An hour later Flora allowed Freed to hand her into the brougham, exhausted from the tension of the deception. She had done what was right in persuading Aurelia to accept Archie’s proposal. Yet doubt gnawed at her all the way home to Portman Square. All Aurelia wished for was to have her love for Archie returned by him.
Flora knew it was the one thing he could never give her.
‘I presume you are already aware of the notice in this morning’s Times?’ Mrs Keppel passed the newspaper to her and Flora read its substance.
‘Yes, Aurelia told me of Lord Vaughan’s proposal.’
‘And you are happy they are to marry before Christmas? It’s an unusually short engagement.’
‘Perhaps they both feel as though they have wasted precious time. I am very happy for both of them, they love each other dearly.’
Mrs Keppel’s eyes slanted knowingly. ‘Then I am happy too, and will send a note of congratulation to them from the household forthwith.’
‘As I will send mine.’
‘By coincidence, there is a letter arrived for you by hand from the Vaughans’ London household this morning. I told Mr Rolfe that I would give it to you personally.’
‘Thank you.’ As calmly as she could, Flora took the letter from Mrs Keppel’s delicate white hand.
Mrs Keppel watched her fingering the envelope. ‘My dear Flora, I am at home this afternoon and not receiving any visitors if, having read the letter, you wish to join me later for tea.’
‘I . . . thank you.’ Flora left the parlour and hurried upstairs to her bedroom. Closing the door firmly, she sat down on her bed and stared at the letter. Just the sight of his writing made tears burn at the back of her eyes. Tearing it open, her fingers trembled as she unfolded the paper.
18 Berkeley Square
Mayfair
19th October 1909
I have done as you requested, even though I know it is wrong for all three of us. Now it is agreed, I have suggested we marry as soon as possible.
Despite it all, I love you.
Archie
‘Ah, Flora, I was expecting you.’
‘Were you?’ Flora hovered at the door of Mrs Keppel’s parlour later that afternoon.
‘Of course,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘Close the door behind you. Your tea is already here, so we will not be disturbed.’
Flora did so and walked slowly towards Mrs Keppel, in an agony of indecision. She’d never been one to confide in others before, but today . . .
‘Do sit down, my dear, and warm yourself by the fire.’ Mrs Keppel handed Flora a cup of tea and she sipped it gratefully. ‘Now, we can sit here and take tea and gossip, or we can talk about the real reason that you appear before me now. Which would you prefer?’
‘I . . . do not know.’
‘Love is so very confusing, is it not? And you, like me, prefer to keep your own counsel. My darling Bertie always tells me that knowledge is power and that however tempting it is to give away that power to another in return for comfort, it is unwise to do so. And both of us have chosen not to do so.’
‘Yes.’ Flora was amazed at her insight.
‘So, Flora, you have been privy to my secret. Everyone in London believes to understand the relationship between myself and the King, and criticises it. But their malicious gossip and their wish to discredit me blinds them to the simple fact that I love him. An outsider might claim that my relationship with him is just a sham to further my own ambition, just as they might say that your rejection of Lord Vaughan’s attentions was cruel. But I know your true motivation stems from love for your dear sister.’
‘Mrs Keppel, what are you saying? I . . . no one has the least idea of any relationship between myself and Lord Vaughan . . .’
‘I am aware of that, and I doubt there is anyone in London who has guessed the situation, other than myself. I saw your faces after you met here a few days ago. And the . . . predicament was written all over both of them. Your secret is safe with me. Please, Flora, trust me and let it out before you drive yourself mad.’
Eventually, Flora did so. And as Mrs Keppel poured her a glass of sherry and offered her a clean lace handkerchief, and she spoke of all that had happened between them, there was no doubt she felt lighter.
‘You will not be the first or the last to send the man you love into the arms of another because you feel it is what should be done,’ Mrs Keppel said. ‘I once had a very similar situation before I was married to dear George, or met Bertie. You have acted correctly for the noblest of reasons, and now you must move on.’
‘I know. And that is the hard part.’
‘Well, the best way to do that is to keep yourself distracted, and I am more than happy to provide you with the opportunity.’ Mrs Keppel smiled. ‘There are a number of dances coming up, and I can assure you that before you attend your sister’s wedding, we will have garnered you at least two proposals.’
‘Thank you, but I am not interested in any suitors at present.’
‘That is because you have not met them yet.’ Mrs Keppel’s eyes gleamed. ‘We shall begin with a dance at Devonshire House, and then there is a rather grand ball out at Blenheim, which is such a trek, but I feel we should make it and—’
‘Mrs Keppel?’
‘Yes, my dear?’
‘Why are you doing all this for me?’
She glanced away into the fire, then looked back at Flora. ‘Because I feel you’re the child we never had.’
Star
October 2007
Ceanothus (California lilac – Rhamnaceae family)
20
I felt a hand patting me repeatedly on the shoulder and I brought myself back to the present. I looked up to see the closing credits of Superman on the screen, and Rory standing by me.
‘Superman II now?’
I looked down at my watch and saw it was past five thirty in the afternoon. ‘No.’ I shook my head. ‘I think that’s enough for one day. Want to see the pheasant?’ I asked Rory to distract him.
He nodded eagerly and I roused myself from the chair and the past, knowing that this wasn’t the moment to start analysing what I’d read, and whether it had any bearing on my own existence. In the kitchen, Orlando was sorting through the delivery from the farm shop.
‘Major brownie points for your thorough plucking of the pheasant,’ he said. ‘You’ll be relieved to know that I’ve just retrieved the shot that ended its life, so we’ll have no broken teeth tomorrow.’ He held up a small saucer, in the centre of which were three pieces of lead shot.
Rory immediately picked up a piece and studied it. ‘Poor bird.’
‘Ah, yes, but lucky us tomorrow. Miss Star, this is for tonight’s feast.’
I saw a gorgeous blood-red steak fillet lying on the marble slab in front of him.
‘I know no one else who can do justice to its perfection. If you don’t mind, I prefer to eat at eight sharp in the evening. It gives a good three hours to digest the food before one sleeps,’ said Orlando, glancing at the clock.
‘Then I’d better get on.’
‘While you’re doing that, I shall take this little chap off for a game of chess. Loser does the washing-up after supper.’
‘But you always win, Uncle Lando,’ Rory complained as they trooped out of the kitchen.
I prepared the meat and the vegetables then sat down, inhaling the scent of cooking and enjoying the wonderful warmth of the kitchen. Mulling over what I’d read, I realised that the figurine Pa had given me must be Flora’s adored cat, rather than an actual panther as I’d presumed. And then I thought about Flora, who Pa Salt had indicated was something to me. There were definitely similarities between us – namely our shared interest in botany and our love for nature. But then, millions of people also enjoyed these pursuits, and from what I’d read, it was far more likely to be Aurelia who I was connected to. After all, it seemed that she was the one who would marry into the Vaughan family.
The worst thing was, I wanted so badly to find a
link, something that would bond me inextricably to High Weald, and allow me to be a part of this extraordinary family, two members of which in particular I was growing fonder of by the day.
Once we had eaten the fillet, and Orlando pronounced it ‘heroic’, I took Rory upstairs for a bath, unsure of the rules for such things. I let him take the lead, as he unhooked his hearing aids and placed them carefully on a shelf.
‘Shall I leave?’ I asked as he stepped into the full bubble-city I had run for him. But he shook his head.
‘Talk to me. Tell me a story about your family, Star.’
So I sat on the old-fashioned wooden toilet cover and, relying heavily on mime and facial expressions when my signing fell short, gave Rory the most potted version of my childhood at Atlantis I could manage, throwing in a few stories of me and CeCe getting into trouble.
‘Naughty sisters!’ Rory giggled, as he stepped out of the bath and into the towel I held out to him. His green eyes grew serious then. ‘I want a sister or brother too. Sounds fun.’
I helped him put on his pyjamas and handed him his hearing aids. He fitted them snugly back onto each ear, then wrapped his arms around my shoulders and gave me a kiss on my cheek. ‘Will you be my sister, Star?’
‘Course I will,’ I said as we walked along the corridor to his bedroom.
A few minutes later, Orlando appeared in the doorway, hovering uncertainly. ‘Ablutions completed?’
‘Yes. Goodnight, angel,’ I said, giving Rory a kiss.
‘Goodnight, Star.’
After breakfast the next day, I browned off the pheasant legs in a large cast-iron pot before adding berries, herbs and some red wine, which I hoped would simmer down to create a luscious sauce. Then I wrapped the breasts in bacon and set them aside for baking later. Rory sat painting at the kitchen table and we worked peacefully together as I began rolling out the pastry for a fruit pie. I’d watched CeCe paint hundreds of times, but her art tended to be very precise, whereas Rory mixed the watercolours to the shade he required, then sloshed them on with abandon. As I put the pie into the range, I saw he’d produced an autumnal landscape that I wouldn’t be able to replicate if I had months to do so.
‘Amazing,’ I said as he signed his name on the painting, and I noticed how his hand formed the letters clumsily, in direct contrast to his flowing brushstrokes.
‘I like painting.’
‘We all like things we’re good at,’ I said with a smile.
Orlando had gone out earlier that morning. He hadn’t said where, but I had the feeling he was not looking forward to it. He arrived back with Mouse in tow just as I was mashing the potatoes.
‘Look.’ Rory indicated his painting. ‘For Star.’
Orlando dutifully praised it while Mouse merely swept a cursory glance over it.
‘What say you I fetch the bottle of Vacqueyras I’ve decanted to complement Star’s pheasant?’ Orlando said to no one in particular, as he headed to the pantry to retrieve the wine.
‘Did you read my transcription?’ Mouse asked me abruptly.
‘Yes, I did, thank you.’ I indicated the neat pile of paper beside the telephone.
‘Find it informative?’
‘Very.’
‘I’d like to see that figurine if you have it.’
‘Actually, I didn’t bring it with me after all,’ I lied, hoping my face wasn’t turning red, as it usually did when I told an untruth.
‘That’s a shame. Orlando thinks it’s a Fabergé.’
‘I’ll have another look for it before I leave.’
‘You do that.’
The telephone rang and Mouse reached for the receiver.
‘Hi, Marguerite. Yes, everything’s fine here. He’s fine too, aren’t you, Rory?’
‘Yes!’ Rory shouted so his mother could hear. ‘Fine.’
‘What time are you due back?’
I busied myself at the range so as not to look as though I was listening.
‘I see. Well, I certainly can’t do it, but I’ll ask Orlando and Star if they can. Orlando?’
‘Yes?’ He’d appeared from the pantry with the wine.
‘Marguerite’s been asked to stay on longer in France. She wants to know if you and Star can spare a few more days here to look after Rory.’
‘Sadly, that is an impossibility. I have two major auctions coming up in London, which I must attend. What about you, Mouse?’
‘Hardly. You know what I have on at the farm at the moment. Besides, Rory’s on half term and . . .’
My eyes fell on Rory, who was sitting in the middle of the two brothers, turning his head from side to side as they conducted their verbal tennis match. And probably feeling of little more importance than the metaphoric ball they were batting between them.
‘I’ll do it,’ I said suddenly. ‘I mean, if you can manage without me at the shop, Orlando.’
‘I can think about it, certainly.’
Rory patted Orlando’s hands and signed vigorously. ‘Yes, please let Star stay! Good food!’ There was a momentary silence as the brothers’ dual gazes fell on me.
‘Given the dearth of customers in the bookshop, she probably has nothing more taxing to do than dust,’ said Mouse.
My hackles rose at this comment, but I fought to control myself. I could see Orlando was doing the same.
‘Of course, the most important thing is that Rory is happy,’ he said eventually.
‘Right then, did you hear any of that, Marguerite? Star will stay on and Rory’s happy with the arrangement,’ Mouse said into the receiver. ‘I’ll be around to keep an eye out. Let us know what time you’re back on Wednesday, will you? Okay, bye now.’
‘Food’s ready,’ I said to Orlando, who had poured a glass of wine for all of us.
‘Wonderful. We’ll eat in here, shall we? And I . . . we’ – Orlando glanced at his brother – ‘are awfully grateful for your offer.’
‘No problem,’ I replied as I turned back to the range.
After the lunch, which – even though I say so myself – was something of a triumph, given I had never tackled pheasant before, Orlando was taken off to Ashford in Mouse’s Land Rover to catch the London train. The froideur between the brothers was obvious, and I presumed it was to do with their earlier meeting, and the conversation with Marguerite.
Mouse had said he would return to say goodnight to Rory, but the clock passed eight and there was no sign of him. I dragged Rory away from his Superman movie, bathed him and put him to bed.
Back in my own room, I searched in my rucksack for Pa Salt’s letter and the black cat. I studied the little creature carefully, remembering Flora’s vivid descriptions of ‘Panther’.
‘Is this you?’ I asked the ether, and, receiving no reply, stowed it away again. If it was a Fabergé, as Mouse had suggested, I knew it was of great value. Perhaps Mrs Keppel, who had also delighted in Fabergé’s creations, had given the cat to Flora as a gift . . .
There was only one way to find out, and that was to show the Sewer Rat . . . Mouse, I corrected myself. My own pet name of his pet name could not under any circumstances slip out.
I went to the bathroom and dipped myself as fast as I could in the bath full of bubbles I’d recently poured for Rory, having learnt last night that the hot water tank only ran to one tubful a day. Then I hurried to the bedroom to put on my layers before going downstairs.
I hovered by the front door, wondering if I should lock up for the night, when a figure appeared out of the gloom behind me, making me cry out in shock.
‘Only me,’ said Mouse. ‘I let myself in through the back door while you were upstairs. I just wanted to give you these.’ He held out two enormous brass keys on a ring.
‘Thanks.’
‘And thank you for doing this. It’s obvious Rory has taken to you already. Marguerite says she’ll call tomorrow. It’s most unlike her to agree to stay on. Something must be up,’ he muttered. ‘She normally works locally, so that she can at least get home for Rory in th
e evening. But it seems her fame has spread. Anyway, you’ll need some supplies to keep you going for the next few days. If you can write me a list, I’ll swing by tomorrow morning for it. It’ll be early, though.’
‘No problem,’ I replied. ‘Would you mind if I use the telephone to let my sister know I won’t be back tonight? My mobile doesn’t work here.’
‘Feel free. And if you’re desperate to send an email, you can come to my place. Turn right at the gate and cross the lane to the other side. There’s a sign for “Home Farm” a few hundred yards along on your left. It may not be grand, but at least it has Wi-Fi.’
‘I should be fine.’
‘And if you did manage to find that figurine, I really would like to see it. There are a number of holes in our family’s past that I’m keen to fill in.’
‘I’ll have another hunt through my bag.’
‘I hope you find it eventually. Goodnight, then.’
‘Goodnight.’
I let him out of the door and then locked it firmly. Then I went to the kitchen, picked up the telephone and dialled CeCe’s number.
‘Hi, it’s me.’
‘Sia! Where are you? And why are you calling from a strange number?’
I explained as best I could, and there was a long pause.
‘So, this family is not just paying you a pittance to work long hours in a bookshop, but they’re now also using you as an unpaid nanny and chef?’
‘Orlando said I’d still get my wages, and Marguerite will pay me extra on top too.’
‘The problem with you is that you’re too soft-hearted.’
‘It was an emergency, and I was the only one who could help. And I really don’t mind. I love it here,’ I replied honestly.
‘You just make sure they pay you what you’re owed. I miss you, Sia. This apartment is far too big for just one person.’
‘I’ll be home soon, and if you need me, I’ll be on this number.’
The Shadow Sister Page 22