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

paid for both my studies in Devon, and my subsequent passage onto India. But try as we might, we could not stay away from one another. When it was time for me to go, I gave Gwen the pendant as a keepsake of what we had shared.”

“Oh Victor. How could you have left her?” I said. “You must have broken her heart.”

He closed his eyes, as though he could not bear to look at me.

“Yes, she was heartbroken—and so was I. But I had a signed contract with the Symingtons, one I could not breach for fear of legal action. The family had invested a great deal of money in my education and training. Money I would never be able to repay. After I married, I was to take part-shares in the company and start a new branch, dealing specifically in steamers.”

His shoulders sagged. The memories were difficult for him. “Jillian, I was young, I had ambition, and the last thing I’d expected was to meet a young Devonshire lass and fall madly in love.” His fingers rubbed at his temples as though the thought brought him unbearable pain. “When I left Devon, I debated whether I could renege on my agreement with the Symingtons. I resolved to hire a lawyer to read my contract once we made land and see if there was a way to wriggle out of it. But on the voyage out there, I fell sick with cholera. I was fevered for many days, and, by the time I arrived in India, I was too weak even to walk. It took several months for me to regain my strength, and by that time, our wedding was planned, and everything had been settled.”

I said nothing.

“Sometimes, I like to think that if I had not fallen so ill, I would have left the ship at one of the ports and rushed home to be with Gwen.”

I blinked and felt a tear roll down my face. “Did you ever write to her, my mother?” I looked over at him, and he hung his head. “Once, before I married. But she never replied.”

I gave a loud sigh. This was much to take in. My emotions were so conflicted. I wanted to be angry with Victor, for he had broken my mother’s heart and left her for another woman. A wealthy woman who had eventually taken her own life and bequeathed her mental illness to Victor’s daughter. And look what damage had been done. Yet, there was another part of me who understood how life could be. That sometimes we were not able to have that which we desired. Timing was everything. If they had met but a year earlier…

“I am not angry with you, Victor,” I said softly. “I grieve for you both. And though I know my mother had a wonderful life with a good man, I am sure there was always a part of her which belonged to you.”

Victor wiped his eyes with the back of a hand and smiled at me. “Gwen must have been so proud to have you as her daughter.”

“I hope so.”

He gave a long sigh and then looked at me with a strange expression on his face.

“Jillian. There is one more thing I must tell you before I leave you to yourself.” As he spoke, he loosened his cravat and began unbuttoning his shirt.

Instinctively, I shifted away from him. “Victor, what on earth are you doing?” I jumped to my feet.

He also stood up, never taking his eyes from mine. “When Dominic and I pulled you from the lake, your clothing was sodden, your dress gone, and what little you wore was torn.” He pulled open his shirt and there, on the left side of his chest was an oblong-shaped strawberry birthmark.

I stared, frozen to the spot as I looked at the same mark I bore on my body.

And then his green eyes met mine, and I realised through my tears, that I had been looking into a mirror every time I had looked at Victor’s face.

Victor LaVelle was my father.

Epilogue

IT WAS A GLORIOUS DAY FOR a wedding. There was not a cloud in the sky, nor a whisper on the breeze. I stood outside the church in my new apple-green dress, with Dominic by my side. I had not felt this happy since my mother had been alive.

As the bells chimed merrily, the married couple burst through the doors with beaming smiles across their faces. Everyone cheered and hurrahed, throwing handfuls of rice to sprinkle over the bride and groom. Uncle Jasper looked so handsome in his new grey suit, and his blushing bride, Miss Prunella Stackpoole, now Mrs Jasper Alexander, looked radiant in a lilac gown, a bouquet of violets in her hands.

They were helped into the LaVelles’ open carriage, which was festooned with garlands of flowers for the occasion, and set off for Hollyfield House, where a grand picnic awaited in their honour.

“Thank goodness Uncle Jasper has finally found something he likes even better than lichens,” I remarked to Dominic as we walked from the church down Lake Road. We were not alone, for most of the village had been invited to the festivities. Throngs of people headed in the same direction.

“He does look delighted,” Dominic said.

“Wait for me!” Came a voice from behind, and we slowed our gait until Billy caught up with us. He looked joyful, his eyes shining with the prospect of a picnic and no doubt some games. He took my free arm, and I walked between the two Wolfe brothers.

“I’m so hungry,” Billy complained. “Jilly, will there be cake?”

“Lots,” I said with a chuckle. “And mince pies, sausage rolls, all kinds of wonderful food.”

“She won’t be there, will she?” Billy asked, as he often did since he had come home from the gaol.

“No, Billy,” Dominic reassured him. “She won’t ever be there again, so there’s no need for you to be scared.”

Victor had done my uncle proud. The entire garden at the rear of Hollyfield