The Secret of Hollyfield House

by Jude Bayton

  “Here we are,” Uncle Jasper exclaimed as he entered the study and set the tea things on the table. He looked at us and with unusual tact, sensed he had interrupted something private. He blinked several times. “I shall be in my study ladies. If you will excuse me.” He backed out of the room.

  I rose to pour our tea.

  “You are shocked by my confession, Jillian?”

  “I am.”

  Louisa smiled weakly. “I do admire your frankness, my dear. I have never confided this to a living soul.”

  “I am flattered by your trust in me, Louisa. Truly.”

  “I would continue with my tale if I might?”

  “Indeed. Please do.”

  “Jareth ardently returned my feelings, or at least, so I thought. We had three wonderful years together. My marriage with Monty was comfortable. My husband seemed happy with his choice of wife. I placed his wants and desires before my own and tried to be an exemplary Lady of Mountjoy House. But Jareth was the only person I had in my life who accepted me for myself. An ordinary woman—with desires and needs. I believed he cared for me as much as I did him. Until this spring.”

  “What happened?”

  “Something changed. He became distant. It began with him not showing up at our arranged meetings, a place we frequented for more than two years.” Her eyes watered once again. She set down the cup and saucer to retrieve her handkerchief.

  I had little experience being on the receiving end of such a confidence. Especially to a person with Lady Mountjoy’s standing within society. I could offer no counsel to this woman. What did she expect me to say?

  “Jillian, I know you wonder at my telling you.” She sniffed and took a sip of tea. “I speak of my secret because of what has happened recently. When I learned of Jareth’s death, I was utterly devastated.”

  “I can imagine.” And I could after what she had just told me.

  She held up a gloved hand. “No, please let me finish. I was devastated but also immensely relieved.”

  I almost dropped my cup. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You heard me correctly. Though I loved him, Jareth Flynn was a scoundrel. For the past two months, he had been blackmailing me.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  I WAS INCREDULOUS. HER COMMENT was the last thing I expected to hear. “Blackmailing you—why?”

  She set down her cup. “Because of our affair, of course. Jareth threatened to tell Monty everything, unless I paid him a weekly stipend.” She looked at me sternly. “Please do not tell me I was foolish to pay him. I had no choice. I was guilty and consequently paid the price for that indulgence.”

  “Does anyone else know?”

  “Of course not,” she gasped. “And if you speak a word of it to anyone, I shall deny it all! Look,” her tone softened. “I did not plan to ever speak of it, Jillian. But with what happened to Marabelle, I am unnerved, though I cannot tell you why. You are a bright young woman, and Victor remarked that you and Dominic are making enquiries about Jareth’s death—which is understandable with Billy in such awful trouble. I wanted you to have my side of the story in case you discover anything that links him to me.” Her pretty face looked drawn. Sharing such a dark secret had taken its toll upon her.

  “How did you pay Jareth?”

  “In coin, for I could not risk anyone connecting us.” She got to her feet, and I did the same. “Jillian, I do not know if the two deaths are even connected. Yet, like you, my instinct tells me different.” She held out a gloved hand and took mine. “Remember, I have put my trust in you and hope you will keep my confidence.”

  “Of course, Louisa,” I said gravely. Though in my heart, I wondered what she expected me to do with her information.

  I closed the front door behind Lady Mountjoy and contemplated all she had said. Though I was more than a little surprised at her affair with Flynn, it was hardly implausible. I could well imagine a beautiful young bride brought to Mountjoy House and ultimately meeting the handsome blacksmith. They were both young, attractive, and she, bored with life far away from London. But in a small hamlet such as Ambleside, it must have been challenging to keep their love affair secret.

  Then a thought occurred as I remembered the scraps of paper Billy had hidden in his box. Had they come from a letter of blackmail as we suspected? More importantly, could they have been written by Jareth?

  IT WAS ALL I COULD DO NOT TO run to Wolfe Farm. I needed to speak to Dominic and share my suspicions. This would be difficult without betraying Louisa Mountjoy’s secret, but I intended to try anyway.

  I arrived at the farm, and after knocking several times at the front door, I realised Dominic was not at home. I searched the barn and cowshed. He was likely gone to see his brother again. Yet he had mentioned talking to Victor. Perhaps he was at Hollyfield House?

  I made up my mind and left the farm and headed towards the LaVelles. If I passed anyone along the way, I did not notice, so intent was I on my mission. But as I neared the turn-off for the lane, I changed direction and instead walked toward the boathouse and not the house itself. I do not know what compelled me, but I allowed my feet to take me there.

  The boathouse looked far more welcoming than it had been yesterday during the terrible rainstorm. Had it only been a day earlier I had been here with Dominic? It was difficult to come to terms with the fact Marabelle Pike had still been alive then. I chased the thought from my head. The time to mourn would come later. There was much to be done first.

  As I neared the building, I caught the murmur of voices and I stopped in my tracks. Where were they coming from? Quietly I stepped closer to the boathouse and leaned back against the brickwork. I closed my eyes to focus. There it was again—the hum of conversation. A wooded area divided the main house from the boathouse. I deduced whoever was speaking had to be somewhere in there.

  Slowly I inched my way towards the sound of conversation, glad the sodden ground muffled my footsteps. I moved with the stealth of a cat, reluctant to have my presence known. As I drew closer, the voices grew clearer. Then all at once, I could make out two figures ahead of me. I stopped and aligned myself with the thick bark of an oak tree to hide. I peered around and looked again.

  Evergreen and Marik were in the midst of a heated discussion. I strained to listen.

  “Dear God, it is tragic. And I feel all the more wretched because there is also a feeling of relief,” Marik said solemnly.

  “Don’t be so weak, Marik. Though we wish she had not had the accident, do not feel guilty that her passing eases the situation. We just have to hope she kept quiet as promised,” Evergreen spoke with disdain.

  Who were they talking about? It had to be Marabelle.

  “If she told anybody, I will be suspected.” His voice sounded worried.

  “Oh, honestly, Marik. Why must you always be so eaten up with fright? The woman had no friends and seldom spoke to anyone other than the servants. If she had said anything to Father, we would know by now. And you have done nothing. Indeed, the only person responsible for Marabelle’s death is Marabelle herself. So please, pull yourself together. No more of this drama. It gives me the headache.”

  “I am sorry, Evie.” Marik went to her and gave her a brief hug before stepping back. “I do not mean to be so aggravating. You know how I worry for Perry. I do not want any kind of trouble.”

  “Everything will be fine. Come along. Perry will be looking for us.”

  I stayed still while they walked in the direction of the house. It was devious to eavesdrop, yet I had been riveted to every word. The conversation was unclear, other than Marik’s worry about himself, or Perry being connected to Marabelle’s demise. But why should he be concerned? And what did they mean about ‘her keeping quiet’? They obviously referred to Marabelle.

  I turned back toward the village and home, an unhappy witness to something I did not understand. I was anxious to escape the proximity of Hollyfield. But as I walked back by the boathouse, an eerie feeling passed through me, and I turned ex
pecting to see someone there. There was not. I was alone, or at least I seemed to be. But it was not until I reached Lake Road that I finally shook the sensation that I had been watched.

  I COULD NOT WAIT TO TALK TO Dominic. I would check to see if he was home on my way back to the village. I walked briskly away from the lake towards the farm, my mind spinning like a top. A mental jigsaw lay before me and its edges were linked into a square. Now I sought to fill in the middle of the puzzle, have various parts put together so I could form one piece. This analogy seemed to help me straighten out my thoughts.

  I approached the farm and saw a beautiful jet-black horse tethered outside the farmhouse. I was no judge of pedigree, but even to my untrained eye, I could tell it was a magnificent specimen of high breeding. As I neared, the steed whickered, and he turned with obsidian eyes to observe me. I reached him and gingerly held out a hand to pat his neck, then started as he turned to nuzzle his nose in my hand.

  “What’s this? Do you mean to steal Cressidio’s affection away from me?” A friendly voice caused both the horse and I to turn. Victor LaVelle stepped closer, a smile upon his face, though he looked drained. Little wonder, he had a son in gaol and now a relative to bury.

  “No, indeed,” I replied, dropping my hand. “But he is sublime, Mr LaVelle.”

  Our eyes met, and he smiled kindly. “Call me Victor, my dear. We agreed there was to be no formality, remember?”

  I nodded.

  “Jillian, I am appalled that you had to witness the tragic event of last night.” His expression was dour, his voice quiet. “Marabelle was not well known by many, but she was a good person and very loyal to our family.” His sorrow-filled voice broke off. My heart went out to him for he could not disguise his pain.

  “Victor, there is no need to say anything. I am just deeply sorry for your loss.” I gave him a weak smile of encouragement. “I am here to speak with Dominic regarding new information I have recently learned. Will you come back in so I can tell you together?” I moved towards the door.

  His demeanour underwent a sudden change. His green eyes brightened, and his jaw clenched. “Of course.” He followed me inside.

  Dominic was surprised to see his guest return, and I took some pleasure in his apparent delight at my being there also. He ushered us into the welcoming kitchen, and we automatically took our places around the table, much as we had done on my previous meeting with the two gentlemen.

  “There is something I wish to share with you both, but in doing so, I break a confidence.” I could feel them tense in anticipation. I looked earnestly at each man’s face, uncomfortable with my dilemma. Lady Mountjoy was no friend, yet I felt allegiance to the woman regardless.

  “I only do this because I want to help Billy in any way I can. But I must have your word neither one of you will breathe this to another soul.” I paused.

  “Of course,” Victor answered promptly. “You have my promise.”

  “Mine too.” Dominic’s eyes shone with what I thought was hope. My heart warmed, for he was such a good brother.

  “This morning I had a visit from Louisa Mountjoy.” I recounted part of our conversation earlier in the day. I omitted many details and told the barest of facts. That Jareth was a blackmailer and most likely an ill-doer based on his reputation. They did not interrupt me and, when I finished speaking, they made not a sound. I assumed they digested the information as it related to the blacksmith’s murder.

  Victor was the first to comment. “I take it you deduce Flynn was killed because of a propensity for blackmail?”

  “Well, you must admit it is a viable theory, Victor. Especially if we consider that scrap of paper Billy found.”

  “I agree with Jillian,” Dominic said. “Jareth did nurture a desire to better himself. We know he gambled, so it is feasible the man was capable of threatening trouble if he did not get paid.”

  “All right,” Victor acknowledged. “That gives us a motive for a person to want him dead. Yet I believe Lady Mountjoy as likely as Billy to murder him in cold blood.”

  “Yes,” I interjected. “But it stands to reason Louisa may not have been his only target for blackmail. Consider, the man could have amassed large gambling debts. Perhaps there are others in the community who were victims to Jareth Flynn’s fleecing?”

  “Jillian is right, Victor. I believe she is on to something.”

  Victor nodded, and his brows furrowed in thought. “How on earth shall we go about looking for them? One cannot exactly raise the subject cold. Imagine asking the vicar if he had any sins worthy of being bribed for?”

  We all smiled at that, and the tension slipped away.

  “There must be a way to unearth Flynn’s antics,” Dominic said. “I can start by asking around about his gaming interests. If there are others who share his love of betting, you can be sure they will be happy to talk about it, especially if I offer a coin or two for the telling.”

  “Excellent idea,” Victor concurred. “But take caution. You will encounter some rough fellows, I’ll be bound.” He rose from the table and searched in his pocket. Victor pulled out a small leather pouch and tossed it to Dominic, who snatched it from the air.

  “Take this,” Victor gestured. “’Tis not much, but you will need to grease a few palms, and I do not want you using your own money. You need everything you have to keep the farm running for when Billy gets home.”

  Dominic paused momentarily and then gave a resolute nod. There was no need for theatric displays of gratitude or even a perfunctory refusal.

  “Right,” Victor continued. “I must leave. There is much to attend today, as you no doubt understand.”

  His face fell, and for a moment I felt shame that in my haste to speak of Jareth Flynn’s propensity to blackmail, I had quickly forgotten the LaVelles were in mourning.

  Dominic and I both rose to our feet.

  “Victor. If there is anything I may do to help, you have only to say,” I said quietly.

  He turned his handsome face to look at me, and I was struck by the depth of sorrow in his eyes. I watched him force a smile upon his mouth as he thanked me for the offer and then bade me farewell.

  I remained in the kitchen while Dominic escorted him to the door.

  When he returned, Dominic came to stand behind where I sat. He leaned down and placed a soft kiss upon the back of my neck.

  I sighed. “I feel so badly for Victor,” I said quietly. “’Tis still difficult for me to take it in—and yet I saw her fall with my own eyes. I cannot imagine how the family must feel.”

  He placed another affectionate kiss on top of my head. “It is a sad situation. I don’t believe I have ever seen Victor look this tired.” He returned to his place at the table.

  “I feel sorry for him.” I swallowed. “Dominic, there is something else to tell you. I did not want to mention it in front of Victor.”

  His golden eyes narrowed. “What is it?”

  I described my visit to the boathouse and the conversation I overheard between Marik and Evergreen.

  He frowned. “Why would Marik be worried about being considered a suspect? Surely no one would think he had anything to do with Marabelle falling off a balcony. It was an accident.”

  “That is what everyone thinks, Dominic. Yet, if so, why did Evergreen mention her cousin potentially not keeping some kind of confidence? What could Marabelle know which would cause them worry? Think about it,” I insisted. “Marik does not strike me as someone easily scared. What I heard in his voice was most certainly fear.”

  “What are you saying, Jillian? That Marik is worried because he has his own motive for wanting to be rid of Marabelle Pike?”

  I nodded solemnly. “There can be no other reason for him to act that way. Marik must have something to hide. Something Marabelle knew and threatened to share.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  I HAD SPOKEN WITH DOMINIC EACH day since Marabelle’s untimely death. He had come to our house for tea, and on one occasion even stayed for dinner.
It was uncanny how comfortably he slipped into our small family, as though he belonged there.

  There was much to occupy my mind and be concerned about, yet I somehow managed to find moments of happiness whenever Dominic was around. A stolen kiss, a touch of his hand, a smouldering look from his lovely eyes. For that fraction of time, all the sorrow which seemed to have permeated into my life, would disappear.

  Victor had not returned to visit Dominic, and we understood the family was preoccupied with Marabelle’s funeral and the procession of visiting relatives who passed through Hollyfield House. The burial would take place on the coming Wednesday, and I believed most people in the village planned to pay their respects.

  It had been strange not seeing Evergreen. Other than my glimpse of her speaking with Marik, I had not set eyes upon her since the night of the lecture and Marabelle’s fall. I often thought of going to see her, but Uncle assured me it was better to give the family their privacy.

  Dominic had set about questioning the men from the area regarding the blacksmith’s ‘hobby’, and little by little, was piecing together a better picture of Jareth Flynn and his questionable habits. That the man was a gambler was clearly an understatement. Flynn was known locally and about the Lake District as quite the ‘chancer’. His primary interest was in horse racing, and he was known to travel to the racecourse in Cartmel Village at least once every month. It was a half-day’s ride from Ambleside, and he usually spent a night or two there, depending upon the racing schedule.

  Dominic decided it would be constructive to travel there himself and see what he might unearth. Therefore, on Saturday morning he left for Cartmel and would not return until the next day. I did not want him to go alone, but Dominic preferred not to wait for Victor to be available. He determined the quicker he left, the faster he could return. Victor was absorbed with preparations for Marabelle’s funeral and was in no position to go anywhere.