‘I know what you are speaking of,’ he said. ‘There’s no need to explain. You can speak frankly and ask me whatever is on your mind without fear of judgement.’
Hope took a deep breath. ‘I was told that my infant daughter died during childbirth, but I don’t believe that to be the case,’ she said. ‘I heard her crying. I know I lost a lot of blood, and that the delivery was complicated, but I believe my baby was taken without my consent. I know she was alive, that everything about that day has been a lie.’
He nodded, and if he was judging her, he certainly didn’t show it. ‘Write down the details of the convent, and anythingelse you can recall from that day. I’m happy to wait, and the more information you provide, the better.’
Hope swallowed. ‘You’ll help me?’
‘I’ll do more than help you, Hope. I’ll get to the bottom of what happened to your daughter, and you can trust in my discretion.’ His smile was kind. ‘If you’re happy to retain me as your lawyer, then I will give you the same service that I gave your uncle.’
She stayed seated at the table and wrote everything down for him, only passing the paper to him once she was certain that she’d missed nothing.
‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t have asked, but I don’t know what else to do, or who to turn to.’
‘Well, I’m pleased you told me. You can trust that I’ll do everything in my power to find the answers you seek.’
He stood and began to walk to the door as she followed behind, before he suddenly turned around.
‘Hope, there’s one last thing that I almost forgot,’ he said. ‘Your uncle told me that there would be a box for you, left on his bedside table. It was something he wanted you to have, but I have no further details to give you on that.’
Hope thanked the lawyer and showed him out, her legs close to buckling as she held on to the door handle—it had been quite the afternoon. But her curiosity was piqued, so as exhausted as she was, she forced herself to move and hurry up the stairs to her uncle’s bedroom, letting herself in and immediately spying the little wooden box on his bedside table. She’d been in his bedroom only a couple of times before to dust when the housekeeper hadn’t come in, but she’d been careful not to linger in his private space or touch any of his personal belongings. Which made being in there without his permission, in a room that still felt very much like his despite his absence, all the more strange.
She reached for the box and then sat on his bed, the mattress sinking a little beneath her, soft and warm, as she wondered what in heaven’s name could be inside.
The box had a string tied around it, and there was a tag with her name written on it, too. She wondered when he’d done this, and what he might have placed inside, and she quickly worked at the string and opened the lid. Had he made this months ago when she’d first arrived? When she was at the convent? Or more recently? She only wished he’d been here so that she could ask him.
Inside there was a letter, folded down into a small square, a modest pair of diamond earrings and a brass key. She reached for the earrings first, turning them over in her fingers and admiring how beautiful they were, touching the key and then finally opening the letter. She was almost too scared to read it; too scared of the emotions that might be stirred by reading something left to her by Charles, that he’d written just for her.
But Hope had already read the hardest letter of her life; nothing could be as heartbreaking as finding out that her Gus had died. Although in saying that, Charles had been all she’d had left in recent months, so his death had been almost as difficult for her as Gus’s passing, albeit in a different way.
My dearest Hope,
If you’re reading this letter, it means that I have finally succumbed to my health battle. I’m sorry for leaving you when we’d had so little time together, but I want you to know the happiness you’ve brought to my life in the months we did share. To have a family member to love is something to be cherished, and I felt a kinship between us that was so utterly unexpected. How fortunate was I that it wasn’t next year that you came looking for me, or the one after—I wouldn’tgive up the time we spent together for anything, and I hate to think what might have happened if you hadn’t found me. Or maybe it’s that I can’t bear to think of what my last year of life would have been like without you.
I bought these earrings to gift you on your birthday, but alas, if they’re in this box, it means I didn’t last long enough to give them to you. I hope you like them. The key is hopefully self-explanatory by now, but if not, please know that it’s the original key to the front door that I received when I purchased the house. My home is now your home, and this key symbolises my own independence and now, hopefully, yours. I wish with all my heart that it’s somewhere you can create happy memories and perhaps sometimes think of me, and I sincerely wish that you will find your way back to painting or drawing again, for you have such talent. It would be a waste not to see the walls covered in your vibrant art.
You deserve all the happiness in the world, Hope, and although I know happiness might feel like it’s a long way away, trust me that one day, it will be within reach. If loving another feels impossible, then find something you love to do and throw yourself into it wholeheartedly. Just because you’ve lost those you loved, doesn’t mean you have to be alone, or that you have to give up the life you deserve. Surround yourself with people, somehow, and remember that we only have one life, so even when it hurts, we must force ourselves to live it.
With all my love,
Your uncle Charles
Hope sat there on the bed, the letter floating from her fingers to the carpet as she stared at it. Her uncle had planned all of this. She remembered now how he’d gone to see his lawyer when she’d first arrived; the expression on his face when she’d first stood at his door and told him who she was. The way he’d embraced her and treated her as if she was his own daughter instead of a niece he’d never met. The way he’d smiled and told her there was nothing to worry about, that he just had some things to attend to with his lawyer when she’d asked him that day at breakfast.
She reached for the earrings again and carefully put them on, before standing to look at them in the mirror. The light caught the diamonds, and they sparkled as she admired them, as she fought to find joy in that moment that someone had given her such a beautiful gift. That a family member had loved her enough, without judgement, despite the way her life had turned out.
It was then that Hope started to walk. She walked down the hall and paused at each bedroom door, then down the stairs, her fingers trailing over the mahogany banister rail as she did so. She looked into the sitting room and then found herself back in the kitchen, staring out at the garden, where flowers were beginning to bloom in time for spring. The garden had been one of her favourite places when she’d first moved here, but she’d barely noticed it in the months since her daughter was taken from her.
She’d told Doris all those months ago at the convent that she wished there was somewhere women could go to have their babies, where they would be looked after and safe. She’d wished for someone to care for her when she’d so desperately needed it, to show compassion to both her and her baby; wished that there had been anywhere else but there that she could have spent that time. With people who cared not just about the infant, but aboutthe mother, too, no matter what her story might be or how she came to be alone.
Could she openthishome to women in need? She turned and looked around, imagining what it would have felt like to give birth in a home like this instead of the cold, concrete-walled room she’d found herself in. To have someone filled with kindness deliver her baby, and to let the mother hold her baby instead of having her ripped away, even if the intention was for the infant to be adopted.
Hope sat down at the table, her eyes clear for the first time in days. She’d cried enough tears these past months to last her a lifetime, but for the first time in longer than she could remember there was a glimmer inside of her.
Because for all she’d lost, her uncle had given her the gift of choice, and as heartbroken as she might be, that was not something she was going to take for granted.
Find something you love to do and throw yourself into it wholeheartedly. That’s what he’d said in his letter, and that was exactly what she was going to do. She wouldn’t stop searching for her baby and fighting for answers, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t do good along the way for others, too.
I’m going to make you proud, Charles. Just you wait and see.
