‘I reckon we’re a good two-thirds of the way there,’ said Archie, standing on an outcrop and looking upwards. ‘Come on, race you to the ridge above us.’
An hour later, they reached the top of the pike. Breathless and panting, they stood side by side, exhilarated by their achievement. Flora walked slowly around the summit, surveying the magnificent view below them.
‘I read in a book last night that on a clear day you can see Scotland, Wales, Ireland and the Isle of Man,’ Archie said, appearing next to her. ‘It’s a shame we don’t have a photographer to mark the moment. Shall I help you up onto the cairn that marks the pinnacle?’
‘Thank you.’ Archie took her hand and steadied her as she mounted the huge pile of rocks then let her go as she spread out her arms and looked up to the blue of the sky. ‘I feel on top of the world!’
‘You are – at least in England,’ he laughed, reaching out his arms as she climbed back down towards him. He took her by the waist and swung her to the ground. Holding her there for a few seconds, he looked at her. ‘Flora, I do declare that you are simply beautiful when you’re happy.’
Flora felt the heat rising in her cheeks once more, as a mist suddenly swirled wetly around them and the views disappeared.
‘I’m starving,’ she announced to hide her blushes.
‘So am I. How say you we walk downwards back into the sun and eat our picnic there? Mr Turnbull tells me we should head northwest towards Lingmell; the way is well marked with cairns. He says the view onto Wasdale is quite spectacular. We can pause to eat there.’
‘Then lead the way to our sandwiches,’ she said, as Archie picked up his rucksack and they moved off the summit.
Twenty minutes later, Flora insisted she could go no further, so they settled themselves on a flat rock and Archie unpacked their lunch.
‘Cheese sandwiches have never tasted more divine,’ she murmured. ‘I only wish I’d thought to bring my sketchpad and charcoal with me. I must try to remember this view so I can recreate it on paper.’ Flora pulled off her cap so that her hair flowed around her shoulders and tipped her face up towards the sun’s warmth.
‘You have the most wonderful head of hair, I must say,’ said Archie, reaching for a strand and twirling a ringlet around his finger.
Something inside Flora’s body gave a strange little jolt at Archie’s intimate touch. ‘It’s as thick and strong as tow rope, and my mother has no idea where it comes from,’ she said. ‘If you slip and fall on our way, I’ll throw you a handful of it and you can use it to haul yourself back up.’
Flora gave a smile and turned to find Archie staring at her, a strange expression in his eyes. ‘What is it?’
‘It would be inappropriate to tell you what I was thinking. All I will say is that I find you delightful company in your current euphoric mood.’
‘Thank you. And I wish to tell you that I have finally forgiven you for almost killing me. Twice.’
‘Then we are friends?’
For a moment, Archie’s face was very close to hers.
‘Yes, we are.’
As they both reclined on the sun-warmed slab of rock, Flora decided she had never felt so relaxed in the company of another human being, which was quite a turnaround under the circumstances.
‘Where do you think your talent for sketching and painting came from?’ he asked.
‘I’ve no idea, but I certainly know who it was that inspired me. You can probably see her farmhouse from here.’
‘And who may this person be?’
‘She’s a children’s writer named Beatrix Potter. When I was seven, she came to Esthwaite Hall with her parents for tea. I was sitting in the garden trying to draw a caterpillar I had just found on a leaf and was comparing it to a slug. She sat down on the grass next to me, admired my caterpillar and asked if she could show me how to draw it. Then, a week later, an envelope was sent to me through the post. I was so excited: I’d never received anything addressed to me before. And inside, there was a letter from Miss Potter. But it wasn’t a normal letter, because it told the story of Cedric the Caterpillar and his friend Simon the Slug, and contained tiny watercolour sketches. It’s my most treasured possession.’
‘I have heard of Miss Potter and her books. She has become famous for them in the past few years.’
‘Indeed, but when I met her, she was not. And now she lives in Near Sawrey at Hill Top Farm, very close to the public house where you are staying.’
‘And have you made her acquaintance since she arrived here?’
‘No. These days, she’s so busy and famous that I don’t feel I can arrive on her doorstep without being invited.’
‘Does she live alone?’
‘I believe she does, yes.’
‘Then perhaps she is lonely. Just because she is well known does not mean she doesn’t desire company. Especially from a young woman whom she once inspired.’
‘Perhaps, but I haven’t yet worked up the nerve. She is quite simply my heroine. One day I hope my life will be similar to hers.’
‘What? An ageing spinster, with only animals and plants for company?’
‘You mean an independent woman of means who has been able to choose her own destiny?’ Flora countered.
‘You believe that your destiny is to be alone?’
‘As my parents did not see fit for me to be presented at court like my younger sister, I have settled to the thought that I will probably never marry.’
‘Flora’ – Archie reached his hand to hers tentatively – ‘the fact that you weren’t presented does not preclude you falling in love and sharing your life with a man. Perhaps there were reasons . . .’
‘Yes. My parents did not have the finances necessary, or the support of Aunt Charlotte, as Aurelia has had.’
‘That’s not quite what I meant. Sometimes, there are . . . circumstances which we may not be fully aware of, which affect others’ actions.’
‘You mean that I am not a beauty like Aurelia is?’
‘I certainly did not mean that! You have no idea how brightly you shine. Both outside and in.’
‘Please, Archie, I understand that you’re trying to be kind, but I know why. Now, we must head down the mountain. Can you see the clouds gathering above us? I believe a squall is coming over.’ Flora stood up, suddenly wishing the conversation had never begun. She felt inexplicably vulnerable, and her mood had altered just as swiftly as the clouds had blacked out the sun.
Fifteen minutes later, both of them were lying face down against the rough grass and sheep droppings as the heavens opened and the rising wind drove needle-sharp pricks of rain against them.
‘Here,’ said Archie, rifling in his rucksack, ‘take the edge of the blanket and we can take shelter underneath it.’
Flora reached for a corner to pull it over her head. Archie had the other end and they lay there together in the darkness. Their inadequate shield was quickly soaked through.
‘Hello,’ he whispered, and she felt his breath on her cheek.
‘Hello.’
‘Have we met somewhere before? My name’s Archie, the farm boy.’
‘And mine is Flora, the milkmaid.’ She couldn’t help but smile.
‘Smells rather of sheep excrement in here, doesn’t it?’
‘I believe it is the preferred perfume in this part of the world.’
‘Flora?’
‘Yes?’
Then his lips searched for hers, and he kissed her. Small arrows of desire shot straight down from her mouth right through her body, and though she urged her own lips to take heed and detach themselves, they refused to obey. He drew her closer, wrapping his arms and his warmth tightly around her. The kissing seemed to last for a very long time, as Flora’s intentions to grow old alone blew away as fast as one of the angry clouds above them. Finally, as the rain ceased, and with huge effort, she drew her face away from his.
‘My God, Flora,’ Archie panted, ‘what have you done to me? You are miraculous! I adore you
. . .’
He reached for her again, but this time Flora pulled away, then yanked off the blanket and sat up dazed from shock and pleasure. Archie appeared too a few seconds later and they sat together in silence.
‘My sincere apologies, I’m afraid my feelings got the better of me. I’m sure that you will now add this most recent bad behaviour to my list of misdemeanours. Please, Flora, I beg you, don’t. I simply couldn’t help it. I stand by what I said, and however inappropriate, I adore you. In truth, I have thought of nothing and no one else since I laid eyes on you back in April.’
‘I—’
‘Hear me out.’ Archie took her hand in his. ‘It will be one of the last chances we have to be alone. The reason I escorted Elizabeth to the dance in London was because I was expecting to see you there with your sister. Then I remembered that your father had invited me to join his shooting party in the Highlands and it was the perfect excuse to stop in and see you on the way home. These past three days with you have been . . . sublime. If ever two people fitted like a hand in a glove, it’s you and I. Surely, you must feel it too?’
Flora made to stand, but her hand was held fast. ‘Please believe what I’m telling you,’ he entreated her. ‘And I need you to remember every word I’ve said and look at me and know it’s the truth. I have to leave tonight to begin to motor back home, as I’ve promised my mother I will be back tomorrow. But I swear that I will write to you, and we will see each other again.’ His gaze was dark but clear as he gripped her hand more tightly. ‘I want you to trust me. Whatever happens, you must trust me.’
Flora turned to him, overwhelmed by this sudden outpouring of feeling. After barely three days together, how could she trust him?
She dragged her eyes from his gaze. ‘We’d better be going or Sarah will wonder where I am.’
‘Yes, of course.’ His hand let go of hers like a rope snapping under tension, leaving her oddly bereft.
They trudged down the mountain in silence, their mood as dampened as their sodden clothes.
Finally reaching the motor car, it was all Flora could do to keep her eyes open, suffering from fatigue and emotional confusion in equal measure. As Archie drove, they sat only a few inches apart, each lost in their own thoughts. Eventually, they drew up at the gates of the Hall and Archie brought the motor car to a halt.
‘Flora, I have to go home and put right a dreadful mistake I now know I have made. But I swear I will. And I beg you, don’t dismiss what has happened between us in the last three days. However surreal it may feel to you as time passes, try to remember it was real. Will you promise me that?’
Flora stared at him, and took a deep breath. ‘Yes, I will.’
‘Goodbye then, darling Flora.’
‘Goodbye.’
Flora got out of the motor car, slammed the door and walked rather unsteadily through the gates, feeling as though the earth was not solid beneath her. Arriving in the kitchen, she found Sarah with her feet up on the range, munching on a bit of cake, and Mrs Hillbeck at the table with Panther nestled in her arms. They both glanced up, startled, before bursting into laughter.
‘Miss Flora! Where on earth have you been! And what are you wearing? You look half drowned,’ Sarah exclaimed as she recovered herself.
‘I am,’ she replied, grateful to them for providing the sense of normality she needed to regain her physical and emotional bearings. Sarah was already rubbing at Flora’s hair with a muslin cloth to dry it. ‘I’ve just been in the mountains,’ she said dreamily.
‘And it’s been right throwing it down,’ Sarah muttered. ‘Dearie me, child. You take yourself upstairs and get out of those wet clothes. I’ll bring you a tea tray up and fill the bathtub.’
‘Thank you.’ Flora walked slowly to the boot room and pulled the soaking walking boots off her sore feet. After hobbling into the hall and up the stairs to her bedroom, she was greeted by a disgruntled scuffle of hungry animals. She removed her sopping clothes and donned her robe, then hurriedly stuffed leaves and seeds through the bars. A wave of exhaustion suddenly overtook her, and she staggered to the bed and lay down.
By the time Sarah arrived upstairs with the tea tray, she saw Miss Flora had fallen fast asleep.
13
Flora spent the following week in bed with a horrible chill. As her fever rose, the entire Archie episode took on a dreamlike quality, and she began to wonder if she’d imagined the whole thing.
When she eventually felt well enough to get out of bed, she walked on legs of jelly downstairs and found a number of letters addressed to her on the silver plate left in the hall for the purpose. She recognised by the writing that two of them were from Aurelia, one was from her mother, but the fourth was written in Archie’s elegant script. Sitting on the bottom stair, her hands trembled as she opened the envelope, weak from both her recent illness and fear of what it might contain.
High Weald
Ashford, Kent
5th July 1909
My dearest Flora,
I hope this letter finds you well, although I myself have suffered from a bad chill in the days after our mountain escapade. I wished to tell you that everything I said to you, I meant. I ask you to please bear with me as there is a complex situation that I must endeavour to resolve. It is not of your making – or, for that matter, particularly of mine – but arose simply from my readiness to do the right thing for all whom I love.
I know I speak in riddles, but sadly, plans were set in motion before I saw you and I must now do my best to extricate myself from them, to clear a path forward. I suggest, due to the current sensitivity of the situation, that you burn this letter, as I know how such missives have a habit of falling into the wrong hands. And I would not wish to compromise you.
In the meantime, I entreat you again to trust me, and I remain your friend and ardent admirer,
Archie Vaughan
P.S. Please pass on my best regards to Panther. I hope he is looking after you.
Flora read and reread his words, trying to make sense of them. When they started to dance across the page in front of her, she folded the letter with a sigh and placed it back in its envelope.
To distract herself, Flora reached for the letters from Aurelia. The first one was full of excited gossip.
There are already two betrothals announced and Mama and I have been invited to attend both engagement parties. In truth, there are a number of young men here who seek me out, but none of them have caught my heart. I was disappointed that your nemesis, Archie Vaughan, was apparently unwell and therefore had to cancel his intended visit to London. Now I doubt I will see him before the Season ends and everyone disperses to summer at home or, in some cases, abroad. I confess that returning to Esthwaite might feel a little dull after London, but I am so looking forward to seeing you, my darling sister. You have no idea just how much I have missed you.
‘“Nemesis” . . . hah!’ Flora put down the letter and thought how much had changed since she had last seen Aurelia. And then, with a heavy heart, she knew she must acknowledge her sister’s feelings for Archie. Aurelia only wished Flora to like him and forgive him. How horrified would she be if she knew the truth?
Flora went up to her bedroom, tucked the letters into the silk pocket at the back of her current journal, and locked that in her writing bureau. She sent up a silent – and rather selfish – prayer that some man . . . any man other than Archie, might capture Aurelia’s heart in what little remained of the Season. There were many things she was willing to share with her sister, but she was painfully aware that her newfound passion for Archie Vaughan could never be one of them.
She lay down on the bed and tore open the second letter from Aurelia.
4 Grosvenor Square
London
7th July 1909
Dearest Sister,
It is with a mixture of sadness and great joy that I write to tell you that, after all, I will not be joining you at home as soon as I thought. I have been invited to stay at High Weald by Lady Vaugha
n! Elizabeth has told me of its beauty and I look forward to seeing the legendary gardens she has described to me. As you can imagine, what is making me most eager to visit is the fact that Archie will be there. I am told he is still suffering from his chill, which is the reason he has not been seen in London and is much missed by all. Mama will return home to Esthwaite alone and I hope you can forgive me for extending my stay down south, but equally, understand the reasons why. I will be home in September and will continue writing in the meantime.
My love to you, my darling sister,
Aurelia
A lurch of pain clutched at Flora’s heart. A pain that transcended any blistered feet, fever or past grief over a lost member of her menagerie. Aurelia was going to stay at High Weald. She would see first-hand the house Archie had described and, even more poignantly, his beloved gardens.
Flora’s treacherous mind pictured Aurelia in one of her beautiful dresses, a large sun hat adorned with flowers perched on the top of her blonde head, being escorted around the gardens by Archie. As Flora sank back onto her pillows, she thought she might well vomit all over Panther’s sleek black fur.
When Sarah knocked on the door an hour later to see what she fancied for lunch, Flora feigned sleep. She doubted she would ever feel hungry again.
Her mother arrived home from London in the first week of August. Flora could see Rose was tense and put it down to her unhappiness at returning home after the bright lights of London. Three days later, her father, who it seemed to Flora was always miserable, returned from the Highlands. Perhaps it was also Aurelia’s absence, and the fact that Flora’s vivid imagination travelled hourly to dark thoughts of her sister with Archie at High Weald, but the entire household seemed to lie under a pall of gloom.
Now fully recovered from her chill, Flora took up her normal routine, rising early to forage for food for her animals, taking the trap to run errands in Hawkshead, and sketching whatever new treasures she’d found on her travels in the balmy afternoon sun. When she was at home, she heard hushed whispers behind the door of her father’s study and the conversation at dinner was even more stilted than usual.
The Shadow Sister Page 15