The Granville Sisters

by Una-Mary Parker

  ‘What good is that going to do?’ Rosie retorted loudly.

  ‘Dirty linen is always better washed in private,’ Candida boomed cheerfully. ‘Henry, are we going to eat soon? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.’

  ‘I’m sick to death of protecting Charles,’ Rosie said to her grandmother, as she went upstairs after dinner to collect Sophia, to take her home. ‘He may have a job, but I don’t see any of the money, except for the bits and pieces of food he buys at the weekend. Even then he says the shops don’t have the things I want.’

  ‘Darling, in public one must always stand by one’s husband,’ Lady Anne said firmly. ‘Of course I sympathize with you for the position you’re in, but is it really necessary to humiliate Charles in front of the rest of your family?’

  ‘I simply couldn’t help myself,’ Rosie admitted. ‘Maybe the sherry went to my head. I bet it gave Juliet a kick to know that while she’s married to a multi-millionaire, I’m married to a pauper.’

  ‘I’m sure it gave Juliet no pleasure at all. You let yourself down tonight, darling. More than you actually let Charles down. I’m not taking his side for one minute,’ Lady Anne said quickly, as Rosie was about to protest, ‘but whatever happens, you’ve got to keep your dignity. At least, thank God, it was only a family party, because if you’d done that in front of outsiders, it would have been really embarrassing.’

  ‘I don’t care.’ Rosie spoke rashly and with desperation in her voice. ‘Daddy’s increased my dress allowance – which has been turned into money to support the three of us, and soon there’ll be four mouths to feed, but he refuses to subsidize Charles.’

  Lady Anne spoke firmly. ‘It wouldn’t be good for Charles if your father did. He must learn about responsibility. Do you want to turn him into a kept man?’

  ‘He’s a kept man, already,’ Rosie flashed back. ‘I don’t think I can stand much more, Granny. I’m at the end of my tether. Mummy never brought me up to be a domestic drudge.’

  That’s the root of the trouble, Lady Anne thought. She brought you up to be a duchess …

  ‘Divorce is out of the question, Rosie.’ Liza looked aghast.

  The previous night, Henry had made Liza face the facts about Rosie’s unhappiness.

  ‘Everything will be fine, once Charles gets a better job. That gallery ought to pay him more.’

  ‘Charles is never going to have any money,’ Henry said severely. ‘He’s a penniless waster, who spends what he’s got on drink and gambling.’

  ‘But we can’t let Rosie starve, if they’re as poor as you say; especially as she’s having another baby.’ Liza clasped her hands, fingers interlaced in anguish. ‘We’ve got to help her more, Henry. If it gets out that …’ She closed her eyes, unable to continue.

  Liza decided to go and see Rosie the next day, to try and persuade her to make a go of her marriage.

  ‘It’s not just the money, Mummy,’ she explained fretfully, ‘it’s everything. I can’t bear Charles now; he’s weak and selfish and hopeless. I certainly didn’t want this other baby, but he got very drunk one weekend, and he … he forced himself on me. I couldn’t stop him. The only answer is to get a divorce.’

  Liza spoke harshly to her daughter, for the first time in her life. ‘The scandal of a divorce will ruin you,’ she raged. ‘Even a separation is out of the question. Pull yourself together, Rosie, for God’s sake! Other people have unhappy marriages, too, but they just get on with it. Don’t you realize you’ll be marked for life if you split up with Charles?’

  Rosie sat very upright, her face stony. ‘To be rid of Charles would be worth it.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, darling,’ Liza said, looking frightened at the prospect of such a family scandal. ‘You’re just feeling low because you’re tired, and you’re pregnant, and everything’s got on top of you. Why don’t you come and stay with us in London, for a bit? Nanny would adore to look after Sophia again; she really misses not having a baby to care for. Do come, sweetheart,’ she coaxed more gently now. ‘We can go shopping; I’ll get you some lovely clothes. We can meet friends for lunch at the Choiserie, give some little parties, get you back in the swing of things among your old friends. Then it won’t be nearly so hard, being married to Charles.’

  Rosie’s body slumped, as if the fight was going out of her. ‘If I stay at Green Street, Charles will stay also. That will be worse; I’ll be forced to be with him during the week, as well as at weekends.’

  Liza crumpled, too. ‘Oh, dear. Apart from giving you some money, what can I do?’

  ‘Hope he drops dead?’ Rosie shot back harshly.

  Liza looked at her in horror. ‘Rosie! That’s the most terrible thing to say.’

  ‘Shall I invite Rosie and Sophia up to Glenmally?’ Juliet suggested, as she walked around the gardens of Hartley with her father on the Sunday afternoon.

  ‘That could exacerbate the situation, sweetheart,’ he replied. ‘She already sees you as having everything, while she’s got nothing. Don’t offer her money either.’

  ‘What a mess.’ There was genuine sympathy in Juliet’s voice.

  ‘At least you’re happily married, to a very nice man,’ Henry remarked, putting his arm around her shoulders. ‘I’m really happy you’ve made such a success of your life.’

  Juliet, longing to tell him how barren and loveless her marriage really was, and how unhappy she felt at Glenmally, looked up at him, and knew she couldn’t. He’d be so disappointed by her failure, on top of Rosie’s.

  Instead, she said lightly, ‘Then you and Mummy must come to stay again. Very soon. I do miss you, you know.’

  Henry hugged her to his side. ‘We miss you too, sweetheart.’

  ‘Rosie will be all right, you know. She’s really quite tough under that wilting appearance.’

  He was silent for a moment, but then he said, grimly: ‘I hope you’re right, but I think she’s being held back from the edge by the finest of threads.’

  Something happened a few days later that made Juliet realize how right her father was.

  As she was walking down Duke Street, in Mayfair, she stopped to look into the window of a jewellery shop. Jewels had always been her passion, and although Cameron had produced a dozen cases from his safe, each containing a king’s ransom in diamonds, sapphires, rubies and emeralds, it didn’t stop Juliet hankering for more. Like a magpie, she was attracted to anything that glittered.

  Her eyes scanned the display and noticed an exquisite art deco diamond brooch, in the shape of a bow, tied with a knot. She sighed with pleasure. It was so fashionable, so modern, so different from anything she had.

  On impulse she went into the shop; there was no harm in having a closer look, was there? The cheque book in her handbag seemed to be shouting out that it wanted to be used.

  A loud bell clanged as she opened the door. The shop hadn’t changed since the Edwardian era. The elderly assistant, in pinstriped trousers and a black coat, who emerged from behind dusty red plush curtains, looked like he’d been there since 1900 too.

  ‘I’d like to see the art deco brooch in the window, please,’ she told him.

  ‘Certainly, Your Grace.’

  How pleasurable to be recognized, Juliet thought, trying not to look pleased. While he unlocked the glass screen and slid it back so he could pick up the broach, Juliet gazed at the jewellery displayed under the glass-topped counter. Then she suddenly started, unable to believe her eyes. Surely not! It couldn’t be … and yet, she was certain it was.

  ‘I’d also like to have a look at that diamond and sapphire ring,’ she said, pointing to it.

  Juliet examined the ring closely. ‘Did a tall young man, with light-brown hair and blue eyes, sell it to you? Quite recently?’

  ‘We never reveal where our antique jewels come from, Your Grace.’ There was a sudden note of suspicion in his gravelly voice. ‘This ring was made around 1887, that’s all I can tell you. The stones are very fine. Especially the centre sapphire.’

&nb
sp; ‘Lord Padmore sold it to you, didn’t he? It originally belonged to his mother.’

  He turned pale. ‘I – I really cannot comment …’ he stuttered with obvious discomfort.

  ‘How much is it?’ Juliet asked.

  He told her the price.

  ‘I’ll buy it.’ She fished out her cheque book.

  ‘And the brooch, Your Grace?’ he asked hopefully.

  ‘I’ve rather gone off the brooch,’ she said politely. She wanted to get out of this little shop, which had suddenly become claustrophobic, with the rottenness of Charles sickening her.

  That evening, Juliet dropped in to Green Street, managing to get her father on his own for a few minutes.

  ‘Should I give it back to her now?’ Juliet asked Henry that evening, showing him the ring. ‘She may be upset and think she’s lost it.’

  Henry’s mouth tightened. ‘What a bastard!’ he muttered, under his breath. ‘She does think she’s lost it; she admitted it to me the other day. She said she didn’t dare tell Charles, because he would be so angry. And all the time … Oh, my God,’ he groaned. ‘I never thought he’d sink so low.’

  ‘I think I’ll play a little game with Charles,’ Juliet said, with her wicked smile. ‘I’ll be down at the weekend. And I’ll go over and see them.’ She gave a throaty chuckle. ‘This could be quite amusing.’

  Henry looked worried. ‘You won’t humiliate Rosie, will you? I know what you two can be like; anything to score points off each other.’

  Juliet’s pale blue eyes widened in mock innocence. ‘Me?’ Then she burst out laughing. ‘Oh, Daddy, you know me so well, don’t you? But I promise you … not this time.’

  When she’d been a child, Juliet had been told that if someone stood long enough by Eros, at Piccadilly Circus, they’d eventually meet everyone they knew.

  It was bound to happen, she told herself, sooner or later, because the rich and privileged area of London was little more than a village, a one-mile radius from Hyde Park Corner, but when she saw him, walking towards her up South Audley Street, it was as if a miracle had happened.

  He was wearing a dark suit, a trilby, and he was carrying a rolled umbrella as he swung along. Looking at him, her legs felt suddenly weak, too weak to take another step.

  Then he spotted her. For a moment he stood still, gazing at her, a shocked look on his face. His dark eyes were wary, sizing her up. Juliet, hardly able to breath, stared back.

  ‘Hello, Juliet.’ His deep, rich voice sent an icy sensation down her backbone.

  ‘Hello, Daniel,’ she croaked. How different he is from Cameron, she thought, her mind whirling in a confusion of thoughts.

  He raised his hat. ‘How are you?’ He was standing close to her now, looking down into her face, blotting out everything from her mind, except that this was the man who filled her thoughts, day and night. The man whose body she craved, her memories of their weekend in Paris still vivid, the man she had come down to London to find again, no matter what.

  ‘Very well, thank you,’ she heard herself murmur.

  ‘You looked beautiful at your wedding.’

  ‘Most brides do,’ she quipped crisply, gathering strength. ‘White can be very becoming.’ She was beginning to feel sick with shock and desire.

  ‘You married the wrong man, you know.’

  ‘I married the man I wanted to marry,’ she said defensively.

  ‘Because I couldn’t marry you, there was no need to rush off and marry someone else.’

  She looked away sharply, gazing with unseeing eyes into the distance. The pain in her heart was physical.

  Daniel spoke. ‘I deeply regret not telling you I was married. It was wrong of me and I’m really sorry. I should never have led you to believe I was single.’ He paused, drilling her with his eyes. ‘But there’s nothing to stop us being together … when we can.’

  Juliet’s face became suffused with colour. ‘I know,’ she said in a small voice, because there was nothing else to say.

  ‘Being married needn’t stop us loving each other.’

  ‘I know,’ she repeated.

  Daniel held out his hand to take hers. ‘I knew if I told you the truth you’d have had nothing to do with me.’ His hands tightened their grip. ‘Juliet, you’ve no idea how much I love you. And want you. I thought I’d lost you for ever – and when I saw you just now …’

  ‘I live in Scotland,’ she said, dazed.

  ‘You’re not in Scotland now.’

  She couldn’t trust herself to speak.

  ‘Are you in love with your husband?’ he asked harshly.

  She looked up quickly then. ‘Not at all.’

  ‘And I’m no longer in love with Rachel. I’ll never leave her and the children. But if you can accept that, then you will always have the best of me. And the best of my love.’

  Juliet nodded slowly. As long as no one ever found out, what was the harm?

  ‘You’re looking very well, darling,’ Lady Anne remarked, when Juliet drove down to Hartley for the weekend.

  ‘I am very well, Granny. I’ve bought you some of your favourite chocolates, violet cream.’

  ‘Darling, that’s so sweet of you.’ Lady Anne looked closely at her granddaughter. She was glowing, eyes sparkling, a lightness in her step.

  Something’s happened, Lady Anne reflected. Perhaps Juliet is pregnant, but I don’t think it’s that. She remembered how she’d been herself, in her youth, when she’d fallen in love. Juliet had the same rapturous aura of happiness she remembered having, the same secret excitement that had made her glow, unaware of everything around her, thoughts fixed only on the object of her love.

  Lady Anne didn’t need to be told. Instinctively, she knew Juliet’s radiance had nothing to do with Cameron.

  ‘Are you still here?’ Rosie ungraciously led the way into the kitchen. ‘I thought you’d have returned to Scotland by now. I suppose you want a cup of coffee or something?’

  Juliet followed, picking her way over floor mops and brooms that Rosie had abandoned in the doorway.

  ‘So when are you going back?’ Waddling now, in her advanced state of pregnancy, Rosie filled the kettle and put it on the gas stove.

  ‘Next week, probably. How are you feeling?’

  Rosie’s shoulders were bent, and, from the back view, she resembled an old lady. ‘Never get pregnant if you can help it,’ she murmured. ‘I can’t find a comfortable position to sleep in, my back aches all the time, my ankles are swollen, and I feel lousy.’

  ‘You poor old thing.’ Juliet looked around the little cluttered kitchen, seeing it as a nightmare of disorganization and mess. As before, dirty dishes had been chucked into the sink, where they lay half-submerged in grey soapy water. Bits of cabbage leaf lay on the floor, and there was spilt sugar on the only narrow work surface. She thought about her own kitchen at Glenmally, which she’d visited twice. Even if it was old-fashioned, with its big black stove, and rows of copper pans hanging from the ceiling, it was immaculate. And big enough to hold a party for a hundred people.

  ‘Shall we have our coffee next door, in the drawing room?’ she suggested.

  Rosie threw her a poisoned glance. ‘You know perfectly well it’s not a drawing room,’ she snapped, ‘so don’t patronize me. We’re only here until after I’ve had the baby. Then we’ll get a place in London again.’

  It was on the tip of Juliet’s tongue to ask sarcastically who was going to pay for a town house, but she held herself in check, instead smiling broadly, and nodding. ‘That’ll be nice. Mummy will be glad to have you near again.’

  Rosie carried the coffee tray into the front room, and set it on a low table, between two armchairs.

  Once again Juliet found it difficult to think of anything to say. Pointless to ask Have you seen so-and-so? or Have you seen such-and-such a film? because the answer could only be in the negative. Not diplomatic, either, to talk about the shopping she’d done since she’d come down to London. And she could hardly confide in her s
ister about her affair with Daniel, and the wonderful four nights when he’d stayed at Park Lane, coming late, after the skeleton staff had gone to bed, and slipping away before dawn.

  ‘What’s up? Why are you looking so pleased with yourself?’ Rosie asked crossly, and she pushed a cushion into the small of her back.

  Juliet frowned. Trying to hide her happiness. ‘I was thinking about Granny,’ she lied, swiftly. ‘She’s wonderful for her age, isn’t she? Whenever I see her I’m amazed at how active she is. I don’t know what this family would do without her.’

  Rosie’s face softened. ‘She’s so kind and sweet,’ she agreed.

  The front door opened at that moment, and then slammed shut again. Charles, looking disgruntled, put his head round the living-room door.

  ‘Oh, hello, Juliet. What are you up to?’

  Juliet burst out laughing. ‘You two really know how to make a person feel welcome, don’t you? How are you, Charles?’

  He sighed wearily, casting an irritable look at his wife.

  ‘Oh, this and that … what’s the matter, Juliet?’

  She was wriggling in the armchair, her brows gathered in perplexity, one of her hands down the side of the padded chair.

  ‘What the …?’ she began, pulling her hand out again. She was gripping the sapphire and diamond engagement ring with her fingertips.

  ‘My ring!’ exclaimed Rosie, flushing with pleasure. ‘Oh, how wonderful.’ She grabbed it from Juliet, and put it on the fourth finger of her left hand.

  Charles’s eyes seemed to be popping out of their sockets. He turned scarlet, shot Juliet a bewildered and suspicious look, and immediately set about berating Rosie.

  ‘Do you mean to say you lost your ring?’ he demanded furiously. ‘For Christ’s sake, Rosie, it’s a valuable family heirloom. How could you be so bloody careless? You’re always losing things!’

  Rosie’s eyes brimmed, and she looked scared. ‘It must have slipped off when I was plumping up the cushions. I’m sorry, Charles. I’ll be more careful …’ Then she fled from the room, and they could hear her footsteps, hurrying up the stairs to the bedroom, her breath coming in gasping sobs.

  Juliet rose and faced Charles, shaking with anger. ‘You loathsome rat,’ she said in a low voice. ‘We both know where it was, don’t we?’ she demanded grimly. ‘God, Charles, you’re the scum of the earth. I know you sold Rosie’s ring, so don’t deny it. You also guessed she’d be too frightened to admit she’d lost it – and then when I appeared to find it, you have the sheer bloody gall to have a go at her for being careless. Is there no end to the depths to which you’ll sink, to get money?’