The Secret of Hollyfield House, Jude Bayton [books for 20 year olds txt] 📗

was ready to go to Wolfe Farm. Then, he promised, he would cook an excellent dinner, and we would all celebrate together. This sounded fine to me. It was wonderful to see the worry gone from him and hear happiness in his voice once more.

Today, Uncle Jasper had gone out for his first ramble since my accident, and left me under the watchful eyes of Mrs Stackpoole, who, I noticed, looked extremely well. Her skin glowed, her eyes sparkled, and there was a smile on her face continually. I was delighted she and my uncle made one another happy. It was evident she was in love, and the pleasant impact it had on her wellbeing was obvious.

I reflected that, though love completed the lives of Uncle Jasper and Mrs Stackpoole, even Dominic and myself, look what the emotion had done to the LaVelle family. Evergreen had killed for it. Perry and Marik had lived false lives to hide it and poor Marabelle Pike had died for it.

In the afternoon, Mrs Stackpoole left to go to the library and pick up some books for me to read as I could do little else while convalescing. She left me on the back lawn, sitting on a thick blanket enjoying the sunshine. I watched our wet washing on the line dance under the warm, summer breeze, and was lulled into a sleepy trance. The click of the back door opening roused me, and someone stepped outside. It was Victor.

“Hello, Jillian. May I join you?” He came down the path, and I gestured to the blanket.

“Be my guest. Though I cannot guarantee its comfort, nor that the grass underneath is not damp.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he said and sat down beside me.

I looked over at him. Somehow, sitting on a blanket in our back garden diminished Victor’s dynamic presence—he appeared more ordinary, more human. I noticed his face had thinned and he looked drained. Was it any wonder after the recent events he had dealt with?

He gave me a warm smile. “Dominic tells me you are much recovered.”

“Yes, I am. Between Uncle Jasper, Mrs Stackpoole and Dominic, they have worn me down to the point I want to be well so I can get away from them and have peace and quiet.”

He nodded. “Well, I am glad to see you have blossomed under their care.”

I studied him. “What about you, Victor? How are you? You have had more than your fair share to tolerate these past few weeks.”

“I am well enough,” he said unconvincingly. He turned his gaze on my face, and his attention was intense. “Jillian, I have come to see you to do more than check on your welfare. There is a delicate matter I wish to discuss with you. This may not be the most appropriate time, but due to many other concerns I have at the moment, would you be agreeable?”

I was puzzled. “Of course, Victor.” The man had been nothing but civil since our first meeting.

“First of all, thank you for saving my daughter's life.”

I opened my mouth to speak, and he held up his hand. “Please. Let me speak my mind, and you may address what I say once I have managed to get it all out.” He smiled so I would not be offended. “After what Evergreen has done to so many, regardless of her mental state, you did not have to rescue her from drowning. Though she put you in mortal danger and tried to kill you, your clemency was remarkable. You would have been well within your rights to let Evergreen die. Yet you did not. You gave compassion where she had shown you none, and I will be forever grateful.” He sighed. “Evergreen will remain in custody until next month. At which time she will be taken to Ticehurst House, a private asylum in Sussex.”

“I am sorry to hear that.”

“Do not be. Evergreen has been spared the horrors of imprisonment and a hangman’s noose. She will live in a reputable place. ’Tis no madhouse like Bedlam. I have money, therefore Evergreen, unlike so many unfortunates, can live out her life being well cared for. Once she is settled, I will be allowed to visit her. So, you see, she is luckier than most. But you have nothing to fear from her ever again, for she will never be freed.” He paused. “And now another matter.”

I frowned. “Yes?”

He glanced at the pendant I had worn since the accident. “Your moonstone. May I see it?”

I pulled the cord over my head and handed it to Victor.

He held it in his palm and studied it intently. “I recognise this stone,” he said gently. He held it up to the light. “Do you see the tiny flaw, just here where the light catches?” He pointed. “See? Right there?”

I squinted to focus better, and yes—there it was. “I do, though I had not noticed it before. Does it have significance?”

“It does not decrease its value or beauty, but rather makes it a unique piece.” He handed it back to me and I slipped it over my head.

“Many years ago, I bought that very pendant from a merchant who had imported it from India. It was a parting gift for the woman who had stolen my heart.” He turned his face to stare into mine. I digested his words and slowly began to comprehend his meaning.

“You?” I stuttered. “You knew my mother?”

“If her name was Gwen Jackson, then yes. Gwen was a beautiful girl I met in Devon, not long before I was to leave for India.”

I covered my mouth to trap the sob which threatened to spill.

Victor touched my shoulder. “I was there to study with one of the prominent shipbuilders, and just after I arrived, I met your mother.”

I was utterly speechless.

“I was honest with her. I told Gwen I could not remain in Devon as there was an appointment waiting for me in India. I was engaged to be married to Emma Symington, and her father had