“You’re an heiress now. I don’t need to save you from poverty.”
Celestria felt uncomfortable. Not because of Aidan’s brashness, but because she realized how much Italy had changed her. A couple of weeks ago she would have laughed at his comments. “I miss him so much.”
“I’m going to take care of you now, my darling.”
Celestria put down the telephone and realized that she didn’t want anyone to take care of her. She was quite capable of looking after herself. She ran a bath and soaked in it. When she closed her eyes, it was Hamish who rose out of the mist, his wide face solemn, his green eyes deep and troubled, his hair wild and unkempt. It wasn’t the rose oil that filled her senses but the memory of pine and the sound of birds in the almond trees, dogs barking in the road, and the peaceful stillness of the city of the dead. Puglia had refashioned her so that now her shape no longer fitted the old mold. She felt at odds with her London life. Yet there niggled at the back of her mind the fear that Hamish’s love was not enough. Perhaps the gamble was too great, even for her. Would life not be simpler if she tried to pick up the pieces of her old life?
She waited for Aidan in the hall. The house no longer felt like home. Without her father it felt empty, as if he were the vital note without whom the chord clashed. When the doorbell rang, she picked up her handbag, expecting it to be Aidan, but to her surprise, it was a deliveryman with the largest bunch of lilies she had ever seen. She pressed her nose to them and inhaled the scent; it reminded her of Italy.
“Typical Aidan,” she said, handing them to Godfrey. “Will you put them in water? I’d like them in my room, please. They’re beautiful.”
“Of course, Miss Celestria,” Godfrey replied, longing to ask about Mrs. Waynebridge. Was it true that she was never coming back? He hesitated a moment. Celestria sensed the reason.
“Mrs. Waynebridge is getting married to an Italian she met in Puglia,” she said. The old man’s eyes widened. “Italy has changed her, Godfrey.” She sighed wistfully, her gaze resting on the lilies. “It has changed me, too.”
Godfrey disappeared with the lilies. Celestria continued to wait. Finally Aidan arrived, jumping up the steps to the front door two at a time. His face expanded into the widest smile. Celestria had forgotten how handsome he was.
“Darling!” he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around her. “You look beautiful. God, it’s good to have you back, old girl!” He kissed her lips, and Celestria was so taken aback she forgot to thank him for the lilies. “I’m taking you to the Ritz,” he said. “Only the best will do for my fiancée!” There was something very reassuring about being in his arms again. It was as familiar as an old pair of slippers.
“I thought we were going to have lunch in Knightsbridge?”
“I changed my mind.” Celestria would rather not have gone to the Ritz. It would only remind her of her grandfather. “I’ve got a surprise for you.” He smirked, pleased with himself.
“You needn’t have gone to the trouble,” she said, wondering when would be the best time to tell him that she couldn’t marry him. He opened the car door and helped her in. There was a time when she had relished his shiny green Austin Healey; now her heart longed for Nuzzo and his horse and cart.
They arrived at the Ritz to be welcomed by the doorman, who took her hand in both of his. “I had great respect for Mr. Bancroft, miss,” he said, his eyes brimming with sympathy and regret. “We shall all miss him here.”
“Thank you so much,” she replied, wishing they had chosen anywhere else in London but here, her grandfather’s favorite dining room. Mr. Windthorne swept across the carpeted floor to greet her.
“We are all so dreadfully sorry, Miss Montague. London shines less brightly without Mr. Bancroft.”
Aidan took her arm, and they were escorted along the corridor, past the tea room where she had often eaten scones and jam with her grandfather, and into the dining room.
“I have chosen a table around the corner so you can be private,” said Mr. Windthorne, with a wink at Aidan. Celestria suddenly had the most dreadful feeling. They were conspiring together. She remembered Aidan’s mention of a surprise for her. Surely he wouldn’t have announced their engagement without telling her first?
As they turned the corner she was welcomed by a long table of family and friends. Celestria’s heart sank. This was not the time to meet his parents. Everyone stood up and clapped, their faces aglow with delight.
“Darling, why didn’t you tell me?” Pamela cried, rushing over to embrace her. “I’m so pleased! A spring wedding; I’ve already booked the church.” Celestria felt faint. It had all gone too far. Her mother’s arms wrapped around her like tentacles, and she was enveloped in a cloud of tuberose. “You shall have the most spectacular wedding, darling. It’s what Pa would have wanted.” Celestria knew that her grandfather would have only wanted what she wanted. Slowly, she moved around the table, greeting everyone with a smile and a kiss, while inside she wanted to die.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” said Aidan’s mother sweetly, kissing her. “This couldn’t be a happier day.” Celestria was about to make it the most miserable day. Aidan’s father kissed her, too, and Celestria felt sorry. Had things been different, she would have loved Aidan’s family. “Really, Aidan,” she said finally, sitting down. “The flowers were enough.”
He looked at her quizzically. “Flowers? What flowers?”
“The lilies that arrived this morning.”
Aidan looked put out. “I didn’t send you any flowers.” He appealed to Pamela. “Do you know who sent my fiancée flowers?”
“Oh,” Celestria replied with a shrug. “Perhaps they weren’t for me. I didn’t read the note.”
“They’ll be for me. I’ve received so many letters of condolence. People are so kind,” said Pamela, too excited to dwell on something so trivial. But Celestria was staring into her champagne glass. She knew they weren’t for her mother. She recalled the scent of lilies that rose out of the city of the dead, and a smile crept across her face.
“I think a London wedding, don’t you, darling?” her mother continued blithely.
“London?”
“Well, word has it that Archie’s selling Pendrift,” she hissed under her breath.
Celestria was jolted out of her daydream. “Selling Pendrift?”
“I shouldn’t say,” Pamela added quickly, wishing she hadn’t said anything. Her daughter had suddenly blanched on what should be the happiest of days. “I think the blossom in London is simply stunning in springtime…”
Celestria stood up. “Please excuse me,” she said, clearly flustered. Aidan frowned, Pamela looked sheepish, and the rest of the table looked on puzzled as they watched her leave the dining room.
“I’ll go,” said Pamela, getting up. “It’s overwhelmed her. Don’t worry,” she reassured Aidan. “We’ll be back in a minute.” Pamela found Celestria in the hall, waiting for her coat. “You can’t go!”
“I’m not marrying Aidan!” Celestria replied. “It’s all a dreadful misunderstanding. I’m in love with Hamish.”
“Hamish?”
“Hamish McCloud.”
“Who in the devil’s name is he?”
“He’s Scottish.”
“I don’t even know him!” Pamela clutched her neck as if finding it difficult to breathe.
Celestria tried in vain to suppress a smile. “Well, he’s in his late thirties, a widower, walks with a limp, doesn’t brush his hair, is a talented artist without a penny to his name, and makes the earth tremble and shake and shift on its axis. He has a vile temper but a raw and passionate heart, and, in spite of my efforts not to, I lost my heart in an instant.”
While Pamela struggled to reply, Aidan strode up to join them. “What’s going on?” he asked, watching Celestria shrug on her coat. “Where are you going?”
“You shouldn’t have told anyone!” she retorted crossly.
“It was a surprise. I thought you’d be pleased.”
“I can’t marry you,” she said, finally managing to look suitably solemn.
“Why not?” Aidan looked distraught.
“Because I don’t love you, Aidan. I like you, but like is not enough.”
“I can make you happy,” he said in desperation, taking her in his arms. Mr. Windthorne watched the unfolding drama from behind the reception desk.
“I know you can,” she said, pulling away. “But I want more than that, and so should you.”
“But I love you”
“I’m sorry.”
“Darling, you need to think about this,” interjected Pamela, finding her voice at last. “It’s not too late to change your mind. You’ve lost your father and your grandfather. It’s not surprising that you’re not yourself. Let’s go home and talk it through calmly, where we’re not being watched by all the staff.” Mr. Windthorne looked away with a cough, pretending not to notice them.
“There’s nothing to talk about. I’ve made my decision, and, believe me, I’ve never been of sounder mind. If death teaches you one thing, it’s that nothing matters in this world but love. You can’t take your wealth with you when you die.” It was then that she was struck with an idea. “Mama, you never told me Uncle Archie was in trouble.”
“It’s not our problem.”
“If Papa were alive, he’d never let them sell Pendrift.”
Aidan clenched his hands, furious that they had digressed.
“But he’s not alive. Anyway, he had no money; you know that as well as I do,” Pamela snapped.
“But we do.”
Her mother narrowed her eyes. “You are now a very wealthy woman. I bet your Harry McCloud will be happy about that!” She grabbed Aidan’s wrist. “This young man has the means to look after you, Celestria, irrespective of your grandfather’s inheritance. I think your Harry McCloud will find it very humiliating being supported by a woman!”
“Well, that’s easy to take care of, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?”
“If I don’t have money, we’ll be equal. By the way, Mama, he’s called Hamish McCloud.” She turned to Aidan. “I’m sorry. I really am. But I have to go now.” She hurried off without a backwards glance. Aidan and Pamela watched her go in silence.
Celestria arrived at Upper Belgrave Street in a flurry of excitement. Her joy inflated her like a hot-air balloon so that she was barely able to keep her feet on the ground. She called for Godfrey. The old man staggered out, having enjoyed rather too much wine with his lunch. “Godfrey, the note that came with the flowers, where is it?”
“I threw it away, Miss Celestria.”
“Well, get it out. I need to see it.”
Godfrey disappeared, and Celestria paced the hall, unable to remain still. After a few minutes he returned.
Celestria opened the little white envelope. Written on a simple card were the words, “You are the light behind the door.” She pressed the card to her lips. “Daphne!” she said with a smile, knowing that the old woman would have arranged this for Hamish. Godfrey stared at her in bewilderment.
“Is there anything else, Miss Celestria?”
“Yes, Godfrey. After the funeral on Saturday I’m going back to Italy. But today, I’m going to Pendrift.”
“Pendrift, Miss Celestria?” Now he was really confused.
“Please tell Mama that I have taken the train and that I will be back in time to travel with her to Scotland.”
“You will be very tired, Miss Celestria,” he said, overwhelmed by her travel plans.
“One doesn’t get tired when one is happy, Godfrey. And I am very happy.”
33
When Celestria appeared at Pendrift Hall, Julia and Archie were in the drawing room having coffee with Elizabeth, who had joined them for dinner. She stood in the doorway with her small suitcase, looking as radiant as if she had just enjoyed a full night’s sleep.
“Hello, everyone!” she said, beaming, relishing their surprise.
“Good God, Celestria!” exclaimed Archie, standing up. “Where did you come from?”
“The station,” she said. “I got a cab.”
“It’s so late. You should have telephoned,” said Julia, rising to greet her. “This is a lovely surprise. You do look well.”
“Hello, Grandma,” she said, bending down to kiss her. The old woman smiled, and Celestria noticed the change in her immediately.
“When did you get back from Italy?” Julia asked.
“This morning.”
“You must be exhausted,” she said, noticing her niece’s eyes shining with unusual brightness.
“Not at all. I slept on the train.”
“To what do we owe this pleasure?” said Archie. It wasn’t like Celestria to make an impromptu visit.
“I’d like a drink first. A glass of red wine would be nice,” she said, looking around the room she had lived in every summer but never really noticed. Archie walked over to the drinks table and poured her a glass. “Pendrift Hall is a magical house,” she said.
“It’s special, isn’t it? There’s none other like it,” Archie replied, his eyes full of sadness.
“It’s special because of the people who inhabit it,” said Elizabeth firmly, looking on her son and daughter-in-law with pride. “We all imprint ourselves onto it over the years. It’s certainly been loved.”
Archie handed Celestria the glass. She took a swig and felt it trickle down into her empty stomach.
“Mama tells me that you are thinking of selling.”
“How does she know?” Archie asked, affronted.
“She probably knows the ghastly Weavels,” said Julia, lighting a cigarette. “Nothing about Pamela would surprise me.”
“It’s true,” said Elizabeth stoically. “Pendrift Hall is in trouble; that’s all there is to it.” Now she looked more like her old, disgruntled self.
“Well, I’d like to honor my father’s promise,” said Celestria. The three of them stared at her.
“What promise?” interjected Elizabeth, glancing at Archie.
“I heard you talking in the little sitting room,” she admitted to Julia, unabashed. “Papa said he would help you out.”
“Ah,” said Julia, looking embarrassed. “Monty was always there.” She raised her eyes to her husband. “Now he’s not, and everything falls apart.”
“I am now very rich. I’ve inherited my grandfather’s fortune, along with Mama and Harry. I can’t keep my share all to myself; it’s more than even I could spend in a lifetime, and I certainly won’t need it where I’m going!” The wine made her feel deliciously light-headed. “Papa would never have let you sell Pendrift.”
“He most certainly would not,” agreed Elizabeth, clicking her tongue.
“So neither will I.”
Julia blinked, her eyes now shining with tears. “You really want to save our home?” she asked, dazed. “I didn’t think you liked it here.”
“It’s not just your home, it’s our home. All my happiest memories are here. I just never knew it.”
“My dear girl,” said Elizabeth. God had indeed performed a miracle. Father Dalgliesh had been right; help had come from the most unexpected place. “I thought you the most selfish of all my grandchildren.”
“Papa thought so, too,” Celestria replied. “And perhaps I still am selfish, because this is giving me pleasure. You see, I’m in love. He’s highly unsuitable, and Mama is furious. But Grandpa would have celebrated it and encouraged me to follow my heart. I haven’t changed that much, after all. If I were unselfish, I’d marry Aidan Cooney to make Mama happy. But as it is, I’m going to return to Italy after Grandpa’s funeral and make Mama very unhappy indeed.” She shrugged unapologetically.
“Good God, girl!” Archie exclaimed suddenly, turning pink. “Your father would be very proud of you, Celestria.”
“Thank you,” said Elizabeth humbly. “And thank you, God, for giving Celestria a big heart. Now, tell us about your young man? What does he do?”
Perhaps it was the wine, or the fact that Celestria no longer needed approval from anyone, but she told it to them straight, without reserve, and although Archie dropped his coffee cup and stained the carpet, no one was in any position to criticize.
The following morning, Celestria awoke late to the sound of Bouncy in the garden below, kicking a ball across the lawn with Purdy. She stood a while at the window, gazing out. Bouncy made her smile, running over the grass on his short legs, laughing with abandon. It gave her pleasure to know that, thanks to her, he would grow up here. Maybe he’d never know how close he’d come to leaving it. She raised her eyes to the sea that glittered innocently in the pale light of morning. Of the family, only she knew that her father hadn’t drowned there. Only she knew the extent of his deception. But by saving Pendrift, she was somehow erasing some of his malice, preserving his memory as she would have liked to remember him. No one would be any the wiser. They’d all thank her, assuming that she was simply taking up where he left off, doing what he would have done himself, had his life not been so cruelly cut short.
But she knew. Not a day would go by when she wouldn’t wonder where he was and what he was doing, and whether his duplicity had brought him happiness. She doubted it was possible to build happiness on foundations that were warped with pain. He had selfishly sought pleasure without considering the hearts he had broken along the way. Well, she wouldn’t allow him to hurt her family any more. The knowledge that she was preserving their memory of him gave her the deepest sense of satisfaction.
As she walked across the lawn to the snake path that led down to the sea, she was suddenly hit on the shin by the football. Little Bouncy squealed with laughter. “Thorry,” he said, his lisp as sweet as ever. Purdy came bounding over the grass to catch it.
“You kick very well. I think you’re going to be a skillful footballer.” The little boy jogged over to her. “I see you now have Mummy all to yourself,” she said, recalling the time Nanny nearly lost him to the sea.
“Mummy’th my betht friend,” he replied as Purdy ran past, almost knocking him to the ground. Bouncy ran after the dog, trying to catch his Labrador tail.
Sea of Lost Love Page 36