The Midnight Rose

by Lucinda Riley

  ‘They’re so dull, honey! There’s some wonderful work by modern artists that would really brighten the old place up. I’m just so in love with Picasso,’ she said dreamily. ‘I kind of gave Pa a hint that I adore him, so I’m hoping he might get one for us as a wedding present. Wouldn’t that be swell?’ she said as she hugged him.

  He had buttoned his lip, deciding those kinds of arguments were best undertaken once they were home from the honeymoon and the house was finished.

  Donald kicked morosely at a frozen clod of wiry grass. During the past two weeks, he hadn’t been sleeping very well, waking up in the middle of the night in a muck sweat, panicking about the future. All he held on to was the fact that the Astbury Estate would be secure for at least another couple of generations, even if he had to suffer it being filled with Violet’s friends.

  Donald sighed. In saving Astbury, he seemed to have sacrificed himself. Yet he knew there was nothing that could be done to stop it. The wheels had been set in motion, and like a runaway train, it was picking up speed as it hurtled forwards.

  2 April

  Tomorrow, I will marry V. The entire household is in a state of high excitement and nerves, with V racing around making sure everything from the flowers on the table in the ballroom to the exact style of her bridesmaids’ hair is as perfect as she needs it to be. Yesterday, she threw a fit and sent back the Order of Service cards because the typeface was not to her liking. Sometimes I can only hope that I will be to her liking, too . . .

  Donald finished writing in his diary, then tucked it away on the shelf with his other books. He felt it had become his only form of self-expression – whom else could he talk to about his fears for the future? He had watched his mother’s eyebrows rise time and again at what she saw as Violet’s vulgar and ostentatious taste. But since she herself had initiated the process, which would finally lead her son to the altar in the family chapel, she could hardly complain.

  Donald climbed into his single bed for the last time as a bachelor. Tomorrow night, he would be moving to their newly decorated master suite – complete with inter-connecting doors to a sitting room and bathroom – where he would begin to share a bed and a life with Violet.

  He lay sleepless into the small hours, longing for Anni’s calm, wise strength. And dusky, butterscotch skin. If only it was she whom he would be taking up the aisle tomorrow as his wife, and then to bed later . . .

  Guilty with his sudden arousal at the thought, Donald turned over and tried to sleep.

  For months afterwards, the wedding of Violet Drumner to Lord Donald Astbury was talked of in awed tones. The lucky guests who were present spoke in wonder of the abundant, beautiful flowers that filled the chapel, the sumptuous wedding breakfast and dancing in the Long Gallery to the sound of the Savoy Quartet, who had come all the way from London.

  And, of course, the bride herself, stunning in hand-embroidered French lace, with a train nearly as long as the chapel aisle. Tatler awarded the wedding an unprecedented eight-page spread, with photos of the elite of both American and British society, a healthy gathering of politicians and glamorous stars of stage and screen.

  The following morning over breakfast, Donald arrived downstairs and found the Drumners cooing over the photographs in all the national newspapers.

  ‘It seems our little party caused quite a stir, son,’ commented Ralph, beaming from ear to ear.

  ‘Violet looks so wonderful in the photographs, and of course you look mighty handsome yourself, Donald. So,’ Sissy said with a conspiratorial wink, ‘how’s my little girl this morning?’

  ‘Very well indeed, I think. The maid has taken up a breakfast tray to her and I thought I’d leave her alone to give her a chance to get ready in peace.’

  ‘Sensible boy,’ murmured Ralph, ‘you’re learning the rules already.’

  As the guests who had stayed overnight began to filter into the breakfast room, Donald made himself scarce and went up to his dressing room.

  4 April

  Well, here I am married to V. Everyone thrilled with the way the day went off, and I admit V did a wonderful job.

  He paused, looking out of the window as he thought how to express his feelings in words.

  And our first night together was fine. V looked a dream in her silk nightdress – preferred it to the mountain of lace she wore to marry me – and I think that all went off satisfactorily. Of course, not like it was with A, but then, I’m resigned to the fact that nothing ever could be. Henceforth, I’m a married man and will do my best to be a dutiful husband. V’s a sweet girl and she deserves it. Have to pack now as we leave for America with Ma and Pa Drumner early tomorrow morning.

  A month later, Selina was sitting in the drawing room of the London house, looking at the photographs of Donald and his new bride in Tatler.

  Before the wedding, he had come to tell her that he had insisted to their mother that she, Henri and Eleanor were invited. And she had asked him whether he was happy.

  ‘Happy enough,’ he had replied, then swiftly changed the subject.

  Selina was at the Belgrave Square house for the afternoon, organising the last bits and pieces that were to be taken to the new house in Kensington she shared with Henri. When Donald and Violet returned from their honeymoon, this would become their house alone, and a maid was upstairs packing the last remnants from her old bedroom.

  Selina heard the bell ring but didn’t move to answer it. Three minutes later, there was a knock on the drawing-room door and the housekeeper poked her head around it.

  ‘Excuse me, Countess, but there is a – foreign person who wishes to see you. She came to the house yesterday saying she left something here a few months ago, but I sent her on her way.’

  ‘Really? What is her name?’

  ‘She says her name is Anahita.’

  Selina’s heart missed a beat. ‘Right,’ she said as she composed herself. ‘Please show her in.’

  She stood up as Anni walked into the drawing room. Selina saw immediately that she was agonisingly thin.

  ‘Hello, Selina. I’ve come to collect my suitcase. I left it here before I went away.’

  ‘Please, Anni,’ said Selina, ‘sit down. I’ll send for some tea.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  She sat down, and once the maid had been dispatched, Selina said, ‘Anni, what has happened to you? Where have you been? You look dreadful. Donald and I have been out of our minds with worry.’

  ‘It’s a long story. I fell ill when I was in France. I returned to England and was in hospital for many months.’

  ‘Anni, why didn’t you contact me? You know I would have helped.’

  ‘Yes, Selina, I know and I thank you for it, but at the time I was too ill to know where I was. Some things happen – unexpectedly.’ Anni sighed.

  ‘I’m so sorry to hear of your illness.’

  ‘Thank you. I’m regaining more of my strength as each day passes,’ Anni said, smiling for the first time.

  ‘Where are you living now?’ Selina asked, understanding that whatever the truth of Anni’s disappearance, she was guarded and reluctant to speak of it.

  ‘I have a friend from my school days named Charlotte who lives up in Yorkshire. She very kindly offered me somewhere to live until I was recovered. Her family owns a house up on the Yorkshire moors and we – I live there. Soon, when I’m stronger, I hope to return to London and work as a nurse again.’

  ‘You should have contacted one of us, at least,’ said Selina as the maid reappeared with the tea.

  ‘But, Selina, I sent a long letter from Paris telling Donald I’d be away for some time and to wait for me. I’ve sent more letters recently too. Did he not get them?’

  ‘No, Anni, he didn’t. In fact, he hasn’t heard a single word from you for well over a year, since you docked in Calcutta.’ Selina watched Anni pale and her long, thin fingers tighten their clutch on her teacup.

  ‘How is Donald?’ she asked.

  ‘He’s well, he’s very well, h
e’s . . . abroad at the moment for the summer,’ Selina added, completely unprepared and unable to tell this sad, frail woman the truth.

  ‘Oh, I see. Then I presume it will be more months before I see him.’ She gave Selina a weak smile. ‘Well, we’ve both waited this long; what’s another few weeks?’

  ‘Of course.’ Selina was on the brink of tears at the desperation of the situation.

  Anni took a tentative sip of her tea. ‘So, where exactly is Donald?’

  ‘He’s currently in New York, and then I believe he’ll go from there to Europe until the end of the summer.’

  ‘I suppose he’s sold Astbury and needed to get away?’

  ‘No, Anni, Astbury has not been sold.’

  ‘Really? Then I’m happy for him. I know it was causing him great sadness to think of selling it.’

  ‘Yes. And you’re lucky you’ve caught me today. I’m only here collecting the last of my things to move to the house that I now share with Henri in Kensington. We’re expecting another child.’

  ‘Selina!’ Anni’s eyes filled with pleasure. ‘It seems your love, which was so difficult in the beginning, has had a happy conclusion.’

  ‘Yes, it seems it has.’

  As Anni sipped her tea, Selina came to a decision. It was not her place to tell this girl, who said she had written to ask Donald to wait for her, that the man she loved had married someone else.

  ‘Could you perhaps ask your maid to bring down my suitcase?’ asked Anni. ‘I believe Donald stored it for me in his bedroom.’

  ‘Of course. The best thing is, I think, that you write down your address and I’ll give it to Donald on his return. I’m sure he’ll be in contact with you immediately, Anni dear.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Selina rang for the maid to find the suitcase and searched for paper and a pencil in the bureau drawer. ‘Now, Anni, tell me, honestly, do you need money?’

  ‘No, thank you, I have enough,’ she answered proudly.

  Selina handed her the paper and pencil. ‘Please write down your address, and I’m going to give you my new address in Kensington. While Donald’s away, if there’s anything you need, you must write to me. Do you promise?’

  ‘Yes, but as I said, I hope to return to work very soon,’ she replied as the maid brought in her suitcase. ‘Do you have an address for Donald in New York? I’d like to write to him too. If he didn’t receive my letter, he must be very worried.’

  ‘Indeed he has been, but sadly, I don’t have an address for him in New York; he’s moving around a great deal,’ lied Selina. ‘Next time he telephones, I’ll tell him you came by. He’ll be extremely relieved to know that you’re alive and well.’

  Anni put her cup down on the table. And Tatler magazine, open at the photographs of the wedding, caught her eye. ‘Is that Donald?’ she said, bending forwards to take a closer look.

  ‘Yes, at some social function –’

  But it was too late. Anni had grasped the magazine in her hands.

  Tatler magazine celebrates the wedding

  of the year between Lord Donald Astbury

  and Violet Rose Drumner . . .

  Anni spent a few seconds surveying the pictures, then sat back abruptly in the chair, her eyes agonised. ‘He’s married?’ she said, her throat closing, making it hard for her to breathe. ‘He’s married – I – why didn’t you tell me? How could you not tell me!’

  ‘Anni, I—’

  ‘I can’t believe he’s married. I told him to wait . . .’ Her head fell towards her hands, which she screwed into fists as she pummelled her forehead.

  ‘Anni, please, Donald had heard nothing from you for months. Your friend Indira said you were returning straight to England from Paris. When you didn’t come back, all he could think of was that you didn’t want him any longer. Please, it’s been fifteen months since you left for India. I’m so sorry, Anni, you deserve better than this,’ Selina finished helplessly, all out of platitudes.

  ‘I must leave now,’ said Anni, staggering to her feet again. ‘Goodbye.’ She turned to walk to the drawing-room door.

  ‘Anni, I promise you, he doesn’t love her, I know he doesn’t. It was you he loved, always!’

  The drawing-room door slammed and Anni was gone.

  21 August

  Well, here we are back at Astbury. Not that I’d recognise it as my old home from the inside at all. The worker bees have continued doing their job whilst we’ve been away and I feel now that I’m staying in some form of luxury hotel as I walk into the drawing room or the dining room or along the corridors. It will take some getting used to, but I have to say that I’m impressed with V’s organisation. New York was wonderful, and Violet’s family and friends embraced me with open arms. No wonder she’s so active – the energy in the city is unlike anything I’ve ever known. The pulse beats fast, twenty-four hours a day, and there’s an urgency there that makes London feel positively pedantic and rather dull.

  Europe was as wonderfully civilized as I remembered and Violet held parties and dinners every night to keep us amused. She is a wonder, and everyone adores her. Even Prince Henry, King George’s young son, found time to enjoy her now-famous hospitality in Italy.

  Happily, I’m growing fonder and fonder of her, for I find her willingness to learn and her zest for life so appealing, even if she makes me feel like an old man. Sometimes, I can hardly believe we’re the same age. She’s like an overactive child who also needs protecting and teaching, and at least I’ve found comfort in providing that for her. I’m yet to see her in a funk or a black mood. Whatever the problem is, she makes it her business to overcome it. Suffice to say, many of my fears that had surfaced before the wedding have been laid to rest. And, thank God, I truly believe the ghosts of the past are finally leaving me . . .

  Donald sat in the library at his desk, opening the heap of post that had materialised for him over the past four months. Any request for money he now had the luxury of putting in a heap to give to Violet to pass on to her father. The room was sweltering – it was the first time he’d ever been tempted to open one of the old sash windows to let in some air. Violet had been testing the new central-heating system, and the smell of fresh paint permeated the air. Donald sank his shoes into the carpet, which was so thick he wondered if it should be mowed, and drank his coffee from a new Limoges china coffee cup. Everything in the house was designed to comfort, from the soft new mattresses on the beds to the new bathtubs with their glistening gold taps that always pumped out piping hot water, whatever time of day it was. Turning his attention back to the post, he recognised Selina’s handwriting and opened her letter.

  21 Pitt Street,

  Kensington, London

  15 August 1920

  Dearest Donald,

  I hope this letter finds you well on your return from your travels. Thank you for your postcards from all the marvellous places you’ve been lucky enough to visit. Perhaps when you’re home you might find the time to visit me at our new house in Kensington. I’m sure it couldn’t possibly be as grand as the newly renovated Astbury Hall, but I’d like to see you as soon as possible. I had a visit, you see, from someone we both know. Do give me a call and perhaps you could come up to town as soon as you can. You might include some other business that you need to attend to as well.

  Best love, dear Donald, and Eleanor sends a kiss.

  Selina

  Donald reread the letter to make sure he hadn’t mistaken the subtle inference, but knew he had not. He sat back in his chair and then, without further ado, picked up the newly installed telephone contraption on his desk, dialled the exchange and gave the woman Selina’s number.

  Two days later, Donald travelled to London and went straight to Selina’s Kensington house.

  ‘She came to the house in Belgrave Square? You saw her? How was she? Where’s she been all this time? I—’

  ‘Donald, please, I’ll tell you,’ said Selina, ‘but first let’s go into the drawing room where we can talk privat
ely.’

  ‘I apologise, Selina, but I haven’t slept a wink for the past forty-eight hours, as you can imagine.’ He sighed.

  ‘I understand. As the sun’s almost past the yard arm, how about a stiff gin?’

  ‘Will I need one?’

  ‘I certainly might.’ Selina sighed and asked the butler to bring through a tray of drinks to the drawing room.

  Having closed the door firmly behind them, Selina surveyed her brother. ‘Firstly, I must say, Donald, that you look awfully well. Did you have a jolly time?’ she asked as she sat down with difficulty and Donald noticed the bulge in her stomach.

  ‘Yes, but, Selina! You’re pregnant. How absolutely wonderful!’ He walked over to his sister and threw his arms about her. ‘Congratulations. When’s it due?’

  ‘In about two months, and to be honest, I wish it would hurry up. It’s been a long, hot summer stuck in London. Henri refused to let us travel to France in case it harmed the baby.’

  ‘May I say that you look absolutely radiant, Selina.’

  ‘I’m terribly happy, yes. And I feel it completes the circle. It will be good for Henri and me to have a child of our own.’

  ‘Of course. And this house is beautiful.’

  ‘We moved here simply so that the children could at least have some space to run around in a garden when we’re in London,’ she explained. ‘I’ve realised recently how lucky we were being brought up at Astbury with the moors all around us.’

  The butler arrived to pour the drinks and Donald took a hefty swig of his gin. Once they were alone again, he could bear the suspense no longer. ‘So, tell me, Selina, is she all right?’

  ‘Well, she’s certainly alive, but – oh dear, she looked dreadful, Donald. She was as thin as a rake. She told me that she’d been very ill in hospital.’

  ‘Oh, God.’ The blood froze in Donald’s veins. ‘Is she recovering?’

  ‘The thing is, I don’t know. I swear I didn’t say anything to her about what had happened to you, but she saw the photos of your wedding in Tatler, which was lying open on the coffee table when she arrived. And then, I’m afraid, she left in rather a rush.’ Selina bit her lip.