The Midnight Rose

by Lucinda Riley

  ‘It isn’t just about the remedies themselves,’ I explained. ‘It’s diagnosing who your patient is and which dosha – that is, whether she or he is a pitta, vata or kapha. This you discover through looking at the patient’s physical shape and colouring, and also asking some simple questions to assess their emotional state and personality. Then you can fit exactly the right remedy to the patient. The remedies I use have been part of Indian culture for thousands of years. As well as using the fresh plants, I dry the leaves and store them in jars or grind them into a powder. The roots of them provide the most powerful remedies.’

  ‘Fascinating, absolutely fascinating,’ he murmured. ‘So, what type is Lady Astbury?’

  ‘She’s a vata type, Doctor, which means she’s small-boned, carries little fat and feels the cold very badly. She also has a temperamental digestive system which is easily upset and probably accounts for her severe morning sickness.’

  ‘I see. Well, would you mind if I took a few cuttings for myself and tried to grow them? Perhaps you could teach me how to mix some of the basic remedies? Something for a bad chest, for example?’

  ‘Yes, please take what you wish. Excuse me, I must attend to my son. He’ll have woken from his afternoon nap by now.’

  ‘Of course,’ Dr Trefusis said. ‘I’ll stay here and take the cuttings, then follow you inside.’

  The doctor left, saying he’d return one day the following week so that I could show him how to prepare a remedy. He never appeared on my doorstep again.

  Violet did appear, however, delighting in the cosiness of the cottage and waxing lyrical about how quintessentially English it was. When she met you for the first time, I held my breath, waiting for a comment on your blue eyes that would give us all away. But, thankfully, it never came.

  ‘Oh, he’s so handsome! And the image of you, Anni.’

  You seemed to take to Violet immediately, although perhaps it was something to do with the toys and sweets she lavished on you every time she came to visit us.

  ‘Please,’ I said to her on one afternoon, when Violet’s chauffeur produced a gleaming red tricycle from the boot of the car, which you proceeded to wheel ecstatically around the yard, ‘you spoil him far too much.’

  ‘Nonsense! In my book, no child can be spoilt enough,’ said Violet. ‘Besides, Anni, I know you give your services for free and have little income, so it’s the least I can do.’

  Over the following few weeks, many cold February afternoons would see Violet and me sitting together by the fire eating the buttered crumpets she’d brought with her.

  ‘I’m far too fat now to go to London and it’s so boring being cooped up in that house with only the servants and Donny for company,’ she’d say. ‘I’m so glad to have you to come and talk to.’

  Despite the fact that I was always tense, knowing I must be on my guard, I listened to Violet, fascinated, as she spoke about her privileged life in America. She, too, was interested in hearing my stories about my childhood in India. And in truth, I found myself beguiled by her sweet, generous nature, and her naive certainty that everything in her life would always turn out just fine endeared her to me more and more. I began to actively look forward to our tête-à-têtes, as Violet’s vitality brightened up many a long winter day. I would even go so far as to say that we became friends of a sort.

  She didn’t patronise me on any level; in fact, she said on more than one occasion that my royal connections by blood in India made her look positively common.

  ‘Like everyone else in America, I’m simply where I am because my family has made a success in business. It’s money that buys nobility in my homeland, not breeding. Of course,’ she added wryly, ‘Donny’s ghastly mama will never let me forget where I come from. Have you met her?’

  ‘Yes, she was living at the Hall when I stayed there years ago during my school holidays,’ I replied.

  ‘I know she constantly looks down her nose at everything I do.’ Violet bit into her crumpet thoughtfully. ‘However –’ she smiled at me – ‘she was perfectly content to see me spend my trust fund on restoring her family heap. I’m just so glad Donny insisted she move to the Dower House when we married. I don’t think I could possibly stand living under the same roof as that woman.’

  ‘She is a difficult character,’ I said in agreement, choosing my words carefully.

  ‘I’d go as far as to say she’s an old witch!’ Violet tittered at her own rudeness.

  ‘Most mothers-in-law are. She’s simply from a different era and finds it hard to adapt to a new one.’

  ‘Oh, Anni, you’re such a good soul. You’re always so kind about everyone, yet you’ve suffered so much yourself. The servants talk of you as though you’re a saint. I hope I can learn from you how to be a better person.’

  I studied Violet at that moment and saw that she was genuinely eager to do as she’d just said, and I felt more acutely aware of my duplicitous life than ever before.

  March came in, and, with it, the frosts disappeared and yellow gorse covered the moors, spreading like a golden carpet in front of the cottage. Donald would pop round on an occasional errand for Violet and complain, only half joking, that his wife was seeing more of me than he was. I’d also begun to notice that when he was negative about her, I would find myself coming to her defence. In fact, as April arrived, I began to believe that I liked his wife more than he did.

  When Violet had been an unknown person, seen by me only through Donald’s eyes, the situation had been easier to deal with. But as my fondness for her grew, I began to question just how long the three of us could sustain the eternal and monstrously deceitful triangle we were embroiled in.

  One morning, I received a letter from Indira, forwarded to me from London by Selina.

  Patna Palace

  Patna

  India

  29 March 1922

  Anni, my dearest, oldest friend,

  How are you? WHERE are you? I’m at least glad to hear that you’re no longer lost, as Selina thought you were when I saw her in France. Why haven’t you written to me???

  Please write and tell me everything very soon.

  As for me, Varun is in Europe, and I’m stuck in the zenana with the dreaded Number One wife. Dearest Anni, I beg you to take a trip over here and see both me and my beautiful baby. He is a boy and we have named him Kunwar. This pleases me so much as Number One wife has only had two girls, which means our precious son will be the Crown Prince when Varun becomes Maharaja on his father’s death. Varun has promised to come and collect me in June when the baby is old enough to travel and we will take a house in the South of France. Perhaps you might be able to join us there too?

  I miss you, darling Anni. Please write very soon,

  Indy xxx

  In truth, I hadn’t written because I wasn’t sure what to say. Indira and her husband moved in similar circles to the Astburys and discretion was simply not part of her make-up.

  As I penned a bland letter back to her saying as little about myself and my circumstances as I could and asking after her, I was struck low by the fact that I couldn’t even be honest with my oldest friend. My entire existence was currently a web of deceit; more and more the fundamental wrongness of it hung over me like a black cloud. Whichever way I looked at it, I realised that our deception, which had the potential to wound another human being to the core, was removing all the intrinsic goodness from the love that had begun it.

  Now every time someone thanked me for my help in treating them or a relative and spoke at length about my kindness and generosity, I only felt the guilt cutting deeper and deeper into my soul. For I was not the person they thought they saw – not a poor widow who gave up her time and skills so generously to the community, whom everyone liked and trusted. I was a kept woman, a mistress, who had borne her lover an illegitimate child and continued to conduct a relationship with him right under his wife’s nose. That same wife who now believed that I was her friend . . .

  ‘What is it, Anni?’ Donald a
sked one clear spring afternoon. Violet was napping at the Hall and he’d taken the opportunity to surreptitiously ride over and see us. ‘I know something’s bothering you.’

  ‘Yes, it is. I hate myself!’ With that, I burst into tears.

  Donald immediately took me into his arms. ‘Anni, really, I’m sure that once the baby is born, Violet will resume her old life and have lots to keep her amused. She’ll almost certainly want to go to New York to show the baby off to the relatives, and of course, she loves the winter season in London. I hate to say it, but she’ll almost certainly forget all about you.’

  His platitudes fell on me like ineffectual raindrops in a drought, not touching my inner core which was so in need of redemption. I watched him leave, not knowing how to explain to him that what he was talking about were practicalities – arrangements that would remove Violet physically from my sight but wouldn’t begin to touch the complex and painful emotions in my heart.

  That night, after I’d put you to bed, I contemplated leaving Devon for the first time. Perhaps it would be for the best if we moved away. I could live openly as the person I really was and have a clear conscience. As I climbed the stairs to bed that night, I honestly wasn’t sure which fate was worse, but I knew that the deception was eating me from the inside out.

  As I tossed and turned later in bed, I remembered that Violet had begged me to be by her side during the birth of her child. ‘My sister-in-law, Selina, said you were just wonderful when she gave birth,’ she had said. The least I owed her was to do as she asked. But once the child was born, I knew I must come to a real decision about our future.

  To make matters worse, the singing was becoming louder each day, warning me of danger and a death not far away. I only hoped it was simply a reflection of my own despairing state of mind and tried to ignore it.

  The final few weeks of Violet’s pregnancy coincided with the burning July heatwave, and Violet begged me to visit her at the Hall almost every day. We would sit in the cool orangery, where she had installed electric ceiling fans.

  ‘My goodness,’ she said looking down at herself, ‘I’m the size of a house these days. It’s terribly hard for me to sleep, especially in this heat.’

  ‘Not much longer now,’ I said, trying to comfort her.

  ‘You reckon? I feel like I might be pregnant forever. You’ll have to help me slim down afterwards to what I used to be. I doubt I’ll be able to get into a single gown of mine ever again,’ she complained.

  ‘Of course, the best thing to do in order to regain your shape, and also for the baby, is to feed it yourself. Would you consider doing that?’

  ‘Oh my!’ said Violet with an expression of disgust. ‘That’s the kind of thing the natives do out in Africa.’ She shuddered.

  ‘I fed Moh myself,’ I said affably, and I saw her blush.

  ‘Anni, I didn’t mean to imply anything by that. I mean, you’re from a different culture, I—’

  ‘Really, Violet,’ I said, patting her knee, ‘I understand.’

  A few days later, I’d noticed Violet’s ankles were swollen and she’d recently been complaining of a headache. I suggested she now rest with her legs raised to try to stop the swelling.

  ‘Her Ladyship is really most uncomfortable,’ said Dr Trefusis after he visited her one morning and Violet had insisted I wait in her sitting room. ‘I always think August babies are the worst, although I suppose it’s like this where you come from all the year round.’

  I ignored the comment. ‘She’s been complaining of the headaches for the past few days. Does this concern you, Doctor?’

  ‘Not unduly,’ he said as he packed his stethoscope into his bag. ‘I palpated the baby and listened to its heartbeat, which is strong and robust. Her Ladyship still has three weeks to go. Let’s hope the baby doesn’t delay its entrance into the world any longer than that. Perhaps you could give her one of your remedies to hasten the process?’ he suggested.

  ‘At this stage, I wouldn’t want to interfere with nature. Babies come when they’re ready,’ I replied firmly.

  ‘I thought everything you used was natural,’ said Dr Trefusis pointedly. ‘Anyway, I shall look in again tomorrow morning to check on Her Ladyship.’

  ‘Of course.’

  He smiled at me and left the room. I went in to see Violet, who reached out for my hand. ‘Anni, this headache’s really bad and I feel sick. Can you give me anything?’

  I looked down at her and saw how pale she was. Suddenly the singing began strong and loud in my ears. I brushed it away determinedly, not wishing to acknowledge it.

  ‘I’ll have your maid bring you cold cloths, and perhaps there may be something I can give you for the nausea. Please, try to rest now, and see if it eases.’

  ‘Would you stay a while with me? I feel real dreadful, Anni.’

  ‘Of course, I’ll sit here until you’re asleep.’

  Finally, when Violet had fallen into a restless sleep, I released my hand from hers and made my way down the stairs. Donald greeted me at the bottom of them.

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘She isn’t feeling at all well today,’ I told him. ‘She’s asleep now, and I’m going to go home and see what I have to help her.’

  ‘The doctor says it’s nothing to worry about. But are you worried, Anni?’

  As he helped me into my trap, I did not tell Donald that I’d seen similar symptoms before and they did not bode well.

  Having collected some fresh mint leaves and mixed up a remedy of fennel seeds, cumin and coriander for Violet’s swollen ankles, I returned to Tilly’s house in the village to ask her to mind you and even gave her a change of clothes in case I was detained longer.

  ‘Is Her Ladyship ill?’ Tilly asked me.

  ‘She’s not feeling well today.’

  ‘She’s always been fragile, that one,’ she commented. ‘You stay with her as long as you need to, Anni. I can always put Moh to bed here in the cot with Mabel.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Violet was further distressed when I arrived, saying she could no longer stand the pain in her head and that she still felt nauseous.

  ‘Please, drink this,’ I said as I forced the mint tea down her throat. I placed a napkin scented with lavender on her forehead and checked her temperature, which was normal, then felt her pulse, which was racing. If she didn’t settle in the next hour, I would send for Dr Trefusis. Eventually, she calmed, and I sat by her bedside as she slept peacefully for two or three hours. At some point, there was a knock on the door and I saw Donald peer round it.

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘She’s sleeping. We’ll see how she is when she wakes.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ He smiled at me in such a sweet and grateful way that my eyes filled with tears. I couldn’t imagine how it was for him to watch his wife and his lover together.

  ‘Please, call me if there’s anything either of you needs.’

  ‘I will, thank you.’

  Violet awoke just before midnight, and I noticed her colour had changed. She clutched her stomach suddenly and gave a yowl of pain.

  I uncovered her immediately and asked her to point to where the pain was coming from.

  ‘It’s . . . it’s like a tight band, stretching right across my belly –’ She couldn’t continue as another pain ripped through her.

  ‘Violet, I believe you’re in labour!’

  ‘My head . . . my head,’ she moaned.

  ‘Is it still hurting?’ I asked as I looked down at her and felt her forehead. She was burning with fever.

  ‘Terribly, it’s—’ As the violent contraction continued, she couldn’t speak.

  ‘There’s no need to be scared,’ I told her firmly as I rang the bell by her bed to alert her maid. ‘What you must do now is follow your body. It knows exactly what to do and you must listen to it.’

  ‘So glad . . . you’re here . . .’

  ‘I’m going to call now for Dr Trefusis. He would want to know that you’ve gone into labo
ur and be here with you.’

  ‘Don’t leave me!’ she said, reaching out for my hand and grasping it tightly.

  ‘Violet, I’ll be gone for only a few minutes, I promise,’ I said as I wrenched my hand away and flew down the darkened stairs to try to find someone who could raise the alarm. The singing was continuing in my head and I was not happy with Violet’s current condition. Not happy at all.

  There was no one to be found downstairs, so I ran through Violet’s suite and knocked loudly on Donald’s dressing-room door.

  ‘Anni, what is it?’ he asked me as he emerged in his pyjamas.

  ‘Violet’s in labour, and I want you to call Dr Trefusis immediately. She’s running a temperature and says she still has the headache. I think she should be removed to hospital as soon as possible. Something isn’t right,’ I added. ‘I’ve called for her maid, but she hasn’t arrived. Can you rouse her and tell her to bring boiled water, cold flannels and clean towels whilst we wait for Dr Trefusis to arrive?’

  ‘Of course, but the doctor still has no telephone, so I must send one of the grooms to fetch him.’

  I nodded and disappeared back into Violet’s bedroom.

  Since I’d been gone, she’d been sick all over the covers and was groaning unnaturally. The baby was coming fast – too fast – and again the singing rang in my ears.

  I stripped the covers from her and propped her up into a more comfortable position, whispering soothing words, trying to calm her.

  ‘Ariane, go and find His Lordship and bring him here at once,’ I said, panic rising within me at Violet’s high fever. Everything, instinctual and medical, told me that she was in danger.

  Donald appeared almost immediately. ‘My God!’ he uttered, shocked at the sight of his wife.

  ‘If Dr Trefusis doesn’t arrive in the next half an hour, you must take her in your car to the hospital. We can’t afford to wait any longer.’

  ‘I’ll go downstairs and have it brought round to the front anyway,’ he agreed and ran from the room.