The Tale of Hawthorn House Read online

  “So if Miss Keller had already gone, it was Miss Shaw who abandoned the baby at Hill Top Farm,” the captain said, pursing his lips.

  “No,” Beatrix replied. She had debated how best to tell this part of the story and decided on a recital of the bare facts. “The baby was taken from Miss Shaw by an elderly person who appeared at Hawthorn House, abducted the child from its cradle, and subsequently left it at Hill Top.”

  “I knew nothing of this, of course,” Miss Keller said energetically. “When Miss Shaw arrived in London, she gave me to understand that everything had gone as planned, and that the child was safe with the Grahams.”

  Emily bit her lip. “I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

  “Is it true?” the captain demanded. “The baby was taken from you?”

  “Oh, yes, sir,” said Emily, raising her eyes. “She was. I swear it, on my honor. T’ lady—t’ person moved so fast that I couldn’t have stopped her, no matter how hard I tried!”

  “Well, then, who was this person?”

  “I doan’t know, sir. An old woman is all I kin say, sir. I’d nivver seen her before. She—” Emily swallowed. “She was strange.”

  “And you really expect us to believe in this ‘strange old woman’?” the captain asked, clearly disbelieving. “Wasn’t it you who abandoned the baby at Hill Top Farm, so that you could go off to London in pursuit of your own pleasure?”

  “Oh, no, sir!” Emily exclaimed, shaking her head violently. “It was t’ old woman as did it, sir! Wrapt up in all manner of odd shawls and scarves, she was. And she moved very fast.” She appealed to Beatrix. “Isn’t that right, Miss Potter?”

  “If the captain will recall,” Beatrix said carefully, “I reported that I myself saw such an elderly person disappearing over my garden wall, immediately after I discovered the baby. Miss Shaw’s description tallies with my own observation. But as to the woman’s identity—” She gave a little shrug. “I couldn’t say. Perhaps she was one of the gypsies.”

  She and Emily had discussed another possible explanation, one that involved the legendary Folk. Beatrix might be a grownup, but she had never quite given up her childhood belief in fairies, for in her personal opinion, there were some things in the world that simply did not admit of any other explanation. Still, she knew without asking that the captain was not of the same mind (or rather, his heart was not going round to the same tune, as one of her favorite writers had once put it). So there was no point in suggesting that Flora had been taken by one of the Folk.

  “There may be other explanations,” she went on, “but that seems to be the most logical. As to why a gypsy woman should take Flora from Hawthorn House and leave her at Hill Top, I’m afraid I have no explanation.”

  “I see,” the captain said, although Beatrix understood from his tone that he did not see at all. He frowned at Emily. “And it was you who took the ring to be pawned in Hawkshead, Miss Shaw?”

  Emily nodded, at the same time that Miss Keller spoke. “You know about that?” she asked in surprise, and then lapsed back into silence, apparently regretting the question.

  “Miss Keller has told me that there were periods when funds were in short supply,” Beatrix said. “She applied to her Uncle Villars for help, but it took some time for the money to arrive from India. In the meantime, she sent Emily with the ring to be pawned.”

  “That seems to answer every question but one,” the captain said, with the air of a man who has almost cleared up a very substantial mess. “What’s to be done with the child?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know,” said Miss Keller crossly. “I no longer consider myself responsible. I made every necessary arrangement. I cannot see that I have any obligation—”

  Dimity stood, cutting her off. “Major Kittredge and I would like to adopt Flora,” she announced in a tone that brooked no dispute. “We are to be married soon, and both of us are anxious to give her a proper home.” She looked at Miss Keller with a mixture of defiance and dislike. “She will be loved and cared for as our own.”

  “Oh, Miss Woodcock!” Emily cried. “Oh, miss, that’s wonderful, truly it is! How fortunate for little Flora!”

  Miss Keller gave a cough, which Beatrix thought signaled relief for herself rather than gratitude for Dimity’s offer. “Well, then, that settles it, doesn’t it?” she said crisply, with a gesture that might have been a washing of hands.

  “Not so fast,” the captain said, speaking in what Beatrix thought of as his Official Tone. “There are several things that must be done, Miss Keller. First, you shall see that your child’s birth is properly registered. And then you shall sign an affidavit, before witnesses, stating that the infant’s father is deceased, relinquishing your maternal rights, and giving your permission to the proposed adoption. Is that agreed?”

  Beatrix caught the look of surprised gratitude that Dimity cast on her brother and thought she understood what was behind it. Apparently the captain had reconsidered his opposition to the marriage—at least, his public opposition. Privately, he might try his best to work against the idea, but he was not going to voice any open opposition.

  “I suppose,” said Miss Keller, in a hard tone. She cast a look at Flora, still fast in Emily’s embrace, and put on a softer smile. “It’s not that I don’t want to be a mother,” she said, “or that I don’t feel my obligation fully. It’s just that I cannot, in my present circumstance, care for a child. I’m sure you understand.”

  Beatrix thought that no matter how daunting the circumstance, she could never have given up her own child. And she did not trust Miss Keller’s smile, for it seemed contrived and false. However, that was neither here nor there. Once the birth was registered and the affidavit signed and witnessed, Miss Keller would have nothing more to do with Flora. She would belong to Dimity and the major, who would do their best to be good parents.

  Miss Keller stood. “If that is all, then,” she said, “I will be off. I’ve taken a room at the inn for the night.” She pulled down her mouth. “I had expected to return to London tomorrow, so I should like to get this official business over and done with as early as possible.”

  “I shall see what I can do,” Captain Woodcock said.

  Reluctantly, Emily handed back the baby to Dimity. “I’m so glad to know Flora’ll have a good mum and dad, miss,” she said, in a subdued voice. “I cared for her best as I could, y’ know. Wisht I’d done better.”

  “I’m sure you did very well,” Dimity said. She hesitated, and Beatrix read what was in her friend’s mind, and very much approved. She smiled as Dimity added, “If you are not set on returning to London, Miss Shaw, I might be able to offer you the post of nursemaid—here at Tower Bank House at first, and later at Raven Hall. On a trial basis, of course,” she added. “To see whether it suits.”

  “Nursemaid?” Emily exclaimed incredulously. She clasped her hands, her face wreathed in smiles. “Oh, miss, I should love to stay with Flora, and you, too.” Then the smiles vanished. “But Miss Potter said I could work for her, in Lon’on. I was thinkin’ I wouldn’t come back here. I’m afraid people may b’lieve that I—”

  “As long as Flora is safe and cared for,” Beatrix interrupted, “it shouldn’t matter what they believe. Anyway,” she added reassuringly, “Miss Woodcock and I can set them straight. As to Bolton Gardens—that might be arranged later, if you still wish it.”

  “Well,” said the captain, “everything seems to be settled.”

  Dimity’s glance at her brother brimmed with happiness. “If you’d like to begin our arrangement tonight,” she said to Emily, “we can put a cot in Flora’s room for you.”

  At Emily’s delighted “Oh, yes, please, miss!” Miss Keller stood, with a loud harrumph that said more plainly than words what an appalling mistake Emily was making. “I shall be off,” she said haughtily. “Captain Woodcock, I shall expect you tomorrow.”

  When Miss Keller had gone, Dimity took Emily and Flora upstairs, leaving Beatrix with the captain, who offered sherr
y. When Beatrix declined, he poured a glass for himself, shaking his head.

  “Miss Potter, I am constantly amazed by your powers. How in the world were you able, in all of London, to locate Emily Shaw and Miss Keller?”

  Beatrix smiled and related the circumstances. “There, you see, Captain Woodcock? It was sheer happenstance.” It was probably wise of her not to mention her suspicion that the Folk had intervened in the business, for the captain would never admit the possibility. (You and I, however, know that it was when Beatrix walked under the hawthorn trees at St. Mary’s that she found herself turning to cross the churchyard, which brought her out at a point where she could not fail to see Emily. If we like, we can speculate that these ancient hawthorn trees—at least as old as the thorns at Hawthorn House—were home to some of the London-based Thorn Folk, for hawthorns are hawthorns, wherever they may grow.)

  The captain nodded. “And why do you suppose Miss Keller wanted Emily Shaw in London? I should have thought the girl might be a threat, given what she knew about the baby.”

  “I wondered that myself,” Beatrix said. “I think, however, that Miss Keller believed it was safer to have Emily where she could manage her with threats—and perhaps rewards—of her own. At a distance, Emily would be beyond Miss Keller’s control.”

  “I see. Well, be that as it may, we are in your debt once again.” The captain seemed to hesitate. “I wonder—I thought perhaps . . .” He slid her a sidelong glance. “Would you be interested in motoring to Ambleside with me on Sunday afternoon, Miss Potter? We could have a bit of a look round and afterward stop to eat at a little teashop I know there. It’s quaint and very pleasant, and the drive is enjoyable.”

  Beatrix thought swiftly. She liked Captain Woodcock, who struck her as an interesting and thoughtful person, and someone she might like to know better. But she had spent several days of her precious time in London, and there were a great many things she wanted to do before she had to go away again.

  “Thank you very much,” she said regretfully, “but I’m afraid I shall have to say no. I’m truly sorry. But I have so little time to spend at the farm. I feel as if I am snatching at every minute as it races past.”

  “That’s all right, then,” the captain said in a reassuring tone. “I’ll ask again.”

  Beatrix nodded. It did not occur to her to wonder why he was asking.

  “But you are planning to be with us for dinner tomorrow night,” he went on.

  “Oh, yes,” Beatrix replied. She smiled. “It looks as if we have something to celebrate.”

  “What? Oh, yes.” The captain looked glum. “My sister’s engagement.”

  “And the baby,” Beatrix reminded him.

  He looked away. “Yes, that. I must say, Miss Potter, I am relieved that the baby my sister is intent on adopting is not a gypsy baby. I am grateful to you for identifying the real mother.”

  Beatrix only nodded, although within herself, privately, she thought that it was rather sad that Captain Woodcock could focus only on who the baby was not (at least so far as he knew) rather than who the baby was: a beautiful infant with a promising future in a family who would love and cherish her. And it was really too bad that he could not be pleased that his sister had the courage to follow her heart.

  Perhaps she was not so sorry, after all, for declining his invitation.

  36

  Dinner at Tower Bank House

  Miles had intended to speak to Will Heelis before the dinner party on Saturday evening, with the hope that he could persuade him to declare his feelings to Dimity promptly and decisively. But he was thwarted by Will and Kittredge coming in together, in a jovial mood. They had met one another on the road, and Kittredge had told Will that he and Dimity were to be married.

  So the cat was out of the bag, and Miles knew that he would have to give up any idea of matching his sister and Heelis. Will was every inch a gentleman and would never think of poaching on another man’s territory. What was more, Will seemed genuinely pleased to learn of the engagement. But that was because he was a gentleman, Miles thought darkly, and too kind and beneficent to risk looking ahead to the unfortunate consequences that were bound to come of this marriage.

  Will Heelis, for his part, was delighted to learn about the engagement. He had always liked Christopher Kittredge (who was a client as well as a friend) and he was a great admirer of Miles’ sister, a sweet lady, although perhaps a little too much under her brother’s thumb. But perhaps he ought to revise that estimation of her, for according to Kittredge, she had faced her brother’s outspoken disapproval with great courage. Will was also pleased to hear that the fate of the foundling baby had been settled to everyone’s satisfaction—and the baby’s great advantage. And if he had understood correctly, Miss Potter had played an important role in the business.

  Ah, Miss Potter. Yes, indeed, Miss Potter. Strange, how she always seemed to have a hand in whatever village puzzle needed resolving. She was certainly looking very pretty tonight, he thought as he joined the group in the library and caught sight of her sitting on the red velvet sofa. She was dressed in a modest blue silk blouse and neat gray tweed skirt, her chestnut hair smoothed back, her china-blue eyes bright and observant.

  Now, if this were a romance, we might note that Will’s heart leapt up and clicked its heels at the sight of Miss Potter. But it isn’t, and it didn’t, quite, although perhaps it beat just a little faster than it usually did (although Will did not seem to be aware of this). He admired Miss Potter, whose little books were a great favorite among his nephews and nieces, for he had some idea of the concentrated effort and attention to detail required to produce so many very fine books. What’s more, he had represented her in the purchase of one or two small pieces of property in the last year, and had found that attention to practical detail was as much a characteristic of the businesswoman as it was the artist. Added to that, he liked her quick, sharp wit and her straightforward manner. She was comradely and comfortable and always made him feel as if they were meeting person-to-person, rather than woman-to-man.

  Will was not one for small talk and usually found parties difficult. But tonight, he really wanted to know how in the world Miss Potter had managed to find that baby’s mother. It must have required some sort of serious sleuthing. So he went straight to the sofa, sat down beside Miss Potter and asked how she had managed it. With interest, he listened to her intriguing tale, then stayed to talk about other matters until dinner was announced, at which time his host appeared to take possession of Miss Potter and Will (who felt a brief disappointment at this) was instructed to escort Sarah Barwick to the dining room.

  Miss Barwick, in a gay mood, was looking unexpectedly feminine in a pink dress decorated with tiers of gauzy ruffles. Will found her so amusing and entertaining that he forgot his disappointment, especially since Miss Potter was seated directly opposite. Dinner passed more quickly and pleasantly than he might have expected. And at the end of it, when Miles officially announced the engagement of his sister (in a brusque and offhand way that Will thought ungracious), Will himself stood and proposed a toast.

  “To the future bride and groom,” he said, holding up his glass. “We wish you health, happiness, and joy, now and forever.” He was rewarded with Dimity’s grateful smile and Miss Barwick’s fervent “I’ll say amen to that,” which made everyone chuckle—everyone but Captain Woodcock, that is.

  On the other side of the table, seated at the captain’s elbow, Beatrix also felt sad for Dimity at her brother’s obvious lack of enthusiasm. He was so clearly unhappy about the way things had turned out that Beatrix almost felt sorry for him—but not quite sorry enough to try to brighten his glum mood. So she had passed the dinner hour mostly in silence, doing what she often did at such gatherings, observing others. It was heartening to see Dimity and the major with their heads together, so deeply engrossed in each other that they almost seemed unaware that anyone else shared their table and so much in love that it shone like a dazzling light in their faces.
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  And it was amusing to see Sarah Barwick with Mr. Heelis, for Sarah was livelier than usual, and Mr. Heelis flatteringly attentive. Beatrix could not help the small sigh that escaped her. Well, well. She had been wrong when she thought it was Dimity to whom Mr. Heelis was attracted. It was Sarah, gay, mischievous, energetic Sarah—who, for all her protesting that a man would limit her independence, was clearly attracted to Mr. Heelis. They were a handsome pair, Beatrix thought, for Sarah’s fun-loving lightheartedness offset his quiet, steady demeanor, and his physical height and strength complemented her lithe and boyish figure.

  Beatrix looked down at her plate, aware that she should be happy for Sarah, for whom a match with Mr. Heelis would be a very good thing indeed. She would not have to work so hard to support herself. Like Bertram, Sarah would have someone to care for and someone who would care in return, someone to share the good times and bad. And as the days became months, and the months became years, the two of them would grow closer and dearer and more devoted. Fortunate Sarah, Beatrix thought. Fortunate, oh, fortunate Sarah.

  And because Beatrix was who she was, she looked up at Sarah and smiled.

  37

  The Professor Concludes

  On a fine late-August evening, a week after the dinner party at Tower Bank House, our friend Bosworth Badger came out of the front door of The Brockery. He stretched his forepaws high over his head, bent over and touched his toes (not an easy trick, because of his stoutness), straightened, and took three deep breaths, casting an appreciative glance across the valley to the hill beyond.

  On warm summer evenings, after dinner, Bosworth likes to take a cup of tea and a plate of sweet somethings to the porch outside his main entrance, where he can enjoy a last glimpse of the sun, dipping like a huge round slice of orange into the lemon-and-lavender clouds behind the great purple fells. The badger sits in his wicker rocker and makes notes for the next day’s entry in the History, where he records all of the important events in the Land Between the Lakes. These are not just animal events, of course (although there are many of those), but human events, as well, for animals have a great interest and stake in what humans do in the land that they all have to share.