The Shadow Sister

by Lucinda Riley

  The only time he seemed at peace was when he was nestled next to her in bed. And finally, even though she knew she was making a rod for her own back, but so physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted she’d stopped caring, she let him sleep next to her at night.

  After that, some modicum of peace descended on the cottage. Even so, the farm suffered from lack of attention, culminating in her employing a youth from the village to do the basic work she no longer had time for. And despite her carefully contrived routine being disrupted beyond repair, the fact that another beating heart lay in her arms every night helped her own frozen heart begin to thaw.

  With the summer sun out, she began to take Teddy for walks, fashioning a sling from a length of cotton that she wrapped around both of them – the rough paths and rocky terrain being unsuitable for a perambulator. She ignored the curious glances of the villagers – she could imagine the local gossip and chuckled at what they must think. And as the days passed, she began to feel the sense of peace and fulfilment she had thought would elude her forever. That was, until one hot day in July when she had a visitor.

  Having just put Teddy down for his afternoon nap, she busied herself in the garden, the carefully planted borders so neglected over the past month they were crying as loudly for her attention as Teddy did. As she went about unwinding the bindweed from the lupins, sweating in the strong afternoon sun, she thought how nature, left even for a short time to its own devices, would immediately regain control.

  ‘Hello, Flora.’

  Her hands – filled with earth and weed – froze where they were.

  ‘My name is Archie Vaughan. Do you remember me?’

  I really must be suffering the effects of the sun, she thought. Did she remember him? The man who had haunted her for the past nine years? It was the most absurd question her lonely mind had ever conjured up.

  ‘May I please come in?’

  She turned round to end this ridiculous hallucination, but as she gazed at the figure standing patiently behind the gate, then shook her head and blinked a number of times, the image refused to disappear.

  ‘Ridiculous!’ she shouted out loud.

  ‘What is “ridiculous”?’ the hallucination answered.

  ‘You are,’ she said as she picked herself up and marched towards the gate, having read enough books to know that when one was dehydrated, the imagined oasis disappeared as one approached it.

  ‘Am I?’

  She was now staring over the gate, close enough to smell the familiar scent of him and even the lightest wisp of breath on her cheek. ‘Please go away!’ she ordered in desperation.

  ‘Flora, please . . . it’s me, Archie. Don’t you remember?’

  Then the mirage reached out a hand and a finger touched her cheek, bringing with it sensations that could not possibly be a dream.

  His touch seemed to drain every last drop of blood from her veins, and she staggered, reaching for the gate to steady herself as her head spun.

  ‘Good God, Flora . . .’

  And suddenly, the ground was reaching up to her, and she collapsed on the path.

  ‘Forgive me,’ she heard vaguely as she felt a cool breeze wafting across her face. ‘I should have sent a telegram and warned you I was coming. But I was afraid that you would make sure you were out.’

  The soft voice made her open her eyes, and she saw what looked like a beige calico fan passing back and forth in front of them. As her eyes focused, she realised it was her sun hat and beyond that was a face: thinner than she remembered, almost gaunt with a lightning streak of grey hair growing from his temple. His eyes no longer shone clear, but were those of a haunted man.

  ‘Can you stand? I need to get you out of the sun.’

  ‘Yes.’ Leaning heavily upon him, he helped her up inside the house. She pointed him in the direction of the kitchen.

  ‘Surely you need to lie down?’

  ‘Goodness, no!’ she said, feeling as fey and silly as any heroine in a penny romance. ‘Can you bring me water from the pitcher in the pantry?’

  He did so, and she gulped it back thirstily, his grave eyes never leaving her. She had a sudden vision of what he must see: a woman whose face was sprinkled with lines, fashioned from grief, loneliness and the harsh weather of the Lakes. Her hair was unkempt as usual, spilling from its knot, and her body enclosed in a filthy, roughly sewn smock. Cotton breeches covered with grass stains and wooden clogs completed the ensemble. In short, she looked a fright.

  ‘You look so beautiful,’ Archie murmured. ‘The years have served you well.’

  She gave a snort of laughter, thinking that perhaps the strong sun had blinded his vision. Thankfully, her faculties were returning and gathering reluctantly like an exhausted army to her command.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ she asked him sharply. ‘How did you find me?’

  ‘I shall answer the latter question first, and tell you that your family have known of your whereabouts for years. You won’t be surprised to learn that your presence here was reported almost instantly to your mother by Stanley, the old stable hand at Esthwaite Hall. And, oblivious to the drama that had recently unfolded between her two daughters, Rose wrote to Aurelia.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘You will understand that, in order for our marriage to survive, it was best for all three of us to let sleeping dogs lie and refrain from contact. However, Aurelia watched over you, from a distance.’

  ‘I am surprised indeed.’

  ‘It is a truism that time can heal, Flora. And all of us have realised during the past few years how little time we may have left.’ Archie’s eyes darkened.

  ‘Yes.’

  There was a silence as both of them stared into the distance, memories gathering thick and fast.

  ‘I am here because Aurelia wanted to make amends,’ Archie continued eventually.

  ‘But it is we who are the guilty party.’

  ‘Agreed, but it was Aurelia who banished you from her life. When our child was born a month ago, her first thought was to write to you. She felt it was time.’

  ‘A new baby? How many do you have now?’

  ‘Just the one. I . . .’

  Flora heard the catch in Archie’s voice and read the expression on his face. And then she knew.

  ‘No,’ she whispered.

  ‘Aurelia died three weeks ago, ten days after she gave birth. I am so very sorry, Flora. You know she was never strong, and the pregnancy took a fatal toll on her health.’

  She closed her eyes as tears sprang to them. Her beautiful, sweet-natured sister no longer breathed. She would never again look into those clear blue eyes, so full of hope and laughter. Even in her self-imposed exile, she had always felt her sister there. The finality of it horrified her. And she berated herself for all the wasted years.

  ‘Oh God . . . oh God . . .’ she muttered. ‘I can hardly bear it. Did we . . . contribute? I would gladly have given my own life in her place, you must know that.’

  ‘Above anyone, I know it, Flora. You sacrificed your own happiness for hers. And truthfully, when we first married, it was . . . difficult. Especially as we struggled to have the one thing we needed to bond us – a child. Aurelia lost our first baby, then went on to suffer more miscarriages. Soon after that, the Great War came. I joined the Royal Flying Corps and was away from High Weald for most of the last three and a half years. We continued to try for a child, but to no avail. The doctor warned us that it would be pertinent for Aurelia’s health to refrain, but she would have none of it. And last autumn, she found herself with child once more. We . . . I . . .’ he corrected himself, ‘have a daughter.’

  ‘I . . . oh Archie . . .’ Flora dug out a filthy handkerchief from her pocket and blew into it.

  ‘I am so very sad I am here because of this terrible news. But Aurelia insisted upon it.’

  ‘Insisted on what?’

  ‘That I come here in person, to give you this. It was her last request before she died.’ He took an envelope
from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. Just the sight of the familiar script made Flora’s head swim.

  ‘Do you know what it contains?’

  ‘I . . . might have an idea, yes.’

  She fingered the envelope, her hands shaking as terror surged up inside her, thinking of the damning words it might contain. Then she felt a warm hand touch hers. ‘Don’t be frightened. I told you that she wanted to make amends. Will you open it now?’

  ‘Excuse me.’ Flora stood up and walked from the kitchen across the entrance hall and into the drawing room. She sat down in an armchair and split the wax seal.

  High Weald

  Ashford, Kent

  16th June 1919

  My dearest sister,

  There is so much I wish to say, but as you know, I am not an accomplished wordsmith like you. And I grow weaker by the day, so forgive me for the relative brevity of this missive.

  I have missed you sorely, my darling sister. There has not been a day when I have not thought of you. At first, yes, I hated you, but recently, I have begun to berate myself for the actions my jealous nature induced in me nine years ago. There has been so much time wasted, which can now never be recovered.

  Therefore, as I watch my darling daughter lying peacefully in her crib next to me, unaware that she will never know her mother as she grows, I must try to put things right. Flora, I do not want my child to be brought up without a mother. However much Archie will love Louise, he can never bring her the tenderness of feminine arms, or a listening ear to guide and nurture her as she grows into womanhood.

  Dear Sarah will stay on, of course, to care for Louise’s basic needs, but she is getting old. And we both understand that her education and views on the world are narrow, through no fault of her own.

  This brings me to the favour I must ask of you: when I enquired of my spies in Esthwaite recently as to your well-being, they told me that you live alone. If this is still the case, and you would be willing to come out of your isolation, I beg you to consider moving to High Weald to bring up my daughter as your own child.

  I am certain you will love her with every shred of your beautiful heart. And also, comfort my poor husband in his grief. Flora, you cannot know what he went through during the war, and now to be faced with the loss of his wife, and to bring up our daughter alone, is more than I can bear for him.

  Please, at least consider the possibility of such an arrangement, and allow me to have my immortal soul cleansed of my selfish error. You have suffered for long enough. You may find this letter surprising, but I have realised over time that we cannot help who we love. And Archie has confessed to much of the blame for what happened back then. He told me how he pursued you and misled you about the arrangement already made between himself and Father when in Scotland.

  My darling Flora, I am exhausted and can write little more. But believe me when I say there has been so much suffering in the world of late, and my fervent last wish is to relieve those I love of further pain in the future. And to hope they find happiness.

  I will pray that you can find it in your heart to understand and forgive me. And if it suits you to do so, bring up my daughter in her home, with love and compassion.

  All my best love, dear sister.

  Pray for me also.

  Aurelia

  Flora gazed out of the window, her senses numbed by the extraordinary letter. The generosity it contained was somehow worse than the recriminations she felt she deserved.

  ‘Flora? Are you all right?’ came a voice from the door.

  ‘She asked me for forgiveness,’ she whispered. ‘Oh God, Archie, she shouldn’t have done that. It was we who caused her pain.’

  ‘Yes, although much of the blame rests firmly on my shoulders. I was blinded by my love for you.’

  ‘How could she find it in her heart to be so forgiving? I doubt I could find it in my own if I were in her shoes. And,’ she said, pausing to steady herself, ‘I can never tell her now that it wasn’t just your marriage that forced me to run away and live here alone.’

  ‘Really?’

  Flora hesitated, and then, deciding there should be no further secrets, went to her writing bureau. She retrieved the letter from the silk pocket of the journal of 1910 and handed it to Archie. ‘It was this too.’

  She watched him as he read it, occasionally raising an eyebrow in surprise. ‘Well,’ he said, as he handed it back to her. ‘Well, well.’

  ‘Did you know? I believe the whole of London was aware at the time.’

  ‘To be truthful, I had heard rumblings of your . . . connection with a certain family, but I had never given them much credence. Besides, when the old king died, and George V took the throne, any gossip about the old court disappeared into his coffin with him, as the courtiers scrambled for prominence in the new regime. So . . .’ a glimmer of a smile appeared on his face for the first time. ‘Should I now call you “Princess Flora”? Good God, I hardly know what to say, although it explains many things.’

  ‘There is nothing to say, but now you can understand why I left London immediately. The world was weeping for the Queen, and just like Mrs Keppel, I was an unwanted reminder of her husband’s misdemeanours.’

  ‘But unlike Mrs Keppel, you were to blame for none of them,’ Archie countered. ‘And whereas you have had the dignity to stay removed from society, she has returned to London and continues to thrive. As for her daughter, she is currently in the limelight of notoriety. Violet and Vita ran away to France together after the armistice, Vita leaving her husband and two children behind. The gossip is all over London; they even say Violet encouraged her to do so. The Keppel family has no shame, whereas you have behaved with dignity and grace, like the princess you are.’

  ‘Hardly.’ She managed a smile then too, as she looked down at her attire.

  ‘Those qualities come from inside, Flora. Now, I must ask how you feel about Aurelia’s last wishes?’

  ‘Archie, I cannot begin to process what I feel. And besides—’

  As if on cue, a loud wail emanated from upstairs.

  ‘What is that noise?’ Archie frowned.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said as she rose. ‘Teddy needs feeding.’

  As Flora walked upstairs to collect what she knew would be a sweaty, smelly and endlessly noisy bundle, she allowed herself a chuckle. Even though it was true that her life over the past nine years had been stagnant, it would now be her turn to give Archie Vaughan a surprise. And what a surprise it is, she thought, as she walked back downstairs with Teddy in her arms, heading for the kitchen and his bottle of milk.

  Archie followed her in a few minutes later, his curiosity getting the better of him. ‘You have a child,’ he said as she concentrated on holding the bottle at Teddy’s preferred angle.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I see.’

  She heard a long sigh escape Archie’s lips.

  ‘Does the father live here with you?’ he asked eventually.

  ‘No, he died.’

  ‘He was your husband?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then . . .’

  She left enough time for Archie’s imagination to take over, although she had not uttered one word of a lie. And only then did she speak.

  ‘He is a foundling. He has lived with me for just under a month. I am hoping to adopt him.’

  She looked up then, only just managing to stifle a chuckle at the relief on Archie’s face. ‘His name is Teddy,’ she added for good measure.

  ‘Of course . . . for Edward,’ he said, understanding the link to her real father’s name immediately. ‘I admit, I am dumbfounded.’

  ‘So was I at my initial decision to take him in. But now . . .’ She glanced down at a sated Teddy, his eyes rolling with the pleasure of a full stomach, and kissed him fondly on the head. ‘I wouldn’t be without him.’

  ‘So, Teddy is how old?’

  ‘Almost six weeks. He was born in the last week of May.’

  ‘Then only a few days before Louise arri
ved, at the beginning of June. They could be twins.’

  ‘But they come from rather different worlds. This little one’s father was a shepherd who died in the Great War.’

  ‘I can tell you, Flora, that whether you are a lord or a beggar, death does not observe social barriers. Whatever class Teddy’s father was, if he fought and died for his country, he was a hero. You must tell his son that one day,’ Archie said vehemently.

  ‘I haven’t yet decided what to tell him.’

  ‘So now you are well versed in childcare and . . .’

  Archie’s words hung in the air and Flora was aware where they were heading.

  ‘Where is Louise currently?’ she asked.

  ‘Sarah is taking care of her at High Weald. And if you feel unable because of your . . . altered circumstances to consider moving to take care of Louise, then I will do my best, with Sarah’s help, to be mother and father to my daughter.’

  ‘But even if I agree to the proposition, what about Teddy? Would you accept him into the High Weald nursery? For, if you feel you could not welcome my child, then I must tell you that I could not under any circumstances agree to come.’

  ‘Flora, don’t you see? It could not be more perfect! Louise would have a playmate – a brother, no less – for company. They would grow up together . . .’

  It was then she saw the desperation in Archie’s eyes. Whether it was for his daughter, his dead wife, or himself, she couldn’t say.

  ‘Can I hold him?’ he asked suddenly.

  ‘Of course.’ Flora lifted Teddy and placed him in Archie’s open arms.

  ‘What a handsome chap he is, with those big blue eyes and blond hair. Ironically, Louise takes after my side of the family and is dark. Teddy looks more like Aurelia. Hello, old chap,’ he murmured as he put a finger towards him and Teddy grasped it firmly in his tiny fist. ‘I think we would rub along well together, you and I.’

  Flora stood up, feeling as though she was being railroaded into a decision she had not yet had time to make. ‘I’m afraid I wish you to leave now,’ she said, taking Teddy back into her arms. ‘I am unable to give you an answer immediately. However empty an existence you presume I have here, there is much I would have to sacrifice. I run a farm; many animals are dependent upon me. And despite moments of solitude, I love my home and much of my life, especially as I now have such a wonderful companion. You are asking me to give it all up without a second glance.’