Grace entered the sitting room and watched Cecil’s face light up, as he stood from the armchair. His lips pursed into a whistle, as he eyed her up and down. ‘Stunning.’
‘You look quite the ticket yourself, Mr Barwise,’ Grace commented, noting his best suit and freshly oiled hair.
‘The car isn’t here yet,’ he informed her, leaning in to kiss her on the lips.
‘Good,’ Grace replied. ‘Before we go, I want to explain myself to you…’
‘Really, there’s no need,’ Cecil interrupted.
‘But there is,’ Grace countered, meeting his warm eyes. She knew before she spoke a single word that he would accept and forgive anything which she had to say. ‘A man died because of me—you need to understand.’
Cecil nodded and sat back in his chair.
Grace sat beside him and thought for a moment. ‘Twelve years I spent in the workhouse. Twelve of the worst years of my life—worse even than Holloway. I left in 1892, when I was sixteen, with nothing at all to my name but the clothes I stood up in. I was lucky to get a few domestic jobs, including, of course, the one with the Smith family.’
‘Where you met me,’ Cecil chipped in.
Grace smiled. ‘Yes, exactly: life has improved by increment for me ever since. Minnie Turner took me in and improved my education and…well, here I am. For better or worse.’
Cecil placed his hand on hers, his eyes anticipating her making some connection to Linden Grove.
She knew from the way in which he had spoken in the past that he had assumed that she had once been employed there. ‘You know where I spent my childhood, don’t you?’
He nodded. ‘The workhouse.’
‘Yes, I was sent there when I was four years old. Do you know where I lived prior to that?’
‘No.’
‘Linden Grove,’ she stated.
‘What?’ he asked, clearly taken by surprise. ‘How?’
‘For many generations, it belonged to my mother’s family, the Hodgsons, passing down the family through the eldest male. All those grand portraits, which Mr Wild was trying to save from the fire, were my ancestors.’
‘Are you teasing me, Grace?’
‘No, I’m not. As I said, the house and all its contents passed down through the eldest male but then, when it got to my grandfather, there was no male heir, as he only had two daughters. My mother, being the eldest, inherited it all. She lived there with her younger sister until she met and married my father and then they made Linden Grove their home. I came along in 1876, born in the very bedroom where we set the first explosion.’
‘I don’t understand…’ Cecil muttered, utter confusion imprinted on his face.
‘Unfortunately,’ Grace continued, ‘my father died the year after I was born. I have no memory of him whatsoever. My mother had plenty of help in raising me and the few memories that I have of this time are happy. We were happy. Then she died unexpectedly when I was four—just dropped down dead one day, leaving me an orphan.’
‘Oh, my goodness. Why didn’t you tell me all this?’ Cecil asked.
Grace shrugged. ‘I haven’t ever spoken about it to anybody—not even Olivia or Minnie know the truth. To be honest, I’ve tried to forget about it. What’s the point in remembering?’
The revelation had muted him.
‘Within a week of my mother’s death, I was sent to the workhouse.’
‘But Linden Grove?’ he asked incredulously, this next piece of information freeing his tongue. ‘Surely it passed to you as their only child?’
‘If possible, it had to pass to a male heir and…there was one. So, it skipped me and went to my aunt’s son. It stayed in his care ever since…’
‘Oh God, no,’ Cecil groaned. ‘Not Francis Wild?’
Grace’s eyes filled with the collision of memories in her mind. ‘Yes…that’s my secret.’
‘Golly. But that’s so unfair.’
‘Yes,’ she concurred.
‘Why didn’t he at least look after you in the house?’
‘Because he’s a monster, a greedy monster. He never once asked after me or visited or sent anything. In fact, I had no real idea what had gone on there until I was much older. I was a child, so I just did as I was told.’
‘Well, I for one am glad he’s dead—he finally got what was coming to him.’
Grace drew her fingers along her lower eyelids. She wanted to say that she agreed with him, but she couldn’t. Despite all that had happened to her and even in her darkest days at the workhouse, she had never wished Francis Wild dead. Her anger had initially manifested itself against the bricks and mortar of Linden Grove, then, over time, whilst living at Sea View, towards the gross unfairness of the system. ‘I hated what he represented,’ she said. ‘I wanted to do something about it—to change the system. That’s how I got in with Olivia and she introduced me to Minnie Turner. After a few meetings at the WSPU, she invited me to live with her and, to all intents and purposes, make the cause my full-time job. I thought I could change things by delivering leaflets, going on marches and giving speeches but then, after that awful meeting at the Pavilion, something triggered inside me and I knew what I had to do.’
‘I understand, Grace, I really do. But now what?’ Cecil asked quietly.
Grace stood up and smiled. ‘I should like to forget everything that occurred before this very second and to start again. Let’s go and get married.’
With impeccable timing, the motor taxi pulled up outside the cottage, ready to take them to Ashford Register Office.
Cecil smiled, took Grace by the hand
