The Secret of Hollyfield House by Jude Bayton (first ebook reader TXT) 📕

grey, the clouds morose as rainfall pelted against the building. “If we are to go, we might as well get on with it. I think the rain has settled in for the rest of the day.” He walked out into the hall and then returned carrying two coats. He handed one to me.

“Here, you can wear Billy’s. These are waterproof and will keep us drier than your umbrella.” We slipped on the coats, and Dominic handed me a pair of Wellington boots.

“These were my mother’s boots, try them on and see if you can wear them. They will keep your feet nice and dry.”

The boots were a little large, so Dominic found a pair of thick socks which enabled my feet to stay comfortable. We were ready to go.

WE REACHED THE BOATHOUSE WITH little conversation as it took concentration to navigate the sodden ground as we traversed through the woods. Dominic thought it better to approach the boathouse from the lakeshore, rather than from Hollyfield House itself. He did not want to draw attention to what we were about.

As we reached our destination, I recognised the boathouse from my first visit to Hollyfield. The base was built of sturdy bricks around a small dock, with windowed rooms up above. Inside, a small boat was anchored, the front of the building wide open to face the body of Lake Windemere, which was choppy due to the weather. The upper level, Dominic had said, was accessible by a staircase inside the boat dock.

We entered the building, and I glanced at the sailboat bobbing restlessly in its mooring. I kept close to Dominic as he navigated around the perimeter of the damp, quiet place. Here I could still feel the blustering wind, but at least we were sheltered from the cold rain.

“What is up there?” I wondered aloud.

“It is where they keep all the sailing equipment,” Dominic answered. Down here remains open to the elements, so the sailboat is chained and padlocked. The storeroom upstairs is for everything else that should be kept dry. It is kept under lock and key.”

“Have you ever been up there?”

“Yes, a long time ago. I got permission from the family to use it as a studio. Back then, the LaVelles seldom came to the lake.”

“Why do you think they are come to stay now?”

Dominic stopped at the base of the stairs. “According to Perry, Evergreen was indiscreet and exhibited some unladylike behaviour in London. Victor thought it best to bring her here to avoid a scandal.” His face registered distaste.

That surprised me. Both Evergreen’s actions and Dominic’s expression.

“Are you shocked that your friend is no paragon of virtue?” Dominic frowned.

“Not terribly. Though Evergreen told me they were here for Perry to study with an elderly accountant.”

“Oh, you refer to Nicholas Sneed. Well, that part is true. Victor wants Perry to learn the financial side of the business for when he takes the helm. Come on, let us go up. The door will probably be locked, but I’ll check it anyway.” He turned and mounted the wooden stairs with me close on his heels. When Dominic reached the door at the top, he frowned—it was ajar.

“Not too secure, then?” I stated.

“Hmm. The boat is used once the weather is warm enough. I’ll warrant Perry or Marik have been out sailing recently and forgot to lock it back up.”

I followed him inside.

It was a large, square room, with a musty scent lingering in the air. The light was dim due to the cloudy day outside, despite a considerable number of windows which lined the length of the space. From the back, the blurry silhouette of Hollyfield House was visible, standing sentry in the distance.

Ropes, oars and paddles were hung on stout wooden pegs, dotted across the walls. I saw other objects, but they were utterly foreign to me. I assumed they would be articles used on sailboats. Piles of netting lay in heaps across the floor, and I recognised some type of material possibly used for sails. There were two pieces of furniture in one corner, an old sofa and a small table. But the place felt as though it had long been abandoned.

“Someone’s definitely been here recently,” Dominic said, in direct contrast to my thoughts.

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

He pointed to the faded patterned couch where a blanket had been tossed—the table before it bore an empty bottle with two dirty glasses. I glanced at Dominic and he appeared troubled.

“Is something wrong?”

He cleared his throat. “Not at all. Come, we should leave.” He turned and abruptly left the room.

“Wait.” I hurried after him. “I thought we were going to look around and see if we could find anything? Perhaps whoever wrote the note was here and met with someone? After all, there are two glasses in there.”

But Dominic acted as though he had not heard me and kept going. He went down the stairs, not stopping until he reached the bottom.

“Dominic, whatever is the matter?”

He did not answer. I tried again. “Has something upset you?”

He walked over to where the boat rocked. “I think the boathouse is being used for an assignation.”

I blinked. “I don’t understand.”

His mouth slanted. “Jillian, there have been people meeting secretly up there, the blanket on the sofa—”

I finally understood. “Oh.” I felt so foolish and naive. “Who do you think it is?” And then I remembered his comments about Evergreen. “Do you think Evergreen has met someone in Ambleside? Surely there are no potential suitors tucked away here in the country?”

“Why do you presume it is Evergreen?” His tone was sharp, and it took me off guard.

“After what you just told me about her behaviour in London, I surmised you thought it likely to be her.” I did not care for the way he had responded. The tiny nagging doubt that he and Evergreen had more than a platonic friendship between them resurfaced. “What do you suggest we do, Dominic? Ask her if she has been coming here?”

He whirled to face