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

all thought left me as I became lost in the sensation of his passionate mouth. Then he ended the kiss and looked hard into my eyes. “God, but I’ve missed you, Jillian,” he said, his irises burning like molten gold.

“And I, you, Dominic,” I whispered, and he kissed me again. It was a struggle to disentangle our lips and quell our desire. But there was much to discuss, and I was anxious to begin. I brewed a pot of tea and we sat in the kitchen.

“What is it, Jillian? You seem quite agitated.” Dominic smiled at me. “I’d like to think my kiss is the culprit, but somehow I fear I would be wrong.”

“I do have something to tell you. But first, I want to hear what you discovered in Cartmel Village. Did you learn any more about Flynn and his gaming habits?”

Dominic gave a wry smirk and set down his mug. “Indeed, I did. I had the misfortune to spend an entire evening at The Pig and Whistle Inn. A veritable den of horse gaming thugs and crooks if I ever saw one.”

“Oh no. I hope there was no trouble?”

“None at all. But Flynn was well known among the patrons and not in a particularly good way.”

“Why is that?”

“According to the men I spoke with, our blacksmith had run up some serious debts with several of the local betting men. Many of the sums quite large for a man of his meagre income.”

“Then that explains additional motives for someone to kill the man.”

“Yes it does. However, the news of Flynn’s death did not even reach Cartmel until several days after he died. And though I am no expert on criminals, the men I met were capable of stealing wallets and other petty crimes—but not murder. It strikes me that Flynn was at risk of being roughed over by someone wanting to get repaid. Yet there would be no hope of restoration if you killed the very person owing you money.”

He made a valid point. What use was Flynn dead? I quickly agreed. “You are right. Unless it was a random act of anger, I tend to think it someone who needed him silenced.”

“And judging by his debts,” Dominic added. “Jareth needed to get his hands on a great deal of money.”

“We know he blackmailed Louisa Mountjoy.” I chewed my bottom lip. “But I do not think her the murderer. Lord Mountjoy had no idea of the affair or blackmail, so he is an unlikely suspect.” Our eyes met, and then his gaze lowered to rest on my mouth, and he smiled, his thoughts evidently returning to our kiss of minutes ago. I raised one eyebrow and endeavoured to look stern. “Dominic?”

He blinked. “Sorry.”

“Who else could Jareth have been blackmailing?

Dominic ran his fingers through his thick dark curls. “I wish I knew. Kemp says we have about three weeks until Billy’s trial begins and still much to do. I will speak with Victor, after Marabelle’s funeral. Then we can formulate our next move.”

At the mention of Billy’s trial, my heart sank. The enormity of our task sometimes overwhelmed. “Let me tell you my news.” I could not wait to share little Jem’s story. Quickly I told Dominic the gist of what the child had said and, as I anticipated, he was pleased to have the information yet there was something about his expression which caused me to think Dominic did not welcome the fact Evergreen was romantically involved with the man.

“You think Evergreen another target for blackmail?” he said.

I nodded. “If she was involved with Jareth and met him in secret, then it is possible. After all, he did the same thing to Louisa, so why not Evergreen? She is rich. Perhaps Flynn discovered she was sent to Ambleside as a penance for her indiscretions in London. What might Victor do if he found out she was still misbehaving?”

“Send her away I imagine.”

“Then what better avenue to get more money. Lord knows, Evergreen could pay handsomely for his silence.” I still sensed Dominic’s dislike of acknowledging Evergreen’s penchant for dalliances. It was beginning to trouble me more at each observation.

“But what about the note Billy found? It referenced something unnatural. Flynn would not have written the letter to Evergreen if he was the person involved in her secret.” Dominic asked.

“Ah,” I said triumphantly. “But what if that note was not meant for Evergreen?”

WEDNESDAY HELD THE PROMISE OF sunny weather. The birds sang brightly, and there was not a stir of wind upon the air. It seemed incongruous to have a funeral on such a lovely day, emphasising how sad it was that Marabelle would never see the beauty of nature ever again.

By the time Uncle Jasper, Mrs Stackpoole and I arrived at St. Mary’s, it was filled to capacity. Fortunately, we had asked Dominic to save a place should he arrive before us and this he had done.

The LaVelles and their relations were seated where the choir usually sat, affording them some privacy. Reverend Fothergill delivered his sermon, and Marabelle’s eulogy was short and to the point. The selection of hymns was sung, and as the service concluded, we rose and watched the family walk down the aisle. Their eyes remained straight ahead, their countenance stoic. Victor was sombre and Evergreen’s face hidden behind a veil. Only Perry glanced our way as they passed.

Out in the sunny morning, the family did not wait to greet the mourners. Instead, their carriages departed back to Hollyfield. Dominic told me there was a small family vault in the grounds at the back of the House, and it was there Marabelle would be interred. To be truthful, I was glad there was no public burial. Being at the funeral was too close a reminder of my own recent and painful loss.

Walking back home, Dominic and I followed behind my uncle and Mrs Stackpoole. After our conversation when he had returned from Cartmel, we still had much to consider. Dominic had spent the past two