The Shadow Sister

by Lucinda Riley

  ‘It’s rather beautiful, isn’t it?’

  Flora jumped and turned to see a shadowy figure standing beside an enormous yew tree. The voice caused her heart to lurch.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘How are you, Flora?’ the voice came out of the darkness.

  ‘I am well. You?’

  ‘I am married. I did as you asked me to.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I love you,’ he whispered.

  Flora stood rooted to the spot.

  ‘Will you not answer me? I just said I love you.’

  ‘Your statement does not deserve an answer. You married my sister only a few hours ago.’

  ‘Only at your behest.’

  ‘For God’s sake! Are you trying to punish me?’

  ‘Perhaps, yes.’

  ‘Then please, if you love me as you say you do, stop this. Whatever was between us for those few days is gone.’

  ‘If you believe that, then you are deluding yourself. It can never be gone.’

  ‘Enough!’ Flora turned to make her way back to the house. As she did so, a hand whipped out and grabbed her upper arm, pulling her closer. Unable to cry out for fear of attracting attention, Flora found herself in Archie’s arms. And his lips descended upon hers.

  ‘My God, Flora, how I have ached to do this again . . .’

  For far longer than she wished to admit, Flora abandoned herself to the sheer joy of being in his arms with his mouth on hers. Eventually, some modicum of sense entered her brain, and with huge effort, she struggled out of his grasp.

  ‘What have we done!’ she whispered. ‘Please, let me go.’

  ‘Forgive me, Flora. I saw you walking into the gardens from the terrace, and remembered all that we talked about when I was with you at Esthwaite and . . . you mustn’t blame yourself.’

  ‘Let us pray that Aurelia never has to forgive us,’ she said with a shudder. ‘I beg you, make my sister happy.’ Without waiting for a reply, Flora stumbled back along the path towards the house.

  Archie stood in the shadows of the ancient yew tree and watched his love run away from him.

  26

  Flora ran up the stairs and into her room. Slamming the door, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts, she sat down on the bed, trying to still her heartbeat.

  ‘God forgive me,’ she muttered, too aghast and ashamed at what had happened to even allow herself the comfort of tears. Almost immediately, there was a knock on her door. Shrugging off her cape, she opened it.

  ‘Where have you been?’

  ‘I . . .’ Flora thought she might faint at the sight of Aurelia, looking unusually tense and cross.

  ‘Well, never mind where. I’ve been waiting for you to come and help me out of my dress and into my evening gown!’

  ‘Oh my, of course! I must have dozed off . . .’

  ‘Please, can you hurry, Flora? I must meet Archie at the doors of the Great Hall at seven and it is almost half past six now.’

  Still apologising profusely, Flora followed Aurelia along the corridor and into an impressively large room dominated by an enormous canopied four-poster bed. It was made from solid dark wood, and Flora quickly averted her eyes from it, trying not to think of its imminent purpose. A fire had already been lit to warm the room for the bridal couple, and its light danced across the heavy tapestries that adorned the walls.

  Flora fumbled with the seed-pearl buttons at the back of Aurelia’s gown and prayed her numb fingers might drop off from frostbite – it was no less than she deserved.

  ‘And of course, all through the wedding breakfast, everyone noticed how Freddie Soames’ eyes never left you,’ Aurelia chattered on as Flora helped her into a dusky rose-coloured evening gown. ‘It’s obvious he’s completely smitten. Mama says that he is almost twenty-five and has to take a bride soon. Would you say yes if he proposed?’

  ‘I’ve never given it a thought.’

  ‘Flora, for all your time in Mrs Keppel’s household, you really are very naive when it comes to men. Now, I think I should let my hair fall loose at the back. What do you think?’

  ‘I think it would look wonderful.’ Flora only hoped that Aurelia would not notice the deep blush of guilt spreading like a rash up her neck.

  ‘Can you fetch Jenkins? Apparently she is to be my permanent lady’s maid – a wedding gift from Archie’s mother. I’m not sure that I like her much, but she is awfully good with hair. Then you must go and make yourself beautiful. I am sure Freddie will be asking for many dances with you tonight.’

  Flora went in search of Jenkins, then tended to her own toilette. Not that she cared to fix her appearance for tonight. Despite her protestations to Aurelia, it was true that Freddie Soames had pursued her relentlessly for the past two months. Even though most women in London society gushed over his handsome looks, Flora thought him an arrogant, louche bore, who had seemed on all occasions she’d met him to be in his cups. If he possessed a brain, she had not yet been privy to its machinations.

  However, he did seem to be smitten by her, and London society would not be surprised if an engagement was announced . . .

  Entering the Great Hall a few minutes later, she saw the tables had been removed and the chairs pushed back to allow room for dancing.

  ‘Pray silence for the bride and groom! Lord and Lady Vaughan.’

  Flora watched Archie lead Aurelia onto the dance floor to a round of applause. He wrapped an arm around his wife’s waist for the traditional first dance as the orchestra struck up. The floor began to fill with other couples and the room, heady with the scent of rich perfumes, became a swirling rainbow of beautiful gowns.

  ‘May I have the honour of the first dance?’

  Flora jumped as she felt a heavy arm on her shoulder. She looked up into the glazed eyes of Freddie Soames.

  ‘Good evening, Lord Soames.’

  ‘S’pose you’re feeling your lot is always to be the bridesmaid and never the bride, eh, Miss MacNichol?’ He pulled her up and led her unsteadily onto the dance floor. ‘Must say, rather like that dress of yours,’ he whispered into her ear.

  ‘Thank you.’ Flora turned her head aside, the stench of alcohol on his breath making her queasy.

  ‘You haven’t been avoiding me, have you? Every time I’ve come to search you out, you seem to have vanished.’

  ‘I’m chief bridesmaid, I’ve been attending to my sister.’

  ‘Of course you have. So it wasn’t you I saw in the garden with the groom when I came looking for you earlier on?’

  ‘No . . .’ Flora gulped in shock and fought to keep her composure. ‘I was upstairs with Aurelia helping her change.’

  ‘Really? Well, well, could have sworn it was you, but whoever the lady in question was, it doesn’t bode well for your sister’s marriage.’

  ‘Don’t say such things! Archie and Aurelia are devoted to each other! You must be mistaken.’

  ‘There was no mistake, but you can trust that the secret is safe with me,’ he added as the dance came to an end. ‘No wonder you have been so elusive in the past few weeks, Miss MacNichol.’

  ‘You couldn’t be more wrong.’

  ‘Then prove it by saying you’ll marry me.’ Freddie nuzzled his face into her hair as the orchestra began to play another waltz. ‘Otherwise, I may not believe you.’

  Flora swallowed hard, glancing at Archie and Aurelia, and then at Freddie’s smug, self-satisfied expression. He had seen her, and they both knew it. Her heart was racing, and if she’d had doubts up to now about her course of action, she had to let them go. This was her just punishment and she had to accept it.

  ‘Yes, I will.’

  ‘What?! You’ll marry me?’ Freddie stumbled briefly, before righting himself.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well, well, I have to admit, I didn’t expect that.’

  ‘Really, if you were teasing me, please say so and—’

  ‘No, I wasn’t,’ he said quickly. ‘I presumed I would have to continue to be pati
ent with you.’ Freddie abruptly stopped dancing then, causing a pile-up around them. He lifted a finger to her cheek and stroked it as Flora did her best not to shudder. ‘You really are a most enigmatic young lady, Miss MacNichol. I never quite know what you’re thinking. You are sure you are serious about accepting my proposal?’

  ‘Yes. Utterly.’

  ‘And dare I ask if this decision is purely because you have feelings for me?’

  ‘What other reason could there be?’

  ‘None, of course,’ he laughed. ‘Well. I haven’t got a ring here to give you.’ Freddie suddenly appeared nervous and uncertain.

  ‘Will we dance or will we move to the side?’ Flora felt conspicuous standing in the middle of the floor.

  ‘We will dance. I relish the fact that we are discussing our union as we glide around to the music of Strauss. You must, of course, meet my parents; they already know of my intentions towards you.’

  ‘And are they happy?’

  ‘They are intrigued, as the whole of London has been since you arrived here. I hope very much that you will approve of what will be your new home. It is a vast estate.’

  ‘I have heard.’

  ‘And does that frighten you?’

  ‘I am not frightened of much, my lord.’

  ‘I can see that. And that is what excites me. The question is, will you ever be tamed?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought a “tame” woman would excite you.’

  Freddie threw back his head and laughed. ‘My God, you will present me with a challenge. But one that I long to overcome.’

  Flora felt his fingers tighten on her waist, squeezing her flesh.

  ‘We shall announce our engagement as soon as we can. We could almost announce it now, given that most of London is here in this room.’

  ‘Yes, we should.’ Flora wanted no means of possible escape after tonight.

  Freddie stared at her. ‘Are you serious, Miss MacNichol? You would be comfortable with me announcing our betrothal now?’

  ‘Of course. Whether it is now or tomorrow or next week, it makes no difference. You have asked me to be your wife, and I have accepted.’

  ‘Then so be it.’

  In perfect accord, the orchestra came to the end of the waltz. Freddie led her through the crowd and spoke to the conductor. Pulling her next to him, he called for attention. ‘My lords, ladies and gentlemen, I have an announcement to make. On the occasion of her sister’s marriage to Lord Vaughan, Miss Flora MacNichol has agreed to be my wife.’

  There was a palpable intake of breath from the onlookers as Freddie kissed her hand, then a round of applause. Immediately, Aurelia walked towards them. ‘I knew it!’ she said delightedly.

  ‘So, we will look forward to seeing you at Selbourne Park to plan for a spring wedding,’ said Freddie, having beckoned a servant to bring him a glass of champagne. ‘To my betrothed!’ Freddie lifted his glass in a toast as the assembled company scurried to search for a glass they could raise too.

  Archie, dragged forward by Aurelia, appeared in front of them. Flora caught the look in his eye, before he turned to his own wedding guests. ‘This has been a wonderful evening, only enhanced by my dear sister-in-law’s news. To Freddie and Flora!’

  ‘To Freddie and Flora!’ chorused the guests.

  As Archie signalled for the orchestra to continue, Flora was surrounded by well-wishers, which included her mother and father.

  ‘Goodness,’ said Rose as she kissed Flora. ‘This was something I never expected. Mrs Keppel was right: it was an excellent idea to send you to her in London. Now you are to be a viscountess. My dear Flora, it is no less than you deserve.’

  They embraced and when Rose pulled away, Flora saw her eyes were full of tears.

  ‘Please don’t cry, Mama.’

  ‘Forgive me, I underestimated you. I hope that one day you’ll forgive me.’

  ‘Forgive you for what, Mama?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Rose replied quickly. ‘Just know that tonight, I am as proud of you as any mother could be.’

  Now even her mother was talking to her in riddles, but Flora was too overwhelmed to try and unravel them. ‘Thank you, Mama.’

  Her father followed suit and embraced her quickly, as always embarrassed by any overt show of affection. ‘Good show, Flora, my dear, good show.’

  Next in line to congratulate her was Archie.

  ‘Congratulations, sister-in-law.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Flora said, her heart in her throat.

  Without another glance, Archie walked away from her.

  ‘So, you return to me an engaged woman?’ Mrs Keppel embraced Flora as she walked into her parlour the next day.

  ‘I do.’

  ‘And are you happy? After all, Viscount Soames is the current catch of London.’

  ‘I am very happy.’

  ‘Set the tray down there,’ Mrs Keppel ordered Mabel, before turning to Flora. ‘Draw your chair closer to the fire and tell me all about Freddie’s proposal. Was it desperately romantic?’

  ‘I suppose it was, yes. He asked me as we were dancing.’

  ‘At your sister’s wedding! Oh Flora, I am so very happy for you.’

  ‘My parents send you all their love and thanks.’

  ‘It is a shame that we won’t see them over Christmas. As you know, we are going to Crichel. Have you decided whether you will join us there yet? I know your sister has invited you to stay at High Weald.’

  ‘I would very much like to come to Crichel, Mrs Keppel. I mentioned the idea to Freddie, and he tells me his own family estate is quite close by in the New Forest.’

  ‘It is indeed, yes. Perhaps Freddie and his father can join the men for the Boxing Day shoot and I can introduce you to his mother, the Countess. Well then, that is settled, and the Alingtons will be thrilled to have you as their guest.’

  ‘Thank you, I shall be delighted.’

  Mrs Keppel regarded her. ‘For an engaged girl, you do not look as you should.’

  ‘How should I look?’

  ‘Happy. And yes, I admit to having been surprised when I heard about it. I was aware Viscount Soames was fond of you, but—’

  ‘I am happy,’ Flora interrupted. ‘Very. And I wish to thank you for all you have done to make this situation possible.’

  ‘My sweet girl, none of this would have happened without you being simply you. So, you will be meeting Freddie’s parents?’

  ‘I believe something is being arranged.’

  ‘Despite their impeccable pedigree, and a name that stretches far back into British history, they are . . . unusual. The Earl is very outspoken in the House of Lords. And I’m terribly fond of Daphne. She’s quite a character, as you will discover. With a rather racy past.’ She raised her teacup to Flora with a smile. ‘I presume you will be staying here until the wedding?’

  ‘Mama did not indicate otherwise.’

  ‘Then I must write to her seeing if we can hold the engagement party here for you. I am sure that all of our friends will wish to attend.’

  Flora watched as Mrs Keppel’s face lit up at the thought, and wondered if, in her future role as a viscountess, she would ever take delight in the organisation of social events. Somehow, she doubted it.

  ‘Would you excuse me, Mrs Keppel? It was an extremely late night yesterday, and I am feeling quite tired out from all the excitement.’

  ‘Of course. Are your parents putting the announcement in The Times or shall I?’

  ‘It wasn’t discussed.’

  ‘Then I shall include the matter in my letter to your mother. We will see you at dinner. I am sure that George and our other guests will wish to congratulate you in person.’

  Flora left the room, and walked wearily up the stairs to her bedroom. Engagement announcements, more parties . . . she simply wanted it all over and done with. She hadn’t even been presented at court, and to boot she didn’t have a dowry – her parents couldn’t afford it. How was she to be a viscountess?

 
‘Panther has been wondering where you are.’

  Violet appeared like a ghost on the shadowy gas-lit landing, the cat tucked up in her arms.

  ‘Thank you for looking after him, Violet.’

  ‘That’s all right, he seems to like me. Mama says you’re engaged to Viscount Soames?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I must admit, I am surprised.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t mean to be rude about the man you wish to marry, but every time I have met him here, he seems to have been drunk. And if you speak to him, he really is quite stupid. And you’re not.’

  ‘That’s very sweet of you to say, but I can assure you that it’s the right thing for me to do.’

  ‘Because you are frightened of becoming an old maid?’

  ‘No, because I want to marry Freddie.’

  ‘Well then, good luck, but you won’t catch me bending to society’s rules.’ Violet passed Panther to his mistress and stalked up to the night nursery floor.

  ‘No, Violet, I’m sure I won’t,’ Flora sighed as she watched the girl leave, then closed her bedroom door. She stood there for a while stroking her purring cat, feeling despair wash over her.

  What was done was done. She had absolutely no right to follow her heart any longer.

  Flora left London with the Keppels on Christmas Eve, arriving a few hours later at Crichel House in Dorset, a vast Georgian pile of pale beige stone, rendering Esthwaite cottage-sized by comparison. An enormous Christmas tree sat resplendent in the hall, the candles being lit by the maids as dusk fell.

  ‘Goodness, I shall need a map to find my bedroom later,’ Flora commented to Mrs Keppel as the assembled party of thirty people gathered for drinks in the gracious drawing room before dinner.

  ‘My dear, if you think this is a large house, wait until you see Selbourne Park!’

  Christmas Day dawned and the entire party walked to the church, which conveniently – and rather oddly, thought Flora – stood in the garden. After that, an extravagant round of present-giving ensued. The women, Flora noticed, were all receiving beautifully crafted brooches or miniatures of animals, flowers and trees. Made, Mrs Keppel informed her, by Fabergé.