Hall of Mirrors by Kathy Lee

Author:Kathy Lee
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scripture Union England and Wales
Published: 2011-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12:

Letters

Two days went by. I was longing to know if they had managed to open the box, but I couldn’t ring Luke or Dylan until Monday, when Mum and Dad had both gone to work. Finally I got through to Dylan’s house.

“Well? What did you find?”

“Nothing valuable. Not even a map with X marks the spot,” he said, sounding disappointed. “Only a key – we don’t know what for – and a couple of letters. Do you want to see them?”

“Of course I want to see them!”

We arranged to meet at the fountain that afternoon. It would be safer than the Folly, where Dad might happen to look up from his work and see us going in.

The boys were late. I waited impatiently, unable to sit down. By the time they arrived, my pacing feet had worn a path through the undergrowth.

At last they reached me, and Dylan opened his backpack. The letters, old and yellowing, were inside a plastic folder. “The tin was so rusty, it fell apart when Vince tried to open it,” he explained.

There was a key too – a small, old-fashioned looking key in dark grey metal. I turned it around in my hand, wondering if it fitted a lock somewhere in the Hall. There were dozens of keyholes in doors, wardrobes, cabinets and cupboards. The only way to find out would be to try.

Then I opened out the first letter. It was handwritten in that old-fashioned writing. There was no address at the top, only a date, 27th February 1919.

Dear Lord Mallenford,

Please excuse me for writing to you. It is something I never wanted to do, but needs must. In December of 1914, I got married to your son Frank at Hopetoun. We ran away together because we knew you would not approve, me being only a servant girl. But we loved each other dearly and it was a great sorrow to me when Frank never returned from the wars.

The only light in my darkness is my son, who is now 4 years old and the image of his poor father. I have tried to bring him up as dear Frank would have wished, but we are very poor and it is difficult. If only you could send me a small amount of money now and then, I would promise never to trouble you. The money would all be used for little Frankie. You could send it to me at the Post Office at George Street in Edinburgh.

With humble gratitude,

Iona Mallenford (Mrs)

“That’s weird,” I said. “Who’s this Iona person? Did the Earl’s son get married twice?”

“Not unless he did it in the same month at the same place to two different women,” said Dylan. “Think about it, Rebecca.”

Luke said, “Think about those names. Iona... Lorna.... Imagine them written in that curly writing.”

“Yes. If you didn’t already know Lorna’s name, you could easily misread it,” I said.

Dylan said, “What we think is, this other woman found out about the marriage somehow, maybe from the marriage records at Hopetoun.

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