“He’s in an institution in Knaresborough,” Louisa replied. “It’s called St. Giles House, and it’s run by the Reverend Charles Fairburn and his wife, Jane. They are wonderful people and, as institutions go, it’s a fine place.”
Grace made a sound of dismay. “But it’s still an institution. Is he ill, then? Crippled?”
Louisa hesitated. “He’s not exactly ill, Mama, but…”
“At some point in his past, he suffered a serious injury to the head,” Maxwell said. “The scarring is substantial and his mental capacity severely diminished. Consequently, he is not at all as you remember him. You must prepare for that.”
“If it is actually him,” Aldous muttered. “I’m still waiting to hear how you arrived at this unlikely conclusion.”
“Is he in pain?” Grace asked, her eyes shimmering with tears.
“Oh no, Mama.” Louisa gave her head an emphatic shake. “I don’t believe he’s in any pain at all. At least, not anymore, though it’s certain he suffered greatly at one time.”
“Wait a minute.” Frowning, Julian leaned forward. “Is this the institution you mentioned to me several weeks ago?”
Louisa nodded. “Yes, it is. And he’s also the man I told you about. The one who spoke to me, though at the time I didn’t understand the relevance of what he was trying to say. Actually, it was something Papa said at Myddleton that made me realize the truth of the man’s real identity. That’s why I fainted that day in the parlor. The shock of it—thecertaintyof it—was utterly overwhelming.” She squeezed Maxwell’s hand again. “Well, that, and seeing my husband unexpectedly appearing in the doorway. It was all too much.”
“Something I said?” Aldous frowned. “What did I say?”
“You asked Mama to play cards with you,” she replied.
He looked perplexed. “I don’t understand.”
Maxwell held up a hand. “Please, all of you, perhaps you might allow Louisa to explain without further interruption. I totally understand your doubts, believe me. But we’re not getting anywhere, going back and forth like this. Let her speak, hear her out. Try and save your questions till she’s finished. I guarantee you’ll agree her claim has merit.”
“Maxwell is right, we’re getting nowhere.” Grace drew a shaky breath. “Start at the beginning, dearest, and tell us everything. I want to know all the details. I need to understand why you’re so sure this man is my brother. I have to be left with no doubt about his identity before I’ll allow myself to believe it, for I’m not certain I could bear the disappointment.”
“There will be neither doubt nor disappointment, Mama,” Louisa replied, “but there will be heartbreak, and for that, I am truly sorry.”
“I understand,” Grace said, nodding. “All right. Go ahead. Tell us about him.”
Louisa drew breath. “Well, first of all, they call him Samuel…”
Chapter Twenty-Four
The man swunghis scythe back and forth in a smooth, semi-circular movement, each sweep of the blade slicing effortlessly through the lush grass, taking it down to ground level. The rich scent of his labors, so pleasing to the senses, suffused the air, reminding Grace of warm summer days, picnics, and outdoor games.
A half-dozen apple trees, leaves already dappled with the hues of autumn, added an appealing rural touch to the scene. Some of the gnarled branches still bore fruit, though most appeared to have been harvested. Several wooden benches—a few of them occupied on this fine October morning—had been placed here and there. Grace regarded the occupants with interest, though she’d been told Samuel wasn’t among them.
Samuel?
Or Julian?
She turned her attention to the building itself, St. Giles House, which was exactly as Louisa had first described not quite a fortnight since. Grace had wept as the story had unfolded, for in describing Samuel, Louisa had also described Julian: the curly hair, the brilliant blue gaze, even the two words he uttered.Play, gray.
Play, Grace.
According to Louisa, it was a case of mistaken identity that could be attributed to a mother-daughter resemblance. ButGrace still harbored doubt. Could it truly be him? After all this time? There was only one way to be sure. She would have to see him.
And so, here she was, having just arrived at St. Giles House with Louisa, Maxwell, and the Fairburns. And Aldous too, of course, who couldn’t quite hide his fear that this was all a terrible mistake. That the man Grace was about to meet was not at all who Louisa believed him to be. And that the subsequent disappointment for everyone, but especially for Grace, would be heartbreaking.
“Whenever you’re ready, Mrs. Northcott, we can head inside,” Charles said. “We’ve made sure he’s on his own.”
How could one ever be ready for something like this? There was no way to prepare for it, no matter the outcome. What if it wasn’t him? What if it was?
Dear God, I want to believe. I want to believe it so much.
Grace nodded her assent and followed Charles, Jane, and the others into the building. It was a silent procession that felt oddly ceremonial, Grace thought. Like a visitation to some hallowed place. The outside scent of cut grass sweetened the less agreeable air within. Grace paused just inside the door, aware of the sudden quickening of her heart, and an odd prickle that wandered over her scalp. She turned and looked down the hallway to her left.
