The Broken Tree: The Laurelhurst Chronicles, #3

By Kellie Butler

"Ms. Butler is a master of characterization"—USA Today Bestselling author Ellie Midwood.

An anxious homecoming. A three-hundred-year-old curse. A betrayal that threatens to break the Cavert and Bainbridge families apart. Welcome home to Laurelhurst

.Lancashire, Summer 1959. Fifteen years ago, Lydie Cavert Bainbridge left the dark memories of her youth at Laurelhurst Manor behind her. Now thirty-two, an expectant Lydie returns with her family of five with two goals: to protect her children from her horrific experience at Laurelhurst and to spend a peaceful summer before the arrival of her fourth child.

When Lydie comes across an ancient oak tree split in the middle on the edge of the estate, it reveals an old secret from three hundred years ago involving an enemy along with the specters she had hoped to leave behind.

As the tree casts a shadow upon the house and loyalties are tested, Lydie must choose between the love she holds for her family and the love for her brother. Can the Cavert family stay together, or will splinter like the tree in the garden?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kellie Butler
• Release date: Aug 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9798201124465

Kellie Butler

Kellie Butler is the international bestselling author of Beneath a Moonless Sky, Before the Flood, The Broken Tree, Out of Night, and The Ties that Bind, all part of the five-star rated The Laurelhurst Chronicles series. Kellie has lived and traveled around the world but now calls the high desert of Arizona home. She loves coffee, walks with her dog, yoga, knitting, reading, classic rock, lofi hiphop, and classic film.  

Book preview

Chapter 1

On a balmy June afternoon in 1959, the waters of Morecambe Bay shimmered in the sun. Yet underneath the surface danger lurked for any unfortunate person who might have misjudged the swift currents and shifting sands, as five of Lancashire’s rivers emptied into the bay. Lydie had relayed her husband, Henry, the stories she had heard in school of fishermen who had perilously misjudged the sands and had lost their lives in search of a bountiful catch of cockles. She had warned him on their way towards the beach not to venture too far from the shore as some areas of the bay contained quicksand. Henry took the story to heart.

Lydie lounged on a blanket while Henry played with their three children: Robert (Bobby), Eleanor (Nora), and Soon-Li (Suzy). While the children were far away from danger, Lydie still placed an instinctive hand upon her pink gingham shirtdress. She was four months pregnant, and she barely showed.

Henry tossed a frisbee while he kept a watchful eye on all three tots. Lydie’s lips curled into a smile as she watched his tall, trim body, lean muscles rippling underneath his short-sleeved white cotton shirt and khaki shorts. His short, golden-brown hair, still styled in the same sleek cut he had sported since his Ivy League days, appeared like caramel in the sun. Lydie knew she was blessed to have such a wonderful husband. She heard many stories in the beauty parlors and the occasional bridge game she attended with young mothers. Stories of husbands who told their wives they were working late in the city while they were actually out carousing around. She knew two women in her neighborhood who sat alone many a night without a word from their husbands.

The years hadn’t always been easy. Only three months after they had married, almost nine summers ago, the army had drafted Henry into service in Korea under the Doctor’s Draft of 1950. Within months, Henry had left for several weeks of basic training and by the time they had rung in 1951, he had been on a flight west, missing their first anniversary together.

Henry’s homecoming came at the end of summer in 1953. Lydie had met him at Idlewild Airport in their Buick Roadmaster and drove him to a cabin just north of Ithaca near Tannenhough State Park. After a surprise welcome home party, they had spent a week making up for lost time. Bobby and Nora were conceived on a hot August night by the shores of Cayuga Lake. The sound of the lapping waves had lulled them to sleep after their ardent love-making. The twins arrived in 1954, and Suzy, who was the same age as the twins, became a part of their family in 1955 through adoption.

Lydie watched their beautiful twins as they joined another group of children in play as Suzy and Henry retreated to the blanket. Now in the late afternoon sun, she smiled on her happy family and reached over to hold Henry’s hand. Soon, it would be time for them to leave this moment of serenity and make their journey to Laurelhurst.

To be honest, Lydie had never imagined returning to Lancashire that summer. She had thought they would spend another holiday with Bob and Hyacinth at their lake house on the shores of Cayuga Lake. Henry and Bob would take Bobby fishing, while Hyacinth would complain to Lydie about the heat as she taught the girls finger knitting. Lydie had been their age when her nanny, Prue, had first taught her to cast on.

Instead, Lydie had dropped everything when she received an urgent cable that Hodgkins, dear old Hodgkins, was near death’s door and wasn’t expected to survive the summer. Within days, she had arranged for Baba and Grammy to housesit their two dogs: Max, a golden retriever, and Lucy, an English springer spaniel.

As she gazed out towards the sea, she partially wished they could turn around and fly back home. Only her wish to see Hodgkins, that dear sweet man who had chauffeured her back during the dark days of the war, held her to her resolve to return to Laurelhurst. Maybe, just maybe, it was as Neddy had said; maybe things would be different this time.

Are you okay, sweetheart? Henry asked.

Yes, darling. Just thinking, Lydie said.

What about?

Oh, the kids. Life. How lucky I am to be here with you. She smiled briefly, trying to reassure him as she tried to quell the rising time of apprehension within her.

You’re nervous about returning to Laurelhurst, aren’t you?

Yes. Fifteen years, Henry. Fifteen! I’ve been gone a long time.

Well, you’re here now. I’m sure Hodgkins and the others will be ecstatic to see you.

They have probably wondered why I’ve been away so long. Her mouth set into a hard line.

Well, you have small children, for one, and you live in America. It’s not like you’re just over in the next county.

I know, but I feel guilty. I told myself a long time ago I wouldn’t be that kind of owner.

It’ll be all right, Lydie. He took her hand into his as his thumb brushed her soft skin tenderly. No one will blame you. I thought all that old stuff about Laurelhurst was dead and gone?

It is. Well, I think it is. I suppose I won’t know until we get there. Lydie withdrew her hand and placed it back on her lap and smoothed her dress. I’m happy to show the children where I grew up, and I want them to have a better experience than I did. She hesitated to say more.

Henry placed his arm around her. What, sweetheart? Something’s bothering you.

Lydie furrowed her brows and searched for the words that seemed escaped her. Oh, I don’t know. I’m anxious I suppose. I know there shouldn’t be a reason. Goodall is dead. He can’t hurt me anymore, but somehow, I feel him here.

He squeezed her shoulder as he drew her closer. Lydie, he’s dead. Your uncle and Goodall are dead.

Do the dead haunt the living, Henry? Lydie searched his eyes.

That’s a somber subject for such a fine afternoon.

Yes, it is.

* * *

The news of Goodall’s death had shocked her back in April of 1957. Lydie had just put the children down for their nap in their large colonial house in Rye, the house they had moved to from their old apartment on West End Avenue in the city to make room for a growing family. It had everything they could possibly desire—a library/study for Henry, a sunroom and studio for Lydie, a spacious kitchen, plenty of bedrooms, and a large backyard that would be great for dogs and their children. She had sat down to watch television when Agatha had hurried her to the telephone. Neddy was ringing from London.

What is it, Neddy? Is everything all right there? Is something the matter?

No, not exactly. Well, yes. It’s Goodall, Lydie. Goodall is dead.

Lydie had nearly dropped the phone. Dead? How? When?

Just yesterday. He was found dead in his cell with a noose around his neck. At least that is what I heard from the warden. They rang me because I’m the only family member they could reach on our side. I thought I should tell you about it.

Did he commit suicide?

That is the how it appeared.

How did he get the rope?

I don’t know, but that’s the official word. Anyway, I wanted to let you know because there’s a trial going on over here that’s all over the news. Another doctor is on trial for murdering his patients.

Good lord. Lydie shook her head.

Yes, he had a similar pattern as Goodall’s, and I wanted you to be prepared, in case you heard about it. Chap by the name of Adams.

Lydie’s mind raced as she took it all in. Goodall was dead. Goodall was dead. From the corner of her mind she heard Neddy talking.

Lidibug, are you listening to me?

What She picked up Henry’s velvety chocolate slippers underneath her feet. Um, yes. I’m listening.

I thought it might put your mind at ease about, well, you know…

As her brother’s voice trailed off, Lydie forced a smile in her voice. About coming home. Maybe when the children are older, Neddy. Taking care of three toddlers under the age of three is like trying to herd a colony of cats blindfolded.

Edward chortled. I wouldn’t know. Listen, I must ring off, but I wanted to call and tell you before anyone else might. Maybe it’ll put your mind more at ease. Tell Henry and the children hello for me.

I will.

As Lydie hung up the phone, she burst into tears and wrapped her arms around her. Agatha rushed into the room. A dam had broken inside Lydie. Poor Agatha, she hadn’t known what to think. Lydie couldn’t speak as she rocked back and forth, so the poor woman had called Henry. Within an hour, Henry had rushed through the door and wrapped his arms around her.

* * *

Lydie? Where were you, sweetheart?

Oh, I was just thinking of Neddy. Lydie glanced around her and then managed a smile. It’s too bad he can’t be here. She squeezed Henry and then pulled out of his arms. "We’d better get going, darling. It’s quite a drive back to Laurelhurst.’

Yes, and I’m not that familiar with the roads.

I’ll navigate. Will you round up the children, or would you rather pack up the picnic?

I’ll go get Bobby and Nora, he kissed her gently before he rose, calling out, Come on, kids, it’s time to go.

But Daddy, can’t we stay longer? they begged in unison. Please?

No, we have to go. We’ve got to get to Laurelhurst before dark, he said as he gathered him close, and Suzy helped her mother pack up the picnic things.

As the five of them walked hand in hand back towards the hired car they’d picked up in Manchester, Lydie tried to remember her first journey to Laurelhurst and the first time she had ever lain eyes on it. She had been five at the time. Papa had made it sound as if it was the most enchanting place in the world.

Henry placed a protective hand on the small of her back as they reached the car. His eyes flickered from the shouts of the children to Lydie. He opened the driver’s door. Lyd, what is it? He caressed her cheek.

It’s just some old memories. I’ll be fine.

All right, if you insist. He placed a gentle kiss her on the lips to the dramatic moans of the kids behind them. None of that, you three. It’s perfectly acceptable to see your father kiss your mother. Now, in you go. Come on! Last one in is the last one to get dessert tonight.

All three leapt into the backseat on top of each other. Henry grinned and shook his head. Lydie laughed as Henry cranked the car, and it sputtered into life. Catching one last glance at the sea, she smelled the salty air and felt the warm sun caress her face. Part of her wished they had rented a cottage nearby and had waited till tomorrow to make the drive east, but she knew that would only be putting off the inevitable.

As they traveled, the sun warmed the back of her chin length red-gold waves. She had cut her hair to a more manageable length once after having children. She marveled now how she had had the time to style her shoulder length waves when she had first married, but then again, life had been more carefree then.

As the car meandered east towards Lancaster, Lydie’s thoughts drifted with the miles back to those days she was last at Laurelhurst, after Alistair’s funeral. She had been seventeen, relying so much on Neddy. She had taken one final look, as the last of her things had been packed away and the house turned over to caretakers, once the legalities had been sorted out with the estate. She had loved the servants, but at the time, she thought she never wanted to see its gates again.

Time had a way of soothing things. Namely, it had brought Henry into her life. She could look upon the old estate with something other than a sense of horror. She wondered now how her children and Henry would view it. He knew the tragedy that had unfolded, to a degree. They had lived with its shadows over the years, yet she contemplated how returning to some of the rooms that filled her with so much pain would affect her.

She turned on the radio as a distraction from her thoughts. The Del-Vikings were singing ‘Come Go with Me.’ Bobby snapped his fingers when it reached the middle part of the song with the saxophone. He had a lot of his father in him. She occasionally caught them in the same expression, and it had made her laugh. They had the propensity to run a hand through their hair when exasperated — with the same arm, too. It took her breath away how alike they were.

When they reached Lancaster, they slowed down. She couldn’t stifle her giggle as they crossed the river.

What is it, sweetheart?

Oh, just remembering something.

What?

The river we just crossed, well, that’s the River Lune. When Hodgkins was driving me back home from school one day, I was in deep trouble with my uncle for misbehaving in class…

Mommy, you were trouble? Bobby interrupted.

Yes, I was. I couldn’t sleep well, so I didn’t do my work properly, and I got in trouble. Well, one day we were driving home, we had crossed the River Ribble and were heading up towards Laurelhurst. We had crossed a brook or something, and I had called it the River Lune.

Why had you called it that? Henry asked.

Probably because I was too busy thinking what I was going to tell my uncle about having to stay after class to do chores. Let that be a lesson to you, children.

I’m never going to get in trouble. Ever, Nora shook her head.

You did last week, Bobby pouted.

Did not!

Did too! You took my ball away from me!

Quiet, you two! Don’t make me stop this car! Henry glared at them from the rearview mirror. The back seat became so silent, Lydie heard Suzy’s faint snoring. She could sleep through anything.

After they crossed the river, Lydie called out to the children the historical places along the route. They weren’t that amused until she pointed out a large, dark castle looming on their left.

Are there knights and such in that castle? Bobby asked.

Or princesses? Nora asked.

No, darlings. That’s Lancaster Castle. It’s been around for a long time, but it’s famous because of the witch trials of the seventeenth century.

Witch trials? There are witches here? Nora exclaimed with eyes as big as saucers.

No, not anymore. Not like you think anyway. They weren’t ‘double, double, toil and trouble’ witches.

Were they ugly? Nora asked.

Why do you think they were ugly?

Cause all the witches I’ve seen are ugly.

You’ve never seen a witch! Bobby smirked.

I have too! Mrs. Waters that lives three doors down from us certainly is one. She always gives us dirty looks when we pass by her house, and she only gives the yucky candy or apples at Halloween. No one likes going to her house.

Nora, that’s an unkind thing to say about Mrs. Waters, Lydie said. For the record, these aren’t the witches you’ve seen in cartoons. They died for things they didn’t do. Bad things happened at that castle, children.

It looks like it! Mommy, is our house that old?

No, that castle dates back till the eleventh century at least, but our house dates to the seventeenth century. It is practically a baby compared to a lot of places in this country.

* * *

The children suddenly lost interest and by the time they had passed through Lancaster, all three were snoring in the backseat. The rest of the drive was uneventful. When they turned off the main highway and headed east again at Catterall, Henry noticed the frown lines on Lydie’s forehead deepen. What’s wrong, sweetheart?

I’m thinking of Hodgkins and how he used to drive me everywhere. He was so good to me. I should have come home sooner, Henry. I shouldn’t have left it for him to be so poorly. He and another servant, Francis, did so much for me. They looked after me when I didn’t have a friend at that house, and now, here I am, coming home when he’s on death’s door. I feel as if I’ve let him down. I know we’ve been over this before, but I can’t shake the guilt of not being here for him. Maybe we should have come over after you came home from Korea.

I wouldn’t have been able to get away, sweetheart. Besides, you were pregnant shortly thereafter. It was just bad timing. How much further do we have?

Just a few miles. See those trees up there on the left? That’s the beginning of the estate. The drive is a bit further down.

It’s that grand?

Land wise, yes. The house isn’t that large. We don’t live in a castle, which will be much to the dismay of our children when they’ll see it.

Was it big enough for you?

Oh yes. I had been used to living in town, so it was enormous, Lydie said as they passed a large black sign with white lettering for Laurelhurst on the left-hand side of the road. Not far now.

Has that sign always been there?

No. It was placed there after it became a respite house.

How many patients are there now?

I think a couple of floors are occupied, so maybe sixteen at the most? Neddy wrote to me that they are on the opposite side of the house from us. We’ll be in the side that’s reserved for family members of patients that need to spend the night. He has worked with the staff to turn Laurelhurst into a haven of rest and recuperation for those in need. We’re approaching the drive now.

Henry sat straight up as the car slowed down to make the turn to the left, angling his head slightly towards the backseat. Wake up, kids.

Nora rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. She nudged her brother who scowled. Where are we?

We’re at Laurelhurst, our home for the summer, Lydie said.

Suzy yawned, stretching. The children peered out of the windows as the massive onyx colored iron gates swung open. A man tipped his hat as they traversed the serpentine drive. When Lydie had been here, it had been made of cobblestone, but now it was paved and smooth. Edward’s doing, no doubt. The unruly shrubs that she remembered from her girlhood were now manicured shrubs of phlox and rhododendron in pale shades of pink and white.

It’s beautiful, Mommy! the girls exclaimed. And it was. Everything about Laurelhurst appeared designed to soothe and delight the senses.

Your Uncle Neddy has done a fantastic job, Lydie said as Buddy Holly crooned from the radio. Flowers were everywhere as they crawled past the slow turns. Lydie remembered Hodgkins could swing past these turns like he was driving at Le Mans.

You need to give Edward a raise, Henry said as he nodded in pleasure.

Yes, I think so. Not that he’ll take it. It never looked like this when I was here. He’s made it into a show-stopper.

When is he coming up? Henry asked.

I don’t know. Sometime this summer. He’s talking about a trip to Asia next.

Edward the globetrotter.

He seems to like it, Lydie said as they pulled in front of the Georgian rose-stone house. Two staff members, one in the black livery of the house and another middle-aged man in a white uniform waited outside to greet them. Well, here we are. We’re home.

The two men stepped forward and opened their car doors, the one in black speaking first Good afternoon, Mrs. Bainbridge. Welcome home. I’m Caxton, the butler. Dr. Cavert told me you were arriving today. This is Dr. Lane, the head physician and administrator.

Henry alighted from the car and extended his hand to the mild-mannered man in his white coat. I’m Dr. Bainbridge, Lydia’s husband and friend of Dr. Cavert. Pleasure to meet you.

Dr. Cavert has told me much about you, Dr. Bainbridge. I’ve read your research as well. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay. And who are these three little ones?

These are our children: Bobby, Nora, and Suzy, Lydie said. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Lane. I understand you took over from Dr. Greenwood?

Yes, he took a position that moved him much further south. I’ve been here for three years now.

Lydie turned to the butler. Good afternoon, Caxton. I hope we aren’t an imposition for you this summer.

No, madam. You and Master Edward are always welcome here.

Thank you kindly.

I’ve arranged your rooms for the master suite and the adjoining two bedrooms, madam. Tea will be served in the library when you are ready.

The children ran ahead of them and inside of the opened mahogany doors. Children, wait! Lydie shook her head and turned Caxton. I hope you are prepared for three balls of energy.

‘It will be a pleasure, madam. A footman is just inside, so they won’t go too far."

Henry stepped over and offered Lydia his arm as they strolled into the main hall. An old familiar face waited for them.

Lewis. It can’t be! Lydie gasped.

Welcome back to Laurelhurst, madam.

You don’t look nearly the same. Have you been here all this time?

We all age, madam. I am here temporarily as the regular footman is ill. We used to work together at another residence, so he recommended me to Mr. Caxton. I will take your things upstairs while you have tea.

Thank you, Lewis. Come along, children. It’s teatime, Lydie said as she led her family down the hall’s polished hardwood floors she knew from memory. Caxton, might I have a word with you?

Yes, madam.

What house did Lewis come from?

An elderly lady’s house in Cheshire, madam. I’ve known their butler since the war. He recommended Mr. Lewis. Is something not satisfactory?

He was here a long time ago, during the war. I hadn’t expected him to still be in service.

If he isn’t to your satisfaction, we will find another footman while Dunlap recovers. He’s got a bad bout of some sort of summer flu.

Is he here?

No, madam. He’s in the hospital in Preston.

Is Lewis satisfactory for you, Caxton?

Yes, madam. I’ve had no troubles. I wasn’t aware he had been here before. He said nothing about it.

We’ll leave it till the morning. People have changed since the war.

That they have, madam. Lots has changed. Now, why don’t you rest after a long journey? I will see to your tea immediately, Caxton said as he opened the door to the library, and the children ran in ahead of him.

Will we see the rest of the house, Mommy? Nora asked.

Yes, darlings, just a bit later. For now, we’re going to rest after a long day. You’ll see it later, I promise.

* * *

Henry had been silent the whole way towards the library. He had been absorbing every-thing. It was a magnificent house—the portraits, the burnished floors and chair railings, the walls of wood and pale blue plaster. It was all he had envisaged for an old country house. Yet, Lydie seemed troubled about this Lewis fellow. He’d have to ask her about it when they had some time alone. Perhaps when the kids were resting.

He took Lydie’s arm as they walked in together into the library. His jaw gaped open as the children rushed towards the plush blue velvet sofas and the leather wing-backed chairs studded with brass. One wall was filled of books from top to bottom, save for the unlit fireplace, and the other two walls were also crammed with tomes of various size and color. The opposite wall was full of windows looking out towards the formal garden and lawns teeming with life.

Lydie, it’s magnificent. Just magnificent. Did it look like this when you were here? Henry said as he helped ease her onto one of the sofas.

No, the couches were red from what I remember. The chairs are the same, and so is the view. I always loved the view of the garden from this room. And the fireplace is where it should be.

When were you in here?

When my uncle requested it or if I had a phone call. The long-distance telephone was in this room. Lydie studied her surroundings. Edward must have had the couches re-upholstered. Red seemed to be the dominant color, from my memory. Blue is much more calming. Henry nodded in agreement.

Lydie turned towards the children. Now children, you’re in for a treat – a proper tea.

Just as she spoke, a maid dressed in a dark blue cotton dress trimmed with white entered and set down a snow white cloth covered tea table in front of them. A large silver tray held a matching tea pot, five bone china cups, and a tiered plate stand filled with sandwiches, scones, and sweets. She curtsied and left.

It all looks so yummy, Mommy, Bobby said as he reached for a sandwich from the towering tray.

Lydie gently swatted his hand away. Manners, young man. You wait for your host or hostess to offer it to you. In this case, that’s your Mommy and Daddy, Lydie said as she picked up the teapot and began pouring tea into one of the cups. Turning to Henry, she passed him one. You first, darling.

Thank you, sweetheart.

Children, when I was your age, it was a treat to have tea in the library. The adults took their tea here and we children took ours upstairs in the nursery. Now, I’ll pass yours to you. Don’t eat too much, or it’ll ruin your supper.

Yes, Mommy, all three said in unison.

Henry eyed his children with shock. They never answered in unison. He leaned over to Lydie and whispered, How did that happen?

Darling, they’re just tired and all this is new for them. They’ll be back to themselves tomorrow, she answered in a low voice as they watched the children eat their scones topped with jam and clotted cream. Lydie sank her teeth into a tender bite that oozed with the sweetest summer jam and heavenly triple cream that she couldn’t get back home. It was good to be back in England again.

As the maid cleared the table, she and Henry gathered the children up from the sofas and escorted them upstairs to their bedrooms. As they passed down the corridor and back into the main hallway, Bobby’s eyes grew the size of saucers as he saw the grand staircase.

Mommy, is this ours?

This is ours, darlings, but there are other people that live here all the time. They’re here to rest and get better, so be very quiet as we go upstairs, okay?

Okay, Mommy.

Suzy tugged on her father’s hand. Daddy, can you take me upstairs?

Henry held a soft spot for Suzy. He loved all his children, but she just might be his favorite. Of course, sweetheart. He whispered a few words in Korean in her ear as he picked her up and carried her up the staircase. Out of their three children, Suzy tended to want her father the most.

Lydie took Bobby and Nora’s hands as they climbed up the carpeted staircase towards the left side of the house. I hardly stayed in this wing while I lived here. It was usually reserved for my uncle and his guests, she remarked to Henry upon reaching the top of the landing. They crept down the hardwood floors past pale colored walls to the first of three doors on the left. At the first door, she let Bobby inside, who ran and jumped on the four-poster bed with glee.

My own room! I get my own room! He exclaimed as he jumped down and ran