The Mirror (The Lost Bride Trilogy #2)

“More like his father than his mother?” Cleo asked.

“From what people who knew him say, yes. My father knew him, liked him. He’s described as charming, generous, and definitely free-spirited.”

McCartney’s “My Love” trailed down the stairs.

Deuce smiled a little. “I’ve no doubt they loved each other. And no doubt Patricia wasn’t pleased when he brought back a young wife, a pregnant wife, along with friends they’d picked up along the way, and not only opened the manor but moved in.”

“I don’t understand.” Genuinely baffled, Sonya lifted her hands. “He moved back, with Lilian Crest, his pregnant wife. But no one questioned Collin was Gretta Poole’s son?”

“According to my mother, the group Charles brought with him largely kept to themselves. Neither she nor my father were aware, until I dug up the marriage license and so on, that Charlie had married. They were only here a few months, when Lilian—sorry, Clover—died in childbirth. Charlie hanged himself. Patricia took over. She unquestionably bribed or bullied those in authority to cover it up, to lay the groundwork for what would become the dark family secret.”

“And her daughter let herself be used that way. Lived with that every day.”

“She would never have defied her mother,” Deuce told Sonya. “Not like Charlie.”

“Speculation, gossip, and opinion? Why?” Sonya wondered. “Why did she keep one baby? Why not keep both or put both up for adoption?”

“Lawrence Poole had no children, no heirs—and like his father, little interest in the business. And physically, his health wasn’t robust. Gretta—shy, nervous, awkward—would likely never marry and have children. Charlie was gone.”

“Bloodline.”

“Yes, Cleo, I believe exactly that. Collin was her chance—perhaps her only chance—to continue her direct bloodline. She didn’t need two, just one.”

“Did she try to stop Collin from opening the manor?” Sonya asked.

“As boys, we’d find our way inside.” Deuce looked around now. “I don’t think she ever knew, or understood, his pride and fascinationin this house. In its history—his history, too. But he understood her well enough to make it a fait accompli. As he was of age, and the manor his, there was nothing she could do.

“Do you mind?” he asked as he reached for the coffeepot.

“Help yourself.”

“He told me once, not long after he’d moved in. We were playing chess upstairs, just the two of us, and he was full of plans for the manor, the business, his life. God, we were young!”

With a wistful smile on his face, he doctored his coffee.

“He said his grandmother threatened to disinherit him if he didn’t relent. Now, she couldn’t have cut him off from the business, the Poole inheritance, but her own wealth. And when he refused, she said she’d wasted her time and resources on him. She said he was as big a fool as his father, as useless as his mother.”

“Poor Collin,” Sonya murmured.

“It didn’t cut him deep, I promise you. At that time, we didn’t know his true parentage, only the lie Patricia had carved into the family tree. I commented that how would she know his father was a fool when he’d died before Collin was born? Collin shrugged that off. Just her way, and told me she’d said he’d rue the day. Rue the day,” Deuce repeated, “and he laughed at that. So did I.

“She never set foot in this house. She didn’t attend his wedding; she didn’t come to Johanna’s funeral. Though they worked together until she died, they remained estranged on a personal level.”

“Yeah, my dad got the better end of the deal.”

Even knowing it, Sonya felt tugged in two directions. The cold cruelty of it on one side, her father’s happy life on the other.

“She could’ve told Collin why she’d closed the manor,” Sonya continued. “If she’d been genuinely concerned for him, she would have. He might not have believed her, might have dismissed it, but she didn’t even try to tell him.”

“He’d have told me if she’d spoken of it. And,” Deuce added with a slight shrug, “we very likely would have laughed again. Did we believe the manor haunted? Absolutely, as we’d believed since we were boys. But that was exciting. People already called it Lost Bride Manor,but that was local superstition as far as we were concerned—and intriguing.”

Looking back, thinking back, Deuce sipped his coffee.

“Even when I began to do the Poole genealogy, write their history, I didn’t see those deaths as anything but a tragedy of their times—the first a murder, yes, but the others accidents or medical issues.”

“Did Gretta know?” Sonya pressed. “She never married—and that may have been her choice. But I wonder if her motherdiscouragedher on that, particularly after Collin and my father were born.”

Deuce sat back. “That’s a very good point, Sonya. And it would fit Patricia snugly.”