“You must understand,” Mr. Collingwood continued, his voice tinged with a mix of regret and nostalgia, “that despite all my adventures and the distractions of the world, my thoughts often turned to my mother. Even in the wilds of Canada, she was never far from my mind. Before I left California for the Canadian wilderness, which was five years after the war ended, I had considered reaching out to her. I wanted to clarify the mistake about my death and beg for her forgiveness once more. But something held me back.”

Julie and Amanda leaned in, their curiosity piqued.

“First,” Mr. Collingwood said, his gaze distant, “I had heard about the South’s deep-seated bitterness after the Reconstruction era. Old grudges were nurtured, and families often remained divided. I feared that seeking reconciliation at such a volatile time might be pointless. Why would she accept my apology when she was still grappling with her own grievances?”

He paused, his face reflecting the weight of his pride. “Additionally, my pride was a barrier. At that time, I was essentially broke. I worried that reaching out might seem like a desperate attempt to reclaim the inheritance that had been denied to me. I couldn’t bear the thought of her believing I sought forgiveness only to regain what I had lost. So, I chose silence.”

Mr. Collingwood shifted in his seat, his expression softening as he recalled the solitude of the Canadian wilderness. “But being so far removed from society gave me a different perspective. I began to wonder if, instead of harboring resentment, my mother might be suffering from guilt and sorrow over our unresolved issues. The thought that she might be mourning my absence in a way that I had never imagined spurred me to act.”

He took a deep breath, his voice growing tender. “I wrote her a heartfelt letter from the depths of the wilderness, pouring out my apologies and detailing my journey. I sent it with my guide, hoping it would reach her. It took him a month to return, and when he came back empty-handed, I was disheartened but not defeated. I sent another letter, and another after that, but each time, there was no response.”

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Julie’s eyes widened. “And what happened?”

“I eventually learned that my letters never reached her,” Mr. Collingwood said, his voice tinged with frustration. “It turns out that the guide I trusted wasn’t entirely honest. Although he appeared trustworthy, I suspect he pocketed the postage money and destroyed the letters. It explains why my mother never received them.”

The room fell silent as the weight of his revelation sank in. “When I returned to California, I was a wealthy man, indulging in new adventures across the globe. From Japan and China to the forbidden realms of Tibet and the South Sea Islands, I pursued every thrill that came my way. Eventually, I found myself in Australia, where I bought a gold mine and managed it with great success.”

Mr. Collingwood’s eyes lost their focus momentarily as he reflected on his past. “Despite my wealth and the allure of distant lands, a part of me always yearned to reconnect with my past. I kept up with my mother’s life from afar, but the news I stumbled upon in Sydney was devastating. While browsing through old newspapers, I found a death notice for a Mrs. Fairfax Collingwood from Chesterton, South Carolina. The date was seven years prior.”

Julie’s hand flew to her mouth in shock. “Was it really your mother?”

“No,” Mr. Collingwood said with a heavy sigh. “My mother later informed me that the notice was a mistake. It was actually a distant cousin, Mrs. Fanshawe Collingwood, who had died. The New York paper had erred in reporting, omitting the crucial detail about the surviving cousin. My mother corrected it in a subsequent edition, but I never saw it.”

He looked at them, his face a mask of resignation. “Under the mistaken belief that I had lost her forever, I continued my life in Australia, focusing on my mine and my travels. My recent business trip to New York was meant to be brief, just a week, before I headed back to see how Australia had changed. I had no intention of visiting our old home, believing it to be irrelevant and perhaps long forgotten.”

Mr. Collingwood’s eyes turned to Julie, a glimmer of curiosity in their depths. “Then came the mysterious note this morning. I believe, Miss Julie, that you are responsible for it?”

Julie’s heart raced as she met his gaze. “I had no idea it would lead to this,” she said, her voice trembling. “I was just trying to uncover the truth.”

Mr. Collingwood’s expression softened. “Well, it seems that fate has a way of intertwining paths in the most unexpected ways. Now, let’s unravel this mystery together.”

The room filled with a sense of anticipation, each person eager to piece together the puzzle of the past and uncover the truths hidden within.