She turned, running as fast as she could to get away from Gulliver, from his scorching touch and his tantalising kiss, tears streaming down her face. As she fled from the scriptorium, she did not see Lucia watching from the other end of the corridor.
32
CERENSTHORPE ABBEY – PRESENT DAY
Tadpole Cottage was Tabitha’s sanctuary. She bolted the door behind her, raced up the stairs and threw herself onto her bed. Tears streamed down her face as the pain of Blake’s loss, his misery, his choice to end his own life without even discussing it with her, rolled over her again. She had never fully been able to explain her sense of failure as a wife, a woman, a lover, partner and friend; in his greatest hour of need, her husband had turned away from her, making the devastating decision to die alone.
Her counsellor had tried to reason it through, spare her the guilt she carried every waking moment, but Tabitha had struggled to forgive herself. Sense told her it was not her fault, and in moments of calm, she knew this, but when anxiety and grief swamped her, when she was tired or stressed, the guilt, followed by his cruel betrayal of her trust, were dark shadows she could not shift.
This was the reason she had wanted to move away. Why she had craved solitude and a place to heal that held no memories of Blake nor their shared life. Her need for a job with no stress and one that was vastly different from her former high-powered, fast-moving career had driven her to Cerensthorpe Abbey. Therehad been a few occasions when she had felt a pang of loss for her colourful, fun London life, but with Blake gone, she had known she would never be able to remain. He was in every brick, every paving stone, every wave on the turning tide of the river.
Here, she was safe from memories of him.
Until now, she thought as she wiped away her tears.
Gulliver knew the truth. It was not that she had deliberately kept it a secret, but there was no easy way to explain the real way her husband had chosen to die. Instead, she hid behind his diagnosis, allowed people to draw their own conclusions.
And Gulliver? she thought. What had brought on this afternoon’s intense encounter? Were his feelings for her real or was this an emotional response to Lucia’s betrayal and his decision to file for a divorce? A rebound?
It was from Molly she had learned the story of Gulliver and Lucia’s relationship and marriage. One evening, a month after Tabitha had moved to Cerensthorpe Abbey, Edith had insisted on what she called ‘a family meal’, but she had excused herself early – tired from a busy day. Molly had invited Tabitha to stay and finish their bottle of wine, then, unprompted, she had brought up the story of Gulliver and Lucia.
‘It was a whirlwind,’ Molly had explained, even though Tabitha had felt she was being indiscreet. ‘They met in London when Gull was giving a lecture.’
‘A lecture?’ Tabitha had asked in surprise.
‘Yes, he’s an authority on the paintings of a little-known British and Mexican artist, Leonora Carrington. She paints surrealist landscapes and portraits. They’re not my thing, but Gull adores them. He studied Fine Art at university because he felt it would help when he inherited the house. His plan was always to open a gallery here to encourage new and upcoming artists.’
‘But doesn’t he work in banking?’ Tabitha had asked.
‘Yes, it was his father’s idea and Gull felt he should try. He’s good at it, but he doesn’t enjoy it. Although, he admits, it’s given him extensive contacts and confidence to deal with the financial side of running a property like Cerensthorpe Abbey. His obsession with Leonora Carrington was a hobby.
‘Lucia was at the lecture and approached him afterwards; she’s a fan too. Within weeks, they were a couple and three months after their first meeting, they were engaged. All we heard was “Lucia Forelli” for weeks. Edith and I were surprised because, prior to meeting her, Gull was always far more cautious in relationships. He had his heart broken by a childhood sweetheart when he was eighteen, you see. It knocked his confidence.
‘The first time Gull brought Lucia to Cerensthorpe, Edith and I could see why he’d fallen for her. She was beautiful, accomplished and she seemed to adore him. It was only after they were married, she changed. Gull was never able to do anything right, she constantly wrong-footed him, challenged him. It was very passive-aggressive, but neither Edith nor I felt we should interfere. Gull is a grown man and every marriage is different…’
Tabitha had been relieved when Molly’s phone had rung, distracting her.
‘Lucia Forelli,’ she murmured now as the name swam to the surface of her memory. ‘Forelli, where have I read that name recently?’
She rolled over, staring at the ceiling and it came to her. It was on the family tree Edith had asked her to create for Helena Last – the woman who had given birth to Wilbur Swanne’s secret daughter. Wiping away the remaining tears with the back of her hand, Tabitha hurried into the bathroom and splashed some cold water on her face. She sighed at her reflection: blotchy and red-eyed, her mascara a smudgy line across her cheek. Shefetched her make-up bag, repairing the damage and brushing her hair to make herself feel more in control and able to cope.
Hurrying downstairs, Tabitha went into her office. There were bookcases on two walls, a large, old-fashioned desk and chair, and the best Internet connection in the cottage. She did not often work from home but Edith had insisted one of the rooms be equipped with a mirror image of the computer system in the house.
‘In case you want to work from here,’ she had said. ‘I believe it’s a new and modern concept.’
She opened her laptop and logged into the genealogy website. At first, the family tree had produced dead ends, but once Tabitha had located Helena Last’s sister, Juliette, a few weeks earlier, the tree had expanded rapidly. The 1911 and 1921 census records listed an Eglantine Last as niece to Juliette, but with no more records available, Tabitha had no idea what had happened to the child after 1921, when she was fifteen years old. One horrific discovery had been a newspaper article concerning the fate of Helena and Juliette’s parents, Beryl and Sidney.
Sidney Last was hanged for the murder of his wife when Helena was sixteen and Juliette, nineteen. Juliette had left their former home of south London and moved to Merthyr Tydfil, where she married the Welsh-Italian Giuseppe Blanco, proprietor of a chain of ice-cream parlours. Tabitha had never come across the term Welsh-Italian before but discovered there had been two Italian diaspora – mass migrations – in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Many families from the region around the Apennine mountains had moved to Wales, where they opened businesses including cafés, ice-cream parlours and fish and chip shops, the descendants of whom were known as Welsh-Italians.
Even though she knew she was alone in the cottage, Tabitha now glanced around guiltily as she typed Lucia’s maidenname into the website and, to her astonishment, a list of names popped up, including a connection through marriage to Eglantine’s aunt, Juliette. Tabitha scanned the family tree and saw Juliette’s husband, Giuseppe, was the brother of Filomena Blanco, who married Giacomo Forelli and they had a son, Joseph who was born in 1905. Tabitha scoured the census records and saw the Forelli family lived in the same street as the Blancos. There were also records showing the Blanco and Forelli family owned several businesses together.
Tabitha stared at the names on the screen. Eglantine Last had grown up knowing the Forelli family. What did this mean?
‘You’re being stupid,’ she muttered ‘There must be hundreds of people with the surname Forelli, I don’t even know if this family is connected to Lucia. Is it likely the descendants of the illegitimate and legitimate line of the same family would meet and fall in love?’
She shut her laptop and retreated into her kitchen to make a cup of tea, but she could not shake off the idea she was missing an obvious connection. Why else was the name Forelli familiar? She closed her eyes as the kettle boiled. She was sure, even before knowing Lucia, she had heard the name, but she had never really acknowledged her vague sense of recognition. The image of a party flooded her mind, Blake beside her and, with him, a friend, Mikey Jarrett. He was a journalist and his path had crossed with Blake’s so often they had become friends. Had Mikey mentioned the Forelli family or was she imagining it?
She was so deep in thought that when the doorbell rang, followed by the clang of the letterbox as an envelope landed onto the mat, she dropped the teaspoon she was holding. The kettle had long since switched itself off.
