She nodded, pressing her hand against his chest. It felt so good to have it there, vibrating with the thudding of his heart. “Yes, yes, indeed, you’re right. There’s lots to think about. We’ll need to see a lawyer or somebody official tomorrow, I suppose. About sorting out all the affairs.”
“Don’t worry, my love. I’ll cover any expenses until we know if there’s anything left for you and your mother. And I’m sure Gilbert will see to Sarah if she wants to stay with him. And if she doesn’t, then she can come back to Warbury with us.”
Bella was smiling as they went back into the shop. She was looking up at Jack and thinking, he’s going to take care of me. For the first time in my life, I don’t have to stand on me own two feet… my own two feet. He’ll take care of me, I know he will, and I won’t have to fight the world any more.
Epilogue
Henry had left a will. But the lawyers weren’t ready to invite the family to the reading of it. They explained there’d been difficulties dealing with such a large estate and the associated insurance complications. Also, it turned out the will had been changed a few months before Henry’s death, and one of the copies had been destroyed in the fire, while the firm’s copy had been misfiled by a junior clerk.
To Bella’s eternal gratitude, Jack had remained in Ashwell, staying with her grandfather, but Mr Finchdean had made his way back down to Somerset as soon as he could, to share all the news with Lucy. Bella and her mother were in lodgings at an old coaching inn, the Fighting Cock, close to the butcher’s shop. It was an odd circumstance for a courting couple, but Bella wouldn’t have changed anything for the world.
Harriet wrote to them every week. She was frustrated, she said, that she couldn’t be with them, but the way things were with Georgie… well, she knew Jack would understand. Their father was keeping the factory running smoothly, but he clearly missed Jack. She assured him and Bella they could be certain of a warm welcome—both of them—when they returned to Warbury.
Eventually, at the end of January, when the weather in Derbyshire was about as bleak as it could be, and Bella and Jack longed for the warmer, wetter winters of the West Country, some news came that entertained them both.
Marie Froggatt has produced her child, Harriet wrote. It is a healthy boy, with an unusually thick head of hair. Well, you can guess who came to see me, to tell me what colour this hair was. Georgie of course, and almost elated because the child had red hair, just like his stable lad, Sandy Pershore. I’m sure he thinks I’ll marry him now he’s exonerated, but the fact is, the deed was still done, even if there was no issue. What would you do, brother, in my position?
“I hope you don’t mind if I ask you to reply to this, my darling. You understand the feminine heart better I.” Jack handed Bella his sister’s letter.
She knew he was frustrated at not being present so he could support and encourage his sister in person. If only the damn will could be sorted out, so they could all get on with their lives. But the wait meant she could see more of Jack, probably more intimately than she’d be allowed were they back in Warbury, so she tried not to fret.
Eventually, they heard from the lawyers, so on a chill, blowy day in early February, Bella, her mama, and Jack hired a coach for the trip into Derby for the long-awaited reading of the will.
She’d never been in such a place before. It was a bit like Henry’s library, only the solicitor’s office had a dank, musty smell. Ledgers and papers were piled high on cabinets, windowsills and desks. Bella couldn’t believe they’d got themselves into such a muddle—she’d be ashamed if she ever let the books and papers in her school get in such a state.
When Jack said he would meet them outside later, Bella protested. “But what do I know about lawyers? He might try to cheat us, and we wouldn’t know any better. You must stay and help me understand it all.”
His voice was soft, so her mother couldn’t hear. “Bella, you’ll be fine. Trust me. Trust them. If there’s anything you’re not sure about, tell me when you come out, and we’ll sort it out. But I’m not family, not yet. It’s a shame your grandfather couldn’t be with you—I know he has a sensible head on those shoulders. But with that winter’s cold still on his chest… I know you’ll manage, dearest.” He gave her gloved hand a tight squeeze, but she clung to him.
“Please, Jack. I’ve never done anything like this before, and Mama seems in a different world half the time. I want you to be there.”
He relented, so they all filed in together, very solemnly, to listen to what the solicitor had to say.
It didn’t take long at all and turned out to be good news. But Bella knew Henry would be turning in his grave about it, and wishing he hadn’t made those late changes. Everything was left to her heirs, to be administered in trust by her husband until their children came of age. There was an annual allowance too, from investments, for Bella and her husband, whoever he might be, and an allowance for Mama.
As they came out of the office, Bella was almost laughing. “How funny that my future husband should be you, Jack, who Henry despised!”
But Mama’s shoulders were shaking, and there were tears on her cheeks. Bella took her arm and gazed at Jack. “Let’s get her out of here. Can we find a quiet room at an inn or something, where she could have a brandy?”
As they stepped outside, her mother flailed her hands at them, pushing away their concern. “It’s alright,” she said, gasping. “I’m alright. Let’s just go now, please.” Then she was laughing hysterically, so they bundled her quickly into the carriage, and Bella threw her arm about her and tried to steady the shaking.
“It’s stupid, really—so stupid. And ironic too.” Mama took a deep breath and turned to Bella. “The fact that Jack Henstridge will benefit from Henry’s money is not the funniest part of it. Hah! The wealth of the high and mighty Sutcliffes is coming into my family after all but in a roundabout way. Who would ever have thought it would turn out like this.”
“But I am a Sutcliffe, Mama, so it’s only right—”
“No. No—you’re not. I just let them believe that, a last attempt to try and win Charles over. No, your father was twice the man he was, only I didn’t realise it until it was too late. Much, much too late. Poor Peter. He had a good heart, a very good heart. He was so kind to me, but he could never make me change my plans… he was too soft, in a way. If he’d had more spine… but no, that’s unfair. He just wasn’t what I wanted at the time. Oh, how I am punished now!”
Bella grabbed at the strap as the carriage began to move. Her mind was frozen, numb. Jack reached for her hand, an island of comfort in a sea of trouble and confusion.
She gaped at her mother. “Are you trying to tell me that Peter, Peter—”
“Yes, my dear. Of the pair of you, only Henry had noble blood in him, but it was bad blood as it turned out, very bad. I’m sorry if it hurts you, but you are from common stock after all. Peter was your father.”
Jack kissed Bella softly on the cheek, distracting her. “It just goes to show that it doesn’t matter what class you come from. A shining jewel can still be produced from the lower echelons, whilst a cruel, violent person can emanate from the aristocracy. It is what you do with what you’re given that makes or breaks you.”
Mama dabbed at her eyes. “And well do I know it. Why could I not see the shining jewel when it was right under my nose? Peter offered to marry me, you know, way back then, after Charlie abandoned me. Only Charlie came back, you see. I was already pregnant by Peter by then, but, God forgive me, Charlie had so much more to offer, I pretended the babe I carried was his.” She buried her head in her hands. “They say you reap what you sew.”
Bella shifted over to sit beside her mother and held her. “You would have made everything right, Mama—only Henry ruined everything for everyone. Please don’t blame yourself. I know it’s wrong to speak ill of the dead, but honestly, if Charlie hadn’t seduced you, none of this would have happened. He knew what he was doing was wrong, and so Henry did too, but he could
n’t stop himself.”
Jack interrupted. “Ladies, we’re coming to the junction with the road leading up to Linden Hall. Bella, remember you talked of rebuilding and turning the place into a school? Well, I can tell you, you have enough money to do that now. So maybe you’d like to see the place? Look on it one last time before it changes forever?”
Mama raised a tear-stained face. “I like that idea, Isabella. But I won’t come if you don’t mind. I lost more than you that night.”
“I understand. We both do. Yes, Jack, I’d like that.”
As soon as Bella and Jack were out of the carriage and out of earshot, he said, “I think we should set things in train for the wedding straight away. Your mother desperately needs distraction. She must come back to Warbury with us and bury herself in the arrangements—I am sure she will be good at that and will enjoy it. She will at least feel she has achieved something in her life, to see her daughter married. And I have a feeling she and Mama will be the best of friends.”
As they walked towards the last bend of the gravel drive leading up to the house, Bella took his arm. “I fancy a double wedding. I reckon I could talk Harriet around to marrying Georgie if you weren’t against it. From her letters, it sounds like she’s wavering.”
Jack chuckled. “I think she’s been on the brink for some time now, yes. And Georgie’s been playing the ardent suitor, as humble and attentive as any woman could wish. Harriet says he’s lost weight and acquired some frown lines, enough evidence of his sufferings to satisfy even her.”
They’d reached the point now from which they could see the ruins of the once-great house. Brambles and nettles had already begun to claim the scorched stonework, and pigeons had settled themselves comfortably in the glass-less windows. Bella stared at the gaping maw, where the main door used to be, and her mind went back to that dreadful night.
It must have been a gruesome moment when Henry and Neville were brought out. Later there had come the morbid statement from the undertaker—he might try to separate the two bodies, but they were charred to the bone, and he couldn’t swear as to which remains belonged to whom. Eventually, after much discussion with Neville’s sorrowing next-of-kin, it had been decided that the two men should share the same grave. Perhaps it was, after all, a fitting end to their story.
One thing Bella would never tell anybody, not even Jack, was the true nature of Henry’s friendship with Neville. Their secret had died with them, and she was content to leave it that way. She had seen that her brother was capable of love, and that made him less of a monster in her eyes now, despite what he’d done to her.
She leaned into Jack, and his arm came around her shoulders, and together they gazed silently out over the shattered remains of Linden Hall. Jack slipped his hand down to cradle hers, then eased her around until they were facing back the way they had come. “It’s time to put the past behind us, my love.”
Bella reached up and kissed him on the lips and answered, “I already have, dearest, I already have.”
Acknowledgments
I’m eternally grateful to my long-suffering partner, Tim Robey, and the two very special author friends I met early on in my writing journey, Anna Albo and Shelley Iñón. Thank you so much for having faith in me! Thanks are due also to fellow author Eve Pendle for giving me nudges when I need them, and loads of practical help, and to Barbara Monajem for her unstinting encouragement. I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for your support, ladies!
If you have enjoyed this book, the author would be delighted to receive a review, either via Amazon or Goodreads. Thank you so much!
About the Author
I am an international bestselling author of heart-pounding Regency romances, set mostly in the West of England. I’m working on a fresh series for Dragonblade Publishing called Trysts and Treachery, which is set in the Tudor era. Though primarily a writer of romance, I love to put a bit of mystery, adventure, and suspense into my stories, and refuse to let my characters take themselves too seriously.
I like to write from experience, not easy when my works range from the medieval to the Victorian eras. However, my passion for re-enactment has helped, as have the many years I spent working in museums and British archaeology. If you find some detail in my work you’ve never come across before, you can bet I either dug it up, quite literally, or found it on a museum shelf.
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Seduction, Scandal & Spies- heart-pounding, captivating historical romances from Elizabeth Keysian- there are plenty more on the way!
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Workhouse Waif Page 27
