They heard Nathan’s footsteps going down the stairs. A long stillness followed and Amelia strained to hear. A sudden whoosh caught them by surprise and it wasn’t long before they could hear the crackle of fire. Amelia pounded on the window and then on the door, shouting for help.
1912
End of March
Leo Deverell looked at his wife with genuine concern. He’d been appalled when his mother suggested they bring the wedding forward to February, and he’d refused outright to be rushed. Now, thinking back on the last two months of marital bliss, he wondered why he’d hesitated. Sylvia was everything he’d ever dreamt of in a woman. Gently Leo lifted his wife’s limp hand to his lips and brushed a soft kiss across her knuckles. The colour of Sylvia’s face matched that of the ivory bed linen. A purple tinge shadowed her closed eyes and dark blonde lashes rested in an uneasy sleep. Leo gently stroked her dishevelled array of fair hair. ‘Sylvia,’ he whispered softly. Receiving no response, Leo put her hand back down on the covers. Moving away from the bed, he stood for a while looking out of the bedroom window. The room, situated at the front of the manor house, had good views and he looked at the gardens with approval. A path went through an arch in the garden wall and carried on through a buttercup meadow before curving out of sight and into the wood. A curl of grey smoke in between the branches of the trees drew his attention. Leo watched the smoke dwindle and realised it came from one of the tied cottages dotted about the estate. Out of his field of vision he heard horses led out into the yard and he listened to the grooms’ muffled curses. On the main lawn, conveniently placed in partial shade underneath the wide branches of apple trees and lilacs, were groups of tables and chairs. Beds of tiny alpines and heathers softened the flat expanse, and almost hidden amongst the flowering rhododendron and hydrangeas, ornamental marble statues peered out. Leo sighed. The garden was his responsibility to maintain now, but his first priority was to carry on the Deverell line by providing an heir.
Sylvia stirred and Leo quickly moved back towards the bed. ‘Sylvia dear, you’re awake at last.’ His wife’s eyelashes flickered at the sound of Leo’s voice and opened. Tears dampened her cheeks.
‘I’m so sorry, can you forgive me, Leo,’ Sylvia implored, taking hold of his hand.
Leo made to answer and then hesitated. Sylvia, at eight weeks pregnant, had taken the grey mare from the stables and ridden to a friend’s house in Delamere, with no regard for the safety of her unborn child. The foetus aborted three days later. Leo did blame Sylvia’s irresponsible action for her miscarriage, but seeing his wife so full of remorse, magnanimously he decided to forgive her. Before Leo had time to reassure his wife a tap on the door distracted him. He turned to see who had disturbed them. Pritchard his butler entered, striding boldly into the room. ‘Yes, Pritchard, what is it?’
Having worked for the Deverell family for over fifteen years Pritchard was not intimidated by the harsh tone of the young Mr Deverell and after the customary bow, he cleared his throat. ‘Excuse me for disturbing you, sir, you have a visitor.’
‘I thought I’d made it perfectly clear that my wife and I don’t want to be disturbed. Tell whoever it is to make an appointment.’ Leo waved the servant away and turned back to Sylvia. Whispering words of comfort, he eased her up into a sitting position and pumped up the pillows. Sylvia relaxed back against them, lifting her arms to smooth her rumpled tresses away from her brow. The movement seductively lifted her full breasts. At the sight of his wife’s protruding nipples, clearly visible through the transparent muslin nightgown, Leo became aroused and felt a familiar ache in his groin. He sat on the bed and pressed his face against the soft mounds, kissing them gently, and breathing in Sylvia’s feminine perfume. A slight cough disturbed the couple’s intimacy.
‘For God’s sake, man, can’t you leave us alone? Am I not allowed any privacy in my own home?’ Leo shouted, angrily voicing his embarrassment.
Leo’s harshness would have sent any other servant scuttling, but Pritchard stood his ground. ‘I am very sorry, sir, but the young man refuses to leave. He’s waiting in the hall.’
Astounded by his servant’s gall, Leo stood glaring. ‘You’ve asked him in? How dare you ignore my instructions? I will not tolerate this impertinence.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Pritchard replied, remaining unmoved.
‘Well, what are you waiting for, man? You have asked him in; now ask him out, if you please,’ Leo said exasperated. ‘Tell whoever it is my wife and I are indisposed.’
‘It’s young Jim Farrell, sir, and as I said, he refuses to go. He’s in a bit of state.’ His words trailed off as Leo stormed towards him.
Hearing his visitor’s name made Leo’s blood turn first cold, then boiling. He pushed past Pritchard and walked out onto the balcony overlooking the main hall. Below him stood Jim Farrell, his upturned face returning Leo’s glare with one of equal hatred. Leo descended the main staircase slowly until he reached the bottom few steps. Then before Jim could react Leo sprang down the remaining stairs and grabbed the young man by his shirt collar and began to drag him towards the main door. Leo screamed into Jim’s startled face, ‘How dare you come into my house? Get out now.’
Jim refused to be dragged. He twisted away and in doing so loosened Leo’s grip, then with a powerful push he thrust the older man away from him. ‘I’m not my father or Charlie for you to push around. I’d listen to what I’ve got to say first, before you try strong arm tactics.’ Jim leaned against a marble pillar, regarding Leo, trying not to show his nervousness.
Jim’s muscles bulged beneath his rough plaid working shirt and as he stood clenching and unclenching his large fists, Leo glanced up towards the balcony, wondering where Pritchard was. He might need his servant’s help if Farrell decided to get nasty. Jim’s eyes were so like Amy’s, Leo couldn’t meet them. He did see desperation hidden behind the young man’s arrogant stance though, so taking control of the situation Leo began smoothing down the front of his coat, brushing off imaginary fluff from his sleeves.
‘Farrell, you’ve obviously got a bee in your bonnet about something, but today is not the day. My wife is very ill and you are keeping me from her. You’ve nothing to say that I want to hear, so I’ll tell you again. Get out. Or do I have to call my men to remove you?’ Leo knew his threat was weak. His men had watched Jim and his siblings grow up. Some even felt a responsibility towards them after what had happened to their father.
When Jim made no attempt to leave, Leo gave in. Irritated, he indicated a small room off the hallway and led the way. ‘Isn’t it about time you accepted your father’s guilt. Surely his suicide proved that,’ Leo said, stopping outside his study. He walked into the room and pulled out an upholstered armchair from behind a leather-topped desk and lowered himself into it. Tiredly he waved a finger at a chair opposite, inviting Jim to sit. Jim remained standing and scowled in defiance. The strong young lad made Leo feel old. Impatiently he tapped his fingers on his desk. ‘Come on then, let’s get this over with. Why are you here?’
Jim had a plan and he prayed it would work. With words devoid of emotion he said, ‘I want to get away and I need money to do it, it’s as simple as that.’ He hated himself for burying Amy and baby Alice in Primrose Cottage’s garden, instead of giving them the proper burial they deserved. He hated his mother for making him do it, which fuelled his strong desire to get away from Woodbury, even if it meant leaving her and Lillian when they needed him most. The urge to seek a better life overrode his shame. He could only hope that one day Lillian would understand and forgive him. Noticing Leo’s look of contempt he tried to justify his motives. ‘Due to hearsay and gossip, the name Farrell is despised by the land owners in Cheshire and none of them will give me a proper job.’
Leo looked blankly at Jim. He had no idea where the conversation was leading, but heard in Jim’s tone the young boy he remembered.
With enthusiasm now, Jim told Leo, ‘You’ve probably heard about the ship called Titanic. The perfect ship, virtually u
nsinkable they say it is. The largest and most luxurious ocean-going liner ever built. On the tenth of April the Titanic is leaving the White Star Dock in Southampton on her maiden voyage to New York. Well, I want to be on it. I want to start a new life and America is the place to be.’ Breathless and uncertain, Jim faltered. He’d expected a torrent of abuse, but the only response from Leo was a raised eyebrow, so Jim continued, feeling more and more confident. ‘The cost of the fare for third class on the ship is seven pounds fifteen shillings. I need enough money to get to Southampton and for a ticket on the Titanic.’
Leo gaped and then bristled. ‘Why on earth would you think I’d give you money?’ Leo’s parents had already obtained their first class tickets for the Titanic’s imminent voyage. They were due to arrive at Tapscott Manor the coming weekend, taking a short break in their journey from Argyle, before the next leg of their journey to Southampton. Jim Farrell accompanying them was unthinkable.
Jim wavered. If his plan was to work he had no option but to disclose what he knew, so he answered, ‘Because of Grace.’
‘What about Grace? I don’t understand. What has your baby sister got to do with it?’
‘I have a proposition I think you’ll be interested in.’
Leo’s patience was wearing thin. He groaned out loud. ‘Bloody hell, a proposition now, is it?’
‘Yes, Mr Deverell,’ Jim responded.
Leo eyed him warily. It was the first time Jim had spoken to him with some degree of respect.
Jim went on, ‘The whole village knows you and Mrs Deverell are trying for a child. You’re not having much luck I hear.’
‘How dare you, you insolent scrounger.’ Leo stood up too quickly. He placed a hand on the back of the chair to steady himself. Good grief, he’d only been married two months and the village gossips were busy already. It didn’t help his case that he’d recently fathered at least two bastards in the village. The gossips had no proof though and he certainly wasn’t going to admit to it, not now he was married to Sylvia.
Jim let Leo’s insult go over his head and continued quickly. ‘Just for a moment let us agree that my father did kill your twin brother Laurence. Have you ever asked yourself why, Mr Deverell? Why would my father do something to jeopardise his job and his home and the security of his family?’ Jim had asked himself the question ever since Harry had given him Laurence’s gold watch and signet ring that he had found in Primrose Cottage. Jim had come to the conclusion that his father had murdered Laurence, and hidden the stolen items in the cottage until he could sell them. Jim intended to sell them, but not yet, not here in Cheshire. He’d wait until he reached America. The money from their sale would keep him in food and lodging for months.
‘How the hell should I know why? He did it and that’s that,’ Leo replied.
‘No, that isn’t that, as you put it. My father must have had a good reason to do what he did. He wasn’t a violent man or a drunkard, and as I said, there’s also the child, Grace. Where do you think she fits into all this?’
‘I suppose you’re going to tell me eventually?’ Leo said tiredly.
‘Can you imagine how confusing it was for me? A stranger supposedly attacks my mother and sister, yet my father wouldn’t report it to the police. Then my mother and Amy go off in the middle of the night and almost immediately your brother’s reported missing. A few months later he’s found dead, murdered, and in almost the same place Ellen and Amy came to harm. Didn’t anyone else see this stranger? Did anyone bother to ask? Then my Dad is accused of Laurence’s murder, cleared of all charges and released from prison. A few months later he’s found strung up exactly where Laurence was found.’ Jim shook his head; it was all still a muddle.
‘What has all that got to do with Grace?’ Leo said irritably, not wanting to be reminded of John’s lynching.
‘I’m getting to that. As you’re probably aware I recently brought Ellen and Lillian home from Wrexham. With us was little Grace, born nine months after Mum and Amy were attacked. Bit of a coincidence that, don’t you think? Amy was ill so she couldn’t return home with us. Poorly and losing a lot blood I heard Mum tell Lillian, so I put two and two together.’ Jim lied about Amy, keeping to the story they’d all agreed on.
Leo sat down suddenly, his prominent eyes fixed on Jim’s face.
Jim was coming to the crunch now and although he dreaded Leo’s reaction to what he was about to reveal, he felt strongly it was the right thing to do.
‘I believe your brother Laurence raped Amy, and the baby Grace is their child. It would account for Amy’s injuries that summer. If my father did attack Laurence it was to settle a score and punish him for what he’d done. Dad probably never meant to kill him. But think about it. My Dad may not have been the only father seeking revenge; how many other young girls did your brother rape, I wonder?’ Jim cleared his throat to cover any emotion but was unable to control the catch in his voice. It was easy to believe Leo was the lecherous bastard everyone made him out to be, Daisy’s pregnancy bore the truth of it, but not Laurence. He’d always seemed such a caring gentle soul.
Leo bristled, and then froze as dates and times whirled through his head. Grace was Amy’s child. Not Ellen’s, but Amy’s, and his. It made him feel uncomfortable remembering the day he’d taken Amy, forcing her to submit to his will. He’d liked Amy and hadn’t meant to hurt her. Ellen’s interference had made everything worse. Without doubt, in revenge, John had killed his twin by mistake, but he, Leo, had been the intended victim. For anyone to assume that Laurence, his pious twin, was Grace’s father was ridiculous. The whimpering sop had his nose stuck into a book day and night and had never looked at a skirt let alone troubled to lift one up. It almost made Leo laugh out loud. Grace is mine, she has to be, Leo thought jubilantly. He considered Jim’s proposition. He didn’t like the thought of Jim going around accusing Laurence of rape. It was preposterous but some might be inclined to believe it, or worse, point an accusing finger at him. So, the sooner Jim Farrell leaves Cheshire the better, he decided. ‘I appreciate you telling me this,’ Leo said, opening a desk draw and removing a locked tin box. From out of the box he withdrew a wad of rolled up bank notes and threw the money to Jim. ‘There, that should be enough I think.’
The money felt like thirty pieces of silver in Jim’s hand. He hated himself even more and he knew he couldn’t leave without first securing his family’s future. ‘What will you do now?’ he asked quietly.
‘I’ve paid you for your information, so what I choose to do with it isn’t your concern.’ Leo gave Jim a disparaging look, his composure regained. Leo’s mind raced with plans to put into process the immediate acquisition of his daughter.
Leo had agreed too readily and Jim felt as though he was missing something. He’d expected an argument or at the very least for Leo to refute the accusation against Laurence. ‘It is my concern though,’ Jim replied, deciding to make his demands. ‘Give Primrose Cottage to my mother and I will go away and never come back. I will promise never to tell anyone what I know or suspect of Laurence. I’ll carry the secret to my grave, but only if you sign Primrose Cottage and the land around it over to Mum.’ Jim had to compensate in some way for his betrayal, but knew he was pushing his luck.
‘Let me get this straight. You came here today demanding money to pay for your passage to America. In return you offer information regarding a baby you say is my niece. You’re expecting me to take this child, Grace, who may or may not be the daughter of my departed brother, as my own daughter, hence your sarcastic comments about my lack of ability in making my wife pregnant. Also, for this privilege I have to give your family a cottage and land,’ Leo barked, shaking with anger. Calming himself, he continued. ‘I will take Grace, only because it serves my purpose,’ he said, satisfied in the knowledge Jim could do nothing about it.
‘No, no, I didn’t expect that. I thought you might be kind towards her, that’s all,’ Jim spluttered. Hearing his plan spoken out loud like that lifted the hairs on the back of his
head. God, what had he done? How could he be so foolish, and play with a baby’s life for a few shillings, he thought, feeling nauseous. Leo would probably take Grace somewhere miles away, Argyle maybe, where Leo’s father and mother now lived. Lillian would never see Grace again and it would break her heart. He couldn’t let that happen. One day Grace must be told the truth and Jim knew she would never hear the truth from Leo Deverell.
‘If you’re not willing to come to a proper arrangement regarding my Mum and Lillian’s welfare then there’s nothing more to be said.’ Jim sounded defeated. Sighing he looked at the money in his hand. ‘Here’s your money back, Mr Deverell, I’ve changed my mind.’ Jim flung the wad of bank notes onto the desk defiantly, registering every sign of the effect his words had. He was bluffing but it was a chance he needed to try. ‘I’ll stay and find a job somewhere, even if I have to travel out of Cheshire. We’ll keep Grace safe with us and she’ll be brought up as a Farrell. Amy would want that anyhow,’ Jim added as an afterthought, reinforcing the idea his sister was still alive.
Leo stared at Jim, his face deadpan but attentive. Jim reached the doorway then stopped. He waited, hoping against hope that Leo would agree to his terms. Leo remained silent, unwilling or just too plain stubborn to respond.
‘I think it’s about time I had a long overdue talk to my mother, and find out exactly what did happen last year on that day in Oakham Wood. She’s always refused to talk about it, but with a bit of gentle persuasion perhaps I can change her mind.’ Jim turned and watched Leo’s face flush red and knew he’d touched a nerve.
‘Wait,’ Leo shouted, rushing into the hall after Jim. ‘For God’s sake man, wait.’
Jim waited for Leo to join him.
Not for the first time that morning, Leo appraised the young man. There was more to this brawny lad than met the eye, he decided, cursing him at the same time. ‘All right, I agree, but I’ll not give Primrose Cottage to Ellen. I’ll make arrangements for the deeds to be in Lillian’s name only,’ Leo said.
A Grave Inheritance Page 22
