His Fatal Legacy

Heather Atkinson

Description

‘Heather Atkinson’s Victorian chiller is one that will keep readers engrossed all through the night and terrified of switching the lights off.’

Edinburgh 1896

Amy Alardyce's once-perfect life is in tatters. Her eldest son, Robert, has come of age, become the master of his own home, and married his childhood love Jane. But with maturity has come a terrible legacy, and the dark desires Robert inherited from his evil father Matthew, are fighting to get loose.

Whilst Jane is working hard to get her and Robert accepted into fashionable society, poor women are being hunted on the streets of Edinburgh, and Amy fears her son is to blame. And once the infamous Inspector Murphy takes up the case, Amy has to face a stark choice - denounce her son as a monster or risk her own safety to protect him from the consequences of his lethal actions.

If you love Emily Organ, Kate Saunders and Ann Granger, you’ll love the Alardyce series. Discover bestselling author Heather Atkinson and you'll never look back...

Please note this is an updated version of the previously published Ancestral Tides.

What readers are saying about Heather Atkinson:

‘As soon as I started reading this book I knew I would enjoy it. What an exciting read. Loved it didn’t want it to end.’

‘I am not normally a fan of historical but holy smoke what a book! The author totally fools the reader with this adrenaline pumping, pulse racing story! Keeping me on the edge of my seat. I read this in one sitting….I couldn’t put it down.’

‘I was amazed at how even from the first chapter I was hooked. It’s so well written I felt like I was a fly on the wall watching Amy’s life unfold. I hated having to put this book down and in the end just had to binge read to the end. Amazing story.’

‘OMG what a fantastic book I have read all HA books and I have loved everyone, don't know where she gets her ideas from she must have had another life if you are a person that as never read any of her books then you need to start.’

Sujets

• Policier & Thriller
• Policier
• Thriller
• Mashups
• Psychological
• Women Sleuths
• Private Investigators
• Amateur Sleuth
• Traditional
• Historical Fiction
• Thrillers
• Historical
• Adventure (Guyana)
• Suspenso
• Edimburgo
• Escocia
• Psychological thriller
• General officer
• Psychology
• Edinburgh
• City Life
• General
• Adventure
• Crime
• Family Life
• Scotland
• Suspense
• Gothic
• Noir
• Fiction
• Édimbourg

Informations

• Publié par: Boldwood Books
• Date de parution: 20 mars 2023
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781804158050
• Langue: English

Extrait

HIS FATAL LEGACY


HEATHER ATKINSON
CONTENTS



Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30


More from Heather Atkinson

About the Author

About Boldwood Books
1
ALARDYCE HOUSE, JUST OUTSIDE EDINBURGH, SCOTLAND, MARCH 1897

Sir Henry Alardyce regarded his wife Amy with a worried frown. She was slumped at the dining table, staring miserably at her breakfast. Ever since her eldest son Robert had got married and moved out, she’d been quieter, more sedate. Her large blue eyes had lost their sparkle and there was a little grey appearing in her glorious chestnut hair. Even her skin was paler. They’d thought it would be a relief that a monster was no longer living under their roof; however, the worry of what he was getting up to now he was no longer restrained by his parents was a constant torture for Amy. She especially feared for Jane, Robert’s sweet, innocent wife. Amy blamed herself for not doing more to stop them from eloping to Gretna Green and marrying over the anvil after both families had vetoed the wedding, but Henry thought she was taking too much on her shoulders. When Robert wanted to do something, no one on God’s earth could stop him.
Henry covered his wife’s hand with his own. The fingers on both her hands were twisted and bent after his mad brother Edward had tortured her, thick reddened skin where the nails used to be. Whenever they were out in public, she wore gloves to hide them as the deformity repelled a lot of people, but not Henry. He loved every sweet inch of her.
‘Shall we go out somewhere today?’ he asked her.
She raised her head and smiled, eyes wide and sad. ‘I don’t feel up to it.’
‘Come on, Amy, this isn’t like you. Where’s all that fire of yours?’
‘I think it’s gone out.’
‘Oh, no, it hasn’t, it just needs stoking again.’
Her lips twitched. ‘Really? What did you have in mind?’
‘Well, I was thinking of catching a play or dining out, but if you have a better idea, I’m more than willing to go along with it,’ he smiled, leaning into her, brushing her lips with his own.
Husbands and wives didn’t usually kiss at the dining table, but Amy and Henry had long ago discarded convention, preferring to show their deep affection for one another rather than hide it beneath an austere front like their contemporaries. Besides, they’d been ousted by society years ago for their scandalous and very bloody family history, which had the unexpected side effect of allowing them to live life on their own terms. Their servants were used to their ways and didn’t blink at this public show of affection.
‘There’s a new programme of music and varieties at the Empire Palace Theatre,’ he added.
‘Sweet Lord, save us from varieties,’ she replied, wrinkling her nose.
‘Or we could dine out?’
‘I’m not sure I could restrain myself if people started pointing at us and whispering behind their hands. I might be tempted to throw bread rolls at them.’
‘I knew it,’ he smiled. ‘Your fire still burns brightly.’
‘Sorry, I have been a bit of a misery lately. You’re right, I need to shake myself out of it, but not with dinners and theatres.’
‘How about we take a holiday, get away from it all for a while? We could go to the Lake District, like we discussed?’
As much as Amy loved living at Alardyce House, the thought of a change of scenery made her beam. ‘You know, I think that could be just the thing. I’m sure the children would love it.’
‘Shall I make the arrangements?’
‘I’ll do it. I need something to occupy my time.’
‘And I’ll send word to have Riverwood aired.’ Riverwood was the small mansion house their family owned half a mile from Ullswater.
She kissed him. ‘Thank you, Henry. This is just what I need.’
He smiled as he watched her rise from her chair with much more energy than she’d had just a moment ago and bustle to the door, calling for her maid, Hazel.
Only when she’d gone did he turn his attention back to the newspaper and to the disturbing article he’d been reading. It was about a woman who’d been attacked in the New Town, a maid heading home after finishing work that evening. She’d been dragged down an alleyway, sexually assaulted and badly beaten. It was the second attack in two months. The poor woman had been found crumpled on the cobbles, bleeding and sobbing. Physically she would be fine, but her mental recovery would be much harder.
When Henry had read about the first attack last month, he’d tried to ignore that nagging voice in his head that said Robert was responsible. He lived not far from where the attack had taken place, but Henry had managed to convince himself that anyone could have done it. The city had a dark side and could be a violent place, especially for women walking alone at night.
Now this second attack had happened close to where the first had been perpetrated and he could no longer ignore that nagging voice. What if his stepson was responsible? Confronting him would be useless, he would simply deny it. On top of that, Robert knew Henry’s secret, the one he’d kept from Amy their entire marriage and which could shatter their relationship if she ever found out. When his younger brother Edward had been executed for almost killing her and for the murder of four other women, Henry had used his influence to have his body turned over to him and had him placed in the family vault. He and Amy hadn’t been together then, so it hadn’t felt like he’d betrayed her, but he should have told her when they’d got engaged. However, he hadn’t, and now it was too late. Robert was enjoying his hold over him far too much to tell his mother but one day he would, it was inevitable. Henry had to tell her before that day came in order to save his marriage, but Amy had been so down lately he hadn’t had the heart. They would take their trip to the Lake District, it would raise her spirits and hopefully when they came home, he would be able to break it to her gently and beg for her forgiveness.
He’d just finished reading the disturbing article for a second time, attempting to glean from it some clue proving Robert was responsible, when Amy returned to the room, the sparkle back in her lovely blue eyes.
‘I’ve told the children and they’re very excited,’ she smiled.
They had three other children – six-year-old Lydia, five-year-old John and four-year-old Stephen. Robert wasn’t Henry’s biological son. He was the product of an affair Amy had with a footman when she’d first come to live at Alardyce eighteen years ago after the death of both her parents. Robert’s real father, Matthew Crowle, had been a rapist and murderer, unbeknownst to Amy at the time, and his son was turning out to be as big a monster as he’d been. Matthew was dead, killed saving Amy from Henry’s mad brother Edward, who had stabbed him in the stomach. However, he’d survived this initial wound. Amy had torn the blade from Matthew’s belly so she and Robert could be free of his poisonous influence, a fact Robert had only recently discovered and which had sent him over the edge.
‘They could use the break as much as we could,’ Henry told his wife. ‘Things have been so tense lately.’
‘Lydia asked if Robert and Jane were coming but I said no,’ she replied. ‘They’re newlyweds and need to spend time together. I didn’t like to say they’re the reason we need to get away.’
Henry considered showing her the article in the newspaper before rejecting the idea. After Edward had attacked her, the entire sickening story had become public knowledge and the newspapers had seized on it. Amy had vowed never to read a newspaper again after the horrible lies they’d printed about her, so there was no risk of her reading about the attacks. As they’d both been rejected by society, there was no one to tell her about them either. Let her live in blissful ignorance just a little longer. He had the feeling Robert’s sickening urges would soon raise merry hell.



* * *
Robert sat at his dining table like a king. How he loved finally being his own master and he was only seventeen years old. Most of his friends still relied on their parents’ purse strings to survive, but Robert had his own money. His mother had given him £20,000 from her personal fortune that had not been absorbed into the Alardyce estate, something Henry had insisted on when they’d wed because his own mother had plotted against Amy when she was a girl and thrown her into Matthew’s arms to trap her and take her money from her. Henry had refused to allow his harridan of a mother to be victorious from beyond the grave, which was the only reason why Robert still had any respect left for him. Since his elopement with Jane, the close relationship he’d enjoyed with his stepfather had been destroyed.
Now Robert was master of his own grand home in the very desirable Drummond Place in the elegant Edinburgh New Town, with a beautiful wife and hopefully a child on the way soon. He glanced at his wife from behind his newspaper. She sat at the opposite end of the dining table, nibbling a piece of toast.
‘You should eat more,’ he told her. ‘Especially if you’re going to be with child.’
‘I’ve never had much of an appetite in the morning,’ she replied, forcing her sweet smile.
‘You don’t have much of an appetite at any other meal. I never noticed before how little you eat. No wonder you’re so thin. I want you to start eating more, Jane.’
‘But I eat what I need.’
‘Then eat more. Last night in bed, your elbow kept digging into my ribs. You seem to get pointier every day.’
Her cheeks flushed and her lips pursed. ‘That’s my natural shape, Robert, it’s how I’ve always been.’
‘Corsets conceal so much,’ he si