Looking in the drawer of the dressing table for a handkerchief, I chanced on the lace bag belonging to Lizzie which I had placed here on the day of our arrival at Darkwood after finding it at the bottom of the wardrobe.
The yellow roses were almost the colour of the dress I wore, and thought to take it to dinner with me. I pressed the lace to my cheek feeling close to my beloved grandmother who I felt sure had guided me last night.
Putting the bag on the top of the dressing table I selected a pretty white lace handkerchief which I intended to place in the bag. Opening the twisted gold clasp I went to push the handkerchief inside when I felt something tucked in the bag, taking it out I could see that it was a folded envelope very like the ones in Lizzie’s writing desk. I took it over to the armchair and sat down unfolding the envelope. I looked at it back and front several times.
Although it was sealed, I could see nothing had been written on it. I got up and went to the desk and took an envelope out, it matched perfectly to the one I’d found. Sitting back in the armchair I considered what to do.
Part of me said that I should take it to Aunt Rachel, but my heart said to open it as I’d found it. The lace bag had obviously been overlooked when the wardrobe had been cleared out. I looked again in the bag to see if it held anything else. Reaching my hand in the bottom I touched on a small metal object. On bringing it out into the light of the lamp I could see it was a small brass key, probably the one missing from the desk.
I’d discovered it too late as Douglas had put a new lock on only the other day, so I tucked the key back in the bag. Holding the envelope again for some time I made a decision, right or wrong to open it myself for she was my grandmother and I loved her. My hand was unsteady as I unsealed it, thinking that this had lain unseen for many years.
There was a sheet of paper inside which at first I was reluctant to remove. My heart pounding, I eventually found the courage to retrieve it, unfolding it I could see bold handwriting written in blue ink which had faded a little over the years. Tears stung my eyes as I saw the name Lizzie at the bottom of the page. I lay my hand which held the letter on my lap trying to pull myself together before reading something that had been written so long ago. It could be a letter never posted to her family or an invitation, things I’d mulled over before when the desk was first opened, but unless I read it I’d never know. Nothing could have prepared me for the content of the letter as I read.
April the 23rd 1851.
No longer can I stand Samuel’s infidelity. I see Jared’s face at every turn to remind me of it, my heart bleeds for his mother, Kate, who died giving birth to him at the tender age of sixteen years.
I lay no blame on her, she was just a child and would have succumbed to Samuel’s persuasive ways with women as I surrendered to it long ago. I have some sympathy for Jared not knowing his true parentage, will he ever know that he is Samuel’s illegitimate son? The sad fact is that after laying him at Rachel’s door he disowned him, I feel I should lay bare to Jared the truth, but can no longer endure Samuel’s wrath either, and now the servants are gossiping yet again that a girl in the village is with child by Samuel.
I cannot bear their hushed silence as I walk into a room or the glances of sympathy in my direction. Whoever reads this first will know why I must end my misery and explain it to my beloved grandchildren, Gareth and Silvia, when they are old enough to understand it. Gareth who is full of endearing ways already and Silvia who at such a young age appreciates the written word.
My heart is heavy that I shall not see them grow into adulthood, but my depression is such that I can no longer carry on. The laudanum awaits me, calling me and I have to reach for it, Samuel will despise me for it, that I would dare to escape in this way, but that is the trump card I shall forever hold over him for I have no other and I shall lie forever surrounded by the bluebells in Darklady’s Wood.
Lizzie.
I could not at first take it in, Jared’s name jumped up at me as I looked at the letter again, I could hardly believe it. Jared was Samuel’s son, or should I believe it? And I recalled the cruel twist of his mouth and ruthless manner so like my grandfather, and that led me to think that Jared was in truth my uncle.
A sob escaped my lips as I realised my beloved Lizzie appeared to have taken her own life because of my grandfather’s cruelty and philandering ways. Oh my Lord, I thought, clutching the letter to my bosom and recalling the words, I shall lie forever surrounded by the bluebells in Darklady’s Wood. She had taken the laudanum in that beautiful wood and lay to die on a carpet of bluebells, I could not bear it, I needed someone to share this pain with me and my thoughts flew to Gareth, my beloved grandchildren, Gareth and Silvia.
I stood up tears streaming down my face, tucking the letter back into the lace bag intent on finding Gareth before dinner, was there no end to my misery? The thought ran through my mind, Gareth’s endearing ways, was I so wrong to doubt him, wrong to tell him that I could not marry him on the foundation that he had not declared his love for me?
My feet practically ran along the corridor, sobs escaping my lips as I ran, my hand tightly clutching the bag lest someone take it from me. The fact that I didn’t know which was Gareth’s room hadn’t occurred to me. I ran blindly on, the skirts of my lovely dress dragging along the carpet as another miracle happened and Gareth stepped out of the master bedroom into the corridor.
‘Gareth, Gareth!’ I shouted, sobs still racking my body as I tumbled headlong into his arms, his arms went around me cradling my head on his shoulder, no matter how I tried I couldn’t stop crying, I’d never felt such despair.
‘Silvia, sshhh,’ he whispered trying to calm me but to no avail so he led me into the bedroom which he’d so caringly refurbished for me, the thought of which made me worse. He sat me in the armchair by the fire which was still burning in the hearth and pulled a bell cord that I had not noticed before.
Leaning on the floor before me he tried so hard to pacify me, in no time at all Dotty appeared, her eyes were like saucers taking in the scene before her, we would be the talk of the kitchen, but I didn’t care. My dishevelled hair, red cheeks and sobs would be relayed to the cook no doubt.
‘Dotty, please fetch Miss Silvia a large brandy and tell no-one,’ Gareth instructed the bewildered girl. ‘Now Silvia please tell me what causes you such distress.’
‘Jared... Jared...’ I sobbed looking Gareth in the eye, I must have looked a sight. ‘Jared is not your brother, he is our uncle!’ I paused for breath, ‘And our beloved grandmother took her own life in Darklady’s Wood! Oh Gareth, I cannot bear it.’
Dotty arrived with the brandy, Mrs Trigg at her heels.
‘Is there something wrong, sir?’ Knowing full well there was, as she took in the scene before her.
‘Please leave us, Mrs Trigg and tell no-one,’ said Gareth, thrusting the glass of brandy into my trembling hand.
‘But the mistress is asking for you both, sir. What shall I tell her?’ Mrs Trigg persisted.
‘Tell them we’ll be down soon, Mrs Trigg please, now leave us.’
‘Come along, Dotty,’ said Mrs Trigg pushing the girl through the door, taking her displeasure out on the poor child. I gulped the brandy, clutching the glass with a trembling hand, and thankfully the sobs subsided.
‘I know you are distraught dear heart, but tell me how you found this out,’ Gareth asked softly.
‘I found this letter in Lizzie’s bag.’ And I fumbled to unclasp the bag and handed Gareth the letter, sobs starting again as I handled it. Gareth stood by the fireplace slowly reading the words which must have been as painful to him.
‘This would explain why we can’t find Lizzie’s grave, for it would be in unconsecrated ground. I can understand your distress for I feel it to, but we need to tell my mother, for it would appear she could shed further light on all this.’ Gareth spoke sensibly I realised and at last I was beginning to calm myself, sound sense was suddenly replacing hopelessness.
‘You are right,
Gareth, but I need to freshen up and do something with my hair,’ I said to him and once again he rang the bell. On this occasion Mrs Trigg answered it.
‘Yes, sir,’ she said with a hint of dissatisfaction.
‘Please bring Miss Silvia a jug of hot water and a face cloth.’
Mrs Trigg returned once more with Dotty who carried a jug of water which she tipped slowly into a china washbowl on a stand near the door.
‘Dinner is ready, sir,’ Mrs Trigg addressed Gareth as she spoke, ‘What shall I tell your mother?’
‘I shall come down and speak to her myself. Now that will be all, I thank both of you.’ No sooner had Gareth spoken than the housekeeper and Dotty left the room.
‘I cannot go down to dinner Gareth, for I could not eat a thing, this has upset me so much.’ My voice was almost a whisper as I held the warm face cloth to my burning cheeks and eyes.
‘Don’t fret, I will go down to Mother and explain that you are feeling unwell, and that we will see her and Father in the drawing-room afterwards if you are able. I will fetch you a towel,’ he said thoughtfully. When he handed it to me some seconds later he asked, ‘Shall I send Pru to you to tidy your beautiful hair?’
‘Yes please Gareth, you are so kind, however could I have thought...’ My voice trailed off, not wishing to tell him that I’d misconstrued his motive for marrying me. Another sob escaped my lips at the thought of it.
‘Silvia, calm yourself.’ As he spoke he laid his hands gently on my shoulders and planted a kiss on my cheek.
‘Pru will need my hairbrush,’ I said suddenly thinking logically. ‘Maybe I should go back to my room.’
‘No,’ Gareth said emphatically. ‘I wish you to stay here where I can keep an eye on you. I shan’t be gone long, I promise.’ As he left I felt bereft without his calming presence and wished with all my heart I could return to yesterday.
Pru arrived with a hairbrush not long after Gareth left, she’d also brought with her a powder puff. I sat at the dressing table on a soft brocade chair and looked at my reflection in the mirror while Pru brushed and re-arranged my hair.
‘It’s not for me to ask what troubles you, Miss Silvia, but what I do know is that the young gentlemen who is to be your husband is most concerned about you and that’s a fact.’ As she spoke Pru skilfully rearranged the snood and then set to dabbing my cheeks with the powder puff. When she’d finished I certainly looked better and somehow older and wiser for the experience of the past days. I wished so much to put right my relationship with Gareth, but knew that it would have to wait until other issues had been resolved.
An hour later, Gareth and I entered the drawing-room together, Aunt Rachel and Uncle William were on the settle together by the fire.
‘What is amiss?’ Aunt Rachel asked anxiously. As I looked at her I thought how much like her mother she looked, a fact I’d not noticed before. Aunt Rachel got up and walked towards me placing a protective arm around my shoulder and seated me on the matching settle opposite. Uncle William was by the fire. Although warm, the cold blue walls chilled me and I shuddered.
Gareth took a seat next to me. ‘Where did you find that reticule?’ Aunt Rachel exclaimed as she seated herself once more. ‘I do believe it belonged to my mother.’ As she spoke I could feel the tears pricking my eyes once more, my throat burned and I could not speak, but Gareth answered his mother.
‘You are right, Mother, it is indeed Lizzie’s lace bag. Silvia found it in the wardrobe the day of her arrival at Darkwood, but until today had not picked it up.’ Gareth continued while my aunt looked at him as if spellbound. ‘The cause of Silvia’s distress is a letter she found in the bag, which has been written by your mother and reveals to us secrets which we had not known until now.’
Saying this Gareth took the bag gently from me, unclasped it and handed Lizzie’s letter to Aunt Rachel. The room was silent except for the occasional crackling of a log on the fire as she read it, she then folded the letter and passed it back to Gareth.
‘It is true, my children.’ Aunt Rachel spoke in a hushed voice. ‘Your grandmother did take the laudanum on that very day in the wood, your grandfather found her a couple of hours later lying under a tree among the bluebells. He never forgave her as she so rightly says, for escaping him that way, her lifeless body was carried back to the house by Douglas who was younger then.’ Aunt Rachel looked in some kind of trance as she continued. ‘The lovely fur-trimmed green cloak she wore was removed and banished to the attic.’
‘I saw it,’ I interrupted, ‘On the top of her clothes in a chest in the attic.’ The thought of it causing tears to swim before my eyes.
‘My father was adamant she would not be buried in the churchyard, but outside the boundary wall with no headstone to mark this beautiful lady’s final resting place. But I have tended her grave all these years.’ She stopped, her emotion overcoming her.
‘And what of Jared who I have always thought of as my brother?’ Gareth’s questioning voice cut the silence.
‘He is indeed my half-brother, Samuel’s son. He so wanted a son and asked me to bring him up as my own so he could live at Darkwood. Jared turned out to be as cruel as his father and had no love for Samuel, so Jared was disowned from an early age.’ Again my aunt stopped, obviously reliving the past which Lizzie’s letter had brought to her mind.
‘And where is Jared now?’ My voice was strong once more, ‘He needs to be told the truth of his parentage,’ I insisted.
‘We’ve not seen Jared since your banns of marriage were called on Sunday.’ Uncle William spoke for the first time. I had quite forgotten he was there opposite me.
‘And will you tell him, Aunt Rachel, when he reappears?’ I asked quietly.
‘Yes, I will, for as I say he needs to know the truth for many reasons,’ she agreed.
‘And my grandmother’s portrait? Do you know who disfigured the likeness of her lovely face with such hatred?’ I asked, keen to have all the mysteries surrounding Lizzie solved.
‘I can answer that,’ offered Uncle William. ‘Your aunt does not know this for I spared her any more unhappiness. It was Samuel, I saw him as I walked along the corridor repeatedly slash at her face with inane fury. It was I who took the portrait down and with Douglas’ help placed it in the attic so Rachel would not see it.’
Uncle William paused and then continued, ‘Samuel then had his portrait painted in defiance of Lizzie’s death, by a tree in Darklady’s Wood, and he hung it deliberately at the top of the stairs where his wife’s portrait had been.’
‘Is there anything else you have to tell us?’ Gareth spoke quietly looking from his father to his mother as he spoke.
‘For my part at least,’ said Uncle William leaning forward in his seat, ‘The only thing I know is that Samuel instructed that the walls of the drawing-room and dining-room be painted the colour of the bluebells so no-one would forget what Lizzie did to him. His anger was so fierce he never forgave her.’
‘And you, Mother? Have you any further revelations we should know about?’ As Gareth spoke my aunt looked at both of us deliberating whether she should tell us more.’
‘Estelle.’ She spoke the name and it had hung in the air between us, almost tangible, and the sound of her name being spoken conjured up to me the sound of Estelle’s beautiful melodic voice and laugh which I’d heard and loathed on the evening of my arrival at Darkwood.
‘What of Estelle, for I already know that she is unsound of mind,’ said Gareth as if breaking a spell which had been cast on us all.
‘She is Samuel’s illegitimate child too,’ said Aunt Rachel, wiping a tear from her eye with the back of her hand. ‘Such a beautiful child but her mother was deranged and died not long ago in a mental institution. I very much fear that Estelle will follow in her footsteps.’
At this point Aunt Rachel did cry. What secrets she had carried these past years and how difficult it must have been for her, and I knew now why she strived so hard to keep Estelle apart from Jared and Gareth, fo
r she was Jared’s half-sister and Gareth’s aunt.
Gareth and I left my aunt and uncle to spend much needed moments together. As we were leaving the room, Aunt Rachel looked up and said, ‘I will show you both Lizzie’s grave tomorrow.’ We both nodded in agreement.
Gareth walked me back to my room dropping a kiss on my brow as he left me saying he would join me for breakfast. ‘Sleep well dear heart,’ he said.
As I climbed wearily into bed that night thoughts of Lizzie whirled in my head, but I was thankful the mystery was solved. Uppermost in my mind was the thought that I needed to tell Gareth the secret of my heart which was that I loved him so very much. With that thought, I drifted into a restless sleep, my dreams were of beautiful Estelle and I knew she would forever haunt me.
10
‘You look so dark under the eyes, Miss,’ said Pru the next day, ‘And your eyelids are all puffed up.’
‘Do I really look that bad?’ I questioned with some dismay going across to have a look in the mirror. Looking closely I could see what she meant, but under the circumstances I could have looked far worse.
‘I agree with you Pru, but nothing can be done about it,’ I said with some resignation.
‘What will you wear today?’ Pru asked, and I went over to the window to see if there were blue or grey skies today. Pulling back the pink curtains I could see it was a glorious day, the sun shone in a cloudless blue sky and as far as I could tell there was hardly any breeze. I knew we were going to the graveyard today and recalled how cold it had been on the first day we had come to Darkwood.
As I looked from the window I could see primroses growing in the flower border and I thought to pick a bunch to lay on Lizzie’s grave. Thinking of it I felt my throat ache and quickly went to the wardrobe to choose what I would wear. As I looked through my array of gowns I touched on my wedding gown, which caused me to think how I should have been marrying Gareth in two days’ time.
Darkwood Page 8
