When they reached the station, he accompanied her through the crowds to the train and made sure she was comfortably settled in the compartment before taking his leave of her. When the moment of parting came, he held her hand tightly in his.
‘Alexandra,’ he said, looking her solemnly in the eye, ‘I feel you’re under the influence of some sort of anticlimax in returning to London, which I’m sure won’t last. I’m also sure you’ll settle back into your old life, with all your friends around you.’ He searched her face with a slight smile. ‘Yesterday evening, at Gloria’s, you were your old self again, the Alexandra I know so well. You seemed relaxed and happy, surrounded by your friends … back among the people with whom you belong.’
Alexandra parted her lips to say something, but he motioned with his hand for her to stop. ‘Please let me finish,’ he continued. ‘Yesterday, I thought it would be a good idea to show you that gossip article I’d found, though I suspected you’d be upset. I’m not ashamed to admit it, I was hoping the marriage of this count would make you reconsider things … between us, I mean. But I realize I only succeeded in hurting you and for that I’m deeply sorry. Believe me, I didn’t mean to.’ He paused for a moment to regain his breath.
‘Whatever happens, dear Lex, I’ll always be your friend, and if by any chance you do change your mind, don’t hesitate … I mean … I’ll be here.’
She nodded silently, grateful and relieved he would never hold any grudges but also knowing how wrong he was about her now.
‘Ashley, dear Ashley …’ She looked into his clear blue eyes, thinking how young he looked right now. ‘I know this is hard for you to understand, but that journey to meet my family in Spain has marked my life profoundly in more than one way … in fact, to a point of no return.’
He tried to protest but, when he saw the expression on her face, he let go of her hand, which he had been holding until now.
‘As you guessed,’ she said, ‘I’ve fallen in love with Salvador de Rueda.’ Alexandra paused, taken aback by the sound of her own confession. She forced back a wave of pain as it resurfaced in her heart. Swallowing hard, she regained her composure. ‘Unfortunately, as you might have gathered from the article you showed me yesterday, Salvador doesn’t share this love and that … it makes me deeply sad.’
Once again Ashley made an attempt to interrupt but she stopped him.
‘During my stay in Spain, I learned a lot about myself. I grew up. I discovered a new me, the real me … the person hibernating inside me all these years. This experience, painful though it’s been, has drawn out who I really am and now I can no longer ignore my true feelings. You see, I must follow them, whether they involve Salvador or not.’ She paused and squeezed his arm. ‘You mean the world to me, you know that. You’re my dearest friend and I always want you to remain so.’
Silently, they shared a smile, as old friends do who understand one another in a way no one else can.
‘Ashley,’ she called out softly, as he made his way to the door of the compartment. He turned and she went to him, placing a quick peck on his boyish cheek. ‘Thank you,’ she said with tears in her eyes.
The guard’s whistle blew. Ashley gave a sad smile and stepped down from the train.
* * *
As the train hurtled through the countryside, carrying her to Dover, Alexandra endeavoured to put her thoughts in order before she reached Grantley Hall, where she would be speaking to Aunt Geraldine about all that had happened. She had not been surprised that Ashley still harboured a small hope that she would change her mind about him but she recognized that she had been right to clear the air between them one last time, to try to make him understand how much she had changed. She knew Aunt Geraldine had been disappointed when she had turned his proposal down; she had always hoped the young couple would marry. Aunt Geraldine was not the only one to cherish such ambitions with regard to Ashley Harrington either. Ever since Alexandra could remember, mothers had been casting covetous eyes on the young man, the ideal suitor from every point of view.
In a way, Alexandra wished she’d never gone to Spain: life would have been much simpler. Yet, she had felt that restless pull even before leaving England. She had been compelled by the threatening tempest of her emotions, warning her that she needed to escape from everything she had known, and that was what had made her turn down Ashley’s proposal in the first place.
After all, she had not even met Salvador then, yet still she knew there was something more she could expect from a man. The reasons for her decision were already rooted deep in herself; indeed, in her very character, her true needs and aspirations; she was quite sure of that. It was unfortunate that Salvador, because he had wanted it so, had ended up being no more than the detonator triggering this inner storm, but she supposed she was grateful to him for that, although it brought with it such heartache.
Ashley was predictable as a clock. He promised her a peaceful life of stability, devoid of excitement. Of course, he represented security but Alexandra had learned over the past few months that life had more to offer than safe daily routine, however cosy that might seem. Whereas reason dictated prudence, the blood that ran through her veins urged her to live; to savour life to the full, with no fear of the pain and suffering that went with that. Life was a store of limitless treasures for those who lived it fully. Now that she had made that discovery, Alexandra was resolved to meet the world’s challenges undaunted.
It was past six o’clock when she reached Dover Priory. As she walked to the station exit, Alexandra felt light of step and full of renewed vigour. Outside, she was met by Martin, the old driver, in the 1930s Rolls-Royce that Uncle Howard had bought and restored himself as a labour of love. No doubt Aunt Geraldine was waiting for her with a specially prepared dinner at the house. Suddenly she couldn’t wait to be back in the cosy and familiar surroundings of her country home.
Alexandra remembered the last time she had been to Grantley Hall with Aunt Geraldine, a few days before her departure for Spain. How long ago it seemed now. They had talked for a long time, drinking lemon tea and sampling the delicious scones baked by Mrs Hull, their Scottish cook. Alexandra had been so excited and full of expectation; what plans, what dreams she had nurtured then. Now she realized how naïve she had been.
Family and roots, she thought; such big words, full of meaning and promise, she had imagined. How empty and futile they sounded now. Alexandra’s eyes misted and a lump formed in her throat. Shaking herself, she fought back the tears and tried to concentrate on the view of the rolling green countryside through the car window. It was time to leave these insoluble problems behind her to enjoy Kent.
They drove in silence. The elegant cream car passed the walls of Dover Castle perched at the top of the white cliffs that towered over the town and the harbour below. They went through field after field of barley and hops, with an orchard or two scattered here and there, but the countryside consisted mainly of wide-open spaces of rich pasture, where satin-skinned cows, replete and satisfied, chewed the cud with vacant eyes in the evening sun.
At last they came to two imposing wrought-iron gates, already open, flanked by great pillars of ancient stone. The car turned into the grounds of Grantley Hall and slowly made its way along the long beech avenue leading to the house. Stretching away on either side was an expanse of green lawn, bordered with ancient trees and rare plants, giving the large house in the distance a remarkably handsome and grand setting.
Grantley Hall was an elegant dwelling, dating in parts from the fifteenth century. At one point it had almost fallen into ruin, but had been extensively renovated over the years. In 1830, a new façade was constructed, consisting of a central porch flanked by two gables bearing the family emblem. The turret, on the east elevation of the Hall, and the gallery behind the house constituted the only vestiges of its medieval origins.
As soon as the house came into view, Alexandra was overcome by a sense of serenity. Coming home to Grantley Hall always filled her with a feeling of pea
ce. It was her refuge, a sanctuary to which she had often retreated in the past, when overcome with fatigue or faced with a difficult problem. Her aunt would usually leave her to her own devices, knowing she loved the solitude of writing or walking alone in the grounds. She would go for endless strolls across the fields, accompanied by her three dogs, Caesar, Hannibal and Scipio, exploring the neighbouring villages and basking in every aspect of rural life. The tranquillity of the countryside suited her, and at night she would fall into a deep sleep, undisturbed by the clamorous sounds she had never quite got used to in the city.
As Alexandra watched Grantley Hall loom closer, she smiled to herself, resolving to remain in this haven until her energies were completely replenished and her worries had evaporated. Once rested, she could resume her West End life with a serene mind and a brighter outlook.
CHAPTER 16
Aunt Geraldine was waiting for her niece in the drawing room. Alexandra could see her slight figure framed in the window as the car drew close to the house. Lady Grantley was in her late fifties, a woman who dressed with impeccable taste, having spent some time in Paris, where her husband had been posted for a couple of years. Despite her wealth, she always maintained an innate distaste for extravagant habits so her clothes were invariably discreet.
As the old Rolls-Royce came to a halt beside the front door, Aunt Geraldine’s face broke into a bright smile, which made her fine, pleasant features look much younger. Dear Aunt Geraldine, Alexandra thought, waving at her through the car window, she was such an interesting contradiction in many ways. When Alexandra was a child, her aunt had been somewhat old maidish. Alexandra always sensed that slightly rigid exterior concealed a naturally spirited person but such vitality was suppressed by two things: the first was the need to watch over her wayward and irresponsible sister — Alexandra’s mother — the second had been coping with the enormous responsibility of raising Vanessa’s equally spirited child. As a result, Aunt Geraldine followed her own code of — at times — repressive rules, which had exercised Alexandra considerably as a child. Nonetheless, she had always known that behind this façade of cool reserve beat a warm and fun-loving heart.
Happily, Alexandra wasn’t the only one to notice her aunt’s hidden qualities. In a whirlwind romance that had taken even Aunt Geraldine by surprise, the spinster had met Uncle Howard at a hunt ball and married him within months. Alexandra had been overjoyed at her aunt’s transformation. The rather starchy attitudes were softened, quite suddenly, and her forceful and somewhat controlling demeanour gave way to a new zest for life. As a result, she allowed her niece a hitherto unsampled freedom that made Alexandra the envy of her schoolfriends. A few in Geraldine’s circle criticized her, blaming this volte-face and her new, more relaxed approach on her niece’s avant-garde attitude to life.
Aunt Geraldine had been over thirty when she had married Howard. To some men, the presence of her sister’s child might have been a burden. Not so Howard, who loved Alexandra as if she were his own. And for the next twenty-three years, Geraldine’s liberated joie de vivre had kept the rich and handsome baronet, previously notorious for his colourful romantic life, happy and contented.
Though Geraldine had become less orthodox over the years, adding a moderately eccentric splash of colour to the otherwise conventionally muted pastels of aristocratic country life, vestiges of her conservatism remained. Whether it was as a result of her marriage to Howard, whom she’d adored, or her fear of Alexandra being left alone, her views on the benefits of marriage had always been strongly communicated to her niece. Knowing this, on the journey down to Kent, Alexandra had prepared herself for any turn the conversation at Grantley Hall might take that evening. Her aunt could still be somewhat overpowering in her views when she wanted to be.
Lady Grantley met her niece on the doorstep with effusive hugs and kisses. In a light-blue cashmere twinset and navy skirt, elegant in their simplicity, her only accessory a single row of pearls, she looked understated, yet aristocratic. The only thing that gave away her age was the scattering of silvery threads in her silken, blonde hair, held back in a low chignon The massive crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling sparkled with myriad lights, which gave the domed hall, tiled in black-and-white marble, a welcoming and hospitable appearance.
‘Every time I come back I realize how much I love this place,’ Alexandra declared as they walked through the hall. ‘It’s so peaceful.’
‘Yes, it is rather lovely,’ sighed her aunt, ‘although it gets a bit lonely now that dear Howard has gone. These mullioned windows may look picturesque from the outside, but they don’t let in much light. I must confess these old medieval houses, for all their charm, can be depressingly gloomy some days. There’s nothing to beat large Victorian windows, if you ask me.’ She straightened her shoulders and smiled.
‘But I mustn’t complain. This way of life suits me much better now than London, with all those parties in the Season. If I still lived there, I’d feel obliged to attend most of them, and I really can’t be doing with it any more.’ She put a hand on Alexandra’s arm. ‘Still, let’s not dwell on all this. You must have plenty to tell me, darling.’
She surveyed her niece closely with her clear, lively blue eyes, and cupped her cheek. ‘You seem a trifle pale and thin for someone who’s just spent months in sunny Spain. Have you been ill?’ Alexandra shook her head mutely. ‘Well, you were right to come home, the country air has always agreed with you. I’ve had your room prepared. Rose will run you a bath — there’s plenty of hot water. Take your time, darling. We can have a drink and a chat before dinner.’
* * *
‘Shall I pour you a glass of lemonade?’ asked Lady Grantley.
Alexandra closed her eyes and nestled deeper into one of the chintz-covered winged armchairs facing the fireplace. ‘Umm, I think I’d prefer a small glass of sherry,’ she replied languidly. ‘I need to wind down, and it’s one of the best ways I know these days. Other than a brisk walk in the countryside, and it’s too late for that now.’
They were sitting in the small room that had been Sir Howard’s study, and which had now been taken over by Aunt Geraldine and transformed into a cosy living room. A jug of lemonade, a decanter of sherry and a plate of canapés stood on a side table next to the door. The habit of nibbles with a drink before dinner dated from the days when the Grantleys had lived in France. Geraldine’s English friends viewed this continental ritual as a minor eccentricity, which they found charming but never tried to emulate.
Lady Grantley poured a little of the amber-coloured liquid into a glass. ‘There you are,’ she said, handing it to Alexandra. ‘I haven’t had sherry for a while. I think I’ll join you.’ For a while, they sat in silence, sipping their drinks and watching the blaze in the hearth.
‘Now, my darling, tell me all about that wonderful trip to Spain,’ said Lady Grantley, casting a sideways glance at her niece and reaching for a canapé. ‘I must say, I can’t get over how pale you look. Not a very good recommendation for Andalucía.’
‘No, not really,’ Alexandra agreed with a hollow laugh. She stared blankly into the contents of her glass before replying. ‘I’m afraid I made a fool of myself and fell in love,’ she blurted out.
Lady Grantley studied her niece as she sipped her sherry. ‘Darling, you’re such an incurable romantic. Which is perfectly lovely, but you do feel things so deeply that it’s always worried me.’ She paused, detecting that underneath her calm exterior, Alexandra was brimming with emotion that needed to spill out. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ she added quietly, putting down her glass.
‘Oh, Aunt Geraldine, I feel so wretched.’ Alexandra shifted restlessly in her armchair. ‘No, “wretched” is the wrong word. Anger describes my feelings a lot better. Anger against him, against circumstances … and not least, against the stupidity that made me behave like a naïve schoolgirl in the throes of her first love.’ Alexandra spoke as though her veins were charged with electric currents, her speech hurried and staccat
o, alive with a passion repressed for too long. The dark rings encircling her eyes made them seem unnaturally wide and bright. She looked feverish, and her flushed cheekbones appeared unusually prominent in the slender oval of her face.
‘Darling, don’t be so dramatic!’ Geraldine picked up her glass again. ‘Surely it can’t be as bad as you make out?’
At this they were interrupted by a new butler whom Alexandra didn’t recognize, who came to announce dinner was served. Well beyond the first flush of youth, he was dressed in black trousers and tailcoat. ‘Thank you, Miles,’ Lady Grantley said, rising to her feet. She turned to her niece. ‘Let’s discuss this matter further over dinner,’ she suggested.
Alexandra followed her to the door. ‘Where’s Wilson? Is he ill?’
‘Yes, poor man. He’s injured his back so Miles is with us for the summer.’ Her aunt lowered her voice. ‘He’s a good man, though I think he’s a lot harder on Rose than she’s used to.’
They entered the long, panelled dining room, hung with family portraits. Previously, it had been used as the refectory and was one of the few surviving parts of the old building, forming a large part of the gallery at the back of the house. The fifteenth-century dark oak table, which came from an abbey in Berkshire burnt to the ground in Henry VIII’s scourge, was beautifully laid with silver and crystal. As a child, on a grey day, when the weather was particularly gloomy, Alexandra’s fanciful mind had sometimes conjured up all sorts of monks’ stories to fit her imagined history of this formidable-looking piece of furniture
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