by Nina Clare
Myles stared at Felix as though he had gone mad. He did not take the key. “Why would you give me a house and land? What house? Where is this land?”
“Just take the key! When we have eaten dinner I will take you there,” he slapped Myles on the shoulder and laughed again.
“I don’t understand,” said Myles. “This seems like a cruel joke.”
“It’s no joke. I was to marry Rosie to please her father and my mother, and I refused her on the very day of our wedding because the lady I loved appeared, as though out of a wonderful dream. My recompense to Rosie is to ensure she can marry the man she loves, and I’ve been given a house that I now give to you and her. That is the truth. There is no joke. And I am sorry I can’t stop laughing at present, but I feel so full of happiness!
“Now, stay here, and I will send Rosie in to speak with you. You may tell her you have a home for her not an hour’s ride from here. And I will speak on your behalf to her father when he comes in at dinner.”
It took three days for Felix and Bellchior’s fits of laughter to wear away. Both men were left with a deep abiding sense of peace, as though they had been healed of many deep-seated wounds.
Lady Cicely Rose and Master Myles Digby were married and made their home in Wildrose Manor, which everyone in the villages about seemed to vaguely recall was owned by some distant relative of the family of Beck.
No one questioned its presence, nor did anyone seem to remember there had once been an old herb-woman, or midwife, or witch, or whatever one called her, who had once lived in Wilder Woods.
After some time, even Felix grew fuzzy in his mind about how Wildrose Manor had come to belong to Cicely, and seemed to recall, as in a dream, the image of a ragged, old woman who called herself Mother Wheedle. The memories of all things related to her seemed to strangely fade away with time – though Felix always had a penchant for reading fairy-tales to his dark-haired children, and to Rosie and Myles’s fair-haired babes as they grew...
The End
Also by Nina Clare
THE THIRTEENTH PRINCESS
At last, the true story of The Twelve Dancing Princesses has been recorded…
About the Author
When I’m not writing stories or thinking up stories or reading other people’s stories I like to paint and collage pictures, get taken for long walks by my adorable dogs, and cook all things plant-based. I live in rural Cornwall, England with my non-literary, non-vegan canine-and-human-family.
I hope you enjoyed reading Beck and would be so kind as to leave a review.
Get in touch or sign up to my mailing list to be notified of future releases at
www.ninaclarebooks.com
About Beck
Beck is a retelling of an old Scottish ballad, known as Young Beichan. There are several variants, collected by Francis James Child in the late 19th century, and catalogued as Child ballad number 53.
The variations of it can be read at:
http://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/eng/child/ch053.htm
A portion of all profits from the sale of Beck will be donated to the International Justice Ministry, an international charity fighting modern day slavery, sex trafficking, and oppression.
Rescue Thousands
Protect Millions.
PROVE THAT JUSTICE FOR THE POOR IS POSSIBLE.
https://www.ijm.org/