The Shadow Sister

by Lucinda Riley

  As for Panther, Sarah, who had refused to go up to the Highlands ‘due to all them mites and ticks’, would take him to live at the cosy cottage she shared with her mother in Far Sawrey. At least Flora was relieved that her animals were safe and secure, even if she was not.

  On the morning of her departure to London, with a heart as heavy as the great boulder that sat on the shores of Esthwaite Water, Flora went downstairs to greet the Lakeland dawn for the final time.

  Outside, the landscape had granted her a last wonderful memory. The autumn skies were lit with streaks of scarlet and purple and as she sat down on the boulder, the air was thick with a low mist. Savouring each trill of the dawn chorus, she took in a deep lungful of the fresh, pure air. ‘Goodbye,’ she breathed, closing her eyes like the click of a camera shutter to hold the image indelibly in her mind.

  Back in her bedroom, Flora dressed hurriedly for the journey and, shrugging on her travelling cape, she called for Panther. Normally, he would emerge sleepily from under the bedcovers, stretching languidly, his amber eyes indicating irritation at being disturbed. Today, he did not appear, and having searched her bedroom thoroughly, Flora deduced that she must have left her door ajar earlier and Panther had followed her downstairs.

  Tilly and Mrs Hillbeck were already busy in the kitchen.

  ‘Your mother has asked us to pack you a picnic. It’s a long journey to London,’ said Tilly, as she fastened the leather straps on the hamper.

  ‘Have you seen Panther?’ she asked them, looking under the table. ‘I’ve searched everywhere and I can’t find him. I must say goodbye . . .’

  ‘He canna have gone far, Miss Flora, I’m sure, but your mother is waiting for you by the door already. I’ll take a look for him, don’t you worry,’ Sarah said, appearing from the pantry.

  ‘Goodbye, Miss Flora, and good luck in that heathen city you’re going to. Rather you than me,’ sniffed Mrs Hillbeck. ‘I made you some currant pasties – I know how you love them.’

  ‘Thank you, and please promise me that you will look for Panther and write to tell me he’s safe?’

  ‘Of course we will, dear. Now you take care of yourself. We’ll miss you,’ Mrs Hillbeck added, a tear in her eye.

  ‘I will. Goodbye.’ Flora took one last desperate glance around the kitchen, then left to join her mother.

  ‘Flora, we must leave now or we shall be late for the train.’ Her mother stood regally in the hall, her hands tucked into a fur muff against the morning chill. Flora walked towards the door, followed by Sarah carrying the picnic hamper. ‘Say goodbye to your father. I will see you in the carriage.’

  To her surprise, her father had come down the stairs to the entrance hall, leaning on his stick more heavily than usual.

  ‘Flora, my dear.’

  ‘Yes, Papa?’

  ‘I . . . well, the thing is that . . . I’m jolly sorry about how it all turned out.’

  ‘It isn’t your fault we’ve no money to keep the house, Papa.’

  ‘No, well . . .’ Alistair looked at his feet. ‘I wasn’t referring directly to that, but thank you anyway. I am sure you will write regularly to your mother, and I shall hear of your adventures. I wish you luck in your future. Goodbye, my dear.’

  ‘Thank you, Papa. Goodbye.’

  Flora turned away and felt a sudden deep-seated sadness at the finality of her father’s parting words. Stepping into the carriage, she took one last glance at Esthwaite Hall. As they passed through the gates, she wondered if it would be the last time she ever saw it. Or her father.

  Once settled in their first-class carriage for the long journey to London, Flora sat quietly, observing how the landscape soon changed from rough hills and valleys to an unfamiliar flatness, and inwardly mourning all she’d so recently lost. In contrast, as the miles slipped past and the train separated its occupants further from their home, Rose’s mood began to brighten.

  ‘Perhaps I should tell you a little about the Keppel household.’

  ‘Yes, Mama.’

  Flora only half listened as Rose talked of the beautiful house in Portman Square, the family’s high rank in society and the two girls, Violet and Sonia, who were aged fifteen and nine respectively.

  ‘Of course, Violet is a beauty and Sonia . . . well, poor lamb, let us say she has other qualities to make up for her plainness. She is a rather sweet-natured girl, but it’s Violet who’s the handful. Then again’ – Rose stared out of the window and gave a small smile – ‘one can hardly blame her, given the life that she’s led.’

  ‘What life, Mama?’

  ‘Oh’ – Rose shook herself visibly – ‘perhaps it’s just that the first child is always indulged.’

  It was Flora’s turn to avert her eyes. But not before she saw a faint blush appear in her mother’s cheeks. They both knew that this had not been the case in their own household.

  At one o’clock, Rose declared herself hungry and Flora duly opened the picnic hamper. ‘I do find the food in the dining carriage completely inedible,’ she added as Flora passed her a napkin and a plate. They both gave a little shriek as a tiny black devil jumped out of the hamper and, after a quick glance at his surroundings, disappeared under his mistress’s skirts.

  ‘Good heavens! What on earth is he doing here? Flora’ – Rose’s eyes bored into her – ‘surely you didn’t secrete him in there?’

  ‘Of course not, Mama! He’ – tears of joy pricked her eyes, as she swept Panther up from under her skirts and hugged him to her – ‘secreted himself.’

  ‘What on earth we are going to do with him when we reach London, I really don’t know. I’m sure the Keppels will not want animals living in their house, given the company they keep.’

  ‘Mama, I understand that Panther may be seen as an inconvenience, but to my knowledge, most children love kittens and it may be that Violet and Sonia do too.’

  ‘Well, it’s not a good start,’ Rose sighed. ‘Not a good start at all.’

  With Panther fast asleep inside the picnic hamper – it almost seemed as if he understood the game he must play – mother and daughter disembarked from the train at Euston railway station.

  ‘Dear Alice said she’d send her motor car and driver to greet us. Ah, there is Freed now.’

  Flora hurried after her mother along the crowded concourse as she walked briskly towards a short man with a neat moustache, wearing a smart dark green coat with shining brass buttons. He took off his cap and gave them a bow. The smell and the relentless noise from both the engines and the crowd were making Flora feel dizzy and overwhelmed. Even Panther let out a fearful yowl of displeasure from the depths of the hamper.

  ‘Good evening, madam, miss, and welcome to London,’ Freed said, and summoned the porter to assist with their cases. ‘I trust the journey was comfortable?’ he asked politely as Flora and her mother followed him out of the station, the porter trundling behind them with the luggage trolley. An electric brougham was waiting for them, its wooden panels gleaming in the late afternoon sun. They stepped in and settled into the soft leather upholstery as Freed started up the engine with a gentle whirr and they set off into the wide streets of London.

  Flora peered out at the fashionable men and women strolling down Marylebone Road, and the imposing buildings that seemed to continue forever skywards. A constant plaintive meowing emanated from the hamper, but Flora didn’t dare open it to comfort Panther while her mother sat next to her.

  The brougham circled a magnificent park, ringed by tall brick houses, and pulled up in front of one of them. Immediately, the door opened and a footman appeared to help them down. They entered the house, and the footman offered to relieve Flora of her picnic hamper.

  ‘No, thank you, sir, I have . . . gifts for the household inside,’ Flora lied swiftly.

  Their capes and hats were taken and they were ushered up a narrow flight of stairs and into a parlour that seemed, on first impression, to be more of a greenhouse than an indoor room, filled as it was with sweet-smelling orchid
s, lilies and enormous Malmaisons in cut-glass vases.

  Amidst the lace-covered cushions on a sofa sat perhaps the most beautiful – and certainly the most finely dressed – woman Flora had ever seen. Her rich auburn hair gleamed in an elaborate tumble of curls, strands of pearls around her neck accentuated her alabaster skin, and a deep neckline revealed the swell of an impressive bosom. Her eyes were of the brightest blue and Flora was transfixed as the woman stood up and came across the lavish room to greet them.

  ‘My dear Rose,’ she said as she embraced Flora’s mother. ‘Was the journey tiresome? I do hope not.’

  ‘No, Alice, it was perfectly comfortable, though both I and Flora are glad to have arrived.’

  ‘Of course.’ Alice Keppel’s penetrating gaze then fell on Flora. ‘So this is the famous Flora. Welcome to my home, my dear. I hope you’ll be very happy here. The children are eager to meet you. Nannie told me that little Sonia has spent the day drawing pictures for you. Much to their displeasure, they are now both being bathed and tucked up in bed, so I have promised I shall introduce them to you first thing tomorrow morning.’

  A pitiful whine came from inside the picnic hamper and a tiny black paw appeared from underneath the lid.

  ‘What on earth do you have in there?’ Mrs Keppel asked as all eyes in the room turned to the hamper.

  ‘It’s a . . . kitten,’ Flora replied, glancing at her mother’s horrified face. ‘Please, Mrs Keppel, I didn’t mean to bring him, but he stowed away.’

  ‘Indeed? What a resourceful animal he must be.’ She let out a peal of laughter. ‘Let us see this stowaway. I’m sure the children will be utterly delighted.’

  Flora bent down to release the leather straps of the basket as Rose murmured embarrassed apologies. Ignoring them, Mrs Keppel bent down too, and as Panther was revealed, she swept him up with a firm and practised hand.

  ‘What a beauty you are, young man, and mischievous too, I’ve no doubt. I had a similar cat when I was growing up in Duntreath. I am sure he will make a very welcome addition to the nursery.’

  As Mrs Keppel handed a wriggling Panther back to his mistress, Flora could have fallen onto her knees and kissed the woman’s feet.

  ‘Now, dinner is at eight, and I have invited some old friends of yours, Rose dear. I will have our housekeeper, Miss Draper, show you to your rooms to change. Flora, I have put you in a room next to your mother. I hope you will like it.’ Mrs Keppel reached for Flora’s hands and held them tightly. ‘Welcome.’

  As they were led up another flight of stairs, Flora wondered if Mrs Keppel’s generous greeting was genuine or just for show. For if it was real, it was the warmest welcome from a stranger she had ever received. As Rose was about to disappear into her room, a thought struck Flora and she pulled her mother aside.

  ‘Mama, I have nothing suitable to wear for dinner,’ she whispered as the housekeeper and the upstairs maid hovered behind them.

  ‘You are quite correct,’ said Rose. ‘Forgive me, Flora, I should have thought of such a thing, but I was unaware that Mrs Keppel intended to introduce you to society. I will tell her you are exhausted from the journey and ask one of the servants to bring you up a tray. I will leave the gown I have brought with me behind when I return home tomorrow. It will have to be altered, but I am sure there is a seamstress amongst the household staff. Mrs Keppel’s wardrobe is vast, as you may imagine.’

  ‘Thank you, Mama.’

  The housekeeper led Flora further along the long corridor and pushed open the door to a large and richly furnished high-ceilinged bedroom, where a vase of fresh flowers sat on the chest of drawers and soft towels were draped over a washstand.

  ‘Anything you need, miss, just ring the bell for Peggie,’ said the housekeeper, indicating the maid behind her who bobbed a curtsey. ‘She will also take your cat downstairs to the basement to do its . . . business.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Flora said, about to add she was happy to take the cat herself, but the two servants had already left the room. She walked to the window and saw it had grown dark and gas lamps illuminated the square below. Carriages were drawing up in front of other houses, their passengers alighting, attired in gleaming black top hats or wide feather-brimmed ones.

  Turning away from the window, she saw Panther had already made himself at home, and sat washing himself in the middle of the large brass bed. She climbed on next to him and lay down, staring up at an immaculate ceiling with not a crack or a patch of damp to sully it.

  ‘Goodness, they must be rich if even their “help” lives in bedrooms like this,’ Flora murmured, as her eyes closed of their own accord and she dozed off. Later, she jumped at a knock on her door and sat up, disorientated, and struggling to remember where she was.

  ‘Hello, my dear. Did I wake you?’ Rose said as she entered the room. She was wearing an emerald-green dress and the family tiara, which usually languished in the strong box at Esthwaite Hall as there had been so few occasions to wear it. Tonight, Rose seemed to sparkle as brightly as the diamonds that sat atop her head.

  ‘I must be tired from the journey, Mama. I hope Mrs Keppel isn’t offended that I am not coming down to dinner.’

  ‘She understands completely. Now, I have brought you something. I thought these might be suitable for you,’ Rose said as she handed a jewellery box to her daughter.

  Flora gasped as she opened the box and saw her mother’s pearl necklace and earrings nestled in the velvet. Rose picked up the necklace and fastened it around Flora’s neck. Together, they admired Flora’s reflection in the mirror.

  ‘It was presented to me by my mother when I made my debut in London,’ Rose said quietly. ‘I have held it dear for so long, but now it is time for you to have it.’ She gently placed a hand on her daughter’s shoulder.

  ‘Thank you, Mama.’ Flora was genuinely touched.

  ‘I do hope you will feel at ease here. Mrs Keppel seems to have taken to you already.’

  ‘I am sure I will. Mrs Keppel seems awfully nice.’

  ‘Yes. Now, I must go down for dinner. Mrs Keppel says to tell you that she will meet you in the day nursery, which is one floor up, at eight in the morning prompt to introduce you to the children and the rest of the staff. We will say our own goodbyes later on. I am catching the train up to the Highlands tomorrow to prepare the new house for your father’s arrival.’ Rose kissed Flora on the top of her head. ‘Peggie is bringing you up a supper tray. Sleep well, Flora.’

  ‘I will, Mama. Goodnight.’

  15

  Flora awoke the next morning to the unfamiliar sounds of the house and its noisy surrounds. There was a tap-tap on her door at seven o’clock and Peggie came in with a breakfast tray and lit a fire in the grate.

  Sipping her tea, Flora wondered at the splendour of a household that had servants to wait on the servants. When Peggie had left with Panther firmly tucked under her arm, she put on the best of her meagre selection of clothes – a blue linen dress with thistles hand-stitched onto the hem by Sarah. As she was pinning her unruly hair into place, the door opened and Panther and Peggie appeared once more in the room.

  ‘Are you ready, miss? They’re waiting for you in the day nursery.’

  Flora swept up Panther and followed Peggie up yet another set of stairs. Ushered into the room, she saw it had bright white walls and large windows that gave a wonderful view of the park below. Mrs Keppel was standing by the fireplace, her two daughters beside her. Sonia, the younger of the two, was dressed in a freshly starched white smock and black patent buckled shoes. Her elder sister Violet, who Mama had told her was fifteen, wore a skirt with what looked like a man’s shirt and collar – complete with a tie.

  ‘Now, my dears, say hello to Miss MacNichol.’

  ‘How do you do, Miss MacNichol,’ the two children chorused politely.

  ‘Hello.’ Flora smiled at them and saw that Violet, despite her strange attire, was already a carbon copy of her mother: all feminine curls and blue eyes. Sonia was darker, narrower and w
ith a similar complexion to Flora’s own. The contrast between the two sisters reminded her immediately of herself and Aurelia.

  ‘What is the cat’s name?’ Violet pointed at Panther, who sat in the crook of Flora’s arm. ‘Is he safe to hold? His claws look quite vicious and he may well scratch.’

  ‘This is Panther, and I assure you he is very tame. But he doesn’t take kindly to teasing,’ Flora added, an inner instinct telling her that Violet had a capricious temperament.

  ‘Might I stroke him?’ Sonia approached Panther and cautiously held out a hand.

  ‘Of course you can,’ Flora replied, handing Panther into her arms and warming to the younger child immediately, as Panther rubbed his head against Sonia’s fingers, his eyes slits of contentment.

  ‘Now, Miss MacNichol, may I introduce you to Nannie, and to Mademoiselle Claissac?’ Mrs Keppel said as two women entered the nursery. One was a broad woman in a grey dress and a creaseless apron; the other was a petite, plump blonde who looked at Flora as though she had an unpleasant smell under her nose.

  ‘I am pleased to meet you,’ said Flora, for some reason feeling she should dip a curtsey to Nannie, sensing that she was the force of nature that obviously ruled the two nursery floors.

  ‘Likewise, Miss MacNichol,’ she replied in a far softer tone than Flora had expected, with a hint of Scottish burr.

  ‘Enchantée,’ said Mademoiselle Claissac. ‘You may call me “Moiselle”,’ she added haughtily.

  ‘Moiselle instructs Sonia in the schoolroom,’ Mrs Keppel explained. ‘And Violet attends Miss Wolff’s school in South Audley Street.’

  ‘And I must not be late, Mama,’ said Violet, her eyes moving to the clock on the wall. ‘Vita will be waiting for me outside.’