A heavy wooden cabinet stood in the corner, a brass key protruding from the lock on its ornate door. Joan turned the key and took out a small polished chest. Inside were several vials, carefully labeled in Marie’s elegant hand. Joan didn’t know her letters, but she could identify the medicines by their smell. It’d taken her no more than three sniffs to locate the oil of rue. Marie had used the rue to treat a multitude of conditions, such as her frequent headaches, the occasional toothache, and even bouts of anxiety, but she’d never taken it during pregnancy; she’d known the risks. Joan replaced the vial in the chest and shut the lid. She closed the cabinet and sat down on the window seat to rest, hands folded in her lap. This spot had been Marie’s favorite place to sit during the day since she could enjoy the breathtaking view from the tower while she sewed or read, or just dreamed. She’d been a dreamer, Marie, just like Guy.
Joan wasn’t a dreamer; she was a realist. She knew she’d committed an unforgivable sin and was more than ready to accept her punishment when the time came. She’d given the rue to Kate, and then placed the vial by her bed just before she began to scream, having pretended to discover Kate’s body. She’d killed Kate and the child, and she felt no remorse. Furthermore, she’d thrown the child’s remains into the fire. It didn’t deserve to be buried in consecrated ground. It’d never been born, and never been baptized. That child was a product of sin, an abomination in the eyes of God, and it had no right to be buried with the same respect Joan’s own children had received when she lost them.
She was guilty, but she couldn’t stand idly by as that harlot tore her boys apart and destroyed the good name of the family Joan had served since she was a child. Oh, Marie had given birth to those boys, and not an easy labor among the three, but it was Joan who’d nursed them and loved them, and sat with them when their teeth came in or when they were ill. It was Joan who had held them to her breast and whispered soothing words when they fell and scraped their knees, and Joan who had comforted them when their parents died. It was also Joan who’d enveloped Guy in her love after Margaret died, and helped him become whole again. There was nothing she could have done to save William—he’d died bravely on the battlefield—but she’d be damned if she allowed that sinful woman to come between her remaining children.
Hugh and Guy would grieve for Kate, each in his own way, but then they would move on, the way men did. They would find other women to love, and have children to call their own, but most of all, they would still have each other, and there was no greater bond after that of mother and child than the bond between brothers. They were de Rosels, and they would survive.
Joan finally rose to her feet, ready to return to the kitchen. She had to clean out what remained of the child’s bones before anyone noticed them in the ash bed and suspected they weren’t the bones of a pheasant.
“I did it for our boys, Marie,” she said to the ghost of the woman she’d once loved. “I did it for our children.”
The End
Please turn the page for an excerpt from The Unseen (Echoes from the Past Book 5)
Coming Soon
Notes
I hope you’ve enjoyed this installment of the Echoes from the Past series. I’ve always been interested in the Wars of the Roses and it was fascinating for me to research the period and set my characters amid all that political and personal strife. And as you’ve learned, there are some interesting developments for Quinn as well.
And now, a brief word about book five. The Unseen delves into the Russian Revolution and my own family’s background. Sadly, I don’t come from royalty or even nobility, but one of the characters in the book is based on my grandfather, who was a very enterprising young man and published his own newspaper during his student days. He was the first writer in the family, and whatever creative talents I possess, I owe to him. I hope you enjoy the story.
If you'd like to receive updates about new releases and promotions, please join my mailing list by clicking the link bellow. You can also reach me through my website or email. I’m always thrilled to hear from you.
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An Excerpt from The Unseen (Echoes from the Past Book 5)
Prologue
Silence settled over the house like a downy blanket over a sleeping child. Everyone within was warm and snug—even the body submerged in the tub, its skin still flushed from the heat of the bathwater. Wide-open eyes stared from beneath the soapy water in an expression of shock and disbelief.
A woman sat on the bathroom floor, sure if she managed to get up and dared to look at herself, her expression would mirror that of the corpse. Shock and disbelief. Shock at what she’d done. Disbelief at the chain of events that had led her to this moment, this inevitable act of savagery. How was it possible to fall so far so quickly?
Within the coming weeks she would find out if she’d swing for her crime or be granted a reprieve in the form of a life of constant fear. She’d always be looking over her shoulder, wondering if someone would come to take her away and make her answer for what she’d done. But even if no one came and she never felt the rough hemp of the rope against the tender skin of her neck, life would never be the same. She knew what she’d done, and she’d have to live with it always, praying that her true nature would remain unseen.
Chapter 1
December 2014
London, England
The day dawned gray and cold, a miserable drizzle coating everything in a slick film of moisture. By the time Quinn left the flat, a steady rain was coming down, the kind that tended to last for hours. She stopped beneath the awning of the building, gave a cursory glance to her shoes, which would be soaked in minutes, and made an executive decision to take a taxi. It’d cost a bomb in this weather, since the journey would take twice as long, but it was a legitimate business expense, so she wouldn’t worry about it. It took a few minutes to actually flag down an unoccupied taxi, but was well worth the effort, since she got to stay warm and dry while the taxi crept toward its destination inch by inch. Quinn fished her mobile out of her handbag and dialed Jill. Her cousin had left several messages, but Quinn hadn’t had a chance to ring her back. Judging by the amount of traffic, they’d have time for a proper conversation.
Jill answered on the second ring. “Hey, Quinny. What are you up to on this dreary morning?”
“Actually, I’m on my way to examine human remains. You?” Quinn could almost hear Jill smiling on the other end.
“Only you can make that sound like a treat. I’m marking down merchandise for the Pre-Christmas Sale I’m planning to start next week. After Christmas, it will be labeled a Going-Out-Of-Business Sale.”
“So, this is it?” Quinn asked. Jill had decided to close down her clothing shop in Soho and return to a career in forensic accounting. Her shop had never been a success, but for the last few months the business had been in the red, which for an accountant was tantamount to death.
“Yes, I’ve decided. I gave it my all, Quinn, but it simply didn’t work out as I’d hoped. To be honest, I’m sort of looking forward to working for someone else again. It’ll be nice to go to bed at night and not worry myself sick about my overhead, cost of stock, and lack of sales. There’s something to be said for being an employee. Stop by the shop when you have a chance. I have some items I’ve set aside for you. I think you’ll like them.”
“Oh, thank you, Jill. I’ll be sure to stop in. I could use some new clothes since I still haven’t lost all the baby weight.”
“You look amazing,” Jill said. “How’s my favorite baby?”
“Alex is wonderful. He’s beginning to sleep through the night, which is a blessing since I don’t think I can take many more sleepless nights. By the time he’s finished nursing, I’m wide awake and can’t get back to sleep. And sometime
s he wakes Emma. She’s a very light sleeper.”
“You need a bigger place.”
“We’ve started looking for a house now that Seth has gone home,” Quinn replied. She’d met her biological father only seven months ago, and the road to a father-daughter relationship had not been a smooth one, given what had happened when Quinn visited New Orleans last spring. It would take time for them to find their footing, but they were well on their way, especially after Seth’s visit.
“How was that?”
“It was great, actually. I was a little worried about having him here for ten days, but the time just flew by. He loved spending time with Alex, and he was very attentive and kind to Emma. He brought her an American Girl doll with several changes of clothes. Emma is in Heaven. That doll goes with her everywhere. She’s even neglected Mr. Rabbit, who’s been a hands-down favorite since she was a baby.”
“Well, she is growing up. That doll is more age-appropriate. Did Seth and Sylvia’s paths ever cross?”
Quinn winced at the mention of her mother. Their relationship was complicated at best, disastrous at worst. Having abandoned Quinn at birth, Sylvia had only come into Quinn’s life a year ago, and had done nothing but wreak havoc since. Quinn had done her best to make allowances and try to be understanding of the woman who’d walked away from her without a backward glance, not even bothering to go through the proper adoption channels, but then more revelations had rocked their already fragile bond. Quinn had discovered, quite by accident, that Sylvia had given birth to twins that day and had left Quinn’s sister, Quentin, at a hospital, since the infant had difficulty breathing. Sylvia had never gone back, so she’d had no inkling of what became of either of her daughters—an outcome she’d been satisfied with until she found Quinn, quite by chance, just over a year ago.
“Thankfully, no. Sylvia rang when Alex was born, but we haven’t seen each other since I confronted her about Quentin. To tell you the truth, being with Seth is a lot easier than spending time with Sylvia. He says what he means and means what he says, something you could never accuse Sylvia of. I don’t think she ever allows anything to leave her mouth without first considering if she can disclaim it later.”
“Have you completely given up on the idea of having a relationship with her?” Jill asked. Jill, of all people, knew what it meant to Quinn to have finally found her birth mother after decades of wondering where she’d come from and why she had been abandoned.
“I don’t know, Jilly. I don’t think I want to cut ties with her forever, but I need some time to adjust my expectations and figure out what I hope to gain from my relationship with her. Sylvia will never be the mother I want, so I have to decide whether I can live with the mother she is.”
“And Seth?”
“I miss him now that he’s gone back to the States. It was fun having him here. He made us an American Thanksgiving. It was lovely. Perhaps next year we can have Thanksgiving in New Orleans, with him and Kathy. I think they might be cohabitating again by then.”
“Losing a child either tears people apart or brings them together. How is Brett?”
“Brett is still serving his sentence and Seth visits him in prison once a week. We didn’t talk about him much, but Seth has made peace with the situation. He brought me a letter from Brett.”
“Did you read it?”
“No, I couldn’t bring myself to. Regardless of what it says, Brett intended to kill me and my baby. Even if he’s remorseful, I could never forgive him for leaving me to die in that tomb in New Orleans. Perhaps I’ll read the letter someday, when I’m ready.”
“I don’t blame you. I probably wouldn’t read it either.”
“Well, looks like I’m almost there.”
“Are you meeting Rhys?” Jill asked, referring to Rhys Morgan, producer of the BBC series Echoes from the Past.
“Yes, Rhys is already on site with a camera crew. He’s practically crowing with delight at this new find.”
“I can’t picture Rhys Morgan crowing about anything,” Jill said. “He’s always so intimidating.”
“Hardly. Rhys does have a softer side, and now that his girlfriend is expecting, he’s fuzzier than ever. Being around him is almost a joy.” Quinn laughed.
She had liked Rhys since the day they met. He was a consummate professional and a master of his trade, and now, a year on, a good friend. These days, Rhys was like a cuddly teddy bear, coddling his pregnant girlfriend and baking treats she refused to eat for fear of gaining too much weight. He was genuinely happy, and Quinn was happy for him, especially since he was no longer seeing Sylvia. That situation had been rife with complications, and given Quinn’s professional relationship with Rhys and her toxic personal relationship with Sylvia, it was for the best that those two had parted ways. Sylvia was still seething with anger, believing Quinn had had a hand in Rhys’s change of heart, but Quinn was innocent of any interference.
Rhys had decided to break things off with Sylvia all on his own, finally realizing their relationship was based on nothing more than guilt over past events on his side and loneliness on Sylvia’s end. Rhys had shared with Quinn, swearing her to secrecy that he intended to propose after the baby was born. He had no wish to overwhelm Hayley with the prospect of planning a wedding when she should be focusing on her fast-approaching motherhood.
“Have you had any news of your sister?” Jill asked. It was a sore subject, but Quinn didn’t mind discussing it with Jill. Jill was the closest thing she’d ever had to a sister and that would never change, even if Quinn finally found her long-lost twin.
“No, nothing. I rang her solicitor several times and he assured me he sent my letter on to Quentin, but has heard nothing back. Seth and I discussed it at length while he was here and he believes we need to start searching for Quentin on our own. He’s not here to do it in person, but he’s offered to finance whatever steps I wish to take.”
“Actually, Brian has an idea he’d like to discuss with you.”
“Really? I can’t wait to hear it. Oh, Jill, I’ve arrived. Give my love to Brian. We’d like to have you over for dinner soon.”
“Great. Let’s put something on the calendar.”
Quinn paid the driver and climbed out of the taxi. She’d loved being at home with Alex these past few months, but it was nice to be back at work. She tingled with anticipation at the prospect of examining the remains.
Chapter 2
Rhys opened the door before Quinn had a chance to ring the doorbell. “What time do you call this?” he bristled as he stepped aside to allow her to come in out of the rain.
“Sorry, but there was a lot of traffic.”
“Come in. Melissa and Paul are expecting you.”
Rhys led the way into the front room, which looked like something from a museum. Life might have gone on outside the walls of this house, but the parlor looked frozen in time at the turn of the last century. It wasn’t just the old-fashioned furniture and heavy velvet window hangings, but the lack of anything modern, like a television, a telephone, or a stereo system. The décor predated the First World War, but was still in remarkably good condition. Several lamps were lit against the gloom of the rainy morning, and Quinn almost expected them to be fed by gas rather than electricity.
A couple in their thirties sat on a butter-yellow settee, a porcelain tea service in front of them. The woman jumped to her feet and came forward to greet Quinn. She was dressed in jeans and a dusky purple knit top, and her short dark hair had streaks of blue and pink. Her husband, whose light brown hair brushed his shoulders, wore paint-splattered trousers and a stretched-out Led Zeppelin T-shirt. The couple looked grossly out of place in this Edwardian parlor, which seemed to be the centerpiece of their home.
“Dr. Allenby, it’s a pleasure to meet you. We’ve seen you on television. Haven’t we, Paul?” Melissa asked, eager to bring her husband into the conversation. “I do love archeology. The episode about ‘The Lovers’ nearly tore my heart out. What a gruesome end. I do wonder what happ
ened to their little boy, but I suppose we’ll never know. Will we?” she prattled on as she motioned for Quinn to take a seat on the settee facing the one where Paul Glover sat in amused silence. “And that duplicitous priest,” she exclaimed, referring to the second episode of Echoes from the Past that had just aired the previous week. “I never knew much about Dunwich, but now I want to go see it for myself. ‘The Atlantis of Britain’. Such a romantic name for such a tragic place.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Glover. I’m so glad you’re enjoying the program.” Maybe they have a TV in the bedroom, Quinn thought as she took a seat on the uncomfortable settee. Rhys wisely remained standing, his hands clasped behind his back as he stared out over the rain-soaked street.
“Please, call me Melissa. Can I offer you a cup of tea? Mr. Morgan, will you have a cup?”
“Thank you,” Rhys replied and came to join Quinn on the settee, his brows knitted with impatience. If Quinn knew Rhys, he was eager to get started and had no desire to spend a quarter of an hour on idle chitchat, but he graciously took a seat and smiled pleasantly at Melissa.
Quinn accepted a cup of steaming tea and took a restorative sip. The tea was good, and it was nice to be out of the biting cold and rain. Besides, before examining the site, she wanted to hear the story of how Melissa and Paul had come to find the remains. The details were often as important as the find itself.
Melissa poured a cup for herself last, like a proper Edwardian hostess, then leaned back, ready to tell her tale. “You are probably wondering what Paul and I are doing in this old relic,” she began.
The Forsaken (Echoes from the Past Book 4) Page 41