A Life of Secrets

by Margaret Kaine

  In Paris, Deborah and Julia were feeling exultant. After visits to various fashion houses, Deborah found a couturier whose ideas appealed to her, and one afternoon on seeing the proposed sketch of a wedding dress, knew instinctively that the simple yet elegant style was perfect. She felt the quality of the ivory silk, admired the delicacy of the lace panels, and without hesitation gave a delighted smile to the designer, nodding her approval. Only then did she remember to give Julia a chance to express her own opinion. Which she did in true Julia style, by clapping her hands.

  The couturier, thin, elegant, and dressed in black, smiled. ‘I am glad you are both pleased. Lady Deborah, if you would be kind enough to follow me, I shall arrange for your measurements to be taken.’

  It was then, when standing in a small corner room in her chiffon and lace chemise, that Deborah, who was fluent in French, heard the name.

  ‘The costume will be sent to Lille within a few days, Madame Lapierre. And as always, thank you for your custom.’

  Deborah froze. Lapierre? Lille? Hadn’t Philippe told her that when his father was alive, his mother had spent much of her time in Paris? It was perfectly feasible that she would still visit the fashion houses. Could she really, after all these years, be within a few yards of her? Swiftly Deborah moved as if to go to the door, before remembering that she was in a state of undress. But even hearing the name had shaken her, and she heard the concerned voice of the seamstress. ‘My lady, shall I fetch a glass of water? You look quite pale.’

  ‘Thank you, that would be most kind.’ She sat on a plush red-velvet chair in one corner and tried to pull herself together. Should she make enquiries at the fashion house? But she knew immediately that confidentiality was sacrosanct in such places. They would never reveal details of another client. Yet to hear that name spoken aloud after all these years had truly shaken her. Her hand trembling, she took a few grateful sips of water, then rose and allowed the seamstress to complete her task. But even as she got dressed again, her mind was racing. Could the woman really be Philippe’s mother?

  By the time she returned to the salon to join Julia, Deborah was full of impatience to return to the hotel. Only in silence and privacy was she going to be able to sort out her chaotic thoughts.

  ‘I’m sorry, Julia, but I seem to be developing a headache. Would you mind awfully if I went back to the hotel?’ She didn’t like lying, but was convinced that if she didn’t have some privacy, she really would develop one.

  ‘Of course not. In fact, I’m quite happy to do the same. I feel a little tired myself.’

  ‘Then I’ll just confirm arrangements for the fitting.’

  When she was alone at last, Deborah sat propped against pillows on her bed and tried to sort out her confused thoughts. Every instinct was telling her that the Madame Lapierre referred to at the fashion house could be Philippe’s mother. Which would mean that she was not only alive but possibly still living in his childhood home.

  And the realisation brought to her mind an image of Philippe’s gold signet ring bearing the Lapierre family crest and lying in a blue leather box in a drawer in her dressing table. She thought of his widowed mother, living alone with a husband and son to mourn, and knew there was only one honourable action. But would Madame Lapierre understand why it was that Deborah had never contacted her, even to tell her of their engagement? That she’d been so traumatised not only by Philippe’s death but also by those of her parents? And then there had been the shock of learning she was pregnant, and later, another bereavement to bear when the baby died. By then too much time had passed.

  But now, Deborah thought, I am shortly to marry another man. So didn’t that mean that in all justice she should return the signet ring to its rightful owner – Philippe’s much-loved mother?

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Deborah had made her decision about Philippe’s ring, planning once the wedding was over, she would make arrangements for it to be returned to Madame Lapierre. But now, with the fitting for her wedding dress completed, she was becoming impatient to return to London.

  Julia too, having made ‘several delightful purchases’, announced herself ready to return home saying, ‘After all, there is your engagement party this weekend.’

  It was during the journey back when travelling on the London train and alone in the carriage, that Julia once again raised the subject of her inability to conceive. ‘I had hoped for a sign while we were in Paris, but it didn’t happen. Deborah, I’m becoming so nervous about it, I do think I should seek medical advice.’

  ‘You could,’ Deborah said, ‘although I still think it too soon.’

  ‘I’d just like to be reassured there is nothing wrong.’

  Deborah looked at her with sympathy. ‘Why do we women always feel responsible for everything? The problem, if there is one, could easily lie with Gerard.’

  Julia looked horrified. ‘He’s too proud a man even to consider it.’

  And that statement, thought Deborah, was putting it mildly.

  Two days after her return to Grosvenor Square, Deborah went to visit Father Keegan. It would be unthinkable for her not to let him know what was happening at the agency. But even as she neared the church, she was still undecided whether or not to reveal her true identity. At the moment, only Elspeth, Theo and Evan were aware of it, and wouldn’t it be wiser for it to remain so? And yet her conscience was troubling her. Suppose, for instance, the priest were to discover the fact for himself, mightn’t he feel he’d been deceived? She liked him too much − had even become a little fond of him − to let that happen.

  So, it was with her decision made that she sat opposite him in his study. She saw his glance immediately alight on her sparkling engagement ring and his face creased in a warm smile. ‘I see my congratulations are in order, Miss Claremont. May I wish you every happiness.’

  ‘Thank you, Father. Although I did have a special reason for wanting to see you.’

  ‘Let me guess now. You’ll be giving up the agency?’

  ‘Not exactly, although I’ll no longer take an active role. Mrs Reid, who you’ve often spoken to on the telephone, will be managing it.’ Deborah smiled. ‘I’m hoping you won’t mind her getting in touch – even if she is the widow of a Presbyterian minister!’

  ‘Not at all.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘It could lead to some interesting discussions! And your future husband, now, would he be anyone I know?’

  ‘I doubt it unless you visit the House of Commons. Theodore Field, a Conservative MP. He once went to hear Evan Morgan speak, and was impressed. I think you’d like him.’

  The priest studied her. ‘I’m sure I would. I too have heard Evan speak and been impressed. In fact, the Colonel and I think that young man should go into politics.’

  Deborah stared at him. ‘I entirely agree with you.’ She was trying to recall whether Theo had friends in the Labour Party. A man with Evan’s background, even with such potential, would need an influential contact. Could this be another way she could help him?

  Then Deborah hesitated. ‘Father Keegan, I have something else to tell you, this time about myself. I’m afraid that my brother being the Earl of Anscombe means that my real name is not Miss, but Lady Deborah Claremont.’

  His eyes widened, then he chuckled. ‘God bless my soul. To think I’ve been taking tea with a member of the aristocracy.’

  With some embarrassment, Deborah went on to explain her reasons for not using her title.

  ‘I quite understand. And it will go no further. Life goes through various phases, and you have helped many people to have a second chance. You should always be proud of that.’ He smiled at her. ‘So, I suppose this is goodbye.’

  She nodded. ‘If there is ever anything I can help you with …’

  ‘I’ll remember.’ He rose and shook her hand. ‘Well, I’d better get on, I’ve a young couple coming to see me for pre-marriage guidance.’

  Deborah laughed. ‘I’d better go then, before you include me.’

  But as sh
e left, she looked over her shoulder at the kindly priest and with genuine regret said, ‘Thank you again, Father. I shall miss our talks together.’

  ‘And so will I. God bless you.’

  At the Savoy, their London engagement party was a light-hearted affair, the small number of guests carefully chosen. Deborah was sad that Abby was unable to attend, but consoled herself that soon she would be seeing her friend at the wedding.

  The following weekend they went to Wiltshire where, at Felchurch Manor, Theo’s father greeted Deborah warmly, kissing her on the cheek. ‘Welcome to the family, my dear. I’m delighted with the news.’

  ‘The time is whizzing by,’ she told her future father-in-law as he led the way into the house. ‘I can’t believe it’s only seven weeks to the wedding.’

  ‘Have you decided where to go for the honeymoon, yet?’

  ‘Now then,’ Theo said. ‘Isn’t that where I am supposed to surprise her?’

  ‘Nonsense, your mother thought it a ridiculous notion, because the bride had no idea what to tell her maid to pack.’

  Deborah laughed and turned to Theo. ‘Maybe we should talk about it, darling.’

  On the evening of the second engagement party, Theo took Deborah downstairs to formally introduce her to the staff. She’d known that this was inevitable, and worried that Meg Daniels, the cook, might recognise her from the agency. It was the housekeeper who explained her absence. ‘She will be sorry to have missed you, Lady Deborah, but is indisposed with a heavy cold.’ It might only be a postponement, Deborah thought, but a welcome one, while Sarah Boot played her part perfectly.

  The party itself went with a swing, being held at a large country hotel with a lively band. Theo invited Bertie Manston to be his best man, and Deborah asked his wife, Jennifer, if she might like to take on the role of a matron of honour.

  She looked surprised and then delighted. ‘I’m flattered. I’d love to, and thank you.’ Jennifer laughed. ‘I’ll be able to keep an eye on our two terrors. I still can’t see them as angelic pageboys.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Deborah said, smiling. ‘I know two bossy little girls who will keep them in order.’

  It was a lovely evening, with happy toasts as Deborah met more of Theo’s friends. She couldn’t help being aware of some envious glances: her fiancé was without doubt the most handsome man in the room.

  Later, back at Felchurch Manor they went out into the garden, ostensibly to look at the stars but in reality to melt in the darkness into each other’s arms.

  ‘I’m beginning to count the days,’ Theo murmured, his lips against her hair.

  ‘I know.’ She snuggled closer.

  ‘If you only knew how tempted I am to come to your room.’

  She laughed softly. ‘And I sometimes lie in bed, hoping that you will.’

  Theo drew her to him, bending to kiss her bare shoulders, his lips travelling down to the swell of her breasts. Their kisses became deeper, more passionate, then at last with reluctance, they drew apart. ‘Darling, let’s wait until we have the perfect moment.’ He smiled down at her. ‘When we are completely and utterly alone. No prying eyes, or whispering servants.’

  ‘You are right, as always.’

  ‘I wonder if you’ll still be saying that when we have been married for a long time?’

  Deborah laughed. ‘It will be interesting finding out. I love you very much, you know.’

  ‘And I adore you. Sweet dreams, my love.’

  There were many congratulations and introductions at the local church on Sunday morning, and afterwards Deborah found it a relief to relax with coffee and the Sunday papers. The morning room remained silent apart from the rustle of pages from Theo and his father.

  Eventually, as it was a lovely day, she said, ‘Darling, I think I’ll take Emma for a walk before lunch. Did you want to come, or …’

  Theo glanced up. ‘Actually, if you don’t mind, there are one or two articles I need to read.’

  She smiled at him. ‘Not at all.’

  The golden retriever was in a lively mood and ran ahead as Deborah explored the gardens surrounding the house. She loved the way she felt so relaxed here, and amused herself by indulging in a fantasy vision of happy children playing beneath the large oak trees. Then realising that Emma was galloping towards the stables, Deborah began to hurry after her, although she doubted the retriever would bother the horses.

  But even as she approached, she could see Emma furiously wagging her tail, as a young boy leant over to stroke her. One of the grooms came forward. ‘Sorry, my lady. The lad’s not supposed to come here on his own, only when the laundress is with him.’

  The boy muttered, ‘I’m not doing any harm!’

  ‘No, but you’ll get a tanning if you’re not back in time for your dinner.’

  With his back to her he scrambled up, beginning to hurry away. Then suddenly he glanced over his shoulder.

  There was something familiar about him. Was it the way he held his head, the set of his shoulders? Impulsively, she called out, ‘Just a minute …’

  He turned, looking wary and came back to stand before her, at first hanging his head and then lifting it to gaze directly up. Deborah gasped. She couldn’t tear her gaze from his face, those warm brown eyes …

  She managed to control her voice, to keep it calm. ‘Don’t worry, you’re not in any trouble. You like dogs, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, miss.’

  The groom was still lingering. ‘My lady, to you. And take your cap off!’

  Hurriedly he obeyed. Deborah caught her breath.

  He was looking scared. ‘I’d better go, my lady, or I’ll be late.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  Deborah watched him go, then turned on trembling legs to walk back to the house.

  What on earth had happened there?

  As soon as they were by themselves, she told Theo about the startling resemblance. ‘It was such a shock, I can’t understand it. Don’t you think it strange?’

  He looked at her with concern. ‘It’s upset you, hasn’t it?’

  She nodded, still feeling shaken.

  ‘There is such a thing as a double, the Germans have a name for it, a doppelgänger.’

  ‘Yes, I know, but … do you know anything about him, Theo?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’ve never actually seen him.’

  Deborah was thinking that there was someone who might know more. Weren’t servants privy to most things in a household?

  Unwilling to draw attention to her connection with the under-housemaid, she had to wait until she could find Sarah Boot going about her duties. It hadn’t been easy either, to pretend that Deborah had come across her by accident, nor to bring up the subject of the boy in a light and casual manner. At first Sarah had been full of congratulations. But did reveal that the laundress had only recently joined the household.

  ‘At first,’ Sarah told her, ‘we thought Robbie was hers ’til he called her Auntie. He’s a nice lad and ever so polite.’ She paused. ‘Although he does look a bit sad sometimes.’

  Deborah wanted to ask where they had lived before, but knew her continued interest would spark the maid’s curiosity. Unfortunately the information had done nothing to erase the boy’s intriguing image from her mind, rather the reverse.

  On repeating the conversation to Theo, he said, ‘I’m sure the resemblance is only a coincidence, darling. Try to put it out of your mind. Let’s just concentrate on the wedding and getting the house ready. If it’s still bothering you after that, I promise to help in any way I can.’

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Back in London, initially Deborah found it a struggle to put the image of the young boy out of her mind, still trying to convince herself that a simple coincidence was the logical explanation of the resemblance. And then the hectic build-up to the wedding took over everything.

  A few days after her return she accompanied Theo to view three properties that he’d shortlisted. They were all spacious, attractive h
ouses within easy distance of Westminster, but she fell in love with one in the heart of Belgravia, faced with beautiful Portland stone. With white pillars at the top of steps leading to the front door, it not only had an impressive frontage but was situated in an elegant crescent overlooking glorious gardens.

  ‘I love the long casement windows,’ she later told a smiling Theo. ‘And it had such a peaceful ambience. Did you feel it?’

  ‘I was too busy looking at you. Have you any idea how lovely you are when you’re thrilled with something? Your whole face lights up. But yes, it was my choice too. Are you absolutely certain, because if not, we can carry on searching.’

  She shook her head. ‘I love it, Theo. I’m sure we’ll be very happy there.’

  ‘Then I’ll contact the agents first thing in the morning.’ And within twenty-four hours he telephoned Deborah to say that the house was not only secured, but had the added advantage of immediate possession.

  Hearing that, Deborah began to busy herself with arranging her future household. Ellen, of course, would accompany her as lady’s maid, and Theo planned to bring his own manservant. Deborah, on Elspeth’s recommendation, interviewed suitable applicants for the positions of housekeeper, cook, footmen and parlourmaids at Grosvenor Square. However, the ideal butler was proving more elusive. But after attending the funeral of one of his parliamentary colleagues, Theo invited his butler, a dignified man with a warm smile to apply, and that was another problem solved.

  And so the weeks flew by, until at last the much-anticipated day arrived. The wedding itself took place at St Margaret’s Church between Westminster Abbey and the Houses of Parliament. It was where Deborah’s parents had been married.