The Runaway Daughter

by Joanna Rees

  She shook her head. Contacting her mother – ever again – was totally unthinkable. Wisey hesitated for a moment longer, as if wanting to ask her something, but Vita turned away to the stage door.

  On the omnibus to Berkeley Square, however, as Vita pulled Nancy’s fur stole tight around her, she felt unsettled. And now, alone for the first time in days, familiar guilty thoughts gnawed at her mind and she pictured her mother looking pale and drawn, her hair turning grey with worry. It must be hard for her to lose Clement, but even worse, perhaps, to have to live with the shame that Anna had brought on their family.

  Would the police still be looking for her? Because surely they would have been called. And why had there still been nothing in any of the many papers that she’d scoured? Why would they be hushing up their son’s death and their daughter’s disappearance?

  And what about Clement? They must have had his funeral by now. Had they buried him in the churchyard alongside their grandmother? She imagined his headstone, slick and grey as an eel, standing tall amongst the crumbling graves and tangled weeds.

  She pictured her mother, right now, in the conservatory, staring off into space. She wondered what would happen if, just for a moment, she could pull her out of that chair and shake her awake. Tell her that there was a magnificent, wonderful life that she was missing.

  Perhaps it was the way Wisey had entreated her to reach out, but now she put her hand on her chest, feeling an unfamiliar pain. Was it guilt or sorrow? She couldn’t tell. Somehow Wisey’s concern seemed to stretch across the gap between her two lives, and it terrified her.

  But she’d had to leave. There’d been no choice.

  And now the events that had led up to her departure played out in her mind. She recalled every detail of how she’d marched into her father’s study, her righteous fury making her unusually brave. How she’d demanded that he punish Clement for whipping poor Dante so brutally. But her father had said it was Clement’s business, and not hers. That she shouldn’t interfere with things that didn’t concern her, and that she’d never understand. Hunting was for men – not for women to stick their noses in.

  She’d pursued the matter and had accused him of turning a blind eye to Clement’s cruelty. Not just concerning the horse – but to everyone and everything. And in particular to her. She’d almost told him that she’d found out about the plan for her to marry Malcolm Arkwright, but before she could, Darius Darton had told her not to dare to be so insolent.

  ‘All you care about is Clement,’ she’d shouted. ‘That’s all you’ve ever cared about . . .’

  But then he’d lost his temper – angry that she’d defied him. He’d lashed out at her, striking her across the face.

  She held her cheek now, looking at her reflection in the glass window of the bus. For a moment she felt an out-of-body experience, as if she were halfway between Anna Darton and Verity Casey.

  No. She’d done the right thing. It was best for everyone that Anna Darton had vanished into thin air.

  41

  Annabelle’s Party

  Vita was greatly relieved to arrive at the party finally and find it in full swing. She laughed as she allowed Edward to help her with her fur stole in the brightly lit entrance hall of the house in Berkeley Square.

  ‘So this is the creation?’ Edward said, admiring her dress. She twirled the string of pearls she was wearing, before settling them into place over her cleavage.

  ‘Oh, and I love your hair. Isn’t it magnificent,’ Edward said, touching her bob.

  ‘Feel it. Go on,’ Vita said, taking his hand and running it over the back of her hair, where it was shaved short like a man’s.

  ‘Stop it. You’ll turn me,’ Edward whispered in her ear, making her laugh at his outrageous comment. She liked being ‘in’ on his secret. And it was even more fun being at a party with such a handsome man. She felt a big shiver of excitement dance up her spine, as she looked at the crowd of people and heard the band over the burble of conversation.

  ‘Where’s Percy?’ she asked.

  ‘He said he’d meet us in the orangery. I suggest we fill up on cocktails on the way. Here we are,’ he said, expertly swooping two glasses from the silver tray of a passing waiter.

  Vita clinked glasses with him. ‘Chin-chin,’ she smiled, before taking a sip, then she caught sight of Edith arriving. ‘Oh, look. Wait. There’s Edith. Don’t look, don’t look,’ she added, making wide eyes at Edward, who was fully aware of the gauntlet Edith had laid down and thought it was a perfect hoot. She’d also told Edward and Percy quite how superior Edith thought she was and how much she delighted in picking on Vita at the Zip Club – constantly undermining her in front of the others. But now, with Edward by her side, Vita felt equal for the first time.

  She turned very briefly and saw a look flash across Edith’s face. She’d clearly wanted to arrive first, but Vita had been quicker, coming on the bus.

  ‘Where?’ Edward whispered.

  ‘Six o’clock. I said, don’t look!’ Vita whispered excitedly, spying Edith coming towards them. Nancy was still just inside the door, talking to someone she knew.

  As Edith came closer now, Edward let out a peal of laughter, as if Vita had said something amusing, then he leant in and kissed her tenderly on the cheek, as if they were lovers. She felt herself blushing, just as Edith arrived. He was such a good actor.

  ‘Oh, Edith, there you are. You remember Edward Sopel,’ Vita said, pointedly.

  Edward turned to her in surprise. ‘No. Have we met?’

  He was so charming and so honest that Vita had to suppress a smile, seeing the fury cross Edith’s face as he kissed her hand. Vita saw a flush creep up Edith’s neck. She was obviously mortified that she’d been caught out. Her eyes darted towards Vita, daring her to say something, but Vita simply smiled back, feeling the moment of triumph.

  ‘Really, Edward?’ Edith said, as if he were lying.

  Edward looked expectantly at Edith and then at Vita for an explanation.

  ‘We dance together,’ Vita explained.

  ‘Oh! You’re in Vita’s troupe?’ Edward said innocently, and Edith bristled even more.

  ‘Edward, don’t be silly,’ Vita chided. ‘It’s not mine.’

  The moment was interrupted by a woman who sashayed into their group, her cigarette smoking in a long ivory holder. ‘This looks like an interesting gathering,’ she said. She was tall and elegant, like a racehorse, and was wearing a long black evening dress that was covered in sparkling jewels, and long black silk gloves.

  ‘Annabelle, darling,’ Edward gushed, kissing their hostess’s hand. ‘You know Edith, of course, but this is Vita. She’s at the Zip too.’

  ‘Oh. I’ve heard that’s quite the place,’ Annabelle said, looking Vita and Edith up and down. ‘So that’s where you’ve been hiding out, Woody?’

  She didn’t sound like she altogether approved, as she appraised Vita and Edith.

  Vita had been caught up in the glamour and excitement of the dance troupe, but she hadn’t realized that the social hierarchy she perceived within it counted for nothing, out here in the real world. Here, they were dancing girls – Edith included. Which meant that whatever Edith thought she had over Vita, it wasn’t real. They had the same rank.

  Perhaps Annabelle sensed that she’d been rather rude, as she smiled quickly. ‘It always helps to have some pretty faces around. Oh, and I do like this . . .’ she added to Vita, taking her hand and holding it out so that she could admire her dress. ‘Where did you get it from?’

  ‘I made it. With a little help from a friend.’

  ‘So clever to be so chic,’ Annabelle said, squeezing her hand in a friendly way. ‘I do admire anyone with a knack for fashion. Some of the people around here have turned up looking ghastly.’

  Vita noticed Edith’s look of unbridled jealousy.

  ‘Oh, look, there he is,’ Annabelle said, a smile breaking out on her face as she flitted off to greet some new guests.

  ‘Stephe
n Tennant,’ Edward explained, nodding over at a man in a cream suit with long, flowing hair. ‘If he’s here, then it must be a good party.’ He seized the moment expertly and guided Vita away, his hand in the small of her back.

  She didn’t turn back to look at Edith.

  ‘I can feel her eyes,’ she whispered to Edward.

  ‘Like daggers,’ he agreed. ‘Don’t look round.’

  ‘Oh, I won’t,’ she said confidently.

  ‘Always so satisfying to stick it to a bully,’ Edward confided. ‘Don’t you think?’

  She smiled and squeezed his arm. Because, with his help, she’d felt a satisfying flush of something very close to victory. Whatever social one-upmanship Edith had tried to pull had failed. And even better, she’d been exposed as a liar.

  42

  That Man Again

  As they arrived in the main hall where the jazz band was already in full swing, Vita sipped her cocktail, trying to identify the unusual taste of the oily orange liquid while doing her best not to spill it, but it wasn’t easy. Nancy made moving and holding a cocktail glass look easy, but Vita was pleased when she found a space by the dance floor to rest, and she could stop concentrating on the glass so much. Edward and Nancy were over by the bar and she was alone for a moment.

  Trying to strike a nonchalantly sophisticated pose, she looked around the room, allowing herself to wallow in the satisfied glow she felt. Apart from her triumph over Edith, what was far more thrilling was that someone as important as Annabelle Morton had noticed her.

  Her father had always said that contacts in business were the most important thing, and Vita had a feeling that this new world she was seeing might one day be to her advantage. Because, standing here, looking around the room, she felt more at home in this world than she had ever done at Darton Hall.

  She shifted her position and angled her shoulders, posing like Nancy so often did. It was true, she thought, what Percy had told her: if you pretended enough, then it became real. Just like she was pretending to be confident now.

  And then she saw him, on the other side of the dance floor.

  It was the reporter from that night at Blanchard’s: Marcus Fox. And now that he’d spotted her, it was too late to run away. She turned, sipping her drink, her bravado slipping away. She glanced back and saw him shouldering his way through the dancers towards her.

  ‘Ah. The dashing Miss Casey. You are looking more ravishing than ever, if you don’t mind me saying,’ he said, shocking her that he remembered her name. ‘I do like your hair.’

  Did he mean it? It was difficult to tell whether he was mocking her.

  ‘So am I to take it that you and the very elusive Edward Sopel are an item?’ he asked, one eyebrow arched upwards.

  She thought of Percy and how she had to be careful, concerning Edward. The last thing she needed was this reporter digging for details. Perhaps she should try and be enigmatic in her answer.

  ‘I don’t believe that’s any of your business, Mr Fox.’

  ‘You don’t have to be so curt, Miss Casey,’ he said, mocking her. ‘I won’t bite. Although I would heartily devour any information that you have about Sopel. He’s been giving me the runaround for months, and my readers would dearly like to know what Lord Sopel’s son gets up to. With the King in such a flap, there’s quite a market for gossip about errant sons. But Sopel’s quite the mystery man, wouldn’t you say?’

  Vita turned away, feeling annoyed. ‘I don’t want to talk to you. These are people. With lives. It’s not a game.’

  ‘That’s where you’re quite wrong.’

  ‘So you’re happy to print gossip? Like you did the last time we spoke?’

  He seemed amused. ‘I’m simply here to catalogue the comings and goings of the Bright Young Things.’ He threw his arm out towards the crowd. ‘And you seem to me very much to have arrived on the scene. Annabelle told me you were one to watch.’

  Vita took a sip of her drink as he continued. She didn’t look at him. She was flattered that Annabelle had made Mr Fox seek her out, but something about this man put her on edge. As if he were waiting for her to trip up.

  ‘I thought you’d be flattered. Most young women in your position would be thrilled with the publicity.’

  ‘Perhaps I’m not like other young women.’

  ‘Clearly.’

  What did he mean? She turned to look at him properly now for the first time. And in that instant she had the feeling that he saw right through all her lies.

  ‘I’m curious to know where you are from. You see, I can’t place your accent, because it slips sometimes. Like just now. Which, my dear, makes you all the more beguiling. I would hazard a guess that you’re from the North of England?’

  He smiled slyly at her and Vita felt a warm flush starting in her cheeks. He couldn’t possibly know who she really was, could he?

  ‘Bertie, over here,’ Marcus Fox said, beckoning over a photographer. ‘Miss Casey, would you mind having your picture taken?’

  ‘Yes, I would. I’d mind very much,’ she said, seeing the man in the grey jacket lifting his camera and feeling a rising sense of panic. The last thing she wanted was to be in the paper again – and certainly not with a photograph.

  ‘Good heavens,’ Mr Fox laughed. ‘A shy one. A rarity indeed. Well, I shall get you one of these days.’

  ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘Oh, I will,’ he called after her as she turned and walked as fast as she could across the corner of the dance floor to the French windows, desperate to get away. ‘You’re a silly girl to set someone like me such a challenge.’

  43

  Nancy’s Plan

  Vita was determined to enjoy the party, despite Mr Fox unsettling her. It wasn’t hard. There were so many fabulous people to watch everywhere, and Edward and Percy instigated a funny drinking game in the gazebo outside. Then, when the band started playing the Charleston, they all went inside to dance. It was so much fun, crowded in with the other party folk, as the music soared.

  When Vita realized that Nancy had been gone for a while, she left the dancing to go and find her. Nancy was sitting halfway up the staircase in the hallway, smoking a cigarette and looking distinctly the worse for wear. Vita sat down next to her, glad to be off her feet for a moment.

  ‘Oh, I’m exhausted!’ she exclaimed. ‘I don’t know how many of those cocktails I’ve had. They’re so strong, but so delicious. I feel quite dizzy.’

  She slipped off her silver shoe and massaged the ball of her foot. Nancy raised her eyebrows in tacit acknowledgement, but still didn’t speak. Vita sensed that twittering on about her sore feet wouldn’t be the right thing to do, so they sat together in silence for a moment, watching the party and all the glamorous people milling around beneath the twinkling chandelier in the drawing room, the occasional flurry of laughter rising above the hubbub of conversation. It really was the most intoxicating atmosphere, Vita thought.

  They caught sight of Edith slipping through the doors onto the terrace with Stephen Tennant and his friends.

  ‘Edith hates you,’ Nancy said, inhaling the smoke from the cigarette and closing one eye.

  ‘Well, I’d gathered that,’ she said, matter-of-factly.

  ‘You know she did date Edward once,’ Nancy said.

  This was certainly news. ‘Honestly? But Edward pretended he’d never met her. He was being—’

  ‘Mischievous,’ Nancy said bluntly. ‘That’s what people like him do.’

  ‘Oh.’ Vita thought about this, and how naughty Edward had been to show Edith up like that. She hadn’t expected adults to play such complicated games.

  ‘And Edith’s jealous,’ Nancy continued.

  ‘Jealous? Of what?’

  ‘Of you. That you’ve come along and taken over. That you had the nerve to muscle into the dance troupe, just like that. When she had to sleep her way in.’

  Vita took the cigarette out of Nancy’s hand.

  ‘I don’t care,’ she said, glad to hear that
she’d riled Edith. She’d been so horrible to Vita ever since she’d arrived, and she finally felt things were even between them.

  She took a drag on the cigarette, feeling the unfamiliar sensation of the acrid smoke in her throat. She’d been practising smoking whenever she could and she was getting the hang of it now. Of course she didn’t look as sophisticated as she wanted to – yet – but it was only a matter of time. She risked a glance at Nancy, who finally met her eye now with a wry smile. Vita liked the feeling that she was amusing her friend.

  ‘Imagine . . . Connelly,’ Nancy said, and Vita pulled a face. The thought of Edith and Jack Connelly in any sort of romantic clinch was just too grim.

  Nancy held out her fingers for the cigarette to be returned, as Vita blew out what she hoped was an elegant plume of smoke. She was glad that her presence had cheered Nancy up.

  ‘You think they actually – you know – do the deed?’ Vita asked.

  ‘Do the deed!’ Nancy said, rolling her eyes. ‘Nobody says “do the deed”!’

  Vita had only said it to try and shock Nancy. She was doing her best to be bold, but now she felt a fool for pretending to be worldly. She’d never discussed ‘the deed’ with anyone.

  ‘You do amuse me sometimes, Vita. Honestly, it’s like you were beamed down from another planet.’

  If only Nancy knew how right she was. Darton was a different world from this. She shuffled in closer to Nancy and held on to her arm.

  ‘Well, I am innocent. That’s why I’ve got you. To show me the ropes. And, Nancy, I want to know,’ she implored her friend. ‘I really do. I want to know everything.’

  Nancy smoked for a minute, then leant in close to Vita. ‘D’you know what Annabelle’s brother gave me?’ she said. She had that cheeky upturn at the corner of her mouth, which Vita knew meant mischief.

  ‘No. What?’