell, the butler. “Miss, you must come at once!”
Seeing the alarm on Randell’s face, Sabrina stood up in one fluid movement. “What is it, Randell?”
“It’s—it’s your father, miss. Something’s happened to him!”
Sabrina, with a start, saw that Randell was frightened. “Is he ill?”
“I think so, miss. Come quickly.”
Sabrina flew out of the room and dashed down the stairs, followed by Randell. “He’s in the study,” Randell called out.
Sabrina turned into the study, but for a moment she did not see her father. Then she caught sight of him half hidden behind the massive rosewood desk that sat in the center of the room. “Father!” she cried and rushed over. Falling on her knees, she saw that his face was as pale as paste. His eyes were open, and he appeared to be trying to speak.
“What is it, Father? What happened?”
“Help me . . . !”
The words were faint, and Sabrina noticed that the left side of his mouth did not move—only the right. Fear touched her heart, and she cried, “Randell, help me get him into the chair.”
The two of them managed to drag him to the overstuffed chair. She noticed that his right side seemed to work, but he had little control over his left side. She took his hand and began to chafe it. “What is it, Father? Did you fall?”
“Don’t—know.” The words came with great difficulty, and she saw the fear in his eyes.
“What happened? Can you tell me?”
“It’s—can’t seem to move my left arm. It’s like it’s gone to sleep.”
Again Sabrina noticed that the left side of his mouth did not move.
“Can’t talk!” he gasped.
“Randell, go for the doctor at once! Bring him no matter what he says.”
“Yes, miss!”
Randell dashed out of the room, and Sabrina turned back to her father, holding his hand tightly. “It’ll be all right. The doctor will be here soon. Are you in pain?”
“Not so much now.” The words were faltering, almost inaudible. “I don’t know . . . what’s wrong with me. . . .”
Sabrina pulled up a chair and sat beside her father for some time. He was badly frightened, which brought fear to her own heart. She did not know what to do for him, for she had no experience with sickness. She knew, however, that something terrible had happened.
Finally Fairfax raised his head, and his mouth twitched with an effort to speak. “The Sabrina—she went down off the coast of Africa . . . with all hands.”
“Oh no, Father!”
“We’re ruined, Sabrina . . . we’re ruined!”
The ship named after her was sinking half a world away, and she now understood, to some degree, the financial blow this meant to the Fairfax family. She saw the terror in her father’s eyes and could only give part of her mind to that. Her father had spoiled her all of her life and had given her plenty of love, but now she felt a dire fear as she sat there holding his hand. He seemed to be looking to her for assurance—but Sabrina knew she had none to give.
****
“It’s not good news, Miss Fairfax. I’m sorry I can’t give you a better report.” Dr. Blackman had spent over an hour with Sir Roger and now had come out, with Sabrina waiting for him in the parlor. He had been the Fairfax family physician for ten years and had been there for them when Sabrina’s mother died, so Sabrina trusted him implicitly. “It looks like he had a stroke. You probably noticed that his left side isn’t functioning, which is typical of a stroke.”
“Yes, even the left side of his mouth wasn’t moving.”
“These things happen very suddenly,” Dr. Blackman said. “A man can look well, be as strong as a horse and never have an ill day of his life, then suddenly drop dead at the age of thirty.”
Dr. Blackman’s words put a chill on Sabrina, and she looked to him for assurance. “But you can do something, can’t you? Surely there’s medicine that will help?”
Dr. Blackman hesitated. Then, taking a deep breath, he said slowly, “We can always hope. I’ve had stroke patients who have lived for years.”
Despite the doctor’s encouraging words, Sabrina knew his eyes were sending a different message. “But—there’s nothing you can do for him, then?”
Blackman shrugged. “See that he gets plenty of rest. Keep him from all kinds of stress. That’s the most important thing. He doesn’t need to be aggravated. It might well bring on another stroke.”
Sabrina felt he was holding back worse news, but she didn’t press him for more. The reality of the situation hit her even more severely than when her mother had died. At least then—then she still had a healthy father she could rely on for everything. Now she realized that if something happened to her father, too, she would truly be alone.
Dr. Blackman’s words brought her out of her thoughts. “You must trust God in situations like this, I’m afraid.”
The words gave cold comfort to Sabrina. She was a member of the Church of England, as was her father, but their religion was a mere formality. There was no reality in it—certainly nothing that would take the sting away from the doctor’s plain meaning. She stood there mutely as the doctor gave instructions for her father’s care.
“You may need to hire a man to help with your father. Or perhaps your butler can handle it. Sir Roger is going to need more physical care than you could give, Miss Fairfax.”
“Randell is very good; he should be able to handle it. He’s strong and he has a deep affection for my father.”
“Yes. Well, I’ll just go have a word with Randell, then, to give him some instructions. I’ll call again tomorrow.”
Dr. Blackman left the room, and Sabrina suddenly felt very weak. She sat down in a chair and clasped her trembling hands together. She shook her head and murmured, “You’ve got to be stronger than this, Sabrina. You’re going to have to take care of things now. . . .”
****
Other than Sabrina, Elberta Symington was the sole living relative of Sir Roger Fairfax. She was a tall, thin woman with nervous mannerisms but at the same time gave the impression that she was always right about every issue. Elberta was the strong-willed widow of a businessman who had not prospered. During their whole married lives, Mrs. Symington’s brother, Sir Roger, had helped Mr. and Mrs. Symington pay the bills. When Mr. Symington died, he left no more than a two-room cottage and a pitifully small allowance for his widow. Fortunately there had been no ch
ildren for Elberta Symington to struggle with.
“I don’t think my dear brother can live long.”
Sabrina looked up and saw that her aunt had taken station in front of the desk in her father’s study. She had a wraith-like appearance and still wore her widow’s weeds of black even though her husband had died more than four years earlier. “It would be God’s mercy if he were taken now.”
“Don’t talk like that, Aunt Elberta!” Sabrina said more sharply than she had intended. She had been struggling with Mr. Smith, the manager of her father’s firm, for over a week, and things looked absolutely hopeless. “Father’s going to be all right. He ate a great deal more this morning than usual.”
“Well, I suppose it’s best to look on the bright side, but we must face reality.”
Sabrina had faced nothing but reality for the past week. Her head was aching from attempts to find some way out of the morass that the business had become. She had been totally unaware of how bad off financially her father was, but Smith had made it plain that the situation was grim indeed. The loss of the Sabrina had sunk the manager’s hope, and he had told Sabrina that there seemed to be no way out, especially with Sir Roger helpless.
The two women were interrupted as Randell came to the door. “It’s Mr. Franks to see you.”
“Show him in, Randell,” Sabrina instructed.
“Yes, miss.”
“Would you excuse me, please, Aunt Elberta? I need to talk with the solicitor.”
“I’ll be glad to stay, but I’m sure he has nothing good to say.”
“Thank you, Aunt Elberta. That won’t be necessary.”
Huffily Elberta rose and left, passing by a rather short man with sandy hair on her way out.
“Good afternoon, Miss Fairfax.”
“Mr. Franks. Good of you to call. Will you have a seat?”
Franks looked around and then settled himself in the chair that Elberta had vacated. He had a case in his hand and balanced it on his lap, seemingly looking for words to say.
“I’m afraid you can’t have very good news, Mr. Franks.”
“I wish I had better.” Franks shook his head. “I’ve done everything I could. Mr. Smith and I have been going over the accounts, and—”
Sabrina’s heart sank. She had had some hope that Mr. Franks, who had been a good friend of her father as well as his solicitor, had found some solution, but she found no hope on his face. “You may as well tell me the worst. I’ll have to hear it sooner or later.”
“I’m afraid that’s true—and I’m afraid it will be sooner.”
“Is it really so terrible?”
“It couldn’t be worse, frankly.” He opened his briefcase and pulled out several sheets of paper. “Word has gotten out of the failure of your father’s affairs, and several creditors have appeared. Your father made these loans but neglected to mention them to Mr. Smith.” He passed the papers over and sat silently while Sabrina stared at them. They amounted to a great deal of money.
She handed them back, saying, “What’s to be done?”
Mr. Franks shifted uneasily in his chair. He ran his fingers over the case, obviously embarrassed. “Things are very bad, Miss Fairfax. When something like this happens, creditors all converge. They all want their money, of course, and there is no money.”
“We’ll have to sell the estate, then?”
“That is not possible. It’s already mortgaged. There’s a second mortgage, as well. I’m afraid there will be a terrible lawsuit between the two mortgage holders.” Franks went on speaking of the various loans that were out, and each one seemed to drive a nail into Sabrina’s spirit. She finally interrupted him and said, “Give me the worst. What’s going to happen?”
“I’m going to try to salvage a little something so you’ll have a small income, but your father was a gambling man. That doesn’t come as a surprise to you, I’m sure, but you’re going to lose this house. There’s no getting around that, and that includes the furnishings. And I’m afraid most of the personal property, as well.”
Sabrina felt as if she had heard a door close, locking her in a dark, terrifying place. She had known little fear up to this time, but she was learning it now in a most terrible way.
****
For two weeks Sabrina had met almost daily with Mr. Franks or Mr. Smith. She did not tell her father the worst of it, but neither could she deceive him. He grew even paler and seemed to fall into a deep depression. Sabrina slept very little these days as she alternated between worrying about their financial lives and her father’s precarious health. She was able to do little.
Sir Charles Stratton visited her once each week, offering his condolences, but Sabrina was aware that their relationship had changed. It was not so much what Stratton said as his attitude.
When I was a wealthy woman, you were interested in me, Charlie, she thought as he left after his second visit. Now I’m a poor woman, and you’ve lost interest. As much as she had enjoyed Charles’s company, the thought of losing him did not trouble Sabrina, for she could not picture a life with him.
One afternoon Mr. Franks came for one of his frequent visits. He fidgeted and spoke of the weather until finally Sabrina said, “What is it? More bad news, I suppose.”
“I—I’m afraid you and your father are going to have to vacate the house this week, Miss Fairfax. The creditors have taken action, and they have the necessary papers.”
“But where will we go?” Sabrina hated herself as soon as she spoke these words. She was not used to looking for pity and knew that Mr. Franks had no answer for her.
“I understand that your aunt has offered to take you in.”
“We can’t live with her. She’s so gloomy.”
Mr. Franks looked down at his feet for a moment before lifting his face. “I’m afraid you have little choice, Miss Fairfax. We all have to do things we don’t want to do.”
The words struck Sabrina like a sharp blow. She realized that all of her life she had been protected from the harsh realities of life, but now there was no more hiding.
“Very well,” she said wearily. “This week, did you say?”
“As soon as possible, I’m afraid.”
****
Sabrina spent five days frantically trying to get ready to move. Aunt Elberta had been there to help but had warned Sabrina, “I have a very small house, you realize. You can’t bring much.”
“You don’t have to worry. None of the furnishings are ours. They all go to the bank.”
Sabrina had been told that her jewelry would have to be turned over to the court, but she had taken two pieces. One was a diamond necklace that had belonged to Sir Roger’s mother, who had given it to Sabrina on her sixteenth birthday. She knew it was valuable and wondered if she would be prosecuted for keeping it. As far as she knew, there was no written record of the necklace. She also kept a large ruby ring that her own mother had given her when she was fourteen. It was a family heirloom that had belonged to Sabrina’s great-great-grandmother. She kept these two pieces but nothing else.
The biggest problem, of course, was taking care of her father. There was only one bedroom in Elberta’s house, but Elberta had offered to give up the room and sleep in the main room with Sabrina. Sabrina had spent the better part of a day helping Cecily and Randell move a washstand and a chifforobe to her aunt’s cottage. Defying the mandate that all the furnishings belonged to the creditors, she had taken these two furnishings.
The question of how to care for her father was always present. She could not afford to pay the wages of any of the servants, so she and her aunt would have to do everything for the sick man.
Sabrina was physically tired and emotionally drained. More than once at night she had given way to tears but had managed to keep such scenes from her aunt and from everyone else.
Wearily she left her aunt’s house and went back home to try to cheer her father up. Elberta had been taking care of her brother while Sabrina worked at the cottage, and now Elberta met Sabrina at t
he door. She knew at once that something terrible had happened.
“Sabrina—” Elberta was rarely at a loss for words, but now she struggled to get them out as tears formed in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. “He’s gone, Sabrina! It happened no more than thirty minutes ago.”
Sabrina Fairfax knew then the depths of despair. She was now not only poor but alone, as well! Except for this gloomy woman who stood before her, she had not a relative in the world. She silently followed her aunt to her father’s bedroom and looked down at his peaceful face. He looks so rested now, she thought. He’s better off out of all this. He could never have borne it!
Chapter Four
The Necklace
Sabrina straightened her back and groaned. She looked at the wood she had split and stacked and said, “Well, there, it’s done. If Father saw me splitting wood, he would turn over in his grave.” Moving slowly, she walked around the back of the cottage and leaned the ax against the step. She looked down the row of houses all so close together, marveling once again that there was barely room for a person to pass between them. Each yard had a line for hanging clothes, and the cold breeze filled the various sheets, dresses, shirts, and unmentionables, making them dance together. They look like a line of ghosts, she thought.
A group of young children were playing a game of ring around the rosie in the next yard, and she leaned against the tiny porch and watched them. A tinge of envy came to her as she realized that she had not known such happiness since her father had died. She had been thrust into adulthood, poverty, and hard labor all at the same time.
She could not stop thinking about the funeral and how few of her father’s old “friends” had attended. The church had been less than a quarter full, and the funeral service had been a perfunctory affair, bringing no comfort at all to Sabrina. She thought of the grave, where there had barely been enough money for a small stone, nothing like the magnificent statuary that adorned the graves of Sir Roger Fairfax’s ancestors. Her aunt, Elberta, had wanted to put no stone at all there, for there was so little money, and the two had argued over this. Sabrina had won that argument, but it had been practically the last one.
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