‘But at least it would be the truth.’
‘We did what we thought was best, Grace. Your parents want you to come home. You know that their door is always open to you.’
Grace shook her head.
‘They both miss you . . . as we all do. Come home when you feel ready.’ Her aunt stood up and so did Grace. They faced each other as her aunt touched her cheek. ‘Grace, darling. I know you are still angry with us. I can see it in your eyes.’ She gently stroked her cheek as if she was a child. The memory pained them both. It was a simpler time back then. ‘I just hope you never have the same dilemma as your parents have had to face. To have to make a choice between telling the truth and hurting the one you love, or keeping a secret and having to live with that burden. There is no easy answer. And the right choice is sometimes less clear the greater you love that person.’ Her eyes began to glisten. ‘Our intention was good, Grace, and it came from a place of love. Don’t ever doubt that, and don’t let Miss Petherbridge’s poison kill what is between you and your parents. Enough harm has been done. Now it is time to heal.’
What could Grace say? A tumult of thoughts filled her mind as she hoped to bring clarity to how she should feel. She was glad her aunt had come. Glad some explanation had been offered. Yet it still seemed inadequate as she would not have kept such a secret from her own child. A jab of pain stabbed her heart as she was reminded that the man she loved, respected . . . no idolised . . . was not her father. That she was a product of rape and everyone at Trehale knew about it. How did one heal from such betrayal and humiliation? Yet, despite everything, she still loved them.
‘You are right. Now is the time to heal. But I’m not ready to come home yet. I will heal better away from the gossip and wagging tongues of Trehale. I need a little longer.’
Molly’s attention turned to the celebrations playing out in the field. The music had ended. The bandsmen, made up of clay miners, had abandoned their instruments and now mingled with the villagers. Everyone appeared to know one another. No introductions were needed, as conversation flowed easily and short bursts of laughter peppered the straggling groups. Children ran excitedly between the people, their routes forming an invisible thread between them, connecting villager to villager.
‘The community spirit is strong in these parts,’ observed Molly.
Grace followed her gaze. Tommy and Billy were there, but unlike her aunt, she knew many of the faces now and was no longer a stranger to them. The realisation brought her some comfort.
‘Yes, it is.’
‘Then it seems as good a place to stay until you feel ready to come home. Your room will always be yours. Don’t punish us forever, Grace.’
‘My reluctance to come home is not about punishing my family or you.’
‘I’m glad to hear it, although I think there may be other reasons that have nothing to do with how you came into this world.’
‘There are no other reasons.’
Molly lifted her chin. ‘I think there is but I am afraid to voice it.’
Grace frowned. ‘I want the truth. No more lies.’
Molly looked at her. ‘Learning how you came into this world has shaken your belief in yourself. I think you see this place as a chance to forget your past. But you have to learn that your past cannot be erased. It will always be there. We have to learn to accept it, because by doing that we can be strong enough to change where our future might lead.’
Chapter Eleven
Grace stood by the study window and watched Talek and Henry leave Roseland. Only a few minutes had passed since the men’s conversation had become heated. A representative of Caradon Potteries was arriving today and Henry wanted to show him around. Talek, on the other hand, felt it was his responsibility to do so as he had been the one to secure the meeting. Henry had refused. Talek made a concession. He was willing to compromise and would agree to them both sharing the task. The meeting was too important to fail, he had argued. Henry saw this remark as a slight and flew into an uncharacteristic rage.
‘You don’t trust me!’ the women heard him rant as his voice carried through the house. ‘You believe I can’t perform the simplest task of escorting a representative of a pottery around.’
The heightened tension within the study drew the two women from their adjacent room to listen at the study door.
‘How do you think I ran the mines before you inherited your share?’ blasted Henry.
‘My uncle was alive at the time and was able to rein in your ideas. If you had run them on your own, we would have no mines now.’
‘I have more years’ experience than you!’
‘It is not the years, but the knowledge one gains that makes a business profitable,’ countered Talek.
Amelia sighed beside Grace. ‘They rarely disagree, but when they do it is always the same row they thrash out.’
Grace looked down at Amelia. She looked worried. It may be the same row, but perhaps the intensity was deeper, thought Grace as she turned her attention back to the men on the other side of the door.
‘Time and time again my suggestions are voted down. The simple truth is that you do not trust me!’
The argument continued for several minutes until, finally, Talek suggested Amelia should be called upon to have the final say. Despite Henry’s previous accusation of being voted down, he gladly accepted the suggestion.
Grace thought she knew why. She glanced at Amelia and wondered if Talek would have suggested this if he was fully aware of his sister’s growing attraction to Henry. Henry was her only chance of securing the future she longed for and Grace knew that she would be reluctant to upset Henry by voting against him. Henry flung open the study door and was unperturbed to find Amelia on the threshold. He quickly ushered her inside and Grace reluctantly followed, after Amelia threw her a pleading look for her to stay close by.
Talek efficiently laid out the disagreement before his sister. Grace felt for Amelia, and the difficult position she now found herself in. Talek seemed oblivious to his sister’s divided loyalties, despite the struggle being so clearly etched on her face. Grace, on the other hand, saw her every thought. Her brother would always be her brother . . . but would Henry always want her? The two men waited impatiently for Amelia’s decision. Amelia’s gaze dropped to the floor. Grace saw a flash of disbelief cross Talek’s face before he had a chance to mask it. He had read his sister’s thoughts, just as Grace had done. He was going to be outvoted. To Grace, his pain of betrayal was palpable, but he accepted the decision stoically, if a little stiffly.
Grace let the curtain fall on the receding men as they strode away on the gravelled path, their measured, purposeful steps in grinding unison. Some time had passed before Amelia discovered that Henry had left his ledger behind.
‘He never goes anywhere without it. What if the Caradon representative wants to see it?’ asked Amelia. She held the leather bound ledger on her lap, stroking its edges with nervous fingers.
‘They have come to view the pits, not the accounts,’ said Grace, attempting to reassure her. ‘They are interested in the future of the business, not the past.’
Amelia was not convinced. ‘But this visit is important and Henry wants to prove himself to Talek. I would hate to think that it will go wrong because of an absence of one book. Will you take it to him?’
Grace looked at the heavy bound book. It was not too dissimilar to the one they had at home. It felt an age since she had last touched a book like that. It was a different time then, when she thought she knew who she was and her position within the community. It was a time of security, trust and purity.
‘Please, Grace.’
Grace blinked and realised Amelia was still holding the book out to her. She reluctantly took it.
‘But you will be alone.’
Amelia waved her concern away. ‘I can call a servant if I need one. This is the first time that I’ve sided against my brother. This visit cannot go wrong.’
