The Garden of Forgotten Wishes - Trisha Ashley Page 0,137

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