Christina had no trouble hiring a coach to take her to Wakefield Manor. They traveled slowly, stopping at a cozy inn overnight to pamper Christina’s condition. But she didn’t mind. She watched the beautiful English landscape hungrily as they left London and drove toward Halstead.
It had been so long since she had seen such lush countryside. They passed majestic forests and open fields filled with wild flowers of every color. They passed farms surrounded by rich crops, and small, charming villages. This was rural England. How she loved it!
Late the next evening, the coach finally pulled to a halt before beautiful Wakefield Manor. Lighted sconces beside the large double doors cast welcoming light into the driveway. Christina threw open the door of the coach, not wanting to wait another second.
“Hold on there, madam!” the driver yelled, jumping down from his high seat. He came to the door and helped Christina down. “You must think of the wee one.”
“I’m sorry. It’s been so long since I’ve been home! Besides, I’m quite used to getting down by myself.”
“Maybe so, but—”
The big double doors swung open, and Dicky Johnson stepped outside.
“Who be you come to call this late at night?” he asked warily. Christina lifted her head to the light, and Dicky squinted his eyes disbelievingly. “Is that you, Miss Crissy? Is that really you?”
She laughed and embraced the small man.
“It’s me, Dicky—home at last.”
“Oh—it’s so good to have you back, Miss Crissy. And Master John, has he come home, too?”
“No, he won’t be coming home for a few months. But I wanted to come back early—to have my baby here.”
“Baby! Aye, you did feel a bit heavy under that cape.”
“Who is it, Dicky?” Johnsy called from the doorway.
“It’s Miss Christina. She’s come home sooner than expected. And all by herself, I might add,” he said disapprovingly.
“My baby!” Johnsy cried. She ran down the steps and caught Christina in her arms. Then she stood back, surprise written on her face. “My baby’s gonna ’ave a baby of ’er own. Oh, Lord, I’ve waited for this day. But why didn’t you write to your old nanny and let ’er know?”
“And would you have been able to read my letter?” Christina teased.
“No, but I would ’ave found someone who could. Now you come inside, love. You’ve got some explainin’ to do, and you can do it over a nice cup of tea,” Johnsy said, then looked to Dicky over her shoulder. “You bring Miss Christina’s baggage in an’ give that driver something to eat before ’e goes on ’is way.”
Inside the brightly lit hallway, Christina was swamped with glad greetings from the rest of the household servants. Johnsy soon sent them scurrying with a host of orders to bring tea, prepare food, heat bath water, and unpack baggage.
Christina stood back and laughed. “You haven’t changed a bit, Johnsy. Perhaps a few more gray hairs, but otherwise the same.”
“Aye—it’s ’cause of you I’ve added gray ’airs—what with you gallivantin’ off to that ’eathen land with your brother. I was fit to be tied when Master John sent word to ’ave the rest of your things shipped over there. An’ then I don’t ’ear a word from either of you. It’s been nigh over a year,” Johnsy complained.
“I’m sorry I didn’t write, Johnsy. But you’ll understand why after I explain things to you.”
“Well, I ’ope you’ve good reason for worryin’ your old nanny. But look at me makin’ you stand ’ere in the ’all—an’ you in your condition. You come in ’ere an’ sit yourself down,” Johnsy said gruffly, leading her into the drawing room.
After she took her cape and bonnet, Johnsy’s wide brown eyes went straight to Christina’s belly.
“What could ’ave possessed Master Johnny to let you travel by yourself? And where is your new ’usband—don’t tell me ’e ’ad to stay in that ’eathen land, too?” Johnsy asked, sitting beside Christina on the gold-brocade couch.
Christina leaned back and sighed heavily. “John agreed that I should come home to have the baby. Otherwise, we would have had to stay in Egypt until the baby was old enough to travel. As for my husband—I don’t have one. I was never—”
“Oh, my poor baby! Your child not even born yet, an’ you’re already a widow.”
“No, Johnsy—you didn’t let me finish. I don’t have a husband because I was never married.”
“Not married? Oh, Lord!” Johnsy started crying. “Oh, my baby! You’ve a bastard growin’ in you—oh, ’ow you must be sufferin’. ’Ow could Master John let this ’appen to you?” she wailed. “Oh—the blackguard who did this to you—may a thousand devils—”
“No!” Christina screamed. “Don’t ever say anything against him—ever! I love the father of my baby, I always will. And I will raise and love my baby. I don’t care that he’ll be a bastard!”
