The Secret of Fair Hill: A Refuge in Fair Hill Book 2

by Faith Cummings

  "I want to introduce to you Miss Barbara Scott," Alan said. "Her father was my brother who lived in Wisconsin."

  "Where are her parents? What is she doing here?" Sheila spoke as if I were not there. "Her parents are dead," Alan explained. "She's here because her father sent her here before he died."

  "Why did he do that?"

  "Because he knew I'd take care of her," Alan replied. "And he was right."

  "What about me? No one thought to ask me what I thought about this."

  "Sheila, Barbara is my brother's daughter. She's part of my family. I can't just slam the door in her face."

  "Alan, you know how I feel about children," Sheila began.

  "Sheila, she's fifteen. She won't need much looking after. What help she does need, I can give her."

  I rose from my chair and faced my uncle. "I didn't want to cause any trouble," I said sadly. "I'll go if that's what Aunt Sheila wants."

  I saw Sheila wince as I spoke and knew that it would be better for me to go as soon as possible. Clearly I was not welcome here even if Alan wanted me to stay. He turned to his wife in some concern.

  "Where will she go, Sheila? She's not old enough to be completely alone."

  "Alan, that is not my concern," his wife replied rising. "I'm going to get dressed for dinner. She may have something with the servants before she leaves."

  Alan caught her by the arm, some anger now evident in his face. "She will eat with us and will remain here until or unless I allow her to leave," he said firmly. "I will not turn her away. Her father entrusted her to me. I take that very seriously."

  Sheila shook him off and spoke with equal vehemence. "Then perhaps you would like to go with her?" She swept from the room and went upstairs. Alan stood silently for a moment, trying to calm himself and decide what to do.

  I finally broke the silence. "Uncle Alan, I'll go," I said, touching his arm lightly. "I don't want to cause any problems for you here. If I'd known she was going to object so much, I wouldn't have come."

  He drew me close and kissed my cheek. "I don't want you to go, Barbara. Where would you go anyway? You need some kind of support still."

  "I have a little money I can live on until I get a job," I told him. "I can manage all right. "I'll find a place here in Newport and see you often."

  "You can't live by yourself," he said firmly. "It's not safe."

  "I'll look for a nice boardinghouse," I explained. "You can help me find one that you like."

  "That's not good enough either. You will remain here."

  "No, I can't do that. It's plain Aunt Sheila doesn't want me around."

  "You will, nevertheless remain here until morning when I can decide what to do." I said nothing. I followed him from the library. My trunk still stood in the entrance hall where the servants had left it, uncertain where it belonged. Alan took it himself and beckoned me to follow him up the winding staircase. He showed me to a bedroom and told a maid to bring me hot water and soap so that I could wash after my trip. Then, he left me, saying that he would be back in half an hour to take me to dinner. I washed and put on a clean dress. It had been my best dress back home, but I knew it wouldn't do here in this big, cold house. I was ready when

  * * *

  Alan reappeared at my door.

  "You look fine," he assured me, knowing that I felt uncomfortable. "Let's go and have a good supper in spite of your Aunt Sheila." When we entered the dining room, I noted he had a place set for me despite Sheila's protests. My aunt sat coldly in her chair, ignoring us both. Alan seated me then seated himself near me. No prayers were said here as they had been at home. The food was served by dour faced servants who said nothing. Alan tried to talk with me as we ate and, for a time, I managed to keep up a pretense of enjoying the meal. But after a while, under the stern gaze of Sheila, we both fell silent. When dessert had been served and eaten, I asked quietly if I might be excused. My uncle started to speak but my aunt cut him off with a raised hand.

  "Since you were never invited here in the first place, it seems a little unnecessary for you to ask to leave," she said sternly. "I don't know why you thought you could just arrive on our doorstep and be taken in like the morning milk. I won't have it." I said nothing. It would do no good to explain that I was carrying out a promise made to my father as he lay dying. I knew this woman would not understand such loyalty.

  "You may go to your room and rest," my uncle said more kindly as he rose from the table. I joined him at the door but Sheila stopped us.

  "Alan, I said she is not to remain here. If you insist upon it, you are free to live with her elsewhere."

  Alan drew me from the room and toward the stairs. "Get a good night's sleep and we'll handle this in the morning," he said gently.

  "Uncle Alan, I'm not sure I can," I admitted apologetically. "I thank you very much for trying to help, but I'm not welcome here and it's hard to think about sleeping."

  "I understand," he said, his voice full of resignation. "I'll think of something. "Go up and pack your trunk. I'll be up in a moment." I went back to the room upstairs and did as I was told, wondering where I would spend the coming night. I could feel myself growing more tired by the moment. The trip had been a long one and the day had been an emotional drain. I packed my things and closed the trunk as my uncle knocked on my door.

  "I've decided what to do," he said. The relief was evident in his face and manner. "I've thought of the perfect place for you. It's not here in Newport but it's close enough that I can see you when I like. You'll be welcome there."

  "Do we have other relatives here?" I asked with interest as he took my trunk and we started back downstairs.

  "No, these aren't relatives. In fact, I only know of them. I don't know any of them well, but I am certain you will be welcome among them."

  "Uncle Alan, if they're strangers how do you know I'll be safe?" I was genuinely afraid at this news.

  "I know because they would have no reason or desire to harm you. You'll be as welcome as one of their young people. Before long, you'll feel as if you've always lived there." We were leaving the house and he was putting my trunk back in his carriage. "Where's the coachman?" I asked in some surprise as he helped me in and took the reins himself.

  "He won't go up there, so I'll take you myself," Alan said smiling.

  "You're taking me somewhere your servants are afraid to go?"

  "They're not afraid. They just don't like the folks who live up there very much. Few people in Newport do."

  "Uncle Alan, this sounds worse by the minute. Where are we going?"

  "It's called Fair Hill." He told me as we left the drive and turned south.

  * * *

  We rode on in silence for an hour, then Alan spoke again, more gently.

  "I want you to understand that I care about you, Barbara. I'm not doing this because I don't want you with me. I'm doing it because I don't want Sheila to make your life miserable."

  "I know, Uncle Alan, but where are we going? Do you know these people up here?" As we talked we were climbing up a mountain south of Newport.

  "I don't know them personally, and for that, I'm sorry. But I do know that you're going to be welcome and well taken care of here."

  "You don't know them, but you trust them," I was puzzled by his words and a little frightened.

  "That's right," he assured me. "I know you'll be fine and that I can see you whenever either of us likes."

  We stopped in a small farming village. The building in front of which the carriage halted was that belonging to the village doctor. Alan stepped down from the carriage and helped me. "Let's go see if he's here," he told me quietly, walking toward the door. The door was opened by a white haired man with a warm smile and bright blue eyes.

  "I wonder if we might talk with you for a moment or two," Alan said. "You are Doc Wilson, aren't you?"

  "Yes, I am. Come in. What can I do for you?" We all took comfortable chairs in the sitting room.

  "My name is Alan Scott, my Uncle began
as I looked about me at the cozy house.

  "Yes, I know who you are," the doctor said laughing a little. "I think even the folks up here know who Alan Scott is."

  "Well, thank you," Alan continued. "This is my niece Barbara Scott. Her parents died recently of some sort of fever back in Wisconsin. She came here to live with my wife and me. But my wife doesn't wish to have her with us and will not change her mind."

  "Women can be troublesome, can't they?" The cheerful doctor agreed.

  "Yes, sometimes they can."

  "So you want this young lady to live up here?"

  "Yes, do you think that would be possible?"

  The doctor turned to me then, regarding me for a moment. "You're not a Friend, are you?" He asked.

  I was confused. "I'm not what?" I asked in return.

  "A Friend, a Quaker."

  "No, but neither are you," Alan said quickly. "Does that matter?"

  "No, not at all. I'm not a Friend, as you say, and I'm very much a part of Fair Hill."

  "What is a Friend?" I wanted to know.

  "It's a religious sect, you never saw Quakers in Wisconsin?" My uncle said.

  "I guess not or I'd know what they are."

  "Well, you needn't worry about that tonight," the doctor assured me. Then, turning to Alan, he continued. "It's just me living here, Mr. Scott. I'd think you'd want her to be with a family."

  "I do, a family with at least one girl about her age."

  "Well, I'll put her up here tonight and see about it tomorrow first thing. Is that all right?"

  "Yes, that will be fine," Alan agreed.

  "But I will see you?" I asked, still frightened in spite of the doctor's cheerful manner and evident acceptance.

  "I'll see you in a few days when you're settled. I'll find out from Doc here where you are and come and visit you." He assured me. "I'm not deserting you, Barbara, I promise." I agreed to remain. Alan went out to get my things from the carriage. I said goodbye to my uncle then and had a cup of tea with the Doctor before he showed me to a restful room just off the kitchen.

  "My daughter Maria used this room before she left home," he told me as he put down my trunk. "I keep the bed made up for guests or patients." I thanked him for his hospitality and we wished each other a good night. I slept deeply in spite of the new surroundings. It had been a long and full day. I was emotionally and physically tired. I woke the next morning to the smell of breakfast being made and thought of home in Wisconsin. I looked about me at the well lit and airy room, remembering where I was. I was in a place called Fair Hill and had come here to live. I knew nothing about this place or its inhabitants. I must ask the doctor to tell me about it over breakfast. He gave me a hearty greeting as I entered the kitchen and asked me if I preferred coffee or tea.

  "Tea would be nice, thank you," I said rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

  "Sleep well?"

  "Yes, very well. I was awfully tired last night."

  "And with good reason," he said handing me a cup of tea and pulling out a chair at the table. "Sit and drink this. Breakfast's on the way."

  "I appreciate your letting me stay here like this," I began.

  "You'd do the same for me if I came to you," he interrupted. "I suppose you have millions of questions about this place, huh?"

  "In fact, I do," I began.

  "And I just happen to have all the answers," he told me, putting a plate piled high with food before me. "Eat what you can and I'll feed the rest to the chickens." I thanked him again as he seated himself at the table with his filled plate. "But before you do," he added as I picked up a fork, "Let's thank the one we got this from." He bowed his head and said a simple prayer, not only thanking God for the food before us but for sending me to Fair Hill. Then, ending his prayer, he lifted his head and reached for his fork. "Am I wrong or did you refrain from joining me in my prayer?" He asked in matter-of-fact tones.

  "I haven't prayed since my parents died," I admitted. "I'm not sure there's anyone to pray to."

  "Oh, not very happy with God right now, are you?" He was laughing at me, I thought and I didn't like it. He was altogether too cheerful.

  "I'm very serious about this," I said angrily. "I think it's a waste of time."

  "You mean prayer's a waste of time?" He asked.

  "Yes, that's exactly what I mean. I don't think it makes any sense to talk to myself." "Well, if you were only doing that, it wouldn't. In fact, you'd be wise not to do it. But do you really believe that's what you'd be doing?"

  "Yes. I'm sure of it."

  "Because you asked God to heal your parents and He didn't?"

  "I prayed for them, yes. But no one did anything to help them or me."

  "I think your uncle did you a rather large favor bringing you here," the older man mused. "You'll see how wrong you are if you stay in Fair Hill a while."

  "I hope they aren't going to force God on me at every turn," I said firmly. "I'll not stay if they do."

  "I very much doubt if He'll be forced on you. That won't be necessary. You'll see." "I've decided where to take you this morning if you're ready," he said after the dishes had been washed.

  "I'm ready," I said hesitantly. "But I wish I knew more about these people you call Friends."

  "You'll learn about them fast enough without me." He told me, taking my trunk and heading toward the door. "Come on, we don't have far to go now." I followed him from the house and saw a wagon with the horse already hitched and waiting for us. He put the trunk in the back and helped me onto the wagon. Then, climbing up beside me, he took the reins and spoke to the horse. I watched the few small houses of the village pass by as we drove farther south toward the other end of the village. When we left the village, we were surrounded on both sides by farms. They looked well tended and prosperous. We drove in silence for ten minutes before the doctor turned the wagon into a drive leading up to a rambling farmhouse. "They must have a large family already," I said noticing how big the house was.

  "The man who built it did. He had eleven sons and one daughter. His youngest son lives here now. He only has two sons and a daughter. But they still have plenty of room for extra people when they need it. "

  I looked with some interest at the well-kept farm. There were flower beds around the house. I could see maple trees behind it on a little rise of ground. He stopped the wagon and helped me. "Someone will be here to welcome you, I imagine," he said as we climbed the front porch steps. He opened the door and called a cheery greeting to whomever might be nearby.

  "Hello, it's Doc Wilson."

  "In the kitchen, Doc," a woman's voice called back. He drew me inside the house. The sitting room we entered was warmed by a fire. I could smell freshly baked bread and was assailed by memories of home. I could almost imagine my mother calling from the kitchen. The furniture in the room was old but well maintained. There were no frills about the house. Everything was very simple and utilitarian. I saw a few worn books on a small shelf and noted that one of them was a Bible. Doc Wilson took my hand and drew me toward the kitchen.

  "What brings thee here, Doc, is something wrong?" The woman inquired when she saw him in the doorway. She was small and somewhat plump with red hair braided and wrapped neatly about her head. She was dressed quite simply in a gray dress, covered with an old apron.

  "I've brought you someone who needs a place to stay for a time," he told the woman as he took a chair and beckoned to me to enter. The woman turned from her baking and washed the flour from her hands. Then she took my hand. "Thee is welcome," she said simply. "What is thy name?"

  I was unable to speak for a moment. This woman was confusing. She spoke using strange words. There was a trace of an Irish brogue in her voice. I looked at the woman before me and was met by a pair of green eyes and a smiling face.

  "This is Barbara Scott," the doctor said. "She's had a lot to handle lately, Amy and needs to recover."

  "Well, Barbara, would thee like some tea or perhaps a glass of fresh milk?" My face lit at the thought of
fresh milk. I found myself eagerly saying that milk would be fine. I seated myself at the old kitchen table. Amy brought me the milk with a few cookies, still warm from the oven.

  "You're going to spoil her, Amy," the doctor teased.

  "A few cookies never yet spoiled a child," Amy said ruffling his hair lovingly. "Have a couple thyself, Doc."

  "I will," he agreed, taking one from the plate. "But then I've got to go and check on a few folks. Barbara, will you be all right?"

  "Yes, sir, I'll be fine," I answered though I still felt rather confused.

  "You send word if you need anything. I'll send a message to your Uncle to tell him where you are. This is the Becker farm, by the way. This is Amy Becker. Like I told you, she has two sons and a daughter about your age. She can tell you about them and about her husband."

  "Did thee bring anything with thee?" Amy asked, taking a loaf of bread from the oven and putting it out to cool.

  "Yes, a trunk. I'll get it." He said and rose, taking another cookie.

  "Thee has an uncle? Where is he?"

  "He's in Newport," I replied. "He brought me here last night." When the doctor reentered with the trunk, Amy asked if I would like to see my room. I said I would. Amy took me up, while Doc followed with my things.

  The room to which I was taken was simply but well furnished. There was a wardrobe for my clothes and a comfortable four-poster bed. It had a table beside it and a chair. The table held a wash basin and pitcher. They were made of pottery. There was a rag rug in front of the bed. It was made of soft colors, restful to the eye.

  "I think I'd like to unpack at least some of this," I said, feeling a need for time to myself.

  "Make thyself at home, Barbara, I'll be in the kitchen when thee is finished." Amy said, seeming to understand. I thanked Doc Wilson again for his help and said goodbye to him.

  The two went down to the kitchen, leaving me to my unpacking. I heard them talking as they went toward the stairs.

  "Her uncle is Alan Scott the architect," the doctor explained. "I'll not tell you the whole story, I'll let her do that, but I think you should know two things before I go."