She is free to be who she really is and loved for who she really is. And really, isn’t that what we all want?
Gilbert remains a dear friend, though relations between us are not what they once were. How could they be, when the piece of my heart I’d long ago given him is now fully, soundly in William’s possession? Even so, we are cordial, and I wish him every success in his future. He has yet to marry. For his sake, I wish he would.
Louisa, I think, has learnt the error of her flirtatious ways—praise be to God. She was disappointed that Andrew Morgan married Leah, and that Gilbert has not renewed his addresses. She’s had no offers—well, no offers of marriage from honorable gentlemen, that is, though all sorts of other offers abound. Realizing this, she has become more circumspect in her behavior—quieter and more modest. And I think it suits her well. She is still quite the most beautiful woman of my acquaintance, and now, day by day, her heart begins to match her outward appearance. Blessed will be the man who wins that heart at last.
And Harriet Pembrooke Webb? My breath still catches a little when I think of her and all she has lost. Her parents. Her elder brother. And more recently, her younger brother—her last remaining relative . . . Or so she thought.
I received one last letter from her shortly before I moved back to Easton as William’s wife.
Dear Abigail,
Thank you for your recent letter and your continuing condolences regarding Miles. That you remember him fondly means more to me than you know. I still grieve my brother—all my family, really—even as I rejoice over the wondrous fact that my secret friend is back in my life. And more wonderful yet, that she is, indeed, more than a friend—my own first cousin. Have I not long wished that Pembrooke Park had a deserving heir? And I cannot conceive of a more deserving heir than Eleanor.
It gave me great satisfaction to relinquish my role as executor, and hand the reins of stewardship to Robert Pembrooke’s daughter. I find solace in the knowledge that I have made some sort of restitution for the sins of my father. Despite the fact that you and the Reverend Mr. William Chapman have assured me I need not do so.
“Christ has made the ultimate restitution beyond what you or I or any person could do,” he often reminds me.
I humbly agree, and I thank God for it every day. But now that Pembrooke Park is in Eleanor’s hands, I sleep better every night.
I have sold my London house and taken a place in Caldwell. Many is the afternoon my cousin and I meet in the sunny spot between the potting shed and walled garden. We have carried away the old rubbish, trimmed the grass, and placed a small wrought-iron table and chairs there, graced by that same colorful glass jar, filled with a fresh bouquet of flowers every week or so.
Now and again, if one of us can’t make it, we leave each other notes in the old hiding place behind the loose brick, rearranging the time, or simply letting the other know we were thinking of her.
And so you see, our private, mismatched friendship continues. We meet nearly every week when the weather is fine. We take tea, talk about our homes and families, the books we are reading. We no longer need to escape into a world of make-believe. But even so, how pleasant to escape for an hour or two into the company of a treasured friend.
When we are in that secret place, we sometimes slip and call each other by our old nicknames, Lizzie and Jane.
Once you have taken up residence here, you must join us sometime, Abigail. No one else would we invite into our special place. But you, dear girl, are always welcome, for it is thanks to you that we have found each other again. For that, you have my eternal gratitude and affectionate friendship. And I know I speak for, em, Lizzie as well.
I look forward to joining them there soon.
Ah, the weary wonder of this life. Of faith. And family. And friends. The truest treasures we can ever know or possess.
Author’s Note
Pembrooke Park is a fictional estate inspired by Great Chalfield Manor in Wiltshire, England, a fifteenth-century country house surrounded by extensive gardens and a moat. For many months, I kept photos of the manor and the adjacent church on my bulletin board and grew quite attached to the place. My friend Sara and I had the pleasure of visiting Great Chalfield in person while this book was being edited, and how lovely it is, with its great hall, oriel windows, and topiary houses. We met several gracious, helpful people there and enjoyed a history-rich tour of the manor, which is often used as a film location. The exterior and grounds were much as I’d imagined them, though the interior is quite a bit different than my depiction of Pembrooke Park.
Sara and I also attended an Evensong service at the Church of All Saints there, where the Reverend Andrew Evans delivered a beautiful sermon that touched us both. (Though it was perhaps a shade longer than those William Chapman delivered.) If you have the opportunity to travel to England, I hope you will visit Great Chalfield Manor. In the meantime, stop by my website or the National Trust site to see photos of this historical manor and church.
The Secret of Pembrooke Park is my longest book to date, written in less time than usual. I would not have been able to accomplish this without help from several people:
Authors Susan May Warren and Michelle Lim, who helped me brainstorm and plot the book during a weekend retreat with our local chapter of American Christian Fiction Writers.
My husband and sons, who had to make do—and frozen pizza and taco runs—while I was racing toward deadlines.
My sister-friend and first reader, Cari Weber, who provided valuable feedback and a listening ear.
Fellow author Michelle Griep, who provided laser-sharp and encouraging feedback as well.
Amy Boucher Pye—London vicar’s wife, editor, author, and speaker—who read the book to help me avoid errors in describing Church of England services as well as other British gaffes. And her husband, the Reverend Nicholas Pye, who answered her questions as needed. Any remaining errors are mine.
Pastor Ken Lewis, for helping me refine Mr. Chapman’s sermons.
Sara Ring, for serving as brave driver, photographer, and fun fellow traveler.
My agent, Wendy Lawton, whose love of antique dollhouses surpasses my own. Thanks for cheering me on.
My editorial team at Bethany House Publishers, especially Charlene Patterson, Karen Schurrer, and Raela Schoenherr. I appreciate your editorial support and friendship.
And you, my readers. Thank you for your enthusiasm about my books and for sharing them with your friends and book clubs.
What a blessing this writing career has been. I’m thankful for each and every one of you!
Discussion Questions
What secrets in the book did you figure out early on? Anything you guessed wrong? What happening or plot twist took you most by surprise?
Did your first impression of any character turn out to be wrong? Have you had a similar experience in real life (realizing your first impression of someone—good or bad—was not at all accurate)?
When Abigail, and later William, saw the figure in the hooded green cloak, who do you think it was? The same person who wore it in the climactic scene, or someone else?
Did you ever think you were meant to marry one person, only to discover in hindsight he wasn’t the person God intended for you after all? What would you tell a young person pining for someone who doesn’t return his or her affections?
Did you grow up feeling like a favored child, or an overlooked child, or did your parents make a point of treating their offspring equally? What is your view of Mr. and Mrs. Foster’s parenting style in this regard? What would you say to someone who feels he or she is living in a sibling’s shadow?
Do you think Abigail chose the right man? Did you vacillate or feel torn about which man she should end up with?
Did you feel any sympathy for Miles? Like him at all? Wish the author had given him a different ending—or do you think he got the ending he deserved?
What about Harriet? What did you think about her desire to make restitution for the wrongdoings of
her father? What is your view of the verse: “The Lord is longsuffering, and of great mercy, forgiving iniquity and transgression, and by no means clearing the guilty, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation” (Numbers 14:18)?
Abigail is tempted to believe she needs a large dowry—a treasure—to make herself valuable, and worthy of a man’s love. Have you ever struggled with a similar feeling of insecurity? In the end, Abigail learns “. . . she had never needed a treasure to make herself worthy. How thankful she was to be treasured by God, and the man who loved her.” Can you relate?
Do you agree or disagree with this concluding line? “Ah, the weary wonder of this life. Of faith. And family. And friends. The truest treasures we can ever know or possess.” Is there anything you would omit or add?
Julie Klassen loves all things Jane—Jane Eyre and Jane Austen. A graduate of the University of Illinois, Julie worked in publishing for sixteen years and now writes full time. Three of her books, The Silent Governess, The Girl in the Gatehouse, and The Maid of Fairbourne Hall, have won the Christy Award for Historical Romance. She has also won the Midwest Book Award and Christian Retailing’s BEST Award, and has been a finalist in the Romance Writers of America’s RITA Awards, Minnesota Book Awards, and ACFW’s Carol Awards. Julie and her husband have two sons and live in a suburb of St. Paul, Minnesota.
For more information, visit www.julieklassen.com.
Books by Julie Klassen
* * *
Lady of Milkweed Manor
The Apothecary’s Daughter
The Silent Governess
The Girl in the Gatehouse
The Maid of Fairbourne Hall
The Tutor’s Daughter
The Dancing Master
The Secret of Pembrooke Park
To learn more about Julie and her books, visit julieklassen.com.
Resources: bethanyhouse.com/AnOpenBook
Website: www.bethanyhouse.com
Facebook: Bethany House
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