The Shadow Sister

by Lucinda Riley

  ‘Nonsense! It’s simply the damned British weather, with its interminable damp. Remember how well I was at Biarritz?’

  ‘Bertie, you know that’s not true. Only the last time we were there, you—’

  ‘Enough!’ he roared, then swiftly downed the second brandy. That done, his gaze fell once more on Flora. ‘Can you see what I have to put up with, Miss MacNichol? I am treated like a child in the nursery.’

  ‘You are treated as though you are loved,’ Mrs Keppel countered firmly.

  Flora waited for a further explosion, but as Mrs Keppel sat down next to him and took his hand in hers, he nodded placidly.

  ‘I know, my dear. But it does rather feel that everyone is out to spoil my fun these days.’

  ‘Everyone is out to make sure that none of us have to endure the pain of losing you.’

  ‘Enough of all that.’ He waved a hand towards Mrs Keppel as though swatting a fly. ‘I am hardly giving a good first impression to Miss MacNichol. So, tell me about yourself. What pursuits do you enjoy?’

  ‘The countryside,’ Flora replied, as it was the first thing that came into her head. ‘Of course,’ she added hastily, ‘it is all I have known, and I may have loved city life just as much if I had been brought up here. I am learning that London is a very beautiful place.’

  ‘No need to apologise, Miss MacNichol. If fate had been kinder, I too would have chosen the country. Tell me, do you ride?’

  ‘I do,’ replied Flora, simply unable to address him as ‘Bertie’. ‘Although I confess, I would be at a loss on Rotten Row. I have learnt to ride on rough terrain and am not at all graceful in the saddle.’

  ‘Ah, those were the days!’ He clapped his hands together like a child. ‘When I was a young man, there was nothing I liked better than galloping across the Scottish moors. What other pursuits make your heart race, Miss MacNichol?’

  ‘I wish I could tell you that it was poetry, or sewing, or that I could play the piano perfectly, but the truth is all I love tends to be out in the open air. Animals, for example . . .’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more!’ He gestured fondly to the dog wagging its tail at his feet. ‘And as for the arts . . . well, in my position, I must tolerate and applaud them. Yet you cannot imagine the interminable nights I’ve sat at the opera, or at plays that I am meant to find some spiritual or psychological meaning in, or at recitals of poetry that I cannot understand a word of—’

  ‘Bertie! You do yourself an injustice,’ Mrs Keppel butted in. ‘You are extremely well read.’

  ‘Only because I have to be. It is part of my job.’ He winked at Flora.

  ‘I do love painting animals, although I don’t seem to be able to capture humans. They seem far more . . . complicated.’ Flora hoped the answer would placate them both.

  ‘Well said!’ Bertie slapped his mountain of a thigh.

  ‘Bertie, your carriage is waiting downstairs. You know that you have an engagement tonight and—’

  ‘Yes, I am fully aware.’ He rolled his eyes at Flora in unspoken companionship. ‘Miss MacNichol, Mrs George is right. I must leave to serve the nation and the Queen.’

  Flora rose immediately and was about to perform another deep curtsey when he beckoned her towards him.

  ‘Come here, my dear.’

  She walked the few paces and stood in front of him. And was astonished as he took her hands in his, his fingers heavy with rings of cabochon rubies and gold crests.

  ‘It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss MacNichol. It only serves to remind me that Mrs George is always right in her instincts. Now, come and help me up, woman, will you?’

  He rose from the sofa with Mrs Keppel’s assistance. And, even though Flora was tall herself, he towered over her. ‘I do so hope that we will be able to enjoy more time together in the future. Especially in the country. At Duntreath perhaps?’ His gaze fell on Mrs Keppel, who nodded.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Now, Miss MacNichol – Flora – I must take my leave. Goodbye, my dear.’

  ‘Goodbye.’

  ‘Come, Bertie, I will escort you downstairs.’

  With that, Mrs Keppel, the terrier and the King of the United Kingdom of Britain and Ireland and of the British Dominions beyond the Seas, Defender of the Faith and Emperor of India left the parlour.

  19

  ‘Did you meet Kingy?’ Sonia, ready for bed with curl papers in her hair, stopped her on the nursery landing two hours later.

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘Don’t you think he’s sweet? Even if he looks quite frightening and fat, he’s really a very nice gentleman.’

  ‘I quite agree,’ Flora laughed, kissing Sonia on the top of her head. ‘Goodnight.’

  ‘Flora?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Please will you come and tell me one of your stories? They’re so much more interesting than the picture books Nannie reads me.’

  ‘I will tomorrow.’

  ‘That’s what grown-ups always say.’ Sonia pouted as Nannie loomed over her charge, ready to sweep her upstairs.

  ‘I promise, Sonia. Now goodnight, and sweet dreams.’ Flora, in need of distraction from the overwhelming afternoon, continued into the day nursery to find Violet curled up in a chair by the fire reading a book.

  ‘Am I disturbing you?’ Flora asked quietly. Violet jumped and looked over the top of her book.

  ‘It would be rude to say you were.’

  ‘Then I will leave.’

  ‘No.’ Violet indicated the chair opposite her.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ Violet said with purpose.

  Flora walked across the room and sat down. ‘What are you reading?’

  ‘Keats. Vita gave it to me as a belated birthday present.’

  ‘That was generous of her. I must confess, I wouldn’t know good poetry from bad.’

  ‘It is only my observation, of course, but certainly with the Romantic poets such as Keats, it doesn’t matter how well one has been versed in literature. It matters more how one has been versed in love.’

  ‘I am not sure what you mean, Violet,’ Flora replied, although she was almost certain she did.

  ‘Well, before I met Vita and she explained poetry to me, I found it very dull too,’ Violet said, gazing into the fire. ‘But now, I read the words he wrote, and I can see that it is a universal expression of love for those who cannot express it for themselves. Do you see?’

  ‘I believe I do, Violet. Pray, continue.’

  ‘Well, the very fact that Vita gave me this anthology indicates that she wishes me to read the words that she herself feels unable to say.’

  ‘You mean you believe that she loves you?’

  ‘As I love her.’ Violet’s direct blue gaze – so like her mother’s – challenged Flora. ‘Do you think that’s wrong?’

  After a day of trying to consider what she said before she spoke, Flora answered honestly.

  ‘There are many forms of love, Violet. One can love a parent in one way, a sibling in another, a lover, a friend, an animal . . . each in different ways.’

  Flora watched Violet’s face as everything it contained seemed to soften and a veil fell from her eyes.

  ‘Yes, yes! But Flora, how can we possibly choose whom we love when society dictates it?’

  ‘Well, even though outwardly we must do as society dictates, the feelings we hold inside us may contradict that completely.’

  Violet was silent for a moment, but then she smiled and for the first time since Flora had set eyes on her, she looked happy.

  ‘You understand!’ Violet closed her book, stood up and walked towards Flora. ‘I wasn’t sure exactly what it was Mama saw in you at first, but now I know and I am glad you’re here. You’ve been in love too. Goodnight, Flora.’

  As Violet left, Barny appeared at the door. ‘Excuse me, Miss Flora, Mrs Keppel wonders if you would care to join her in her boudoir before she goes out to dinner.’

  Flora rose,
and followed Barny to the other end of the corridor, where Mr and Mrs Keppel had their private suite of rooms.

  ‘Flora, do come in and take a seat by me.’ Mrs Keppel sat at her dressing table like an empress.

  ‘Thank you,’ Flora said, sitting down on the edge of a velvet-covered chair and admiring Mrs Keppel’s loose auburn hair, which cascaded down past her creamy shoulders in natural curls. Dressed in a Chantilly lace dressing gown and corset beneath, her bosom spilt ebulliently over the top of it. Flora thought she had never seen Mrs Keppel looking more beautiful.

  ‘I want to tell you that Bertie was very taken with you today.’

  ‘And I with him,’ Flora answered carefully.

  ‘Well, he is not what he once was,’ Mrs Keppel said, noting her tone. ‘He is ill and yet will do nothing to remedy his situation. Nevertheless, he is a kind and wise man and extremely dear to me.’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Keppel.’

  ‘Barny, would you kindly leave us for a few minutes?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’ Barny, who had been hovering behind her mistress waiting for the signal to start dressing her hair, departed and Mrs Keppel turned to face Flora.

  ‘My dear.’ She reached for Flora’s hands and squeezed them tight. ‘I wasn’t sure whether introducing you to Bertie was wise, but you simply could not have acquitted yourself any better.’

  ‘Couldn’t I? I was awfully nervous.’

  ‘You were simply yourself and, as the King commented to me when he left, as natural as a wild Scottish flower that grows amongst the gorse.’

  ‘I am . . . glad I won his approval.’

  ‘Oh Flora,’ Mrs Keppel sighed deeply. ‘You cannot know how much. And how grateful I am to you for being . . . just who you are. He warned me not to spoil you, to turn you into another society lady, to make sure your pure nature isn’t ruined by being here in the city. He’s very much hoping to spend time with you again. However, as you have not been officially presented, I’d prefer – and so would he – that we keep today’s meeting and any future interaction between the two of you a secret.’

  ‘Yes, although both Sonia and Violet know I saw him.’

  ‘Why, of course they do!’ Mrs Keppel chuckled. ‘I do not speak of those within these walls. One of the reasons Bertie loves to pay calls here to Portman Square is the complete discretion and privacy he finds, which is so lacking in the rest of his life. Do you see, Flora?’

  ‘I do, Mrs Keppel.’

  ‘Good. Then I am sure that you and Bertie can look forward to getting to know each other better in the future.’

  ‘Yes, I would like that. I . . .’

  ‘What is it, my dear?’

  ‘I was just wondering whether Mr George was . . . included in the secret of the King’s visits here.’ Flora felt her face flushing red at her insinuation.

  ‘Why, of course he is! Bertie and he are great friends and they shoot together often when the King comes to stay at Duntreath in the autumn.’

  Feeling like an imbecile for asking, Flora blushed even redder.

  ‘Within this house, we keep no secrets from each other. Now, I must call Barny in as we are to leave for dinner at Marlborough House in thirty minutes.’ Mrs Keppel rang the bell on her dressing table. ‘The Prime Minister is joining us tonight, which means we will spend the evening discussing Kaiser Wilhelm’s latest antics.’

  Flora wondered at this woman who dropped famous names as if they were stones from cherries. ‘I hope you enjoy it.’

  ‘Thank you, I am sure I won’t. I have just remembered that tomorrow you are to visit your sister Aurelia and your aunt at her house in Grosvenor Square. I am otherwise engaged, but Freed will drive you there and back.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘And now, my dear, my congratulations once more on your conduct at tea this afternoon. I am certain it will not be your last meeting with Bertie.’

  ‘Sister, dear!’

  Flora was greeted with an enormous hug at the door of Aunt Charlotte’s drawing room. As they walked inside, Aurelia closed it behind them. ‘I’ve asked Aunt Charlotte if we can have some privacy, as I’m in urgent need of your advice.’ She ushered Flora to the sofa and sat down next to her. Flora thought how different her sister looked from the last time she’d seen her. Her lovely eyes were sparkling with life and her complexion was glowing. And Flora knew exactly what the reason must be.

  Please God, don’t let me show my pain . . .

  ‘I asked you here because since we last met, I have had a visitor.’

  ‘Really? And who might that have been?’

  ‘Archie Vaughan!’ she exclaimed. ‘He called on me two days ago, just as I was putting the finishing touches to my packing. I am due to leave for Scotland the day after tomorrow, you see. You can imagine how surprised I was to see him.’

  ‘Goodness!’ Flora feigned shock. ‘I can.’

  ‘Of course, I’d presumed that he had simply come to say goodbye to me out of politeness. He came in here, closing the door behind him, then immediately took my hands in his and told me he’d made a terrible mistake! You could have knocked me over with a feather.’

  ‘Indeed, I am sure I could have.’

  ‘I asked him what kind of “mistake” he meant, and he explained how the responsibility of marriage had suddenly frightened him, that perhaps he simply wasn’t the marrying kind – just as you said! – and that he feared he would let me down as a husband, which was why he did not propose to me when I was at High Weald.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘He told me it was only after I left High Weald that he’d realised how much he’d missed me.’ At this, Aurelia’s gaze drifted off as she relived the moment.

  ‘Oh my, how . . . romantic.’

  ‘And when his mother informed him I was ready to leave London to journey up to Scotland any day soon, he said he knew he must come after me and stop me. And that is exactly what he did.’

  ‘So he has proposed?’

  ‘Yes! Oh Flora, he asked if I could ever forgive him for making such a terrible error of judgement, and immediately went down on one knee and offered me the most dazzling emerald engagement ring.’

  ‘And what was your reply?’

  ‘Well – and this is where I hope you will be proud of me – I said that because of the sudden turn of events, I needed to take a few days to think about it. And that is why I asked you to come to see me. You are so sensible in matters of the heart, dear Flora. What do you think I should do?’

  Flora swallowed any personal thoughts she might have on the subject. ‘Perhaps the first question to ask is why you did not accept his proposal immediately. What held you back?’

  ‘Why, Flora, I told you only a few days ago that I would refuse any further proposal, although that was perhaps because I was protecting myself and my pride. And also, I am still not sure that he loves me as I love him.’

  ‘Has he said he loves you?’

  ‘Yes . . . or at least, he said his life would be empty without me.’

  ‘Well then, there we are!’ Flora forced a bright smile. ‘It amounts to the same thing, whichever words Archie chose to use.’

  ‘Does it?’ Aurelia looked at her beseechingly. ‘Perhaps I expect too much and have too many romantic notions, but his initial hesitation makes me feel – despite the reasons he gave me – that he had reservations.’

  ‘Which he has now resolved, and which had nothing to do with you.’

  ‘I asked him if there was someone else who had captured his heart. He swore that there was not.’

  Flora’s heartbeat quickened. ‘Then surely everything he has told you is enough for you to accept his proposal?’

  ‘Yes, but you know that I had other suitors earlier in the Season and they were ardent in their pursuit of me.’ Aurelia stood up and began pacing the small drawing room. ‘I was showered with flowers and love notes, and even though I did not want them, I was certainly convinced they wanted me. With Archie, I feel rather as if I am the ardent suitor, chas
ing a man who has always seemed . . . indifferent to me.’

  ‘But even from my limited experience of men, I know that many of them approach love in a very different way to women. Some are overtly romantic, but many are not. Look at our father,’ Flora said, grasping for an example. ‘Even though it is obvious he adores Mama, he is not and never has been openly romantic with her.’

  ‘Do you really think he adores her?’ Aurelia paused in her pacing. ‘I’ve always rather wondered. And I certainly don’t want a marriage like that.’

  Flora realised she had lost ground by using her parents’ distant union as an example. ‘Perhaps it’s simply that men are taught that they mustn’t show emotion. And Archie Vaughan is just one of those men.’

  Aurelia stared at her sister, a hint of suspicion in her eyes. ‘I know you have never liked him, or trusted him for that matter. I am rather surprised you seem eager to defend him in this.’

  ‘My feelings about him are irrelevant. I am only trying to be pragmatic and as honest with you as I can be. You’ve asked for my opinion, and I have given it. He has seen the error of his ways and wishes to marry you. I doubt you could ask for more, especially given the alternative . . .’

  ‘I know. Up until Archie’s proposal, I felt I might die of misery at the thought of being banished up to Scotland with Mama and Papa.’

  ‘Then, you have your answer.’

  ‘Yes, except I could not bear it if I thought Archie didn’t really love me and was simply marrying me to take my dowry and save his family home.’

  ‘Dearest Aurelia, I think Lord Vaughan has proved all too successfully that he has a mind of his own, and cannot be forced to do anything he doesn’t wish to.’

  ‘You really think I should say yes?’

  Flora told the biggest lie so far.

  ‘I do.’

  ‘And despite your negative feelings towards him, you will agree to be my chief bridesmaid and dance at my wedding?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Then . . .’ – the cloud lifted from Aurelia’s face – ‘you have convinced me. I will tell him I shall accept his proposal when he comes to visit me tomorrow afternoon. Thank you, my darling sister, I do not know what I would do without you. Now, the decision is made, let us call for some tea. I feel positively weak from the stress.’