The Garden of Forgotten Wishes - Trisha Ashley Page 0,151

her father – and what a terrible and catastrophic decision this had been! For, instead of helping her, he had instead, in her own words, ‘most grievously assaulted me – then laughed at my distress, saying it did not matter, since I was to be married almost immediately …’

It was all too easy now to understand why, when she’d finally escaped the room, she’d been in such a state of distress that killing herself seemed the only option open to her.

‘Poor girl,’ I said, with feeling. I remembered that Horace Lordly-Grace had had a stroke later, after Lizzie had returned, pregnant, to beg his help, and I felt he deserved it.

‘She was still a child of fifteen when this happened, too,’ Ned said sombrely. ‘It’s not surprising if she got cold feet at the last minute and decided she couldn’t bear to reveal the whole truth to her son, after all. But at least she didn’t destroy this page, just hid it away where she probably thought no one would find it.’

‘It makes everything fall into place, though. She obviously told Neville the truth of what had happened, when he caught her on the bridge, and that’s why he took her away with him. And really, he behaved very kindly to her, but you can see he couldn’t very well offer to marry her when she was having his own father’s child.’

‘No, he did what he could and I expect would have continued to support her, if he hadn’t been killed in action in Portugal,’ Ned agreed.

‘She must have told Richard Grace the whole thing, too, when he asked her to marry him. She said she didn’t want him to think too badly of Neville, didn’t she?’

I’d long since stopped shivering – the warm room and the brandy had seen to that – but I still felt the shock of this discovery on top of my earlier one.

But I had escaped from my danger, and poor Lizzie hadn’t. My heart ached for what she’d been through.

‘Neville must have been the best of the bunch, because his father was obviously a complete monster,’ Ned said. ‘First rape, then refusing to give her any help when she was pregnant and desperate – and then, when you think that he was the father of the Thomas Grace I’m descended from, it feels pretty vile.’

‘Well, you can’t help that,’ I said.

He gave a short, bitter laugh. ‘Maybe not, but being the direct descendant of a rapist, does put the fact that you’re related to the Vanes into a different perspective.’

Not if Saul had managed to dispose of me to the pigs … I thought, but I kept that to myself.

‘But, Ned, you’re related to the Vanes too, don’t forget, through Lizzie – and that means you and I are also distantly connected.’

He pushed back his hair and stood up, wearily. ‘So we are – and your mother and Lizzie seem to have been the best of them, don’t they?’

He bent and pulled me to my feet, then took me in his arms and said, into my hair, ‘I’m sorry about what I said earlier when I was angry. I’m an idiot. What does it matter who we’re related to?’

‘I suppose it doesn’t, really, but I should have told you myself, much earlier. Only I was so happy and we were growing to be such good friends …’

‘And more than friends?’ he questioned tentatively, holding me away a little so he could see me. ‘Marnie?’

I looked up and smiled into his dear face and he kissed me … or I kissed him, I’m not entirely sure on that point. But I definitely heard Caspar make a disapproving noise, so it was no surprise that when we surfaced some time later, he’d vanished from the room.

‘Caspar’s gone – shouldn’t we look for him?’ I asked worriedly.

‘No, he knows where he is,’ Ned said vaguely. ‘Now, where were we?’

I suddenly sat bolt upright in bed – a large and unfamiliar one – and Ned, drowsily trying to pull me back down again, said: ‘What’s up?’

‘I’ve just remembered the most wonderful thing!’

‘Thank you,’ he said modestly.

‘Not that,’ I told him. ‘It was Mum saying in her journal that Lizzie had written down a list of the roses she’d planted somewhere in her recipe book! Shall we go to the library and—’

‘No,’ he said firmly, pulling me down again. ‘There’s a time and a season for everything.’

It was Ned who woke up next, exclaiming, ‘Mayday!’ which seemed rather rude,