The Cross of Love Read Free

gold.
    And there were more of them in the hole she had made in pulling out the thistle. They were ancient, maybe two hundred years old.
    And solid gold.
    For a moment she was dazzled. Then she took a deep breath and reminded herself sternly that these coins belonged to the owner of The Grange - whoever he was.
    She remembered the open gates, the rumour that The Grange had been re-opened. Now was the moment to find out.
    She removed two more of the coins under the thistle, then she put the thistle back where she had found it, pressing it into the earth, so that no passing stranger could make this discovery.
    First she took the coins from it before pressing it back into the ground.
    Then she stood for a moment looking up at the top of the cross.
    "Perhaps you have answered my prayer," she said.
    Then she almost laughed at herself for being so optimistic.
    "If the owner is a generous man he'll give me at least, one of the coins I found for him. Couldn't I just take one - to help me find some work?"
    But it was impossible. She was too much her father's daughter to take anything secretly. Every coin must be handed over to its rightful owner.
    At once.
    Walking out of the woods she began to move through the field, then into the garden towards the great house.
    * It was a long time since Rena had been to The Grange, and she had forgotten how attractive it was.
    It was about four hundred years old, a long, grey stone building, stretching to two wings, and with a tower in the centre.
    The tower was an oddity. It had been added about a century after the house was first built, and was topped by small mediaeval style turrets, which clashed with almost everything else about the building. But to the people of the village it was a treasured landmark, and they would not hear a word against it.
    The house even maintained its beauty despite its poor condition. Many of the diamond-paned windows were broken and the rest badly needed cleaning.
    There had been no gardeners here for a long time, but the flower-beds were brilliant with colour. Even the many weeds somehow seemed part of the picture rather than to spoil it.
    On a day like this it was hard to remember the rumours that The Grange was haunted. There were old people in the village who said they had seen and heard strange noises when they visited it.
    A surprise awaited her when she reached the front door. It was open. Perhaps there was a new owner, and servants had arrived.
    "Or maybe," she thought wryly, "it's the famous ghost."
    Hearing no sound, she walked into the hall. Like the rest of the house it was in a very bad way, with dust up the stairs that was so obvious that she looked away from it immediately. The passage which she reached at the end of the hall was not much better. The carpets were grey with dirt and so was the furniture.
    "Ugh!" she thought.
    There was only silence around her.
    Then she thought she heard a slight sound on her left, which was the way to the dining-room and beyond that the kitchen. For a moment she hesitated. Propriety dictated that she return to the front door and ring the bell.
    But curiosity urged her forward, along the passage. Curiosity won.
    As she moved quietly through the dining room she couldn't help noticing that the table wanted polishing and the top of the fireplace was thick with dust. Probably the glass vases on the sideboard were half full of dust she decided. Really this place needed the touch of a good housekeeper.
    Then she heard a sound behind the door that led to the kitchen and the pantry. Now she knew there must be someone in the kitchen.
    Quietly she opened the door and crept along the passage which led to the pantry, then to the kitchen, from where the noise seemed to come. The door was ajar and she pushed it open. To her surprise she saw a man struggling to light a fire, and obviously not succeeding.
    She could see only his back, but the very shape of it was redolent of exasperation and frustration. He'd stripped off his jacket,