A Season of Secrets

by Margaret Pemberton

  Privately Carrie doubted if Lord Fenton was distressed by Thea’s socialism, but she didn’t say so, because she knew it would only send Violet off on another argumentative tack. Instead, as they reached the first landing, she said, ‘Are you going to change into your bridesmaid’s dress in Thea’s room?’

  ‘No. Hermione says it’s tradition for the bride and bridesmaid to get ready together, and my dress is in her room, which is where I’m going now.’

  She walked to the foot of the right-hand run of stairs leading to the second floor and paused, one hand on the balustrade. Then, looking back over her shoulder, her face framed by her deeply waving blazing-red hair, she said fiercely, ‘I am going to go on the stage, Carrie. Acting is my destiny.’

  Carrie believed her, but as she made her way to Thea’s bedroom, she didn’t see how, for Violet, it could be an achievable ambition.

  The minute she stepped into the room Thea rushed up to her, hugging her hard. ‘You’re lovely and early, Carrie! I didn’t think the Richmond bus to Outhwaite got in until twelve o’clock.’

  ‘It doesn’t. I came in a motor car.’

  ‘Whose motor car?’ It was Olivia who was hugging her now, an Olivia looking breathtakingly sophisticated in a knee-skimming turquoise silk dress and a long rope of pearls.

  ‘Hal’s.’

  Olivia’s reaction didn’t disappoint her. ‘Hal has a motor car? How spiffing! He must be the first person in Outhwaite village to have one, apart from the vicar and the doctor.’

  Seating herself at her dressing table so that they wouldn’t see the expression that had flooded her eyes on hearing Hal’s name, Thea said much less effusively, ‘A couple of local farmers have trucks.’

  ‘Maybe they do.’ Olivia hooked her arm through Carrie’s. ‘But they’re not nineteen years old. For someone of Hal’s background, owning a motor car is pretty exceptional. I can’t wait for him to take me for a spin in it.’ Another thought struck her. ‘D’you think he would take all three of us for a spin in it later this afternoon, after the wedding?’

  Before Carrie could say that she thought he would love to, Thea said swiftly, ‘And leave Violet behind, throwing a tantrum to end all tantrums? I don’t think so. The best plan would be if he took you, Carrie and Violet for a spin. I get queasy in cars.’

  Thea’s wedding outfit was a mustard-coloured tunic dress that, in comparison to Olivia’s turquoise silk dress, was almost masculine in its severity. It didn’t make Thea look masculine, though. The colour brought out the red undertones in her chestnut hair – hair not merely bobbed, but shingled – and the startling greenness of her eyes.

  She turned around to face them, determined that her reactions where Hal was concerned were not going to show again. Roz might guess at them, but as she didn’t know everything about her and Hal, she wouldn’t guess too much.

  Putting out her hand, she took hold of Carrie’s and pulled her down onto the dressing-table stool beside her. ‘I miss you, Carrie. I do wish we could get our plan for you to be my lady’s maid off the ground. Papa said he spoke to Lady Markham and that she wasn’t happy about the idea of her lady’s maid training you up.’

  ‘That’s because she doesn’t want to lose me.’

  ‘Well, she’s going to have to lose you. It doesn’t matter that you aren’t trained – I only suggested you being trained so that Papa could have no objections. When you get back to Monkswood you must give in your notice.’

  Olivia, who had been watching Carrie’s face, said, ‘You’re being impossibly bossy, Thea. Perhaps Carrie doesn’t want to leave Monkswood.’

  ‘Of course she does! When she’s my lady’s maid she’ll be with me all the time – and that’s something we both want.’

  Gently Carrie said, ‘But not if you are living mainly in London, Thea.’

  Thea stared at her disbelievingly and Carrie gave her hand a loving squeeze. ‘This is the first time you’ve been back at Gorton in nearly a year and, when the wedding is over, you’ll be leaving it for London again. If I was your lady’s maid I would be going with you, and I can’t face the thought of ever having to leave Yorkshire for long periods in London. I’m sorry, Thea. I wasn’t going to tell you until after the wedding. I didn’t want to spoil the short time we all have together.’

  Thea sucked in her breath and, aware of how deep her disappointment was, Carrie said, ‘Being apart for such long periods doesn’t alter our being best friends, Thea. Think how long we’re often separated from Roz.’

  Thea swallowed hard. If Carrie didn’t want to leave Yorkshire for Mount Street, then there was nothing she could do about it. She certainly couldn’t promise Carrie that she’d begin spending the greater part of her time at Gorton. London was where all her socialist friends were, and where all the excitement of socialist meetings was. It was also where other, very different friends – friends such as the Duke and Duchess of York and the Prince of Wales – were. Though her London life was loveless, it was full of interest and it had another advantage over Gorton, one that was overwhelming. It was 250 miles away from Richmond and Hal.

  She gave Carrie’s hand an answering squeeze. ‘I do understand, Carrie, but I can’t pretend I’m not hoping that one day you’ll change your mind.’

  Carrie was saved from having to say she was sure that was never going to happen by a maid knocking on the door.

  ‘His lordship says to remind you of the time, Miss Thea, Miss Olivia,’ she said as she entered the room, her face shining with excitement at the fairytale prospect of Miss Violet’s governess leaving Gorton for her wedding, just as if she were a daughter of the house. ‘And his lordship says when you are ready, would you and Carrie please join him in the drawing room.’

  ‘Countdown time.’ Olivia darted across the bedroom and retrieved a shiny straw cloche dyed the exact colour of her dress from a hat-box with the words Hohe Modenhüte Berlin emblazoned on the side of it. ‘I was hoping I’d have time to show lots of photographs of Dieter before we left for the church,’ she said, pulling the cloche snugly over her orange-tawny hair, ‘but now that will have to wait until later.’

  Without bothering with a mirror, Thea placed a wide-brimmed, shallow-crowned hat on her head and picked up a slim envelope-bag. ‘Where on earth is Roz?’ she said to Olivia as they all headed out of the room. ‘She’s cutting it very fine.’

  ‘If she’s coming from Paris, perhaps the boat-train was late.’

  Fervently hoping that Olivia was wrong, Carrie hurried with them down the grand staircase, her heart beating fast and light. In another few moments she would be being greeted by Lord Fenton, and for her such occasions were always momentous.

  ‘I’d hoped we’d have a glimpse of Hermione in her wedding gown before we left the house,’ Olivia said as they crossed the hall towards the drawing room. ‘Do you think she’ll be wearing white? I can’t imagine Hermione in a white bridal gown and veil.’

  ‘I can’t imagine her without her pince-nez,’ Thea said, wondering how she was going to maintain her composure when she saw Hal in church; wondering what his attitude towards her was going to be; wondering how, if he ignored her, she was going to be able to ignore him.

  As they walked into the drawing room, her father strode to greet them, immaculately handsome in a grey morning suit and sporting a white rose boutonnière.

  ‘How delightful to see you at Gorton again, Carrie,’ he said, shaking her hand. ‘Are you still happy at Monkswood? Lady Markham tells me you’ve forsaken parlourmaid duties and that you are now a chambermaid. Does that mean you are earning a little more money each month?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Carrie blushed rosily. ‘And I’m very happy at Monkswood – though I do still miss Outhwaite.’

  ‘Ah,’ he said understandingly, and she knew he knew she really meant Gorton, and that although she did miss Outhwaite, it was Gorton she missed the most.

  ‘All three of you are looking very fetching,’ he said, resisting the temptation to say that Olivia looked so different
from the girl who had left for Berlin a little less than a year ago, and that he doubted anyone in Outhwaite was going to recognize her. He didn’t like the fashion for mascaraed eyes and oxblood-red lips on unmarried young women, but as it was a fashion Zephiniah also followed – with results that made his heart beat like a hammer – he didn’t feel comfortable criticizing it.

  Glancing towards the ormolu clock on the marble mantelshelf he said, ‘Although you may feel it’s a little early, I think it’s time you were leaving for the church. It’s always better to be seated in good time at a wedding.’

  ‘But what about Roz?’ Thea’s eyes darkened in concern. ‘Shouldn’t we wait for her a little bit longer?’

  ‘Because of how late she’s running, Braithwaite will take her straight to the church. She may be there already.’

  ‘I hope she has her camera with her,’ Olivia said, not turning to leave the room as he had suggested. ‘Violet will never forgive Roz if her moment as a bridesmaid goes unrecorded.’

  Carrie was aware of Thea asking a question about the church and photographs and of Lord Fenton replying to her, but she was no longer standing with them and no longer listening. When Lord Fenton had made his remark about how fetching the three of them looked, her blush had deepened to the point where she’d been desperate to hide it and she had stepped back and turned away, fixing her unseeing gaze on the grand piano and the gold-framed watercolours hanging on the wall behind it.

  Always sensible, she told herself that the remark had simply been a pleasant, throwaway remark to his daughters and that she had been included in it simply because she had entered the room with them. She dared not imagine anything else; to do so would be foolish to the point of imbecility.

  ‘Rozalind rarely goes anywhere without her camera,’ Lord Fenton was saying, as common sense took over and the scarlet banners in her cheeks ebbed, ‘and so I think you are worrying unnecessarily, Thea.’

  Carrie dropped her gaze from the watercolours, about to turn and rejoin Thea and Olivia. As she did so her glance fell on the silver-framed photograph of Blanche that, ever since her death, had held pride of place on the piano, always with a slender vase of fresh-cut flowers next to it.

  The flowers were there now, a delicate arrangement of sweet-smelling freesias. Something else was also next to it. Another photograph. One she had never seen before.

  It wasn’t of Blanche, with her cloud of smoke-dark hair, warm loving smile and pearls at her ears and throat.

  It was of a woman in an off-the-shoulder, daringly décolleté black taffeta ballgown. Night-black hair was swept high in a gleaming, complicated chignon, and there were diamonds at her ears and throat and around her slender wrists. Lady Pyke – for Carrie knew the photograph could be of no one else – wasn’t smiling, but then in formal photographs (and the photograph was very formal) people seldom smiled.

  Carrie tried to look away from Lady Pyke’s glittering, elegant image, but couldn’t.

  She’d known Lord Fenton was engaged and would soon be remarrying, but until now such an event had seemed unreal. If she had given any thought as to what the new Lady Fenton would be like, she had imagined a paler version of Blanche.

  As shockwave after shockwave washed over her, she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the woman in the photograph was nothing like Blanche.

  Dimly she heard Lord Fenton say, ‘Time is ticking away, girls. Any minute now Hermione will be coming downstairs, and I don’t want you here when she does so. She doesn’t want you seeing her in her wedding gown until she arrives at the church.’

  Carrie knew she should turn and begin walking to the door, but her legs felt too weak to be trusted. What if the new Lady Fenton didn’t approve of her friendship with Thea and Olivia and Violet? What if she thought Carrie visiting Gorton Hall as a family friend was déclassé?

  There was movement behind her and as Lord Fenton, with a hand on his daughters’ shoulders, began propelling them firmly towards the door, Carrie finally found the strength to turn around and follow them.

  She did so ashamed of the selfishness of her feelings. The most important thing about Lord Fenton’s second marriage wasn’t whether his new wife would approve of her, and of her friendship with Thea, Olivia and Violet. The most important thing was that she should make Lord Fenton happy; as happy as he had been with Blanche.

  As he led them across the neatly raked gravel to the first of three ribbon-bedecked motor cars, she knew one thing for certain: Lord Fenton’s happiness was far more important to her than her own.

  It was, and had been for as long as she could remember, the most important thing in the world to her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The drive from Gorton Hall to the tiny Methodist chapel in Outhwaite’s High Street church took barely ten minutes, but during those ten minutes Thea’s tension increased until it was nearly unendurable. What was going to happen when she and Hal were again face-to-face? Would he realize that he still loved her? That he had behaved idiotically in believing the class difference between them was unbridgeable? Was today going to be the day when everything would finally be made right? She closed her eyes, imagining his arms around her once again. His hands hard upon her body, his mouth dry as her tongue slipped past his.

  ‘Golly!’ Olivia said. ‘Look at the number of people outside the chapel waiting for Papa and Hermione’s arrival.’

  Thea opened her eyes. The chapel faced directly onto the High Street and both sides of the steps leading to its open double doors were crowded with people eager for a glimpse of the bride. Inside it would, she knew, be packed to the rafters, with the only available seating the seating reserved for them. Charlie would probably already be there, and Jim would be with him.

  The car drew to a halt and she wondered feverishly if Hal had already arrived. If he had, he was bound to be sitting in the first or second row of right-hand pews, along with Charlie’s family. As Hermione had no family, when she, Olivia and Carrie entered the chapel they would be led to the front left-hand pews, which meant there would only be a matter of yards between her and Hal. Would he immediately try and make eye contact with her? There was still ten minutes before Hermione was due to arrive. Would he take advantage of that time and walk across and speak to her? He wouldn’t be able to say the kind of things she ached for him to say, in front of Olivia and Carrie, but she would know by his eyes if he had missed her as much as she had missed him.

  ‘It’s a shame Methodists don’t go in for candles and incense,’ Olivia said as they entered the chapel. ‘It’s a much nicer smell than lavender polish.’

  ‘I like the smell,’ she heard Carrie say. ‘Look how wonderfully shiny all the mahogany is, and there’s something calming about plain white walls and polished brasswork.’

  Thea couldn’t have cared less about the chapel’s interior, which didn’t have one main aisle, but a right-hand aisle and a left-hand aisle, with pews at the sides of both aisles and central pews between them.

  Hal was seated in a front left-hand pew and, as they walked down the right-hand aisle to take the places reserved for them, she had a clear view of the back of his head. No one else in Outhwaite had such a head of unruly dark curls. She knew he often tried to subdue them with brilliantine, but he rarely did so successfully and, if he had tried to do so today, he had failed miserably.

  Carrie parted company with them in order to sit next to her granny, and Olivia said, as she too spotted Hal, ‘I can’t wait for us to be a circle of five again. D’you think there’s time for me to go over and have a quick word with Hal, before Papa and Hermione arrive?’

  ‘No,’ Thea said tersely, stepping into the front central pew. ‘I don’t.’

  A buzz of interested comments on their wedding outfits had followed them down the aisle and she knew that although Hal hadn’t turned his head, he was aware of her arrival. It was impossible for him not to be.

  She seated herself on the unforgivingly hard wood and looked determinedly straight ahead to where, in fro
nt of the communion table, Charlie and Jim were deep in conversation with the pastor.

  Had Hal not looked towards her for the same reason that she, now, was not looking towards him? Because he was afraid of what her response might be? Or was it because a hot, urgent glance passed between them would be endlessly gossiped about and conjectured on? Or, worst thought of all, had he not turned his head towards her because he no longer had the slightest interest in her? If that was the case, how was he going to explain no longer even being friends with her to Olivia, Carrie and Roz?

  And where was Roz?

  ‘She’s only got another five minutes, if she wants to be here before the bride,’ Olivia said, reading her thoughts and turning round to make sure Roz hadn’t come in after them and taken a seat at the back of the chapel.

  ‘I can’t see her anywhere,’ she said, ‘but the Hardwicks are out in full strength. I’d no idea Charlie had such a lot of relatives – and they must be relatives, because none of them are from Outhwaite. Mr and Mrs Lumsden are here – and Mrs Lumsden is wearing a very splendid purple hat with a feather! Mrs Mellor is sitting on Charlie’s side of the chapel. It’s odd to think that if it wasn’t for the ghastly scene in her post office, Mama would never have offered Charlie a position as a gardener at Gorton, and Papa would never have referred him to Mr Gillies, and Charlie wouldn’t have the face he has now.’

  Thea was just about to say that if all that hadn’t happened, it was highly unlikely Charlie and Hermione would have met and be now getting married, when the pastor terminated his conversation with Charlie and Jim and faced the congregation.

  An expectant hush fell.

  Charlie stood as erect as a guardsman on parade.

  Jim nervously slicked back his hair.

  Olivia said in a whisper to Thea, ‘Roz is not going to be happy at missing this.’