Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 127368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127368 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
The children are inconsolable, but I gave you my vow I’d see to their sorrow, even while hiding my own when this dreaded day arrived.
But what impossibility! What hopelessness!
Thus, I’ve secluded myself in Brandy, barred the door against their intrusion.
You must forgive me. I must have time.
Time to remember your gentle touch. The beauty of your eyes. The first time I saw you, your gown was blue, your eyes were bluer. The last time I saw you, that blue unfaded.
Just memory?
No.
You faded naught for me. Your hair may have grown silken with white. The creases may have formed on your hands. The lines may have burrowed around your eyes. But is this fading? It is not. You were a beauty to me from the moment my eyes lighted on you and your beauty isn’t extinguished even now, when your eyes are forever closed.
You will hate me, you will be most cross when we meet again, but oh, how I wish for that time to come quickly.
Yes, please know to your soul I will see to the children. To their children. Mama and Grandmama will live on for them through me.
But when the hour is upon me, know, my bride, my beauty, my beloved, I will not fear it.
For I know it will bring me back to you.
Forever, my Addie,
Your August
The force of the sob that tore up my throat after finishing that letter was painful.
He’d written it here, in this room, secluded myself in Brandy.
While she was upstairs, in Cherry.
Gone.
I felt her love on that moor in my dream-not-dream. I felt his love when he was watching her while reclining on the blanket.
At least I thought I did.
What I knew was what I felt, and for the first time understanding the purity of it, I wanted it for me.
After I pulled myself together, carefully, I folded a beautiful letter that tragically was never read by its intended recipient and reached for another one.
I was on my third when my phone rang.
I gently set the letter aside, pulled my phone out of my pocket, and saw it was Ian.
I took the call.
“Hey. You’re awake.”
“Where the fuck are you?”
He sounded ticked, the level of it tweaking me.
“Downstairs in the Brandy Room.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
“Because it was early.”
I heard his big breath.
Then, “Daphne, I don’t wish to cast aspersions on how much I like your lovely body beside mine in bed, but the primary goal of you staying in Hawthorn with me is so I can have you close and know you’re safe. Waking up with you vanished defeats that goal.”
Shit.
Guilt was heavy in my tone when I said, “I’m so sorry, honey. It’s morning. I didn’t think you’d worry.”
“Obviously,” he replied tersely.
“I’m fine. Your mum got Augustus and Adelaide’s letters for me.”
“You’re not allowed to read them.”
What?
“Why?” I asked.
“Because, trust me, it’s flowery, but it’s dirty as fuck, and a total turn on, and I’d like to be waiting in the wings when you’re done.”
That made me laugh, and the release of it after the tenseness of the morning was awesome.
“I haven’t read many. I think they’re later and they’d slowed down by then. I’ll leave the spicy ones for when you can do something about them.”
“Excellent,” he muttered.
“Come down and have breakfast with me. I want you to show me where Aunt Louisa’s diaries are.”
“I don’t keep them in the Brandy Room. Dad might find them. They’re stacked in the Conservatory. He never goes in there.”
“Ah. Well played, milord. You’re the true progeny of Cuthbert and Joan, wily with well-guarded secrets.”
More muttering with, “Pain in my ass. You do remember they were murdered while engaging in one of their secrets?” Then, before I could answer, “I’ll be down in a few.”
“I’ll pull the cord.”
“See you soon, darling.”
“Okay, honey.”
We rang off, and I was about to finish the note I was reading before tying them up again when the safe caught my attention.
It was still wide open.
There was an internal light, which must have been activated when the door was opened.
And right now it shone on the framed photograph resting upright against the back of the safe.
The same photograph that began the picture section in Steve Clifton’s book.
The photograph of the guests of David and Virginia’s house party the weekend Dorothy Clifton died.
Twenty-Eight
THE BRANDY ROOM
Me, and a layout of coffee, almond croissants, late-yield berries, buttered crumpets, and tureens of jam, yogurt and oats were waiting for Ian when he arrived.
And I was prepared, including the fact I’d already downed a whole cup of joe.
“Excellent,” he said when he entered the room. “Bloody coffee. I slept like the dead and I can’t shake it.”
Hmm…perhaps an excuse as to why he woke in such a foul mood.
I tipped my head back, and he pressed a hard but brief kiss on my lips before he threw himself on the sofa beside me and reached for the coffeepot.