The Fairbairn Girls (23 page)

Laura shook her head regretfully. ‘I’ll have to leave on Sunday. It wouldn’t be fair on the others if I was away any longer.’ She gathered up her fine black kid gloves and her purse. ‘I must fly now but I’ll see you on Friday.’

The sisters kissed goodbye and Diana watched as Laura hurried out of the restaurant, a slim, vibrant-looking young woman who attracted admiring looks from other people as she passed their tables.

If only . . . Diana reflected, if only Laura could meet some wonderful man who would sweep her off her feet and give her the sort of life she deserved.

On Sunday evening Laura was back in Edinburgh feeling refreshed and relaxed by her stay at Cranley Court, which had passed all too swiftly.

‘You’re not so washed-out looking,’ Helen observed by way of a compliment when she arrived for work the next morning.

Laura smiled as she threaded a sewing needle with a fine strand of black silk before she began the laborious job of hand stitching it on to the cuffs of a black crepe dress. ‘Washed out? What, like an old piece of faded chintz?’ she teased.

Helen blushed with embarrassment. ‘Oh, I didn’t mean, that is, I just thought you looked, well, a bit tired,’ she stammered.

Laura laughed. ‘I’m only teasing,’ she began when they heard knocking on the street door and then the bell to her flat rang loudly.

‘It’s a bit early for a client,’ Laura observed, putting down her sewing. ‘Can you go and see who it is, Helen? I’m not expecting any deliveries this morning.’ She rose to her feet while Helen scurried down the stairs. A moment later she recognized Mrs Sutherland’s voice and she sounded quite agitated.

‘Terrible news, Laura,’ she exclaimed, pushing past Helen into the workroom. She looked upset and her tiny frame was trembling.

‘Come and sit down,’ Laura said in concern. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Mrs Cavanagh called in to see me first thing this morning. Oh, it’s too shocking for words! They were great friends, you know.’

Laura frowned. ‘Fetch Mrs Sutherland a glass of water,’ she told one of the junior seamstresses as she led the old lady to a chair. ‘Is Mrs Cavanagh all right?’ she asked, knowing they were old friends. She’d also become one of Laura’s regular clients, too.

‘She’s all right. She said it was an accident. They found her body at the bottom of the staircase. Stone cold, it was.’ Mrs Sutherland’s bony hand covered her mouth in anguish. ‘Have you ever heard anything so dreadful?’

Laura stared at her in bewilderment. ‘Whose body?’ she asked.

‘I’m trying to tell you, my dear.’ Tears welled up in her faded blue eyes. ‘She was such a good customer, wasn’t she? I was terribly shocked when I heard what had happened. I knew you’d want to know.’

Laura sat down beside Mrs Sutherland and took her hand. The old lady seemed deeply shocked and she was still shaking all over. Speaking slowly, as if she was addressing a small child, Laura said, ‘What was the name of her friend? Do I know her?’

From the wrinkled face two button bright eyes snapped with impatience as she turned and glared at Laura. ‘I
told
you! Mrs Leighton-Harvey! They think she tripped and fell down the stairs in the middle of the night. Her neck was broken when they found her this morning.’

Laura felt her own head spin and her heart contracted painfully as she took in what it could mean, but then in an instant she was overcome with shame. A woman in her late thirties had died as a result of a tragic accident and a devilish voice in her head was saying,
He’s free
now. He’s not married any more!
And the voice was getting louder and louder.

She struggled to her feet while the wicked thoughts that had sprung to mind like a sudden forest fire raged in her head. They must be crushed and stamped out before they took hold. How could she live with herself while a part of her grappled with the appalling thought that because his silly little wife was dead she stood a chance of having him for herself?

‘I’m very sorry to hear that. How tragic,’ she heard herself say, but it wasn’t really her speaking. Dear God! What was she really thinking of?

Helen and the two other assistants were showing all the right emotions: gasping with shock and exclaiming ‘how terrible’ and ‘she was such a sweet lady’ and ‘we’re really going to miss her’, all the time Laura was fighting to quell the spring of hope that had opened up in her heart.

‘We must send a nice wreath, Lady Laura, mustn’t we?’ she heard Helen say.

Laura nodded in agreement. ‘Of course we must.’

Mrs Sutherland dabbed at her eyes with a damp handkerchief. ‘Perhaps you should write a little letter to Mr Leighton-Harvey. Offering your sympathy,’ she added.

There were nods of agreement from the others and Laura felt her face flush red and grow hot. How could they know what they were asking of her? she reflected, but at the same time terrified that they’d guess. Rising from her chair she covered her face with her hands for a moment before saying firmly, ‘I’ll send him a letter from us all because we all had a hand in making Mrs Leighton-Harvey’s clothes.’

‘That would be more seemly,’ Mrs Sutherland agreed, perking up a bit, and she left soon after in order to spread the sad tidings, which she considered her duty to do.

When she was alone that night Laura composed the letter to Walker Leighton-Harvey with infinite care, stressing how ‘they would all miss’ his wife and offering both him and his young son their profound condolences in their terrible loss. It had taken her several hours to strike just the right tone, but at last it was done and, slipping it into an envelope, she addressed it to Lasswade Hall, Lasswade, Midlothian, Scotland. An address she knew by heart and wondered now if she would ever see.

‘A letter for you on the mat, Lady Laura,’ Helen announced cheerfully a week later as she arrived for work.

Laura knew instinctively even before she’d seen the large, generous handwriting that it was from him. That’s how she thought of Walter now. Him. Whom she loved but would never have. And might not even see again. Opening the envelope her eyes skimmed the page and there was nothing there to raise even her faintest hopes. He thanked her and her staff for their kind thoughts and added he was taking his son abroad ‘for a change of scene’ and didn’t know when they’d return to Scotland. He ended by wishing her well and his sprawling signature covered the bottom of the sheet of thick black bordered writing paper.

Laura laid it on the work table so the others could read it too. There was nothing to hide from them because nothing of importance had ever existed between them in the first place. Except in her heart.

‘He sounds like ever such a nice man,’ Helen commented when she’d read it.

‘Yes,’ Laura agreed distantly. ‘A very nice man.’

‘Mama, have you seen today’s newspapers?’ Georgie asked excitedly as she rushed into the study where her mother was sitting at her late husband’s desk.

‘I haven’t had time,’ Lady Rothbury replied without looking up. ‘I’ve got all the bills to pay and it’s such a lot of work. I miss your father dreadfully, for he took care of everything like this.’

Georgie hurried to her side. ‘Look! Apparently the Boer War is about to come to an end.’

Her mother rose to her feet, relief melting away the deep frown lines on her forehead. ‘What does it say?’

‘
The
Times
has quoted a communiqué from Pretoria dated the twenty-ninth of April – that’s yesterday – in which it seems representatives from Great Britain and the Boer States are in talks about signing a Peace Treaty. They’re calling it the
Treaty of Vereeniging
.’ She looked up in delight. ‘That does mean the war is ending any minute now, doesn’t it?’

Lady Rothbury sank back into the chair and clasped her hands together. ‘Thanks be to God,’ she prayed. ‘I feared it would never end. That’s the most marvellous news.’

‘So Henry will soon be back,’ Georgie declared, still gazing at the news print as if she couldn’t believe her eyes.

‘The journey home will take several weeks,’ her mother pointed out. ‘Henry might not be able to get leave to return here until June or even July.’

‘Then in that case I’ll postpone my wedding in May and Shane and I will wait until Henry’s here so that he can give me away,’ Georgie said firmly.

‘Would you really do that?’ Lady Rothbury asked wonderingly. Six months ago Georgie would have fought tooth and nail to stick to her plans for her marriage to Shane O’Mally, yet here she was, prepared to postpone her big day in order to wait for Henry’s return. She’d been very opposed to her daughter marrying the young man who came from a different background, but recently she’d become quite fond of her future son-in-law because he not only adored Georgie but also knew how to bring out the best in her.

‘It wouldn’t be the same without Henry,’ Georgie said simply. ‘I’ll let the rest of the family know we’re postponing the date.’

‘Shouldn’t you discuss this with Shane first?’

Georgie looked surprised. ‘Why? He always goes along with what I say.’

Lady Rothbury gave a wry smile. So perhaps Georgie hadn’t changed all that much after all.

The news of impending peace in South Africa spread fast. The mood of the country lightened and families began planning welcome home parties to greet their husbands, sons and brothers who had fought valiantly for three long years.

Georgie lost no time in postponing her wedding arrangements and she wrote to Laura saying there was no immediate hurry in making her wedding dress.

‘I’m looking forward to meeting Henry,’ Shane said warmly. He’d agreed that they should delay their own plans until Henry returned and suggested they have a bigger wedding than originally planned.

‘Why don’t we ask all your neighbours to join in the fun? And the people who work for you? I can supply barrels of beer by the dozen and we could roast a couple of hogs and maybe a couple of calves in the yard and give everyone a real party. Your piper could play for dancing in the barn and we could have a real knees-up! My family are going to expect a real show! Not a poncey gathering where people sip wine from tiny glasses and keep their gloves on all night.’

Georgie’s eyes widened. What would her mother say to these outlandish suggestions? Even her sisters would be slightly appalled if her wedding resembled that of a rough farmer’s daughter, with beer and dancing in the barn. ‘I think it might be rather
avant-garde
to have that sort of wedding,’ she said cautiously.

‘Avant-whatever, we’re doing it, Georgie! Come on. Do you want to be stuck in the last century or not?’ As he spoke he slid his arm around her waist and pulled her hard against his hip. Georgie felt dizzy with desire. Shane’s gentle roughness always filled her with longing for their wedding night, although she secretly feared she’d probably faint clean away with excitement when the moment came.

The gong sounded announcing luncheon at that moment and Shane reluctantly loosened his grip as he and Georgie made their way across the great hall to the dining room where Lady Rothbury was already waiting to be seated. It was several minutes later that Alice, Flora and Catriona scuttled in like hungry mice, late as usual. Making murmured apologies they took their places at the long table.

‘Don’t you girls ever keep an eye on the clock?’ their mother remarked irritably. ‘How often have I told you it’s rude to be late?’

‘Sorry, Mama. Catriona’s hair was a mess and we were helping her to pin it up,’ Alice explained.

‘Catriona should have made sure her hair was neat and tidy twenty minutes ago,’ her mother said severely.

‘Better late than never, that’s what I say!’ Shane exclaimed breezily as he tucked his table napkin into his collar. The family ignored this faux pas and listened as he proceeded to describe his wedding plans in detail with the footmen pretending not to hear as they served the first course of
consommé à la Julienne
.

Georgie held her breath, fearful her mother would say something snobbish like ‘we do things differently here’, but before she could comment McEwan appeared in the dining-room doorway. For a moment he stood rigid, holding a silver salver in his white gloved hands, but his normally ruddy face looked as white as candle wax.

As soon as Lady Rothbury saw him and what he was holding she seemed to crumple and grow small and old. There was fear in her eyes and her hand trembled as she reached for the buff envelope that rested so innocent-looking on the tray.

‘No! Oh, God no!’ she moaned in a low voice. ‘Oh, please God, no.’

McEwan said nothing as he stood, head bowed by her chair as she grabbed the envelope and ripped it open.

Watching, Georgie and Shane knew instantly by her lost and pitiful expression as she read the telegram that nothing at Lochlee would ever be the same again for any of them.

‘What’s the matter?’ Flora asked in a small, scared voice.

‘Not my boy, not Henry. Please God, not Henry.’

Then Lady Rothbury collapsed, half fainting, while Shane jumped to his feet to support her, muttering ‘Get the brandy,’ to the stunned footmen who stood awkwardly about, not knowing what to do.

‘What’s
happened
?’ shrieked Catriona as she looked wildly around at the others.

Georgie knew. ‘This is too cruel,’ she sobbed tearfully as she picked up the telegram from where her mother had thrown it down on the table. ‘Killed in action . . .’ she read aloud, ‘and just as the war is ending,’ she added pitifully as she held her table napkin to her mouth.

The room was filled with the sound of crying and sobbing as the four sisters tried to console their mother though they were in need of being comforted themselves. Their beloved brother would not be returning to Lochlee now, and they all felt the loss profoundly. He wasn’t just the only son and heir, he was the light of their lives and adored by everyone who knew him. Lochlee had no heir now and with Henry’s death the title had become extinct. Five hundred years of history wiped out by a single bullet.

‘You need all the family to be here,’ Shane announced pragmatically as soon as Lady Rothbury had been helped up to her bedroom where her younger daughters were administering to her needs while her lady’s maid ran to fetch the family doctor. ‘Would you like me to send telegrams to your other sisters?’ Shane asked Georgie.