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

I’ll bid you a goodnight.” He gave me a thin smile, kissed the top of my head, and left the room.

I did not move but willed my mind to stop thinking. I could feel the tug of brandy in my system lulling my nerves to settle down, so I turned out my lamp and sank underneath my quilt. I closed my eyes and reflected upon the irony that I had left Devon to escape the grief my mother’s dying had brought. Now, after a few weeks of living in Ambleside, death had found me yet again.

WAS IT A NIGHTMARE? UPON WAKING, it took a moment for my thoughts to tumble into order. I staunched a cry of anguish remembering Marabelle Pike was dead and had died right before my eyes. I blinked back tears. I must pull myself together. Why was I so emotional? It had to be shock, I deduced. But that was not acceptable. I was a strong woman, was I not? I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced myself out of bed.

By the time I joined Uncle Jasper and Mrs Stackpoole in the kitchen, I had composed myself. There were eggs warming in a pan, and the teapot was on the table.

“Morning, Jilly. I hope you got some sleep?” Uncle asked kindly. He was tucking into scrambled eggs.

I pulled out a chair and sat down. Mrs Stackpoole brought me a plate and ladled a spoonful of eggs onto a slice of toast.

“I did sleep. Thank you. I am better for the rest.” I glanced at the housekeeper whose face was drawn. She looked tired. “Mrs Stackpoole. How do you fare?”

She joined us at the table. “I’m a right bundle of nerves, my dear. In all the years I’ve lived in this village, never has there been so many tragedies. It’s distressin’ to say the least.”

“Indeed,” agreed Uncle Jasper. “Mrs S. has the run of it. I don’t know what things are coming to. A shame, if you ask me. It had been a glorious evening, up until the accident.” He took a sip of his tea. “By the by, I would anticipate a visit from the constable, my dear. He said as much last night. He wants to speak with you as well, Prunella, so you ladies should remain at home today. Best place for you both, all things considered.”

“Yes, Uncle. I had decided as much myself.” I took a bite of scrambled eggs but could not taste them. I put down my fork. “I cannot stop thinking about why Marabelle was upstairs in the Mountjoy’s family apartments? What was she doing there? And how did she fall from that balcony?”

Uncle Jasper munched on his toast, in deep reflection. “She could have taken a dizzy spell, or became light-headed from a glass of sherry?” He took another bite.

I was unconvinced. “I cannot agree with you.” I rose from the table and cleared away the remains of my uneaten breakfast, my appetite gone. “I think something else happened to her. Though I harboured no fondness for Marabelle, she did not deserve such a fate.”

Uncle Jasper took a sip of tea and looked at me. “What are you suggesting? Do you suspect someone had a hand in her death, Jilly? Surely not. Why the woman was naught but Victor’s housekeeper.”

I fixed him with a hard glare. “And that might be the very reason she is dead.”

IT TOOK ALL MY SELF-DISCIPLINE TO concentrate on my work that morning. But once I became deep into the translation of Uncle’s watery shorthand, there was not much room to think about anything else.

Before lunch, Constable Bloom paid us a call. He sat in the parlour with a cup of tea and a jam tart, taking notes as I related my version of the previous evening’s events.

“Miss Jillian, ’tis sorry I am that your time in Ambleside has been wrought with such goin’s on,” he stated. “This is usually such a sleepy village, an’ not only is it shockin’ these terrible things have occurred, but horrific for a young lady like yourself bein’ a witness to ’em all.”

I thanked him for his thoughtfulness while my stomach became queasy. I did not want to think about either ghastly event, truth be known.

Mrs Stackpoole kept him plied with refills of tea and tarts while he asked more questions. After he finished with me, he spoke with both my uncle and Mrs Stackpoole. At length he departed, along with the housekeeper and Uncle Jasper, who walked into the village to purchase something for the evening’s meal.

Alone in the house, I struggled to keep my ever-threatening tears at bay. I forced myself to return to work—anything to keep my mind off what I had seen last night—when a knock came at the door. I thought it might be the constable once again, but it was Dominic. Without a word, he stepped inside the hallway and took me in his arms and held me tight. My body collapsed against him as though my bones had turned to gelatine, and tears spilled down my face.

How long we stood this way, I do not know. But eventually, I stopped crying, and my strength returned. Reluctantly I loosened my grip and stepped back. “I am sorry, Dominic. I do not know what has come over me,” I led him into the parlour.

He took my hand as we stood before the hearth. “Good God, Jilly, of course you are upset, you’ve had a terrible shock. Any other person might have taken to their bed today. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Come, let us sit.”

“Constable Bloom has only just left.”

“I passed him on the street. How did it go with him?”

“He asked questions about what I saw last night, but there was not much to tell. I do not know what they think about how Marabelle came to fall from the balcony, but it was no accident.”

Dominic’s eyes widened in surprise, and he leaned forward with a frown. “What? I heard