A Dreadful Splendor (79)

My Dearest,

It is with a heavy heart I take ink to these pages. This journal is Mother’s last gift to me, and I shall fill every page with all my heart’s desires, for she wanted me to live the full life that she could not.





My entire body shook. It was not a letter proving William’s claim to Somerset as he’d wished.

It was a diary. Audra’s diary.



Although it was midafternoon, the room was much too dark for reading hidden books and the secrets they may contain. I gathered all the candelabras and settled into one of the armchairs. I glanced up at the large portrait of Audra’s mother. The dog stared back at me sympathetically. “You knew all along, didn’t you?” I whispered to him.

On the next page, the same delicate script described a new day. Her words surrounded me with the images and sounds of a manor not in mourning, but full of her laughter and optimism. Even with the future of Somerset Park unsure, Audra leapt off the page in girlish exuberance.

I had a notion of who Audra was based on the stories of those who knew her. But this diary afforded me an intimate insight to her character, perhaps the truest version of herself. There was a sense of sharing a special secret with her. A closeness beyond the grave.

I read through the many entries, mostly about daily life at Somerset and her growing curiosity with William, and her early questioning at his special treatment from her father. I remembered Auntie Lil’s remarks about how the blacksmith died on his way to Somerset. Was Audra’s father responsible for that? A chill rolled down my back.

It was also apparent that Audra wrote sporadically every few months. I read through several years in a few pages. My pulse quickened as I came to an entry dated just over a year ago. I was not prepared for what I was about to discover. Mrs. Donovan could have exploded into the room on fire and I wouldn’t have looked up. I hungrily turned the pages, pausing only to replace the burned-out candles one by one.

A curious sense of mourning settled over me. I had imagined her life as one of spoiled opulence when compared to mine—but her words proved me wrong. For all her wealth, Audra had very little autonomy, even less than I, and she was just as susceptible to the cruelty of a man’s world.

I was sorry to have never met her. An echo of thunder rattled the windowpane, pulling me from my forlorn thoughts.

I returned my attention to Audra’s writing. The last entry was from the eve of her wedding. The book shook in my hands so badly I almost dropped it. Finally! I would learn what truly happened to Audra that night.

Lady Audra Linwood

Somerset Park, May 4, 1852

Dearest,

This is the last and most difficult entry I will write before I leave Somerset.

William has just left my room, and I am a trembling mess. Nothing is what I thought it was. He came with a tray of Mrs. Donavan’s tea. Even though my door was locked, he used a key and gained access, catching me in a state of half dress. I grabbed my dressing gown and yelled at him to leave.

He ignored my plea and set down the tray, then made himself comfortable in the chair. I smelled wine on him. He handed me an envelope and told me I would no longer need to marry Mr. Pemberton to secure the estate. He said it was something Father had been working to acquire for several years. After his death, William took up the task himself.

This was the reason for all his trips away. He wasn’t disappearing into Wrendale to frequent the pubs; he was visiting various churches throughout the north. And today he finally received what he and Father had been searching for.

Despite my anger with William for barging into my room, I agreed to hear him out. If there was a way to marry my love and still have Somerset, I was willing to look.

My hands shook as I read the yellowed document. It was a ledger entry from a small church in the northern region. The certificate stated that Father had married another woman the year before he and Mother! William had written to every parish in the surrounding counties before he found the right church.

I told him this couldn’t possibly be true. How could this give me Somerset?

He then told me a horrible story.

Father fell in love with one of the servants and she became pregnant. They ran off and wed secretly. When they returned to Somerset, Grandfather was irate and declared the marriage invalid. My mother’s hand had long been promised to Father; their wedding was set for the following summer.

Grandfather paid the servant well in exchange for her silence and ordered her away. But she never had a chance. Another servant found her hiding in the wine cellar that very afternoon, howling in agony as she went into labour. And that child, William told me, was himself.

This document proves he was born in wedlock. He is a legitimate Linwood and the rightful heir to Somerset!

I was so astounded I could hardly breathe. But then I realized what this meant for us. With William reinstated as the rightful Earl of Chadwick, Mr. Pemberton would have no claim to Somerset. I wouldn’t have to leave! I could even marry my true love.

I began to cry tears of utter relief as I fell into William’s open arms.

He kissed the crown of my head and whispered that he’d always take care of me. I was so happy, Dearest. I felt nothing could ruin that perfect moment.

Then William kissed me again, on my cheek. His lips lingered there. At once, everything felt wrong and dangerous. I pulled away, trying to make sense of his expression. There was a fierce determination in his eyes that frightened me. He told me Somerset would be ours, and we could finally be together, secretly able to express our love for each other within its walls.