The Secret of Hollyfield House Read online

  Uncle Jasper shook his head. “They have found the blacksmith’s wallet hidden amongst Billy’s things.”

  “Oh, no.” My heart sank. My first instinct was to rush to Wolfe Farm and speak with Dominic. Uncle Jasper must have read my mind.

  “Do not think of going to see Dominic. He has enough on his plate to contend with, and does not need anyone bothering him, even someone with good intentions. Victor LaVelle will counsel him, and that is the only person he should talk to for the time being.”

  As much as I hated to agree, I knew Uncle Jasper had it right. But I felt useless. No matter how much I tried to push the thoughts from my mind, the dilemma of Billy Wolfe lingered.

  I RECEIVED A NOTE EARLY THE next morning, requesting I come to Hollyfield House at my convenience. It was signed by Evergreen, and though I baulked at the notion of spending time with her, in truth, my curiosity got the better of me. I wanted to meet Victor LaVelle, the illustrious tycoon who was spoken of in such reverent tones.

  I left as soon as I read the missive, looking forward to a walk. The day was pleasant, and I took my time, my steps slowing as I neared Wolfe Farm. But I remembered my uncle’s advice and did not stop to intrude. Today, even the sweet lambs in the fields aroused no interest from me.

  I arrived at Hollyfield before ten in the morning and was shown into the parlour where I sat alone, until Marabelle Pike entered the room.

  “Oh.” Marabelle stopped short upon seeing me settled in one of the armchairs. “What are you doing here?” Her tone was unpleasant, her question rude.

  “I asked Miss Farraday to come.” Evergreen’s authoritative voice barked from behind her cousin, who bristled with indignation. She swept past the disagreeable woman and made a grand show of sitting down across from me. Her full dark blue skirts settled about her like a puff of cloud.

  “Thank you for coming, Jillian.” She smiled prettily and then her gaze rose to give a hard glare at Miss Pike, who gave an angry huff, turned and left the room.

  “That woman is insufferable,” Evergreen commented disparagingly. “Now tell me, what do you think about all that has transpired since we last saw one another? Is it not exciting? Murder in Ambleside, and the village idiot to blame.” She sounded almost amused by the prospect, and I could not stop my grain of resentment develop a little more towards this woman. How could she be so likeable, yet in an instant so incredibly cruel?

  “I do not find it exciting at all, Evergreen. A man’s life was taken, and another will hang for it. It is a tragic state of affairs, and I cannot fathom how you find it anything else.” My words sounded harsh, but I cared not.

  “Well said, young lady,” a male voice interrupted, and my eyes darted upwards. Coming through the doorway was a tall, well-built man. His black hair peppered with white, his skin dark from the sun, his eyes a piercing green. He wore no facial hair, and though older, he was one of the most handsome men I had ever laid eyes upon.

  My daughter,” he continued, “can be quite insensitive to the trials and tribulations of others.” He strode in on long legs and went to stand next to where Evergreen sat, dwarfing her. He patted her shoulder. “Yet we love her regardless of her imperfections.” He smiled, and I could see that Victor LaVelle was larger than life, and assuredly a force to be reckoned with. No wonder Dominic wanted him to help Billy. I judged him to be in his late fifties, yet he carried himself with the confidence of a young man in his prime.

  He stared at me, and something shifted in his expression. Then he seemed to brush it away and turned to his daughter. “Evie, please introduce me to this plain-speaking friend of yours, I do not believe we have met?”

  “Oh Papa, this is Jillian Farraday, Professor Alexander’s niece.”

  I watched him closely, and he paused momentarily before walking over to where I sat. He extended a hand, which shook mine firmly.

  “Victor LaVelle. Pleased to make your acquaintance. You are new to Ambleside?” He released his grip.

  “Yes,” I replied. “I have been here but a few weeks.”

  “We met when our carriage knocked her down, Papa. Honestly, I feared the worst.”

  “Goodness. You were not badly hurt, I hope?”

  “No, just a little rattled.” I smiled. “Your daughter plied me with tea and crumpets, and I made a miraculous recovery.”

  “That sounds just like her,” Victor grinned. “God forbid Evie should ever take up nursing. All her patients would stay sick, yet simultaneously become obese.”

  “Papa,” Evergreen protested.

  “I jest dearest. Now—” his face became serious. “I am away to visit Dominic Wolfe. I shall be gone all morning.” He nodded his head towards me, an odd expression in his eyes. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Farraday. I hope to see you again soon.”

  We both fell quiet as he left. I considered the man I had just met. Victor LaVelle appeared used to hard work yet had the refinery of a gentleman. It was an odd combination, though it served him well. His bearing gave him an air of authority, which increased my relief that he had come to aid Dominic and his brother. All at once, Billy’s dire circumstances did not seem as insurmountable.

  “I cannot believe my father is helping Billy Wolfe.” Evergreen’s petulant voice sounded immature. “What can he do anyway? The boy killed a man—even Father cannot change that.” She rose and went over to the window.

  “You are right. He cannot alter what has already happened. But your father has the power to influence the outcome by ensuring Billy gets a fair trial.” I joined her at the window, and we stood side by side. “Who knows what may have happened, Evergreen. Perhaps Flynn tried to harm Billy. He could have stabbed him in self-defence?”

  She looked at me and there was no warmth in those beautiful blue eyes. “Billy still left Flynn’s body in the lake and threw away the knife. Not the actions of an innocent, wouldn’t you say?” I met her gaze. For a moment, I believe we both tried to read each other’s real thoughts.

  “Why, Miss Farraday.” Perry LaVelle entered the room. “I did not know you were coming this morning.” He smiled and went to his sister, kissing her lightly upon the cheek. “I’m off to see boring old Sneed.”

  “Poor you.” Evergreen laughed, all animosity gone from her face. “I’d rather have a tooth pulled than spend the day studying figures and sums. You have my deepest sympathies, dear brother.”

  “Oh, Sneed’s not such a bad fellow,” Perry said amiably. “A bit eccentric, but a bloody mastermind with numbers.”

  As I watched their exchange, I had the sudden urge to leave Hollyfield and go home. I did not want to be rude, so I told a white lie. “Evergreen, I feel the start of a headache. Would you mind very much if I went home? I am sorry.”

  “No, of course.” She was at once all kindness. “I understand. You must come back another day when you feel better. Let Perry walk with you some of the way. He is headed in the same direction. Are you not, Perry?”

  “Yes, indeed. Come along, Jillian. I’ll be pleased to escort you.”

  After saying our goodbyes, Perry LaVelle, and I set off down Lake Road. He chattered about inconsequential matters and was friendly. His personality was far different than his sister’s. They were both outgoing and amicable, yet Evergreen appeared to have a sharp sting always at the ready. In contrast, Perry, or what I knew of him anyway, had a more jovial disposition.

  “I met your father this morning,” I commented. “He was charming.”

  “Pa’s a good chap. Though he can be a bit of a tyrant at times, his heart is in the right place.”

  “He would make a formidable opponent. He has quite a presence.” I hoped I did not sound rude.

  “Indeed,” agreed his son. “Father built his business from the ground up, you know. My mother’s family helped him get a start, as Grandfather was with the British East India Company. Father got into the shipping business right as the cotton trade took off. He made a fortune, paid my grandfather back every penny, and then went on to form one of the
largest independent shipping lines in Europe. He has earned the right to be a tough businessman. He’s a lot for me to try and live up to—I can tell you.”

  He continued to speak of their time in India, but I was not giving him my full attention. My mind wandered back to his father, and what he might be able to accomplish with Billy’s awful situation.

  “…and then Marik came with us.”

  I snapped my focus back to our conversation. “How did that come about?” I hoped I was not too inquisitive.

  Perry did not appear to mind the question. “Marik’s father was my tutor, and we studied together as children. When Ashok died, Marik became part of our family.”

  “It must have been quite a change for him, living in England.”

  He chuckled. “Oh, yes. I think he almost froze to death the first six months we lived here. But after fifteen years, I believe he has finally acclimated.” Perry spoke of Marik with the affection of a brother. I warmed to him even more.

  “Well, here we are. This is where I must leave you, Jillian. I hope your headache doesn’t tarry and that you’ll be back at Hollyfield soon. Do tell the professor to come with you next time and have a forage.” He bowed his head politely and turned to go.

  “Perry?”

  He paused.

  “We did not speak about the murder of Jareth Flynn. Can I ask you, do you think Billy Wolfe capable of such a heinous deed?”

  “I am unsure what to think,” he said finally. “What I do know of Flynn was not entirely favourable. Yet I would not have thought it in Billy’s nature to harm another.”

  “Do you think now your father is here, Billy will at least have a fair trial?”

  Perry smiled. “Miss Farraday. With Victor LaVelle on his side, anything can happen.”

  Chapter Ten

  AFTER LUNCH, I EXCUSED MYSELF and spent a few languid hours reading up in my room. But by four o’clock I became restless and went downstairs to see where everyone else was. I was in the mood for company, but as I neared the parlour, I heard the distinctive sound of a feminine giggle. I put my ear against the closed door. There it was again. Good lord, it was Mrs Stackpoole! There was a rustling noise, and then the low chuckle of my uncle. I quickly backed away and hastened through the kitchen and out of the door.

  Whatever Mrs Stackpoole and my uncle were doing together involved more than just chatting. The thought was disconcerting, yet the reality was the two of them had likely been friendly long before my arrival in Ambleside. Had I inadvertently spoiled their situation? Though it was uncomfortable visualizing the two of them in any kind of romantic situation, I held no poor opinion if they were involved. Good for them. Life was too short to spend unhappy and alone.

  Alone—which is what I was. My mind travelled to the Wolfe brothers. I longed to know what was happening with Billy now Mr LaVelle had arrived. And where was Dominic at this very moment? Perhaps at Hollyfield House with Victor LaVelle? Or on the farm? I wanted nothing more than to go to him and find out if there was any news. Apart from the impropriety of my visiting alone, it was too late in the day. Dominic would be busy tending to the livestock.

  I found myself strolling along the road towards the village. Plenty of people were out and about—some were familiar faces who acknowledged me. I walked along with no particular destination past the old mill. I paused on the bridge, remembering it was where I had first met Dominic.

  The afternoon was drawing to a close and I turned back to go home. But as I neared the bakery, a delectable fragrance of hot pies wafted in my face. They smelled so delicious, that on a whim of indulgence, I popped inside and purchased one.

  The hot pastry was so flaky, it melted in my mouth and the beef was rich and tender. I walked along the road trying to eat the blasted thing without making a mess but was having little success. I spied a bench outside the village church. I had plenty of time before it would grow dark, so I sat down to finish my pie.

  Ambleside Village was not so different from my home in Devon. The people here were friendly enough, the lake and surrounding area scenic and interesting. I did miss the sea, but then I considered it natural. ‘When you are born with salt air in your lungs, you’ll always pine for the water,’ my mother had often said. I missed her so much. Each day there would be a moment when her face would float into my thoughts, and my heart would ache.

  “You goin’ to eat all o’ that?”

  I started at the unfamiliar voice. A woman stood not a few yards away, dressed in ragged clothing and a man’s scruffy overcoat. Her hair was wild. Long, tangled, and so filthy I could not determine its colour. She looked older than Uncle Jasper, though it would be difficult to guess her actual age.

  “Who are you?” It was all I could say. She stepped a little closer, and my nostrils involuntarily tried to staunch the fetid odour emanating from her unwashed body.

  She gave a semblance of a smile, which twisted her face, as though one side of it would not work or move. “Peggy Nash, though I’ve not clapped eyes on you afore, missy, an’ I know all the folk ’ere in Ambleside.” Her eyes darted to the pie in my hands. I held it out to her, and she moved quickly to snatch it from me and stepped back again. I watched as the woman thrust the food into her mouth as though starved. Guiltily I looked away, embarrassed by my good fortune while she must not have eaten for a while. She wiped the back of her hand against her mouth when she was finished.

  “Will you tell me yer name then?” she asked, her voice thin and sharp.

  I glanced at her, unsure if I should, then shrugged off my misgivings. “I am Jillian Farraday. I live with my uncle, Jasper Alexander.”

  Her eyes brightened. “The professor?”

  “Yes.”

  She grinned again, and I realised she must have had a stroke or some such ailment as the right side of her face was practically frozen in place.

  “’E’s nice, the professor,” she said. “’E gives me ‘alf ‘is sandwich when I see ’im on a ramble.” That made me smile. I could imagine Uncle Jasper doing just that. His kindness was one of his most endearing qualities.

  I rose from the bench, ready to go home. “Yes, my uncle is a good man. Now I must be on my way, Miss Nash. It was nice to make your acquaintance.” The comment sounded ostentatious even to my ears, I was not leaving a soiree, but walking away from an unwashed woman in beggar’s clothes, who had just eaten my leftover pie. It was a bizarre encounter. Peggy Nash did not utter a goodbye, but I could feel her eyes on my back as I headed down the street.

  UNCLE JASPER AND MRS STACKPOOLE were eating at the kitchen table when I arrived home.

  “Why, there you are, Miss Jillian,” the housekeeper announced. “We would have waited, but the professor was hungry.”

  I went to the sink and poured myself a mug of water. “That is all right, Mrs Stackpoole. I went out for a walk and then treated myself to a nice steak pie.” I caught her look of disappointment. “I happened to walk by the bakers when they had just come out of the oven. They smelled so good I could not resist.”

  “Well,” she said mollified. “As long as you’ve had somethin’.”

  Uncle Jasper took his last bite and beckoned me to join them at the table. “Mrs S. has made a rhubarb crumble. I am sure you have room for some?”

  “Absolutely.” I took a seat and was pleased to see the housekeeper happy with my enthusiasm. She set three bowls in front of us and began spooning out the hot dessert.

  “’Tis unlike you to be out in the evening, Jilly. Where did you go?” said Uncle Jasper.

  “Nowhere special. I walked into the village over to the mill. On the way home I stopped and bought the pie, then sat on the church bench and ate it there and then.”

  “Did you indeed?” He laughed. “How cavalier of you, my girl. You are becoming entirely too modern for your own good.”

  “I met someone while I was out. A very strange woman who looked a little wild and was dressed like a beggar.”

  “Ah,” he smiled. “Peggy Nash. Our local soot
hsayer, or witch as some call her.”

  “What?”

  “Peggy has lived here all her life and was brought up in the forest by her father. He called himself a wizard, and claimed to be a Druid. Anyway, when he died, Peggy stayed on in the woods. She’s harmless but very odd.”

  “I’ll say. She asked if I would give her the rest of my pie when I was only halfway done with it. I felt sorry for her, so I obliged. And then she said how much she likes you, Uncle, because you share your sandwiches with her.”

  “Does he now?” Mrs Stackpoole exclaimed, her eyes round with surprise.

  Uncle Jasper chuckled. “Now I’m for it, Jilly.” He smiled at the housekeeper. “Don’t take on, Mrs S. Peggy can smell one of my sandwiches miles away. She’s got a nose like a bloodhound. It doesn’t matter where I am, she’ll find me.”

  “Well, I never,” Mrs Stackpoole muttered as she got up and carried her empty bowl to the sink. “You’ve kept quiet about it all this time.”

  Uncle Jasper glanced at me, his expression that of a boy caught stealing apples from an orchard. Then he shrugged and tucked into his pudding.

  AFTER DINNER, I WENT UP TO my room and while looking in the bedside table drawer, remembered the moonstone. I had not given it a thought since all that had happened with Billy Wolfe. On an impulse, I put it into my pocket and went back downstairs to the parlour.

  Uncle Jasper was sipping on a small glass of sherry and reading a book. I waited a moment and then withdrew the tin.

  “Uncle, can I ask you a few more questions regarding this?”

  He glanced at my hand. “Again, Jilly? I don’t believe I can enlighten you anymore on the subject. I did tell you I was away working at the university when this came about. All I know is what your mother shared with me—and that was not much.”

  “Are you certain she never gave the man’s name?”

  “Positive. All Gwen said was he had to go abroad and could not take her with him. There was a job waiting for him in India, one he hoped would make his fortune.”

  “But why didn’t he simply send for my mother later on? Would that not have solved it all?”