Chapter 34

 

Standing in the garden, Crispin took a deep breath and looked around him. No doubt about it, Harlow Manor was a gorgeous sight, from the architecture of the main house to the surrounding splendour of greenery. He could not help but be impressed. To think he might have grown up here caused a wince in his heart. His life would have been so different to the one he had experienced. For one thing, he wouldn’t have gone without for anything. Like his uncle Piers, he would have had the world at his fingertips. He wouldn’t have grown up in foster care. He wouldn’t have wondered why he had been abandoned.

Yet gazing at his supposed real family’s land, he found himself missing his life in Kingston, even on the verge of longing for it, for its familiarity, its simplicity, and comforts. If he had grown up here, he wouldn’t have gone to Kingston University. He wouldn’t have met Kell, Keegan, Dorian or Becky. He would never have met Gwen. Those reasons alone were enough to abolish any further regrets. What was done, was done, and there was no point in dwelling on what-ifs. His only concern, going forward, was what to do with all this sudden wealth. This land, this house. Did he even want it?

Of course, he did. He wasn’t a fool or too proud to dismiss its value. Trouble was, what to do next. Should he remain here? In a way, it would make sense. Surrounded by all this grandeur, he might never feel the need to return to Canada and all things familiar. After all, hadn’t that been his goal in the first place, to prove to himself he could make it on his own, to prove he could survive the absence of his friends?

Only now, he realized it didn’t have to be that way. Hadn’t he spent his entire childhood alone? Hadn’t he already proven he could survive it? Question was, why would he ever choose to be alone when he didn’t have to? Being alone was overrated. As far as he was concerned, he’d had enough of it. He hadn’t been in control as a child. As an adult, he had a choice. What he wanted now, was love, and to surround himself with those who loved him, not run away from them.

First and foremost, he was in love with Gwen, and knowing she loved him in return, that she wouldn’t abandon him, well, that feeling was what he had been searching for his entire life. She had filled the gaping big hole in his heart just when he needed it most, and he wasn’t too proud or daft enough to deny it. In her, he had found his soulmate, of that he had no doubt. Whatever decision he made would involve her, therefore he had to make it the right one.

“Pardon me, Master Crispin, would you like to begin your tour?”

Jones’s voice stirred Crispin from his thoughts and he smiled at the kindly old man. “Yes, good idea, I suppose we should. Lead the way, Jones.”

 

***

 

If anything, Crispin learned that Jones knew everything about Harlow Manor and its surrounding grounds. He showed Crispin the impressive kitchens, introduced him to the staff. He then introduced him to the head housekeeper, who happened to be his wife Iris. No doubt, the man took great pride in working there. It was all he had known, apparently, and he didn’t mind sharing his concerns about Piers’s desire to hand it over to the National Trust.

“Who knows what would happen. I fear they would retire us off and hire younger staff at a lower rate. Most likely, the private apartments would also be opened up for tourism. My wife and I would lose our livelihood and be forced to retire.”

“Is that really such a bad thing?” Crispin inquired as Jones escorted him up yet another staircase. “Aren’t you both tired of coming here? Haven’t you dedicated enough of your lives to this place?”

“This place is all we’ve known, sir,” Jones responded. “We both take great pride in working here. Not only that, I fear we would have to find another place to live. You see, we’ve had the privilege of residing on the premises for most of our lives. We wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“Oh, I do see,” Crispin said pensively. “So, you’re really hoping I stay on and keep the place going since Piers wants to walk away.”

“I can’t and won’t pretend otherwise, sir. Forgive me if it sounds selfish. I’ve been loyal to the family all my life. I would hate to see it all come to an end.”

Crispin nodded in appreciation of the old man’s honesty. “So, I take it, you knew my grandfather well?”

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

Crispin couldn’t help but chuckle at the apprehension in the man’s response. “Not much of fan, eh?”

“I don’t like speaking of the Harlow family with disrespect.”

“Oh, come on.” Crispin paused in front the latest door they approached. “You’re allowed to tell me. Technically, I am one of them. I’d like to know what I’m getting into. Go on, give me the inside scoop.”

“Very well, Master Crispin.” Jones opened the door and gestured for him to enter ahead. “I was never a fan of your grandfather’s. The man was a heartless, cruel bastard!”

Crispin couldn’t help but chuckle in response. “So I’ve heard… Hey, what’s all this?” Crispin asked, looking around the ultra feminine bedroom, decorated in its overwhelming pink and pastel hues, in the centre was a four poster bed covered in teddy bears. Before Jones could even answer, he felt a chill throughout his body, and he already knew in who’s room he stood.

“Cassandra Harlow’s bedroom,” Jones said, watching Crispin slowly make his way around. He walked to the south facing window, the sun catching his long dark hair with its rays. “Your… mother’s room. I thought you might like to see it. She spent most of her days here. Quite often by the window, exactly where you’re standing. We’ve kept it just as she left it, under your uncle Piers’s orders.”

Only half listening, Crispin ran his fingers over the drapes, the same ones he recalled from Piers’s photo. With a deep breath, he took in the view of the garden, the stables, and the forest beyond. “Tell me about my mother.” He turned and slowly made his way to the bed, his fingers hovering over the vast array of stuffed animals.

“Cassandra… such a lovely girl,” said Jones with a sigh. “Terribly shy. But as you can see, she loved her teddies.”

“Yes, it would seem so,” Crispin said, picking up a particularly scruffy bear from the middle of the others.

“She hated dolls, though. Apparently, they scared her,” Jones chuckled fondly. “That’s Crispin you have there. Be careful, he’s very old, and despite being well-loved, he’s in a bit of a state, barely held together by a thread.”

“Crispin?” he repeated with a sad smile as lightly stroked the brown bear, sub-consciously bringing it to his nose. He should find it odd that his mother named him after her beloved teddy, but instead, the thought brought a wistful smile to his face. He had always liked his name, uncommon as it was. Now he knew why and he blinked back the moisture from his eyes.

“Your mother’s favourite. She slept with him well into her teens. Others came and went. But Crispin Bear remained number one in her heart, bless her.”

“A sentimental sort, she was,” Crispin said more to himself as he placed the beloved Teddy Crispin back in its place. He then ran his hand over his mother’s pillow.

“Very… and very sheltered,” Jones said. “She and Piers were extremely close, too. She loved her little brother.”

“Did you know my father? This supposed stable boy?” Crispin asked, making his way back to the window, studying the stables.

“I knew of him,” Jones said pensively. “He wasn’t here long enough for any of the staff to learn much about him.” He joined Crispin at the window. “My wife Iris tells me he was quite the handsome devil. Your young mother fell hard. She hadn’t experienced much love or attention from her father. Her own mother died when she was only a child. I’m afraid it left her quite impressionable and vulnerable to the slightest attention, especially with your father being as handsome as Iris claims.”

“Did he love her in the slightest, this handsome stable boy?” Crispin asked with a frown. “Or did he… did he simply take advantage of her?”

“You grandfather claimed he took advantage and therefore had him sent away,” Jones said. “But Iris knows better. You can ask her yourself. The boy was only seventeen and quite smitten with your mother.”

“Really?” Crispin asked. “How is Iris so sure?”

“Well, she caught Cassandra sneaking off more than once to meet him. There was no stopping the girl either. And, well, Iris being the hopeless romantic, she couldn’t bring herself to tell on her. She knew Cassandra hadn’t experienced much joy, and apparently, she had never seen the girl so happy as the few times she had caught her sneaking back into her room at night.”

“He’s right, Crispin,” Iris said, stepping in from the hall. “Pardon my interruption, but I was just walking past when I overheard you both talking. I did try to warn your mother, but she refused to listen to me.”

Crispin turned and nodded in acknowledgement at Iris, Jones’s wife. He had taken a liking to the slight, older woman the moment they had been introduced. He could tell she was curious about him, too. No wonder. It shouldn’t surprise him since she had indirectly been responsible for his existence.

“So, it’s you I should thank for my coming into this world,” he said with a stern voice. When the old woman frowned, he winked at her, and her frown turned to a blush.

“Oh, what could I have done?” Iris said guiltily. “I’d never seen Cassandra smile before your father came to work for the family. They were so in love. I wanted to see her happy. I had no idea things turn out the way they did. I blame myself, truly. If I had told on her, your grandfather might have run him off before she got with child. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I just wanted her happiness. I didn’t mean for her to be sent away. You shouldn’t have had to grow up alone, an orphan. I’m so sorry, Crispin.”

“Iris, please,” Jones said, coming forward. “You couldn’t have known the old man would be so cruel.”

“He’s right,” Crispin said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “None of this is your fault. Not really.” He punctuated his words with another wink. “I don’t regret being born. I do regret never having met her, my mother.”

“You look so much like her.” Iris reached out and cupped his cheek. “Listen to me, son. Your mother loved your father, and she loved you too. She told me so before she left. She vowed to keep you. She had no intentions of giving you up for adoption. If she hadn’t died, she would have brought you home herself. But sadly, we were all led to believe you had both died. We were all devastated. Young Piers was inconsolable and–”

“Please stop,” Crispin interrupted, holding his hands up, overwhelmed with a sudden wave of emotion. He then closed his eyes and visibly shuddered. “Forgive me, but could you both give me a moment?”

“Of course,” Iris said.

“Take all the time you need, sir,” Jones agreed.

“Jones?”

“Yes, sir?”

“The family cemetery?”

“I can take you there whenever you’re ready.”

“I’d rather go alone. Just point me in the right direction.”

“Of course,” Jones said, leading Crispin to the window. “Just beyond the trees there, you can’t miss it.”