Chapter 43
43
My darling daughter Eliza,
I am so sorry not to have met my first grandchild, Claudia. You know I have not been in the best of health for the past few years, and now you are reading this you will have received the news that I have passed.
The parcel this letter will have been placed in contains all that is left of my maternal family.
Both you and I have had a better life than my maman, Bernadette Chevalier. We married men that we loved rather than being forced, not into an arranged marriage exactly, but to accept a marriage of convenience like she did. I know you and William are truly happy together and with the arrival of Claudia, you are now a family.
I regret not giving you the enclosed ring when you reached your majority, but I simply couldn’t face all the questions you would ask and I knew some of your questions would be difficult, if not impossible, to answer truthfully. I think the enclosed letter from your grandmother explains the family rift and why you have never met any of your maternal relatives. Perhaps one day you will – the world is shrinking, it seems to me, with people travelling more and more.
Your loving mother,
Marie-Thérèse.
Dear Marie-Thérèse,
I know you always felt that I did not love you, that I was cold and distant with you. I have to admit that I was, because for many years I blamed you for ruining my life. It took me a long time to admit that the only person who had ruined my life was me. By then, it was too late to repair our relationship; you were grown, married, and living far from home.
I never told you about the life I lived before you were born. There was little point in you knowing about that life because it was as if it had happened to a stranger. Telling you about it would only have brought up memories for me that I couldn’t bear to remember. But I do have a duty to tell you who your ancestors are.
So, briefly, my early years, until I was twenty, were spent happily in the family home in the countryside near Rouen, with my brothers Edward and Charles, both of whom I adored. There were soirées, entertainments and dances year-round. I had no expectation that my adult life would be any different. I would naturally marry someone of my own class and have a comfortable house with servants to oversee.
Charles dying in the war was something my parents never recovered from. Neither did I. I was heartbroken at the loss of my brother. The truth is, I found solace in the arms of an unsuitable man and to the horror of my parents, I became pregnant with you out of wedlock.
I married Alphonse Gilet, a Huguenot priest, before you were born. He was not your father, but when he realised my situation, he offered me a form of respectability and I took it gratefully. Afterwards, though, the family disowned me and you. Marrying Alphonse was as bad as becoming pregnant before marriage to my family of staunch Catholics. They completely cut us off. My older brother Edward was forbidden to contact me. I was forbidden to contact him.
Once I was married, I never heard from the Chevalier family again. Alphonse was basically a good man, although he was a man of his time both morally and… well, let’s say life wasn’t always easy with him; he did care for you even though you were not his.
I did try once, and once only, to introduce you to your grandparents. They refused to see or acknowledge either of us.
I trust your marriage is a happy one and that you will continue to have a good life. I hope and pray that you and Eliza are close, as mothers and daughters should be.
I have very few material possessions, but the enclosed ring belonged to my mother before me, and I would like you to give it to Eliza to pass on to any daughters or granddaughters she may have. I would like it to stay in the new branch of my family. No longer Chevaliers by name, but they still own their lineage of several generations through me. That is something nobody can deny them.
With sincere and loving thoughts, your mother,
Bernadette Gilet (née Chevalier).
With tears streaming down her face, Eliza looked at Peter and held the letters out to him. ‘You need to read these letters. You were right. We are related,’ and she gave him and his father a tremulous smile. ‘So much to take in. I think I’d like to go home now if you don’t mind.’
Both Alice and Lucas leapt to their feet and were at her side instantly, helping her up.
‘Do you want to take the box with you? It is legally yours,’ Peter said quietly.
Eliza shook her head. ‘No, not right now. Alice will take me home. Lucas can stay and go through it with you and work it all out. Then we will decide what to do with the contents.’
After Eliza and Alice had left, Penny insisted she would do the clearing away, leaving Lucas and everyone else to carefully go through the contents of the box. Sasha, feeling that she didn’t have the right to be there now it was clearly a family affair, offered to help.
‘Thanks, but there’s no need. You get off home,’ Penny said, her mind whirling with what had happened. She wanted some time to think through the implications of the family link that had been discovered. Once the dishwasher was working and she’d wiped down the work surfaces, she took La Maison du Jardinier key off its hook. She’d get the privacy she wanted there.
Once safely inside, she closed the door behind her and slumped back against it. She’d have to step away from Lucas now they were related; it might be only distantly, but she didn’t feel comfortable about it. She suspected just being friends was going to be difficult for both of them. It would have to be a real break-up. No keeping in touch. To think she’d been almost floating with happiness after their visit to the Valley of the Saints. The way Lucas had defended her from Rory. And now the future she’d envisaged with him had been taken away from her. If only Sasha had thrown Eliza’s box away.
No, she couldn’t think that. Peter and Grandad Edward, as well as Eliza, were thrilled to finally know their family history. It wasn’t their fault that discovering the family connection was going to have such a negative impact on her own life.