note’s writer reconciled with his or her lover after whatever had torn them apart? she mused.
With a trembling sigh, she momentarily shut her eyes. It wasn’t easy to deal with the tumult of the feelings that rolled through her. Sometimes they threatened to spill over and undermine what little confidence she had left.
She’d never experienced such loving devotion and she longed to. If only she could discover whether or not things had worked out well for the couple... It would mean so much to her if they had. She wanted evidence that hopes and dreams could be fulfilled and that true love could last so long as the lovers drew breath...
She made a resolve. Suddenly impatient, she finished her browsing. Carefully reinserting the note inside the book, she moved across to the cashier to pay.
The cheerful elderly assistant smelled liberally of lavender, and her pristine white blouse was perfectly ironed and starched, as though she wouldn’t dream of leaving the house unless it was.
As she surveyed Imogen her face crinkled in a welcoming smile, just as if she was a trusted old friend. ‘Found something nice, have you, dear?’
‘Yes. I have. I’d like to buy this book,’ she replied.
When the sale had been rung up on the till the woman put the purchase into a crumpled carrier bag.
After murmuring, ‘Thanks...’ as she took it, Imogen asked, ‘By the way, can I ask if you know who donated the book? Only I was in here a couple of days ago and I didn’t notice it on the shelves then...’
‘I can’t tell you who donated it, my dear, but I do know that my colleague took a delivery of books from the big house up on the hill yesterday. You must know the one I’m talking about—that splendid Gothic mansion that backs onto the woods? Evergreen, I think it’s called. It used to belong to the Siddons family, but they’re long gone now. I think there’s somebody looking after the place but no one knows who. There’s a rumour that it’s been bought by some business corporation to use for staff training... You can always enquire. Does that help?’
Although Imogen smiled, the expression didn’t come as easily to her as it had used to. She was sad about that. What she wouldn’t give to return to the land of the living, with her heart whole again and the optimism she’d always managed to somehow find well and truly restored.
Clutching the carrier bag against the black bouclé jacket she’d discovered in another charity shop, she said, ‘It does. Thanks for the tip.’ Glancing across at the shop’s thick glass doors, she added, ‘Have a good day... It looks like the sun might come out if we’re lucky.’
‘It does, doesn’t it? But it probably won’t shine on us for very long. Still, I hope that won’t spoil things for you. Perhaps reading some of those wonderful poems will help?’
As she walked back to the small flat she rented in a Victorian mid-terrace down a narrow side street, her route took her across the city’s historic cobblestones, and Imogen automatically glanced towards the formidable cathedral that rose up before her. It was a real Mecca for tourists, but personally she found it intimidating.
To her eyes it spoke of too many spirits not at peace. She’d only explored it once, and it hadn’t invited her for a second visit. If a person was hoping for comfort, would they honestly find it within those oppressive ancient walls? Somehow Imogen didn’t think so.
The wind that was now gusting in earnest blew her hair haphazardly across her face. With a shudder she sensed an icy chill run down her back. So much for that promising glimpse of sunshine earlier! Winter was definitely starting to make itself felt. She couldn’t wait to get back inside, light the wood burner and examine her book. Who knew? There might even be some further evidence about the identity of the original owner.
If there wasn’t, she would love to dig a little deeper and find out. But even if she found the person, she realised that being confronted with such a note might potentially elicit some kind of unsettling repercussions for the person concerned. Her sigh was heavy. The story behind the poignant note was perhaps consuming her thoughts much more than it ought to...
* * *
Seth sat himself down on the wide mahogany staircase with its faded gold-trimmed runner and stared around him. The ticking of the old grandfather clock in the hall hypnotically marked the time, taunting him with the memories it scratched, as if he had deliberately dug his nails into an old, once infected wound and reopened it.
He had plenty of cause for being disturbed. The first time he had entered this house as a lad of nineteen he’d been full of trepidation at the thought of meeting his girlfriend’s intimidating father because he was going to ask for her hand in marriage. The esteemed financier James Siddons had been known to put the fear of God even into his peers—let alone the hopeful boy from the wrong side of the tracks that Seth had once been.
Although he and Louisa had only been seeing each other for a couple of months, they’d known from the very first moment that they were meant to be together. What they’d felt for each other had gone far deeper than simple attraction. But he had known the path they’d planned to take wasn’t going to be easy. She’d still been a student at the university, and Seth an apprentice car mechanic at a local dealership. Hardly of the material to render him acceptable to her esteemed family.
He’d had to garner every ounce of courage he had in him on the day of the meeting. And every one of his fervent hopes to make a good impression had been utterly dashed as soon as he’d laid eyes on the stern-faced banker. He’d barely even crossed the threshold before the man had very candidly expressed his dislike. And when Seth had bolted his courage to the floor, met his gaze eye to eye and confidently declared that he wanted to marry his daughter, he had been immediately shot down and put in his place.
‘Louisa knows perfectly well that families like ours marry into families from the same class, Mr Broden. And clearly you are not from that class, so there’s no sense in beating about the bush, is there? My advice to you is to stick with your own kind,’ Siddons had finished.
‘You’re not even giving him a chance!’ Louisa had burst out. ‘I love him. I want no one else. You have no right to put him down like that and make him feel small. Seth has nothing to be ashamed of. He came round to speak to you because he wanted to do things properly. We could just as easily have sneaked off and done the deed without telling you, but it was Seth who insisted we should do the right thing and be upfront about it.’
Appalled, James Siddons had issued her with a warning glare. ‘I don’t know what you thought you were playing at by encouraging a “nobody” like him,’ he’d said. ‘You must know that one day you’ll have to marry someone suitable so that the family’s lineage can continue. You are the last Siddons in the line, Louisa, and that makes it even more important for you to choose your husband wisely. I insist that you bring this charade with this man to an end right now. If you don’t I will make sure that every penny of your allowance is frozen until such time as you do as I say.’
That day—that bittersweet day when they had sought to get Louisa’s father’s approval to marry—the man had broken his daughter’s heart with his chillingly cold refusal. Seth would have done anything to spare her the disappointment and heartache that had followed, but his own heart had hardened like ice at James Siddons’s brutal reception.
However, he had refused to let the rejection crush him. So he was a nobody, was he? Squaring his already broad shoulders, he hadn’t been able to contain his temper. Swearing that he would show James Siddons what a fool he was for believing that he was somehow better than Seth—just
