Shadows in Time by Julie McElwain

Author:Julie McElwain
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Pegasus Books
Published: 2020-08-03T16:00:00+00:00

23

Alec and Mercer were on their third round of shooting pigeons when Kendra saw Mrs. Gavenston striding toward them, not Hester, as she’d expected. She wore a hunter green merino pelisse trimmed with chinchilla along the hem, cuffs, and shawl collar. Her quick stride made the pelisse flare open to reveal a somber, umber-colored walking dress beneath. Maybe Mrs. Gavenston would have worn the gown any other time, but Kendra thought the dark color resembled widow’s weeds. Only family members—and maybe servants—wore mourning colors to honor their dead.

“Good afternoon,” Mrs. Gavenston said, a little breathlessly, as she came to a stop next to her daughter. She looked at Kendra. “Brentworth sent a message that you were here. I was at the brewery. I… I suppose you went to the inquest?”

“Yes.”

Mrs. Gavenston’s jaw tightened and she looked away. “I couldn’t go. I simply couldn’t go.”

Sabrina looked up at her mother. “No one would expect you to, Mama. It’s hardly the thing.”

Mrs. Gavenston looked back to Kendra. “Have you any news, Miss Donovan?”

Kendra studied Mrs. Gavenston for a long moment. Her eyes were slightly swollen and red. She’d been crying. Her complexion was pale. Her grief appeared genuine. But that would fit with the scenario that she’d laid out. One instant of fury, a lifetime of regret.

“Could we walk?” Kendra asked.

She watched Mrs. Gavenston’s eyes slide to Mercer and Alec, to her daughter, and then back to Kendra. She nodded. “Of course.”

They began walking toward the manor house, but as they neared the stone verandah, Mrs. Gavenston veered away, in the direction of the formal gardens. Kendra admired the way the flagstone path curled around colorful rose, lilac, lavender, abelia, and hydrangea bushes, meticulously trimmed hedges. Insects droned in the scented air. It was peaceful except for the crack-boom of pigeon shooting that continued behind them.

“Your home and gardens are beautiful,” Kendra finally said when the silence stretched out and Mrs. Gavenston seemed in no hurry to break it.

“My grandfather designed the gardens.” Mrs. Gavenston smiled slightly, correctly reading Kendra’s surprise. “He was fascinated by horticulture, I was told. He died when I was a little girl. I have very few memories of him.”

Kendra couldn’t help but think of Carlotta and her vague memories of childhood.

Mrs. Gavenston continued, “I remember my grandmother, Daisy. She was a frightfully competent woman, I thought. I admired her and was terrified of her at the same time. I was eleven when she passed away, but she and my mother had already taken me in hand, teaching me the beer trade. My own father died shortly after my grandfather. So, for a time, my grandmother and mother were both widows. My great-grandmother—Violet—had envisioned the brewery being passed down the female line, but I have often wondered if my grandmother and mother would have been as ambitious as Violet had been if they hadn’t lost their husbands. I’m not certain about my mother. The brewery became her entire life after my father died.”

She blew out a breath. “Forgive me, Miss Donovan.

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