Chapter 10 What Amy Does Next
I turned the final sheet over hopefully, but there was nothing more so I tidied the pages and sat back, thinking.
My heart was full. It was clear now what had happened at Farthington House, how the fortunes of the family had declined, their lives blighted by Bird’s mistake, though really, Mr Fuller should be blamed for that, being an older married man who took advantage of an innocent sixteen-year-old.
But was it also John Rutherfurd’s fault for his tyrannical ways?
Or the fault of his own father, for impressing his ambitions on his son?
Either way, John had ruled his meek wife, made sure Andrew had followed him in the family business, placed high expectations of a good marriage upon Diana and denied his beloved younger daughter the chance to follow her star.
At last, I realized, looking down at Diana’s papers, the Rutherfurd family had come to life.
I understood them now – or thought I did.
And I had a story, one which I knew my editor would love – not because modern readers would find it shocking or scandalous but because it would touch their hearts.
But a story which, frustratingly, I might not be allowed to use.
The idea of publishing it in Our Heritage was hugely tempting, but I did not have Julia’s permission.
Indeed, she’d be horrified at the idea. How could I persuade her?
I waited a moment, but there was no reply, so I sighed and turned my attention to Diana’s memoir once more. I had questions, many questions, but there was one that bothered me most. What exactly had happened to Bird and her baby?
It was while I was pondering this that my phone rang and seeing Kyle’s name appear on the screen, I quickly answered it.
‘Amy?’
‘Hello, Kyle.’ I could hear music faintly in the background. ‘Thank you for ringing. I hope I wasn’t disturbing you.’
‘You’re not. Is anything wrong?’
‘Not exactly,’ I said, then plunged in. ‘You remember I went to see Julia?’ I went on to explain everything that happened and gave him a brief summary of what I’d just read.
‘We must ask Julia again if you can read it,’ I continued.
‘It’s your family, after all. I understand her reluctance. Family secrets can be unsettling.’
‘You’re not wrong,’ he laughed.
The next day would be Saturday and we both had shopping to do so we arranged to meet for morning coffee in Farthington. I would hand the memoir over to him. He would check with Julia and ask if he could read it.
After he’d rung off, I went downstairs to tell Dad everything. I could tell that he was fascinated.
‘This Thomas Fuller sounds a bit of a rogue,’ he said.
‘I suppose he could have been unhappily married and genuinely in love with her,’ I said doubtfully, ‘though that’s no excuse, of course.’
The thought of Fuller sent me back to my laptop and I was amazed to find a couple of lines about him in someone’s blog, along with a photograph. He had indeed been dark-haired, rather Byronic-looking, I thought. I wondered idly if Bird’s baby had been dark or blonde, a boy or a girl.