After his departure I felt very alone and all too soon his letters ceased to arrive, so that I knew not what had happened, but feared the worst. Finally, a brother officer, who knew my situation, came to inform me that Neville had been killed in a great battle.
All too soon, my means were exhausted and, great with child, penniless and desperate, I felt my only course was to return to Jericho’s End, for I could not take my own life when that would mean ending that of my innocent babe, before it had even begun.
I will spare you the difficulties of my journey there, in the dead of winter, but suffice it to say that my father refused me admittance to the house and threatened to set the dogs on me should I not depart forthwith, despite its being by then dark and the snow starting to settle.
I trudged on to Risings, for surely the master would take pity on my plight?
The butler denied me entry and told me to be gone, but beyond him I caught sight of the family leaving the dining room and, with one last desperate surge of energy, managed to slip past the butler and make my plea for help to Mr Lordly-Grace.
On my knees, I begged him to assist me, for the sake of the child, but he sneered and said there was no place for bold-faced strumpets in his house and told the servants to throw me out.
Half-fainting, I heard Susanna’s horrified voice speak my name falteringly … and then the deeper, once-familiar voice of Richard Grace, saying, ‘Why, it is little Lizzie – and come to this pass, poor child! Cousin, you cannot mean to throw her out in this weather. After all, the child—’
‘May or may not be my son’s by-blow,’ said the master harshly. ‘But it is nothing to me – the wench has made her own bed and must lie on it. Remove her at once,’ he ordered.
‘I wouldn’t turn a dog out in this,’ said Richard Grace, and I felt strong arms catch me as I fell into a deep faint and knew no more, until I regained my senses, to find myself lying in a warm bedchamber at Old Grace Hall, being tended by the familiar, kindly old housekeeper.
She said her master had told her that although I had behaved foolishly, I should be given all care until the child had arrived – and perhaps brought on by my travails, I gave birth to a fine boy only a few days later.
When I had recovered, Mr Grace came to talk with me and proposed that I remain at Old Grace Hall and help Mrs Higgins and Cook – and also, if I still had a love of plants, assist him in the garden, too.
This was kindness beyond any imagining and I was deeply grateful, especially when I discovered that his actions had led to a total breach between the families at Old Grace Hall and Risings and, I learned, was blamed for the apoplexy brought on by anger that confined Mr Horace Lordly-Grace to his bed henceforth.
I did all I could to repay Mr Grace’s generosity to me and the child became a great favourite with all the household.
But I was sorry Mr Grace should think so ill of Neville, so finally resolved to tell him the whole truth of the matter and that Neville had acted only out of kindness, however misguided. It was difficult to reveal all to him and I could see it had made him very angry, though not with me … And only a short time later, to the astonishment and disapproval of the entire neighbourhood, he married me and adopted my boy, Thomas, as his heir.
Despite the hardships and rigours of my early childhood and the effect upon my constitution of what was to follow, I have survived my dear, kind husband by some fifteen years.
I often feel his presence when I walk in the rose garden, or sit in the marble folly there – and I long to join him.
It has been painful revisiting my past and I hope my son will not think too ill of me, for I was little more than a child when my misfortunes took place.
Neville’s elder brother, George, proved to be a gambler and reduced the family fortunes to the point where they sold off their land in the valley and the London house, and settled at Risings in genteel poverty on the proceeds. Susanna married a poor clergyman and went to live in the North, and I heard no more of her.
I have no friends outside the household, but my son and his sweet wife and the little grandchildren bring me great joy.
I put my trust in a more benign God than the one the Brethren worship and for the intercession of angels.
Elizabeth Grace
Ned’s deep voice stopped and he quietly laid the last sheet of paper on top of the others.
‘Well!’ I said, gazing at him and still taking it all in. ‘This puts a slightly different spin on the old tale of elopement, doesn’t it?’
‘The version in Elf’s book is right in all the main details, she just didn’t know what had caused Lizzie to run off with Neville in the first place. I hadn’t realized how young she was, either.’
‘No, little more than a child – and she sounds rather nice, doesn’t she? And keen on gardening,’ I added thoughtfully.
‘Nice for a Vane,’ he grimaced. ‘I’d still rather not be related to that family, however distantly, although there have to be some good ones from time to time … She obviously loved the garden and if it wasn’t for her, the roses wouldn’t be there, or the folly.’
‘Yes, we know now when that was built, roughly. Richard sounds so sweet, rescuing her and then marrying her and adopting the boy. And actually, since Neville Lordly-Grace was the child’s father, he was also related to Richard, wasn’t he?’
‘Nathaniel Grace was a cousin of the Lordly-Grace who sold him the Hall, even if they looked down on him for his buccaneering days and shipping interests – trade, but also lots of lovely money,’ Ned said.
‘It’s odd to think that Lizzie’s son, Thomas, was a Victorian, which wasn’t really that many generations ago, was it?’ I said.
It brought it all so much closer.
‘We’ll tell Elf and the others about the letter at dinner tomorrow evening, shall we?’ he suggested. ‘I’ll print off a copy of the letter for Elf.’
‘Could I have one, too?’ I asked. ‘I’d like to read it again. It’s very interesting … and rather touching.’
‘Of course.’ He got up and stretched, then reached a hand down and pulled me up, too. ‘It’s getting late – I’ll see you home.’
I didn’t protest, even though it was definitely not needed in this quiet backwater, where the only thing to break the silence of the night once the pub had shut was the hooting of a hunting owl.
But this time I was wrong, for just as we reached the front of the café and Caspar was barging past me to the gate, in his usual gracious fashion, all hell seemed to break loose up at the monastic site: loud barking, shouting, car doors slamming and the revving of engines.
‘Come on!’ said Ned, taking my hand and we ran over the bridge and up the hill.
But by the time we reached the car park, the excitement was over and there was just Steve, directing a powerful torch about and his sheepdog, Bob, leaping excitedly round him. Gertie was peering out from the lighted door of the lodge opposite.
Steve turned at the sound of our footsteps and said, ‘You were right to warn me that Wayne and those friends of his with the metal detectors might try and have a go at the site. There were two vans and they had sacking over the registration numbers, but I’m sure that’s who it was.’
He shone the torch on the open gate, with the padlocks hanging loose. ‘Bolt cutters, I expect,’ he said. ‘But they didn’t know Bob was sleeping in there at night.’
‘Bob was in the enclosure?’ I said. ‘Wasn’t he cold?’
‘Not him. He sleeps in his kennel in the garden all year round; asks to go out last thing at night, he does. I brought it over and put it in a nice cosy spot out of the wind, between the hut and the wall and he had the run of the site.’
‘I don’t suppose there’s anything we can do?’ Ned asked. ‘I doubt that even Wayne and his cronies are stupid enough to leave fingerprints on the padlocks and chains.’
‘No, there’s no point calling the police, but I don’t think they’ll try it again,’ Steve said. ‘I’ve another chain that’ll hold
the gate tonight and I’ll see about something a bit more heavy duty tomorrow.’
Ned helped him fix it while Bob was awarded a large rawhide bone by Gertie, who came across in her dressing gown and slippers. Then Bob retired back to his kennel, where we could hear loud gnawing noises.
When all was secured, we walked slowly back down the hill home.
‘What are you doing tomorrow?’ Ned asked.
‘If you don’t really need me in the garden first thing, I’ll go to the supermarket in Great Mumming and then pop in to see Treena.’
I really, really, needed to talk everything through with her!
‘But then I’ll come and help in the garden,’ I promised.
‘You don’t have to.’
‘Try and keep me away!’ I said, and he laughed.
The sky looked like darkest indigo velvet, speckled with silver sequins, quite beautiful. And my life would be quite beautiful, too, if only I didn’t have a big, fat, horrible secret squatting like a spider in the middle of it.
33
Unforgotten
I got to the supermarket in Great Mumming just as it opened and filled my trolley up with staples. Toller’s were good for extras, treats and things I’d run out of, but their prices meant I couldn’t afford to do all my shopping there – or not unless Ned suddenly doubled my wages, which was highly unlikely.
I bought sushi and fresh cream doughnuts for lunch, though if Treena didn’t fancy hers I’d probably manage both … Overnight, I appeared to have switched from no appetite, to comfort eating.
Treena had only just got back to the cottage when I arrived, after a night on duty at Happy Pets. There’d been an emergency admission late in the evening and a couple of pets recovering from operations. She was exhausted, but still feeling wired and not at all sleepy.
An early lunch of sushi and doughnuts, washed down with coffee, seemed to be exactly what she needed and over it, I told her how Ned and I had found Elizabeth Grace’s letter last night and about the later alarms and excursions up at the dig.
‘It was very late by then, so Luke must have been fast asleep, because there was no sign of him,’ I said. ‘But I expect Steve’s told him all about it by now and I shouldn’t think Wayne and his friends will try that one again.’
‘Are you positive it was Wayne?’
‘I don’t think there’s much doubt,’ I said, with a sigh. ‘I keep meaning to tell Ned I’m related to the Vanes, but the moment never seems right – and every time I do screw my courage up, Wayne does something else dreadful. And he was hinting to Ned on Wednesday that he knew something about me that Ned didn’t. Only Ned thinks he must have found out about that loopy resignation letter.’
‘But he could be right about that and the Vanes haven’t guessed who you are,’ she said hopefully. ‘And Saul only talked to you in the garden that time because Wayne had shown interest in you and he wanted to suss you out.’
‘And pigs might fly,’ I said. ‘No, I keep trying to stick my head in the sand, but it’s not really working.’
Then I looked up and said, despair suddenly welling up, ‘Oh, Treena, Ned and I’ve been getting on so well together and having such fun working in the garden! It’s just like old times, when we were at college.’
‘What, when you were just good friends?’ she said disbelievingly.
‘Well … no, perhaps we’ve grown a bit closer than that,’ I admitted. ‘But once he knows who I really am, that’s all bound to go totally pear-shaped.’
‘Maybe not. I mean, you can’t exactly help being related to the Vanes, can you?’
‘No, but if he dislikes the idea of having a distant Vane ancestor so much, then he’s hardly going to …’
‘Welcome you into the family with open arms?’ she suggested with a grin.
‘What on earth do you mean?’ I demanded. ‘As far as the Grace family tree is concerned, I’m barely a bud on the smallest twig.’
‘Oh, come on! Even Luke could see that you and Ned have fallen for each other and he’s usually totally unaware of that kind of thing.’
‘I’m sure you’re wrong and Ned only thinks of me as a good friend, and now a close ally in the restoration of the garden … and that’s fine by me. I don’t want anything else,’ I said firmly.
‘Yeah, right!’ she said.
‘And you’ve some need to talk, Treena, because you and Luke—’
‘Are in a relationship,’ she said calmly. ‘I did say we were going out together and now … well, we’ve just sort of slid into something that might turn out to be more. But it’s early days yet and I don’t want to rush into anything. He’s coming over Monday night to stay,’ she added, slightly ruining the effect of this declaration. ‘He’s decided to close the dig on Tuesdays, now he knows everything else in Jericho’s End is shut then.’
‘Good idea,’ I said, leaving it vague about which I meant – the sleepover or the closing day.
‘Some of the volunteers can only come at weekends, so it wouldn’t have been logical to have their one day off then.’
‘The full-time ones seem to work even longer hours than I do,’ I said. ‘In theory, I get Sundays off as well as Tuesdays, though I told Ned I’d give him a hand this afternoon.’
At the thought of him, all my worries came crashing down on me again. ‘Treena, what on earth am I going to do about Ned?’
‘Well, you could wait and see if the Vanes really do know who you are and threaten to tell Ned, out of spite …’
I shook my head. ‘I don’t think they would tell him because, after all, they disowned Mum when she was pregnant, so they wouldn’t want to acknowledge me, would they?’
‘So, if Saul did guess who you were, he was just warning you not to try to claim any relationship with him.’
‘Possibly – not that I ever wanted to!’
‘And if that’s so, then he’s not going to do anything else about it and you can stop worrying, can’t you?’
‘Not if Wayne knows too, and keeps dropping hints to Ned, because he’s bound to realize it’s something more than the resignation letter. It would be like carrying an unexploded bomb around with me all the time. It feels a bit like that now,’ I added. ‘Only, when I’m really happy I manage to forget it, or convince myself everything is going to be all right.’
‘There you are, then, you’ve answered your own question: you need to have it out with Ned, or it’ll always be hanging over you,’ she said firmly.
In my heart, I’d always known that would be the inescapable conclusion.
‘Yes … but things will never be the same between Ned and me again.’
‘Don’t be daft – you’ve blown it up out of all proportion. Though it might be a shock to Ned, once he’s got over that, I’m sure it won’t change how he feels about you.’
I wished I could feel as sure about that as she did. She must have seen the doubt on my face, because she added cheeringly, ‘On the bright side, it doesn’t seem like Melinda’s told Mike where you’re living now, does it? I mean, there’s been no sign of him, has there?’
‘Mike …’ I echoed vaguely. The question of whether he knew where I was or not seemed to have faded into insignificance next to my preoccupation with how Ned would react to my revelation … if I ever actually managed to pluck up the courage and tell him.
‘Mike, your controlling ex-husband, remember?’ prompted Treena.
‘He doesn’t matter any more, because Ned knows all about him,’ I said simply. ‘Perhaps he did find out from Melinda, but isn’t interested?’
‘Perhaps, but if he knows, then I wouldn’t put it past him to try to jerk your strings a bit, just for the fun of it.’
I hoped she was wrong: he’d be one more blast from the past I could do without right then.
When I’d got home and put my shopping away, I changed and went to join Ned at the bottom of the garden, where our veg-plot-style beds were coming along nicely, even if the surrounding ground did look a bit of a muddy mess at
the moment. Once we’d finished digging out, enriching and planting up the long beds and replaced the walkways and borders with new turf, it would all look entirely different.
The garden had opened by then, but was not yet very busy, so we spent a peaceful hour with just the two of us, working together … and it would have been the perfect moment for my confession, except that every time I looked up, the words forming on my lips, he’d catch my eye and smile at me, amber eyes warm and happy, and I simply couldn’t bring myself to do it.
To add to the problem, after my talk with Treena I was seeing him with new eyes – and she’d been quite right, because my feelings had been changing towards him and unacknowledged hopes were now struggling to the surface. Perhaps how he felt about me was starting to change, too?
How could I speak the words that might put an end to all that?
He looked up at me again and grinned. ‘Stop daydreaming and put your back into it, Ellwood,’ he said.
That evening, over a Sunday dinner of roast chicken with all the trimmings, Ned told the family about the Lizzie letter and gave Elf her copy.
‘I’ve sent one over for Cress, too, since it’s about her branch of the family as much as mine,’ he told them.
Elf pored over it, exclaiming and wishing it had come to light before she’d written the book. ‘Though the bare outline is correct, of course. But it would have been nice to have the human element, to have fleshed out the character’s motivation.’
‘The poor girl sounded very nice, for a Vane,’ said Myfy, who’d been taking the pages from Elf as she’d read them. ‘Witty and clever, too.’
‘Yes, but they can’t all have been horrible. There are always some nice people, even in the most disagreeable families,’ Elf said. ‘Only think of that lovely Martha Vane, who was our Saturday girl in the café years ago, just as Daisy is now. Such a clever, sweet-natured girl – everyone liked her.’
I inadvertently swallowed my last bite of treacle pudding the wrong way and Ned patted me on the back rather too heavily with one large hand, then poured me some water.
The Garden of Forgotten Wishes: The heartwarming and uplifting new rom-com from the Sunday Times bestseller Page 33
