The Girl in the Scrapbook by Carolyn Ruffles (reading women TXT) 📕

you remember how happy my parents were together before my mother died? It seems so long ago but I always knew I wanted that for myself.’ She told him what had happened to Sybil. ‘I think I would rather starve than marry such a man,’ she said firmly. ‘Besides, if I marry, I give up on my ambition to attend university at Oxford. At least I can save some money to support myself at a later date.’

‘I understand what you’re saying and I applaud your determination to be independent. It's admirable that you wish to pursue a university education and a career. The reality, however, is that a position of nanny is more likely to lead to a lifetime of servitude. Surely a husband would provide your best hope of fulfilling your dreams?’

‘It sounds like you’re trying to marry me off!’ Norah smiled briefly.

Arthur shrugged and lowered his eyes. ‘If you married me, I would support your decision to go to Oxford.’

Norah looked across at him sharply, unable to believe what she had just heard. ‘Are you asking me to marry you, Arthur?’ she asked. Her heart seemed to be doing a wild dance in her chest as she awaited his reply.

He nodded. ‘Aye. Now I’ve got this promotion, I’ve a bigger cottage and I’m ready to take a wife. It seems to me it would make sense for us to get married. I’d be able to support you and you could get on with what you’ve always wanted.’

Norah swallowed hard as the frantic beating in her chest subsided. He was such a good man to want to protect her in this way but it was not enough. She was a romantic and only wanted a husband who would love her wholeheartedly and forever.  There was no mention of love in this unexpected proposal.

‘I’m honoured by your very generous offer,’ she began carefully, ‘but I cannot accept. As I said earlier, I will only marry for love or not at all.’ Impulsively, she reached across and patted his hand. ‘However, I do appreciate your kindness. You are a fine man to wish to forego your own happiness in order to look after me but I can look after myself.’

He stood abruptly. ‘So be it,’ he replied gruffly, refusing to meet her eyes. ‘I hoped that in time you could grow to love me but perhaps I was just deluding myself. I’ll bid you good day.’

He tipped his cap at her and strode off across the lawn, leaving Norah feeling bemused. What did he mean about her growing to love him? Did that actually mean that he had feelings for her?

‘Arthur … wait!’ she called after him but he'd already left and she sat back down, feeling very confused. The speed of his exit would seem to suggest that her rejection had hurt his feelings but surely he understood it would be wrong for her to marry him just to secure her future? Perhaps she'd been clumsy in the way she'd handled the situation. He had definitely seemed upset. She would leave it a day or two and then pay him a visit, before she left, to make sure he understood. She hated to think they might part on bad terms.

However, she didn't get the chance to speak to Arthur again. When she called at his cottage two days later, she was told he had taken his annual leave to visit his family in Yorkshire and, the next day, she left Great Chalkham to begin her employment.

◆◆◆

Collingworth Hall was an imposing, large, red-bricked, Georgian mansion with large sash windows and several chimneys. It was the most impressive building Norah had ever seen and she couldn't help feeling a little intimidated as she sat stiffly beside old Jake Withers in his pony driven trap. They stopped briefly by the wrought iron gates and stared up the lime tree lined avenue to the house beyond.

‘That’d cost you a penny or two,’ Jake commented unnecessarily. ‘No shortage of money there, I’d say.’

He shook the reins and they continued round to the back driveway. The parkland in which the Hall was set looked stunningly beautiful in the autumn sunshine with its rolling, green meadows and mighty beech and oak trees, their leaves a myriad of russet and golden shades. Norah relaxed her shoulders and drank it all in. She would surely be happy living in such a lovely place. Memories of Willow Farm and the old, white farmhouse fluttered painfully at the edges of her brain but she pushed them away. She was making a fresh start and already things were looking good.

This optimism was soon muted when, having arrived at the rear entrance, they were greeted by a stern looking, grey-haired woman with thin lips pursed in a frown of disapproval.

‘We were expecting you sooner,’ she barked as Jake lifted Norah’s bag off the cart.

‘I’ll be off then,’ Jake mumbled. ‘Good luck, Miss Norah.’

‘Goodbye, Jake. Thank you,’ she replied and watched as he heaved himself back up on to the cart.

‘Come along. We haven’t got all day. You’re already late!’ snapped the grey-haired woman. ‘Follow me.’

She marched briskly into the house and Norah had no choice but to pick up her bag and follow her as she was whisked through a series of passageways and into a small room with a single bed and a tiny wooden wardrobe and dresser.

‘This is your room,’ said the woman. ‘I’m the housekeeper, Mrs Clark. If you need anything or have any questions, you should come to me.’

‘I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs Clark.’ Norah wondered if she should proffer her hand in greeting but Mrs Clark had already turned away and was running her fingers along the dresser, checking for dust.

‘Right. Leave your coat and your bag and I’ll take you to meet the family. Poor Lady Collingworth has been waiting in the drawing room all afternoon with the children. I expect she’ll be needing a rest.’

‘I am sorry if you were expecting me sooner,’ Norah apologised.