Chapters (34)
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Family Tree
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-one
- Chapter Twenty-two
- Chapter Twenty-three
- Chapter Twenty-four
- Chapter Twenty-five
- Chapter Twenty-six
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Other Books by This Author
- Copyright
“It’s probably a treasure trove,” Marie informed him, “if we can ever sort it out.”
“It will keep you occupied for years,” he replied with a grin. “And future generations will bless your name.”
These researches were not only significant because anything relating to one’s ancestors was important to an aristocrat. One day Marie even discovered that the family owned some quite valuable fields a few miles away that, during the confusion at the time of the Revolution, they had forgotten that they possessed. Roland was both proud of the fact that his noble family could forget such a detail, but equally delighted when Marie managed to recover the fields for him.
And then there had been the evening when she had come into the old hall carrying a small box of letters and asked him: “Did you know that your family went to Canada?”
“No.” He frowned. “In fact, I’m sure they did not.”
“Well, there are a whole collection of letters here, written with great affection, from the brother of a former owner of this house. They date from the early seventeenth century. He’d gone out to Canada and settled there. It’s clear that the two brothers were in quite regular correspondence. I wonder if there were descendants.”
Roland was silent. For some reason she didn’t understand, he looked awkward.
“I seem to remember hearing from a Canadian once,” he said. “But I don’t know that he had anything to do with this seventeenth-century fellow.” He shrugged. “I may have written him a rather unfriendly letter.”
“You could always write again.”
“It’s all a long time ago,” he muttered. And since the business seemed to embarrass him, she didn’t bring it up again.
Meanwhile, she continued to archive the material, and see if she could find any more hidden treasure for her husband.
She was enjoying being chatelaine of the estate, and she believed that she might be getting quite good at it.
In fact, she only had one regret. She wished, now, that she had married Roland a few years earlier. Not because of Roland himself, but because of his son. She would have liked to be more of a mother to Charlie.