‘“I had met her at the Fairview Highland Games. Our family were presenting the prizes and she was wandering around with a young man. When I saw that riot of red curls, I was smitten.
‘“I soon made sure her male companion was a thing of the past and we began courting in secret. We lost our hearts to one another, even though we knew our relationship was unlikely to last. Times were different then. Tradition was put on a pedestal and I was young and weak.
‘“Eventually, a member of the Glenlovatt staff saw us together and told my father. I allowed myself to be held to ransom by family convention and a marriage was arranged for the benefit of our estate. In doing so I gave up the woman I loved. But before we separated, I gave her a silver bracelet. A bracelet I had made specially in Glasgow in the hope that she would know what she meant to me. I wanted her to know I would always love her.”’
Mr Chalmers adjusted his glasses. ‘“The silver bracelet had four charms. Two of elaborately decorated cakes and the other two—”’
‘—of silver spoons,’ I interrupted, staring incredulously down at the bracelet hanging from my wrist.
Mr Chalmers paused for a moment. Gordon and Vaughan glanced at each other with obvious confusion. Then Gordon’s gaze followed Vaughan’s to the silver bracelet draped from my wrist.
‘“This lady,”’ Mr Chalmers continued to read, ‘“was Hettie Blackwood.”’
My stunned face jerked upwards to look at Vaughan and Gordon. ‘My great-aunt. The girl Hugo was in love with . . . She was my great-aunt.’
My mind was freewheeling. Mr Chalmers adjusted his silky gold tie and continued. The three of us exchanged shocked glances but listened intently.
‘“I loved Glenlovatt, but even though I loved Hettie more, I allowed a sense of duty to control my destiny. As I grew older I began to resent this house. Sometimes, in melancholy moments, I would view Glenlovatt as the catalyst of my unhappiness.”’
Gordon shifted slightly in his chair. ‘I always knew he and my mother didn’t have the most wonderful of marriages.’
Vaughan gave a short laugh. ‘That’s an understatement, Dad.’
Mr Chalmers cleared his throat and the room once again descended into respectful silence.
‘“That is why I did what I did. When I saw Lara wearing the silver bracelet and realised she was Hettie’s great-niece, I saw this as an opportunity to try to correct the wrongs of my past. I should have realised when I first saw her that she was related to Hettie: those red curls, her determined spirit, even their shared love of baking. It brought back all the love I had for Hettie so many years ago.”’
Tears clouded my eyes.
Mr Chalmers paused before continuing again. ‘“Once I got to know Lara and discovered her passion for baking and her desire to have a business of her own, I knew I had to help her. It was the least I could do. In my mind it would go some way to righting the wrong I had done to my beautiful Hettie. I hope this presumption on my part has brought some happiness and satisfaction to you all.”’
Mr Chalmers looked up, no doubt taking in our open-mouthed expressions. ‘Nearly done now,’ he said.
‘“So here is my final instruction and request. I have set up the Hettie Blackwood Trust and this trust will, as of today, help to support the running of Glenlovatt Manor.”’
Gordon gripped the arms of his chair. ‘What on earth have you been up to, Dad?’ He then looked squarely at Mr Chalmers. ‘How much did Hugo squirrel away, Graeme?’
Mr Chalmers named a figure that drew a chorus of gasps from all of us.
‘I always thought Hugo was a bit on the tight side,’ admitted Vaughan to no one in particular, ‘but he was obviously busy planning this all along.’
Mr Chalmers gave the final page of the letter a crisp shake and read the closing paragraphs. ‘“To my dear Gordon. You have made me so proud to be your father. You are a son who is selfless and kind, always thinking of others before yourself. Please forgive me for my confession. I always respected and loved your mother but not in the way I should have. She was a faithful wife, and a loving mother to you and, for that, I will always be grateful to her. As for you, I never told you often enough how proud I am of you and that is a mistake I should have rectified long ago. Hopefully this letter will go some way to making amends for that. I know you suffered intolerable pain when you lost Lydia, but you carried on. You were a rock, not only for Glenlovatt but also for your son and for me. I always will be your loving father.
‘“To my dear Vaughan. You are far more of a man than I ever was at your age. Chase your dreams and find a love that will endure. Do you remember my words of advice to you that summer when you turned twenty? You had just lost your beloved mother and life was proving to be difficult for you. I told you to make your mother proud and to find someone who you could love. I know in my heart that you will do just that and I am proud of you too. You are a credit to your mother and father.”’
Mr Chalmers smiled and finished reading out the letter.
‘“And to Lara, the girl with the fiery red curls. Thank you for having the bravery to take charge of your future. I know what I expected from you was a great deal. You were thrust into Glenlovatt with no knowledge of what lay ahead for you. But I knew you could rise to the challenge. Thank you for allowing me to help you, for you have brought my darling Hettie’s memory back to Glenlovatt, where it belonged all along. I know that may sound rather selfish but please understand that the love I had for your great-aunt never died. I saw an opportunity to change your situation, and not to take it would have been a lasting regret. I did for you what I should have done for Hettie and I hope that, in some small way, this demonstrates how repentant I am for not being the man I should have been.
‘“I hope you will always wear the silver bracelet knowing I will watch over you and the rest of my family.
‘“Fondest love, Hugo.”’
There was a silence weighted with disbelief.
Finally Gordon’s voice, thick with emotion, shattered the quiet. ‘Well, trust my father to get the last word.’
Travis spoke quietly—I’d almost forgotten he was there. ‘They broke the mould when they made Hugo Carmichael.’
Perth, Scotland, September 1978
Hettie slid a round-tipped knife slick with white icing over the plain dome of cake. As she did so, her eyes strayed to her naked wrist.
Not seeing the dancing silver bracelet there was oddly comforting; much better it stay curled up in the bottom of her leather jewellery box. She had had no other option but to remove it. It was just too much of a reminder of what could have had.
Its absence affirmed that she’d moved on. It proved to her that he was in her past. She put her oven gloves away in the drawer and made a concerted effort not to conjure up the sound of his laugh, or the way his dark hair fell away from his face.
Outside her kitchen window, leaves adorned the trees in riots of bold red, mustard yellow and burnished orange. The variety of autumn colour triggered thoughts of Glenlovatt. She had heard from friends who still frequented Fairview that Hugo and his wife were so proud that their only son, Gordon was starting university. While she eased open the oven door, she smiled at an old school photograph on the windowsill of her two daughters, all gappy smiles and straight brown hair. Their school ties were askew and there was something infectious about their youthful grins.
Placing her mixing bowl in the sink, Hettie then leaned against it, and allowed herself a moment to recall the days of love and laughter she had shared with Hugo. Despite her inward protestations, she knew the truth.
As she looked around her simple kitchen, with its coral-coloured tiles and paisley linoleum flooring, she knew that, despite the anger and hurt she had carried around for so long, Hugo would always be with her.
And, despite everything, she still loved him—that would never change.
Epilogue
Even in my wildest dreams I couldn’t have imagined how beautiful a Christmas wedding at Glenlovatt c
ould be.
The trees looked as if they had been covered with icing sugar and the grounds were carpeted in a thick layer of fresh snow. And despite the chilly December morning, the sky had delivered us beautiful marmalade and vanilla sunshine.
In the great hall, swathes of white tulle decorated the guests’ chairs while silvery fairy lights were strung at the entrance, to greet friends and family. Vases of icy blue roses sprung from almost every conceivable surface. Thanks to the combined efforts of friends and family, we had managed to arrange everything in time for our much-wanted winter wedding at Glenlovatt.
Vaughan was something to behold in his dark grey three-piece suit and lavender silk tie. When he unleashed that smile of his as I stood waiting at the entrance to the hall, my heart rippled. There was a look on his face that reminded me of the way Gordon gazed at photographs of Lydia, a deep longing that stole the breath from your throat.
Wolf had been delighted to give me away and I hung on to him desperately as we began that long walk down the aisle, my cream column-style wedding dress suddenly seeming impossible to take a proper step in. As he evaporated into the seat beside Mum, I gave them both a grateful smile. Beside them Morven gave me an encouraging wink from under her fascinator, then turned to Jake with a look that clearly said, ‘We’re next, matey.’ The poor guy doesn’t stand a chance.
My fingers clutched nervously at my bouquet, a posy of silver-painted berries, blue heather and snow-dusted pine cones—and, of course, a couple of purple thistles for good measure. Vaughan had also pinned a thistle to his jacket lapel.
As the service began, I caught sight of myself in a mirror on the wall behind the celebrant. I saw a woman with red curls piled up into an elaborate do, who looked a lot like me, but who was exuding a confidence and happiness I’d never felt before.
‘Speech! Speech! Come on, Lara! Say something!’
‘Yes, you’re not normally short of something to say!’
I laughed as our wedding guests encouraged me to get to my feet as they filled the dining room at Glenlovatt with the sound of exuberant happiness.
‘Your audience awaits, Mrs Carmichael,’ whispered Vaughan beside me. ‘Go on, darling.’
I took in a huge breath and rose to my feet, rolling my eyes as two of Vaughan’s friends from a nearby table awarded me a couple of wolf whistles. I drank in the frothing winter flower arrangements on each table; the flowing, starched table cloths and the glint of cutlery. And then I began to speak, giving my gorgeous husband the occasional smile as he looked up at me and muttered his encouragement.
‘When I was first thrust into the world of Glenlovatt, I was terrified. Hugo Carmichael had placed a huge amount of trust in me, which I didn’t understand. The responsibility I felt to make this new tea room a success was immense, especially when it became obvious how much this beautiful place meant to Gordon and Vaughan.’
I took a steadying breath and continued. ‘But what Hugo made me realise was that I could achieve more than I ever imagined if I just believed in myself and took a chance. I can’t thank him enough for that.’
I looked down at Vaughan, who reached up to squeeze my hand and give me one of his incredibly sexy winks. ‘And it’s thanks to Hugo that I met a certain brooding sculptor,’ I added, pausing briefly while my audience chuckled. ‘I’ve had the chance to learn the strange and wonderful power of love, and I think we’ve both learned that love doesn’t fade with the passing of time; it simply grows stronger.’
From down the wedding table, Gordon had a faraway look. No doubt he was thinking of his beloved Lydia.
I finished by saying, ‘This very special house carries all the memories, hopes and dreams of those who have gone before. With Vaughan by my side, I feel honoured to be a part of her future.’
I sat down again, to be greeted by Vaughan’s lips against mine and a thunderous round of applause.
And as my fingers searched for my silver bracelet, the four charms caressing my skin, I knew that Hugo, and Hettie too, would be making a toast to Vaughan and me.
Acknowledgements
Heartfelt thanks and gratitude to my phenomenal agent, and friend, Selwa Anthony. My thanks also go to Linda Anthony for her patience. I hope you both know how much I appreciate you.
A huge debt of gratitude to Allen & Unwin, especially my publisher, Annette Barlow; editor, Rebecca Allen; and copyeditor, Simone Ford. The whole A&U team are a very special and talented group of people.
Sincere thanks also to the Capaldi family and the lovely staff at the Honeybee Bakery, which was my inspiration for Thistles.
And, finally, to my much-missed mum, Helen, and mother-in-law, Anne, who are both loved forever.
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