Hothouse Flower

by Lucinda Riley

  ‘Thank you, Adrienne. You are very kind,’ Olivia replied as they walked up the staircase together.

  ‘And you are most kind to be my guest. A bientôt, Olivia. Sleep well.’

  18

  In the following few days, Olivia fell into a regular and relaxed routine, spending the mornings reading in the summer house then, after lunch, taking a stroll with Adrienne before an afternoon rest. They would enjoy dinner together on the terrace, talking of art, literature and France, whose culture Adrienne was so passionate about.

  Olivia found the beauty of her surroundings and the slow pace of life at Wharton Park were lulling her mind into a state of almost catatonic peace. The impending war, and what exactly she was going to do with her life if there were one, slipped from her mind as easily as the spiders’ webs on the many roses in the garden dissolved through her fingertips.

  One afternoon, Adrienne drove them out to the coast. Olivia gasped when she saw the beauty of Holkham beach spread in front of her like a vast, golden apron. They picnicked in the dunes, Adrienne dozing off after lunch, her straw hat over her face to protect her ivory skin from the sun’s rays.

  Olivia walked down to the shore to dip her toes tentatively in the biting, salty water. It was not as cold as she had expected it to be, and – with the wind whipping through her hair, the sun shining and the magnificence of the deserted beach around her – Olivia imagined that she could indeed live in this part of England.

  *

  When they arrived back at Wharton Park, Olivia crossed the hall to escape to her bedroom and climb out of her wet and creased dress. But a familiar, much-imagined face was coming down the stairs towards her.

  ‘Olivia, how absolutely marvellous to see you.’

  He kissed her warmly on both cheeks and she immediately regretted her dishevelled state. Harry was still in his officer’s uniform and looked imposingly handsome.

  ‘Hello, Harry, how are you?’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, fair to middling, I’d say, but you look awfully well.’

  Olivia blushed. ‘Do I? Your mother and I have just been to the beach and I fear I look rather bedraggled.’

  ‘Well, I think you look perfect. I love blowing the cobwebs away with some sea air. What say you we go tomorrow, if you can bear to go again? I have the weekend off-duty and I mean to enjoy it.’

  There was a lightness, almost a euphoria, about Harry, which Olivia hadn’t witnessed before.

  ‘That’s sounds fun. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I really must get out of this damp dress.’

  ‘Of course,’ he agreed. ‘See you at dinner, Olivia.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said as she tripped up the stairs. ‘I’ll see you later.’

  That evening, Olivia asked Elsie to style her hair, with the front of it taken up in a roll, the rest hanging in ebullient golden curls around her shoulders. She donned her favourite blue gown then checked her reflection in the mirror.

  ‘You look a picture,’ said Elsie admiringly. ‘Master Harry is joining you this evening, isn’t he?’

  ‘I believe so.’ Olivia was too nervous to indulge in gossip. She walked downstairs and on to the terrace and saw Adrienne and Harry were already there.

  ‘Harry was just telling me that you have arranged to go to the beach together tomorrow.’ Adrienne smiled approvingly. ‘Olivia, chérie, the fresh air must suit you. You look beautiful tonight.’ She handed Olivia a glass of rosé from the silver tray on the table. ‘And tomorrow, Christopher is home too. So, on Sunday, we shall have a luncheon party for some of our neighbours, so that you can meet them. Shall we sit down?’

  The evening passed pleasantly enough. Harry was attentive to Olivia, asking questions about the Season and London. Adrienne retired early, feigning tiredness, and the two of them were left alone together on the terrace. Olivia did her utmost to quell her shiver of anticipation and keep her composure.

  ‘I’m rather glad you’re here, Olivia. It’s marvellous for my mother to have a companion with her at Wharton Park whilst she can’t be in France with her family, especially with my father away so much. She is so very fond of you,’ he commented.

  ‘As I am of her,’ Olivia confirmed.

  ‘And is the beauty of this part of the world appealing to you more than before?’ Harry smiled at her and they both shared the absolute memory of their first conversation.

  ‘Oh yes! I adore it. Your mother has turned me into a complete convert.’

  ‘She’s awfully good at being persuasive.’ Harry raised his eyebrows. ‘But I am glad you like it here. It’s a jolly special place.’

  ‘And it must be a bonus for you to be able to spend this time at home,’ said Olivia.

  ‘It is,’ nodded Harry. ‘It makes the whole damned thing rather more bearable. Anyway,’ he stubbed out his cigarette, ‘bed for me, I’m bushed. You too?’ He offered her his hand and she took it and stood up. He dropped it again as soon as they started walking through the house and made their way up the stairs. ‘Goodnight, Olivia.’ He kissed her politely on both cheeks, ‘Sleep well,’ and ambled off in the direction of his bedroom.

  Olivia climbed into bed, feeling confused as to why Harry had not tried to kiss her again. However, she comforted herself, it was only the start of her holiday here and Harry’s first day off in weeks. She must give him time.

  The following morning, Harry seemed to be in high spirits as he drove her up towards the coast.

  ‘I won’t bore you with Holkham again. I thought we’d take a trip into Cromer. Take in some lunch and have a stroll along the front,’ he suggested.

  Olivia’s vision of lying in Harry’s arms in the sand dunes immediately evaporated. She tried not to allow her disappointment to spoil the precious time she had with him.

  They passed a pleasant day together, if not quite the one Olivia had envisaged. Over lunch in the restaurant of a hotel, Harry entertained her with tales of the raw recruits in his battalion, some of whom hailed from the Wharton Park Estate.

  ‘I’m particularly impressed with Bill Stafford, Elsie’s chap,’ commented Harry, lighting a cigarette. ‘There’s no doubt he’s officer material. He has that air of calm authority that makes the other men listen to him. He’ll make a far better soldier than I ever will, in a month of Sundays.’

  ‘I am jolly sure that’s not true, Harry.’

  ‘I fear it is, my darling girl.’ He sighed, stubbing his cigarette out morosely in the ashtray. ‘Well now, shall we head back?’

  *

  Dinner that evening was held in the dining room, in tribute to the fact that Lord Crawford was home from London. Adrienne was sparkling with happiness at having both her men at the table with her, and the atmosphere was infectious. Afterwards, Olivia made up a four for bridge. She and Christopher won, courtesy of Mr Christian and his careful tutelage.

  At the end of the evening, Harry escorted her up the stairs and again she was fizzing with excitement when the time for a goodnight kiss came. But, again, he only offered her a chaste kiss on the cheeks before leaving for his bedroom.

  There were twenty for luncheon the next day, the party made up of Lord and Lady Crawford’s friends and neighbours. Olivia enjoyed the lunch, used as she was to the company of older people, but had the queerest feeling she was being paraded for approval. She hoped she had acquitted herself well. Harry had behaved as he had been behaving over the last couple of days: attentive but distant.

  That night in bed, Olivia decided stoically, but sadly, that it was time to think of plans for the future which did not include him.

  As the dying summer sped on towards September, the fields were shorn bare of their bounty and the smell of burning stubble pervaded the estate. Olivia, in soporific mood, read voraciously, took long walks through the park and often went to visit Jack in the hothouse. She had not seen Harry since the Sunday luncheon party – he had spent the past weekend in London – and, at the very least, his obvious ambivalence made her more determined to focus on what exactly she was
going to do when she left Wharton Park in a few days’ time. She would have departed sooner, but Elsie, with whom she had become firm friends, had begged her to stay on for her wedding and Olivia had agreed.

  Three days before Elsie’s wedding, Christopher arrived home unexpectedly from London. He and Adrienne were cloistered in his study for much of the afternoon. Olivia was reading in the library when a white-faced Adrienne came to find her.

  ‘Oh, my dear,’ Adrienne put her hands to her cheeks, ‘it looks as if the war is upon us. Christopher has told me the British Government have received intelligence telling them that the Kriegsmarine has ordered all German-flagged merchant ships to head to German ports immediately, in anticipation of the invasion of Poland. They are not going to honour the German–Soviet non-aggression pact.’ She sat down abruptly in a chair, her head in her hands. ‘It is here, Olivia, it is here.’

  Olivia immediately stood up and went to comfort her. ‘Surely Herr Hitler will not do this? He knows what it will mean?’

  ‘He knows what it will mean and it is what he wants, what he has always wanted. Christopher believes that, by tomorrow morning, the German invasion of Poland will have begun. And then, of course, Britain must declare war.’ Adrienne grabbed Olivia’s hand. ‘We must not let Elsie hear of this any sooner than she needs to. Let her enjoy a few more hours of her preparations. You must say nothing to anyone until this is common knowledge, do you understand?’

  ‘Of course I do, Adrienne. I won’t say a thing, I promise.’

  ‘I only hope they can enjoy their wedding day like any other couple. They must feel they have a future even if they have not.’ Adrienne’s eyes were full of tears. She pulled out a lace hanky and wiped them. ‘Mon dieu! That is enough! I must compose myself. I apologise, ma petite. Sometimes it is a bad thing to know too much. Christopher must leave to go back to London immediately. But he wished to impart the news to me himself.’

  That night, Adrienne stayed up to wait for Harry to return. When he did, she took him into the library and poured them both an Armagnac.

  ‘Mother, I’ve heard,’ Harry said, seeing the distress on her beautiful face. ‘Please try not to panic, nothing is for certain yet and we’re all unclear as to how this will play out and what implications it may have. It’s hardly a shock; to us in the know, anyway. The die was cast when Hitler walked into Czechoslovakia. We’ve all been preparing for months, and I think all my chaps will be glad once they know where they are and can put into action what they’ve learnt.’

  Adrienne raised her hand to her brow. ‘I can’t believe I must live through another war. The last one claimed so many people I loved and now …’ she looked at him, ‘my Harry …’ She shrugged helplessly and he went to comfort her.

  ‘Maman, please try not to upset yourself,’ he begged, as she sobbed in his arms. It was one of the few occasions in his life when he wished he had a British-born, stiff-upper-lip sort for a mother. Seeing her in so much distress pained him terribly.

  ‘But what will I do here, Harry? When you are gone to war, and your father is in London? And most of the young men on the estate missing? How will I manage Wharton Park alone?’

  ‘You have Olivia here,’ Harry offered.

  ‘Pouf!’ Adrienne gesticulated with her delicate hand. ‘She will not stay here when war begins, why should she?’ Her heightened emotions made her speak the truth. ‘I’ve watched you together, Harry, and I can see how she loves you, but you … I do not think that you care for her in the same way. Yes, and I admit I invited her here because I could see there was an attraction between the two of you. Now I can see I was wrong. And, as she is only here for you, she will go and I will be alone.’

  Harry was completely taken aback, shocked by what she was telling him.

  ‘You think Olivia is in love with me?’ he said in amazement.

  This statement made Adrienne angry. ‘Of course! It is written all over her, can you not see?! And she is such a lovely girl, so bright, so intelligent, so unusual for an English woman. Yes, I had plans for you … because, of course, you are the sole heir and – oh!’ She put her hands to her burning cheeks. ‘I can hardly say it, but if you do not survive the war, there will be no heir for Wharton Park. It will pass to your father’s nephew, Hugo, and our line will be ended after three hundred years.’

  ‘Good God!’ Harry took his arms from her shoulders and paced around the library, nursing his Armagnac. ‘You are absolutely right. If I don’t come back, then …’ His voice trailed off.

  ‘Harry, my deepest apologies, really. I am not myself tonight. Please forgive me and forget what I’ve said to you.’

  He turned to face her. ‘What you say is merely the truth. And Olivia is a lovely girl and I am extremely fond of her. And you like her too. She would be company for you, if –’

  ‘No, Harry! Do not listen to me!’ Adrienne said, agonised. ‘I assumed too much. I thought –’

  ‘Perhaps you thought right.’ Harry nodded in agreement. ‘But I’m a man and too insensitive to see the signs.’

  ‘Maybe, but remember that love cannot be manufactured. If it does not exist, then one cannot make it so.’ Adrienne watched him for a while then stood up. ‘I have such a headache, I must go to bed.’

  ‘Of course you must, Maman, it has been a difficult day for all of us.’

  Adrienne walked towards the door, then stopped and turned round to look at Harry. ‘Believe I do not wish you to do anything that does not suit your heart. It is not the French way, and neither is it mine. Goodnight, my darling. Let us hope for a brighter day tomorrow.’

  When she had gone, Harry poured himself another Armagnac and sat down in the comfortable leather chair to think.

  19

  The following morning, on 1 September 1939, it was announced on the wireless that Hitler’s troops had marched into Poland. Two days later, on the eve of Elsie’s wedding to Bill, Chamberlain spoke to his nation to confirm that a state of war now existed between Great Britain and Germany.

  Perhaps because of the impending disaster and the relief of knowing that war was now underway, there was an air of expectation that seemed to pervade the entire estate. The following morning, as Olivia was packing up her belongings into her suitcase, there was a knock on her door.

  ‘Come in,’ she said.

  Harry was standing there. ‘Sorry to disturb you, Olivia, but you’ve been invited along to Elsie’s wedding, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I have,’ she agreed coldly. The confirmation of the war and Harry’s continued ambivalence had numbed any romantic thoughts she had been harbouring. She simply wanted to get on with her life.

  ‘Would you mind awfully if I accompanied you? I could do with a bit of cheering up. I’m awfully fond of Elsie, and Bill in particular, and a celebration like that seems just the ticket.’

  Olivia eyed him in surprise. Realising she could hardly refuse, she said, ‘Of course, if that’s what you would like. The ceremony’s at two this afternoon.’

  ‘Then I shall meet you downstairs in the hall at half past one, and we can take a stroll together across the park to the church.’ He eyed the suitcase on the bed behind her. ‘Packing?’

  Olivia nodded. ‘Yes, I’m going home tomorrow to my parents’ house in Surrey. Then it’s straight off to London to sign up. I’m going to join the Wrens, if they’ll have me.’

  ‘That’s wonderful, Olivia. But we shall all miss you here.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ Olivia said, feeling contrary and hardly caring.

  ‘I assure you, we will all be sad to see you go. Half past one, then?’

  ‘Yes,’ she nodded and turned back to her packing. Really, Harry’s behaviour was most confusing.

  Olivia and Harry sat at the back of the church and watched Elsie glow with pride and happiness in her pretty lace dress, as she walked down the aisle to meet her future husband. There was not a dry eye in the congregation as they said their vows; every person present knew that their life together as a couple wou
ld soon be curtailed. It was a sobering moment and, as Olivia glanced in Harry’s direction, she could see that he too was moved.

  At the reception, Olivia watched in admiration as Harry sat at a trestle table in the village hall, surrounded by those who worked for him, joking and joshing as if he was one of them. And it was plain to see how much they respected and liked the young man who would one day be their master; it showed a side to him she had not witnessed before, and her heart softened somewhat towards him.

  After the wedding breakfast, the speeches took place, and Jack, Bill’s father, asked whether Master Harry would be prepared to come up and propose a toast to the happy couple. There was cheering as Harry pushed his way through to the front and up on to the dais.

  ‘Ladies and Gentlemen, I’ve had the honour to know Bill and Elsie for all of my life,’ he began. ‘Who was to know that these two naughty children, whom I was always catching scrumpying apples in the orchard, would one day marry? And they never offered an apple to me!’

  There were peals of laughter from the audience.

  ‘Due to the less than pleasant circumstances we all find ourselves facing presently, I’ve got to know Bill rather better in recent weeks. I’d like to assure his dear wife that his sweeping-brush skills are coming along a treat,’ Harry smiled at Elsie. ‘And I can also tell her that when it’s replaced with a real gun, I can think of no one I’d prefer to be hiding behind! Elsie, you’ve got a good and brave man there. Treat him well and enjoy him whilst you can.’

  Elsie’s eyes filled with tears and she gripped her new husband’s hand. ‘I will, Master Harry, I swear.’

  Harry raised his glass. ‘To Bill and Elsie.’

  ‘Bill and Elsie!’ chorused the guests as Harry stepped down off the dais to loud cheers.