Kolney Hatch: Buried Secrets (The Secret of Kolney Hatch Book 2)

by Stefani Milan

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, yes. Quite.”

  I stepped away from Edgar and Grace and made my way downstairs into the large empty kitchen, past the painted white wooden shelves stocked with fresh produce and jars of food, past the large turkey in the middle of the wooden island, and through a tall arched doorway that led to the wine cellar.

  I walked down a small set of stone stairs, bits of stone crumbling away, and into a faintly lit hallway. There, I took a deep breath. A cold, dry air hit my nostrils and I shivered. Even though I continued to walk down the tunnel, suddenly I felt like I was back at Kolney Hatch. A pang of fright ran through me as I remembered. By the time I reached the cellar, I was breathing heavily. Droplets of sweat trickled from my forehead and I loosened my bowtie a little as I leaned against the stone wall of the cellar. Three tall walls of bottles of champagne surrounded me, each one in its perfect slot.

  I took in a few more deep breaths and grabbed one of the bottles.

  Suddenly I heard a soft voice.

  “Paul?”

  I turned around. There in the doorway stood Claire.

  17 Love’s End

  Paul Watson’s Journal

  February 1, continued.—I was surprised to see Claire standing before me.

  “What are you doing down here?” I asked.

  “I wanted to catch you alone.”

  Claire and I hadn’t spoken since Richard and she visited me. Now she stood looking elegant and alluring in a beaded steel gray dress with a matching headdress. The color made her blue eyes, which were filled with sorrow, shine.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “I don’t want to speak inappropriately, but I need to know.”

  “What is it, Claire?”

  “Do you still love me as much as you did all those years ago?”

  Without hesitation I answered, “Yes, Claire. Of course I do.”

  “It’s just...there’s something I’ve just learned. I thought about how I should react to it.”

  “What is it?”

  “Richard was offered to film his production in Paris.”

  “Paris?”

  “Yes.”

  “I see...” I said, drawing in a deep breath.

  “That’s...wonderful news.”

  “It is,” Claire said. She tried to seem cheerful, but I instantly sensed unhappiness in her voice. “It’s just about the most wonderful news Richard has ever received. He’ll be working with the most well-known director in cinema. He’ll have the finest actors all the way from Hollywood in America. And we’ll be very wealthy.”

  “I do wonder why you’re upset.”

  “I’m going with him, Paul. To Paris.”

  “Oh,” I said. I tried to hide the disappointment I felt. “Well, Paris must be lovely.”

  “Yes, I imagine it is.”

  “How long will you be there?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t have the details, but the director mentioned we could be working on the film for a couple years.”

  “Years?”

  “Yes. We’re leaving in three weeks.”

  I could not prevent the disbelief in my tone.

  “Three weeks?”

  “Yes, and we won’t be back until the summer.”

  I folded my arms.

  “And you want to go?”

  “This is Richard’s dream, Paul.”

  “But is it yours? Is this what you want?”

  “I have no choice Paul. As Richard’s wife, it’s my duty to go with him.”

  I knew Claire loved me, or a part of her anyway. Now I was the one who needed an answer to a question that burned within me for many years. I walked over to her and took her hands in mine.

  “After all that we’ve been through, Claire, can you honestly say that you love him?”

  “You understand how complicated it is, Paul.”

  “It’s not complicated, Claire. I love Richard. I do. He’s my best mate. But I love you. And...I’ve watched him hurt you. I have to know why you carry on with him. You could divorce him.”

  Claire pulled her hands away from mine. When her gaze reached mine again she said, “You have to understand. Paul. After my father died, mama was...quite clear about what I should do with my life. She told me that I needed to be with a man who would...care for me.” She paused for a moment before saying, “At the time, you weren’t there for me, Paul. Not emotionally, not financially.” Her voice was shaky as tears streamed down her face now. “Mama was right. You weren’t suitable to take care of a woman. I had to do what was best for me at the time.”

  Her words stung me. But on some level, I knew she was right. Perhaps I just didn’t want to believe it, or I was angry with myself for not trying harder to win her.

  I folded my arms again as Claire continued.

  “Richard needs me now, and it is my duty to be with him.”

  I didn’t respond immediately, but when I did, I said, “Are you convincing me or yourself?”

  Claire turned away from me, and I saw a tear fall down her cheek. I wanted to tell her I would be there for her, and I would take care of her if she did leave Richard, for I wanted nothing more than to be with Claire. But my mind was so muddled from all that had happened in the last year. I knew I could not give her what she truly needed. I was still financially and emotionally incapable of giving her the lifestyle she deserved, even though I loved her so.

  “I guess this is goodbye then,” she said when I didn’t say anything further.

  “It doesn’t have to be.”

  “But it is.”

  “I love you, Claire, and I always will love you.”

  I kissed her lips gently.

  “Old habits do die hard, don’t they?” John Loxley said as he leaned against the wine-cellar door, his arms crossed.

  Immediately Claire and I jumped apart.

  “John, we can explain,” Claire said nervously.

  “No explanation is needed. I’ve seen enough to understand quite well,” John said. “Can’t say that this shocks me. It’s quite obvious now that I think about it.”

  “Nothing happened,” I said.

  John cocked an eyebrow.

  “Honestly, John. All you’re seeing is the end of something.”

  “Are you going to tell Richard?” Claire asked in a low voice.

  “Me? Oh heavens no. I’m not a snitch.”

  “I only kissed her goodbye. Whatever we had John, is done.” I took one more gaze at Claire and watched as she turned and headed out of the wine cellar. John lingered there for a moment.

  “Don’t worry,” John said a few seconds later. “Your secret is safe with me. I’m only here because...Grace....wants the champagne and the dinner bells have rung. It’s time for awkward conversation.”

  He raised his eyebrows and then motioned to the bottle I had placed on the floor.

  “Let’s go upstairs, shall we old sport?” John said. “The last thing I need in my life is more drama.”

  18 Long Lost Love

  Petunia took her seat at the long elegant dinner table in the Loxley ballroom which was set for 50 guests. Gold plates and candles were gently placed over a white damask table cloth. The lights were dimmed so the candlelight reflected off the gold plates.

  It wasn’t long after the guests took their seats that the footmen served the soup, a comforting beef broth with cabbage toasts. Among the 50 places that were set, Petunia noticed only one was missing.

  John Loxley sat across from Petunia in a black tail that showed off his broad shoulders with his perfectly slicked hair. His blue eyes sparkled as he laughed and joked with the other dinner guests, but as Petunia watched him, she felt the knot tighten in her throat. How could he be so callous, she thought? So happy when he’d learned of something so terrible about his brother? How could he act as though nothing happened?

  Thankfully, Roger Loxley was seated at the very end of the table. Petunia could not bear to be anywhere near him. Richard Baker, Claire,
and Paul Watson were seated at the end also, and Petunia felt sick knowing that Paul had no idea of how his friends may have been involved in his mother’s death. Luckily, Petunia sat next to Mrs. Wendell and Beatrice who were whispering to one another no doubt about the guests at the party.

  When the soup was finished, the footmen brought the first course, mushrooms on toast.

  With a harsh whisper, Phillip leaned into Petunia and said, “Pretend like you want to be here.”

  Petunia feigned a laugh.

  “I’m doing the best I can, Phillip.”

  “Do better,” he growled. “And after dinner, powder your neck. Your bruises are showing.”

  “Perhaps I should leave them this way.”

  “Do it, and I’ll make sure I add to the existing ones,” he threatened. “And where did you get that necklace? It’s hideous.”

  Petunia did not answer, and Phillip began talking to the hefty film director seated next to him.

  “I imagine the bank business isn’t easy,” she heard the director say.

  “It’s...”

  Petunia didn’t hear Phillip’s next words because just then Mrs. Wendell leaned over toward Petunia and as she pretended to rub her neck whispered, “Looks like Lady Dane is out for a new conquest.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Only that the way she throws herself at John Loxley is appalling.”

  Petunia looked across the table to see Lady Dane giggle at something John said and then gently touch her bobbed graying hair.

  “The boy is half her age,” Mrs. Wendell whispered. “I don’t know what she thinks she’s going to accomplish.”

  “Perhaps she’s trying to set him up with her granddaughter...”

  Mrs. Wendell huffed.

  “As if that girl deserves to be a Loxley...after dinner I’m going to insist that Aldous introduce Beatrice to John. They’re much better suited for one another than that old woman...”

  Mrs. Wendell did not pause between her whispers now, neither when the footmen brought out the hot salmon and hollandaise sauce nor when they brought out the roasted potatoes and asparagus.

  “And look at Lord Dellington sitting there with his smug face. He’s probably still involved with that girl. His poor wife.”

  Petunia’s nerves were rattled enough that she could not take an ounce more of Mrs. Wendell’s chatter. She ignored Mrs. Wendell’s voice to take a bite of potato, but her ears picked up when she heard Mrs. Wendell say, “Who is that dashing older gentleman that just sat down next to Aldous?”

  Petunia turned her head to see who Mrs. Wendell spoke about, but she suspected she already knew. And surely, at the other end of the table, the empty seat was now occupied. Sébastien Delacroix had arrived.

  19 Rekindle Flame

  After dinner, Aldous Loxley invited his guests to the drawing room for music and dancing. Mrs. Wendell and Beatrice had hurried from the room to find John Loxley.

  “Let’s meet in the study, and we can talk more about finances,” Roger said to Richard, Phillip, and the film director, whose name Petunia learned was Alfred.

  Initially, Petunia decided she would find Claire, but now she could not take her eyes off of Sébastien.

  Sébastien Delacroix walked with a grace and posture that emanated power and confidence. He had not noticed her during dinner and did not see her now as he walked from the ballroom toward the drawing room, for he was immersed in a serious conversation with Aldous.

  Petunia had not seen Sébastien for many years, and while he had not appeared to age much, she knew that she had, and that made her feel apprehensive. When he did rest his eyes upon hers, though, his eyes widened and crinkled upward in recognition.

  “Excuse me, Aldous,” Sébastien said, making his way toward Petunia.

  Every nerve in Petunia’s body tingled. A part of her had hoped he would not come because she didn’t know what she would say to him after all these years. Now, she fumbled for something, anything to say. But it was he who spoke first.

  “Mademoiselle...”

  He spoke in a silky French accent that Petunia would recognize anywhere. There he stood, tall with his intelligent face and thin, long nose. He had aged some over the years, wrinkles around his eyes and his cheeks, but he was still as attractive as he was the first day she met him at that café in Paris. Sébastien Delacroix was the love of Petunia’s life.

  “Monsieur Delacroix....”

  “You look as beautiful as the last time I saw you.”

  His smile was slight, but Petunia could see the kindness and genuineness behind his aged eyes. Perhaps it was the soft way he spoke or the way he stared at her, as though his eyes could see directly into her soul. No one else looked at Petunia the way Sébastien did. And she knew that penetrating stare was for her and no other woman. She felt a surge of excitement run through her entire body.

  “Thank you, Sébastien,” she said touching her bun.

  Then he took her hand and kissed it, his lips lingering, and then with his eyes immediately making their way back to hers, he said, “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you.”

  “I know, Sébastien. I know,” was all Petunia could say. She felt her heart flutter, and she took a deep breath.

  “Are you well?” he asked earnestly.

  “I’m...all right.”

  “Come with me into the drawing room,” Sébastien demanded, not a controlling demand like Phillip, but a gentle, manly demand that signified protection and kindness. Petunia willingly followed him.

  The pianist played a bright tune on the piano, drowned out by the sound of satiated people laughing and enjoying in on after dinner fun. Some people danced while others sat in chairs and talked. Petunia saw Mrs. Wendell by the fireplace, forcing John Loxley and Beatrice to converse. Meanwhile, Lady Dane was giving Mrs. Wendell an evil eye as she chatted with a gentleman Petunia did not know.

  Sébastien took a seat on an empty yellow-gold upholstered settee in the far corner of the room, and Petunia sat next to him. They had to speak loudly over the music and sound of the crowd.

  “The necklace...it looks beautiful on you.”

  Petunia smiled as she touched it gently.

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m surprised you still have it.”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  Sébastien smiled.

  “Will you be in London long?” Petunia asked.

  “Only until the morning. I must get home quickly.”

  Petunia knew why Sébastien could not stay long in London.

  “Where is she? Madame Brigette?”

  “Madame did not want to come to London.”

  After a few seconds of silence, Petunia found herself asking Sébastien a question she never thought she would.

  “Are you happy, Sébastien...married to Brigette?”

  “We both do what is expected of us, Petunia. Are you happy...with Phillip?”

  “No, but this is my life.”

  They were both quiet then, simply enjoying the company of one another. And then the longing for love crept into Petunia’s heart, and she wondered what life would have been like if she had been able to marry Sébastien.

  20 A Christmas Wish

  1905

  “I’m afraid she doesn’t want to see you,” Rose said as she gently shut the bedroom door. Aldous stood in the hallway of the tiny home off Kolney Hatch Asylum’s grounds where the nurse, Rose, would frequently bring Mary for fresh air and exercise. He hadn’t been to visit his sister for several months, and now Mary refused to speak to him.

  “I’m not sure what else I can do.”

  “Just give her time,” the strikingly beautiful, Rose, said. “Why don’t you come into the kitchen and have some tea?”

  The weary Aldous, who leaned heavily on his cane these days, followed the young nurse into the dreary kitchen and took a seat on a chair by a wooden table.

  Rose put a pot of tea on the table and sat down beside Aldous.

  “She seems to
feel better after she sees you,” she offered as her emerald eyes sparkled. “I think she’s just upset that you haven’t been here in so long.”

  Aldous gave Rose a weary smile.

  “I wish I could have visited her more, but my wife Isabelle is very weak.” Aldous sipped his tea. “We’ve lost three children in childbirth, but the last child she had, who is healthy, thank goodness, really weakened her.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that, really.”

  Aldous was not a person to talk about his personal troubles, but in that moment, he found himself divulging information with little control.

  “Isabelle is bedridden. The doctors aren’t optimistic about her making a full recovery.”

  “And with three children. That must be a challenge.”

  “We’re thankful to have a great nanny. Mrs. Braddock’s her name. She’s been with us for many years.”

  “Still, it can’t be easy.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  Aldous kept his eyes downcast for several seconds. Suddenly, he had an idea.

  “Mrs. Reid, do you think my sister might come home for Christmas this year?”

  “Please, call me Rose,” Rose said, and then after pondering Aldous’ question, she answered, “Well, I’ll have to ask Thomas, but I don’t see why he’d have any objection. Of course, if she does go home, she’ll need a nurse.”

  “Well perhaps you could come with her, and Thomas too of course, if he could manage it. We do put on a spectacular Christmas celebration at the Loxley mansion.”

  Rose was quiet for a moment and then said, “Well, I’m not sure that Thomas would be able to leave, or that I would be able to for that matter, but I do promise to discuss it with him when he gets back from town.”

  “How long is he gone for?”

  “Sometimes days, sometimes weeks. Now that he’s the superintendent, he’s awfully busy. He’s hired a new resident physician though to take care of the facility when he’s out of town.”

  “I see...”

  “Aldous...” Mary’s shaky voice stammered. She leaned against the doorway of the kitchen. Aldous had not heard the bedroom door open.

  “Mary,” Aldous said, rising from his chair.