Chapter Thirty-Two
Ava stood in the corridor, waiting for Henry to return for her.
He had gone inside the drawing room to speak to his mother in readiness for her to go in.
Not hearing raised voices, Ava assumed was a good sign.
Granger had been led outside en route to visiting Lady Bramlington, making her feel very alone, with nothing more than a stag’s head, staring blankly out across the corridor, and a coat of armour for company.
Never mind Downton Abbey. This is full-on Scooby-Doo!
Ava didn’t know which was making her feel more like she was going to be murdered.
At least she hoped karma meant the stag would be on her side.
She realised she would have to address the issue of having taxidermy from bygone years exhibited within walking distance of Critters’ Lodge.
As the door clicked open, she jumped. ‘BUGGER ME!’ Ava looked at Henry, her eyes wide, her hand clenched over her mouth as her cheeks flushed.
He didn’t bother to stifle his laughter. ‘Don’t worry. I’m sure she’s heard worse.’
Henry held the door open a little wider, inviting Ava into the room.
She swallowed, an attempt to encourage saliva into her too-dry mouth.
Once inside, she looked at Lady Bramlington; the woman she had for so long vilified in her thoughts looked smaller than she remembered.
She was certainly much older and less animated than the woman Ava had encountered by the lake, as she sat, her hair neatly coiffed, wearing a black twinset and pearls.
Remembering herself, Ava wondered if she should curtsey.
‘Mother, you remember Ava Flynn.’ Henry made the introduction and gestured for Ava to take a seat on one of the three two-seater settees in the room, while Lady Bramlington sat in a high backed chair.
The duck-egg blue of the walls counterbalanced the bold floral patterns on the soft furnishings and worn-Axminster carpet.
A large, age-flecked, ornately framed mirror hung above the open stone fireplace.
Paintings depicting landscapes in the style of Turner adorned the walls, and Ava wondered if they were genuine.
The ruched curtains at the window, and the carved lime wood panelling that framed the room absorbed the light, making it appear much darker than Henry’s. As much as Ava appreciated the age and magnitude of the surroundings, she could see why he chose to alter his own living space.
Once Henry took a seat, Lady Bramlington folded her hands into her lap and readied herself to speak. ‘What brings you here?’ She looked between Ava and Henry, cocking a grey eyebrow. ‘You have a personal matter to discuss with me, I believe.’
Ava swallowed again. ‘I wanted to ask you about, about this . . .’ Reaching into her pocket she produced the photograph.
‘Bring it closer. I can’t see from back there.’
Henry looked at Ava curiously as she flicked the picture towards him, before passing it into the hands of Lady Bramlington. The woman looked at it, her breathing becoming visibly more rapid as she turned and read the back.
‘Where did you get this?’
Ava wondered if Lady Bramlington’s eyes were glistening more than previously. ‘It was in the frames, Hen — Lord Bramlington donated.’ Ava wished she’d read up on the etiquette of using titles; she had no idea if she were saying the right thing.
Henry coughed and shifted in his seat.
‘Donated?’ Lady Bramlington looked at him, pointedly.
‘They were wrapped in newspaper in the office. I felt they could be put to better use donated to All Critters Great and Small.’
Lady Bramlington seemed halted by the mention of the charity.
‘It was a very generous donation. They’ve gone to auction and along with some of my mum’s ornaments—’
‘Ornaments? Birds and woodland creatures?’
Ava thought she saw recognition in Lady Bramlington’s eyes and wondered if she had gifted them, or was it simply a guess given her mother’s work.
‘Yes, that’s right. They’ve raised a wonderful amount for the charity, funding vital care for sick and injured animals who have—’
‘No owner to look after them in their time of need.’
Ava looked at Lady Bramlington.
‘You sound just like your mother, and you look just like your father.’
Henry looked between the two women.
‘Yes, I do.’ Ava smiled. ‘You were friends with my mother.’
‘Yes, dear friends.’
‘But she never mentioned that. I’ve been through her things, and there’s no evidence of it. Until I saw that picture I had no idea—’
A single tear slipped down Lady Bramlington’s face, causing Ava to swallow. Perhaps she had gone too far. Henry moved to his mother’s side and placed his hand on hers. She brushed him off.
‘Ah, ignore me. There’s no point crying over what can’t be undone.’
Henry passed her a tissue and moved back to his seat.
‘What is it? What can’t be undone? If you were once dear friends, what caused you to fall out?
’ Ava felt her pulse quicken. She knew she was pushing for answers when Lady Bramlington was clearly upset, and possibly still fragile from being in mourning for the loss of her husband, but now she was here, she had to know.
Time slipped by as they all sat silently, the room filled with the ticking of the grandfather clock Ava hadn’t noticed on her way in.
Finally, Ava spoke. ‘When you found me, us, at the lake, you were furious. You told me to go, forbade me to come onto your land. Why did you dislike me so much? What had I done?’ Ava was surprised to feel tears prick at her eyes, a release of the pent-up frustration of that day; she determined not to let her emotion show.
‘I’d like to know too.’ Henry looked at his mother. ‘Before then my life here was tolerable, after—’
‘I did it for her!’ Lady Bramlington croaked out the words.
‘Me?’ Ava was confused.
‘No, not you — Lily. I did it for Lily. It would have broken her heart if she’d seen you that day.
I knew you visited the grounds, often. And I am not a fool.
I know you still do. But on that day, I saw the way you looked at each other, the way you were both behaving.
I knew you were infatuated with each other, perhaps, even as young as you were, falling in love. ’ Lady Bramlington shook her head.
Ava looked at Henry, neither of them denying it.
‘Why? Why would my mum have hated it? I mean, I know she didn’t like me visiting the grounds, but your reaction . . . There was more to it than trespassing wasn’t there? What is it? What happened?’ Scenarios fired into Ava’s mind, none of them good.
Henry took the picture from his mother, turning it over in his hands as he looked at the image and then the words on the back.
‘You have to tell us. Whatever the reason, whatever the secret, it’s time to tell us now.’ Henry’s voice was calm as he urged his mother to speak.
‘It never should have happened.’
‘What? What shouldn’t have happened?’ Ava felt a cold shudder run down her spine as an ominous feeling crept over her.
‘I killed your father.’
‘What?’ Both Ava and Henry spoke in unison.
‘But you can’t have. My father died in a car accident. Were you there when his car hit the tree? What do you mean?’ Ava’s mind spun.
The door to the room opened, and Mrs Jenkins walked in, carrying a laden tea tray. ‘Refreshments, as requested.’ She placed the tray on a low, French-polished table in the centre of the room, stood and stared at the three ashen faces before her. ‘Shall I pour?’
‘Not now, Mrs Jenkins, thank you.’ Henry spoke calmly but authoritatively and stood as if to urge her out of the room. Once she left he closed the door behind her. Henry poured three cups of tea, putting sugar in each without asking if it was wanted.
Taking the seat next to Ava, he put his hand over hers. She welcomed the comforting gesture.
‘Mother, you’re not making sense and this isn’t fair to Ava. You need to explain what you mean. I think you need to tell us everything.’
Despite the steam coming from it, Lady Bramlington lifted her tea and took a sip. Ava watched as the woman, looking frailer than her years, readied herself to speak.
‘We were great friends, your mother and I. There was something special about our friendship, it was as if we were always meant to find each other. Living here, it’s like a fortress.
The world goes on outside while you’re trapped inside.
When I was first married, I was barely twenty-one.
I had married the man of my parents’ dreams, not my own.
I liked him, of course. He was wealthy, titled, good-looking and he could be fun, but I didn’t love him, that came later. ’ She sipped her tea.
Ava moved her hand so that she could squeeze Henry’s reassuringly.
Her own father died when she was two. While she sometimes felt she had fleeting memories of him — the briefest of images of him locked in her mind — she rationalised that they were inspired by stories her mum shared or photographs she had seen.
What she did know for certain was that her parents had shared a great love.
For Henry to hear that his own parents didn’t must be difficult.
But then his world was very different from hers.
She only had to look at her surroundings to know that.
He accepted the gesture, thanking her with the briefest of looks, before returning his attention to his mother.
‘Lily and Connor Flynn were a breath of fresh air. They were passionate in their beliefs and actions. They both loved the grounds here, like you.’ Lady Bramlington looked at Ava.
Ava nodded silently as she sat, enthralled to hear about her parents in their youth, and confused as to where this story was leading.
‘I envied them their freedom of mind, body and spirit. Some thought them hippies, but they weren’t like those who checked out of life — they lived. I mean really lived, and they had strong beliefs. Their energy was intoxicating.’
Ava began to wonder if she was going to hear her parents were cult leaders.
If Lady Bramlington started talking about them chanting or dancing naked around campfires, she was going to have to ask her to move the story on.
As intrigued as she was, there were some images she didn’t need in her mind.
She wanted to hear about the rift — whatever it was that had torn their friendship apart, because, despite what Lady Bramlington thought, Connor Flynn died in a car accident.
‘We all became close, and we joined their cause.’
Oh no, they were cult leaders.
‘We’d newly taken over the estate, and we wanted to make our mark. What better way than leading it into a new and greener era in which the animals were respected and protected?’
Of course, animal welfare was always their cause. Ava admonished herself for allowing her mind to jump to erroneous conclusions.
‘They worked closely with us. Hunting for pleasure stopped. And they worked with Ted to ensure the protection of the animals and their habitats in our grounds.’
Ava wondered why, in all the time she had spent with Ted, he never mentioned that to her.
Henry leaned forward, passing Ava her tea before taking his own.
‘And so our friendship grew, as did your parents’ charity. When at first your mother became pregnant, we were all delighted. Of course, we wanted a child too, an heir for the estate.’
Ava wished Lady Bramlington hadn’t made her desire for a baby sound like a business transaction. She flicked her eyes to Henry, wondering if hugging him would be inappropriate. Reminding herself to stay focused, she turned her attention back to Lady Bramlington.
‘Your birth didn’t dull your mother’s passions in any way.
If anything, she fought harder to make the world a better place for you.
She could be very rigid in her ideals. We disagreed about some things, but friends do.
Eight months later, Henry was born and we were all happy.
You were very protective of him’ — Lady Bramlington looked between the two of them — ‘even then.’
Ava knew her mum was rigid in her ideals, but still having someone else say it made her feel defensive on her behalf. She returned her cup and saucer to the tray having only sipped at her tea. ‘And then my father died.’
‘Yes.’
‘And did you cause his accident?’ Henry pushed.
Mirroring Ava, Lady Bramlington placed her teacup and saucer on the tray. ‘I caused him to flee into the night, taking you, Ava, with him.’
‘What? What do you mean? I wasn’t with him.’
‘You were and Lily could have lost you both because of my actions.’
‘What actions?’ Henry pushed his hand through his hair.
‘I was in love with Lily. I had been since the moment I met her and she loved me too. I was never in any doubt about that.’
Henry sat back as the air left him.
Ava didn’t move, but she felt as if the world around her was shifting.
‘For a long time we, of course, did little more than flirt and kiss — secret passion-fuelled kisses. Imagine the scandal if we had declared our love. Imagine what it would have done to your father.’ She looked at Henry.
‘My mother loved my father.’ Ava heard the words as if someone else had spoken them.
‘Yes, she did very much. But we shared something more, something deeper. I know that must be hard for you to hear, but it is true. On the night your father died, Lily and I were in the stables, together. We kissed like we had many times before.’ Lady Bramlington wiped a tear as it ran down her cheek.
‘Things went further. It felt very natural, like the culmination of all those secret moments. Our bodies playing out every yearning we had felt—’
‘We get the idea, Mother. What happened next?’ Henry’s words were impatient.
‘It was beautiful, slow, tender.’
Henry shifted uncomfortably in his seat, causing Lady Bramlington to move on.
‘As we lay in each other’s arms, the cool evening air gentle on our enlivened bodies, Connor found us.
He was hurt and shocked. Lily tried to run after him but by the time she had covered herself it was too late.
He was in his car and speeding down the drive before she could stop him. You, Ava, were in the car.’
Ava tried to take it all in; it was too much. Her view of her mother, of Lady Bramlington, of her parents’ life together, and of her father’s death all shifting; and then a fleeting memory flashed into her mind.
‘The blood. There was so much blood. I was crying, Daddy, Daddy, but he couldn’t hear me.’ The room spun. Henry’s voice slipped in and out of her consciousness, and Ava welcomed the dark emptiness as it engulfed her.