Authors: Lucinda Riley
“So,” Ralph said as he poured himself a large brandy and sat down in a chair and lit a cigar, “it warms my heart to see my little girl so radiant.”
“I will do everything in my power to see that she stays that way, sir,” said Donald, sitting down opposite him.
“Now, let’s get down to the detail—the matter of Violet’s fortune. It will come into her hands in six weeks’ time, on her twenty-first birthday. It’s a serious amount of money, but I’m aware that a large chunk of it will be needed to pay off the estate’s debts and restore the place she’s going to make her future home.”
“Ralph, as I said to you that evening when I asked for Violet’s hand, if you’re uncomfortable with this scenario, I’m happy to tell Mr. Kinghorn the estate is his. We can move into something much smaller.”
“And as you well know, young man, my daughter would be horrified at the thought,” Drumner retorted. “Let’s cut to the chase: I’d like to know from you exactly how much. And you can add another fifty grand on top of that for the interior. You’ll discover my daughter will only want the best. Can you do that for me, son?”
“I can certainly do what I can to give you a general idea.”
“Well, just don’t be shy. I’m a great believer in getting things right
from the start, and I want Violet to have the best damned house in England. Whatever it takes, I can assure you there’s enough to fund it. And then some,” Ralph added. “Her investments have shot through the roof since the war. Violet is a very wealthy young woman. All I ask of you is that you make my little girl happy. If you don’t, if there’s any messing around—and you know what I mean by that—I won’t be happy. Understand?”
“I do,” said Donald, thinking that Ralph Drumner certainly knew how to dispense with etiquette as well as emotions.
“As long as we’re on the same page, I’m content. It seems you have a project on your hands, and given I’ll be the one writing the checks as Violet’s adviser, I suggest you start gathering quotes as soon as you can.”
“I will.”
• • •
As Donald began to investigate the costs of restoring the fabric of the building, Violet busied herself with the interior design. The house became awash with curtain fabric samples, and tradesmen arrived from London to offer her furniture in the modern style, colorful rugs, lamp shades and new mattresses for all the beds, which she insisted on herself and Donald trying out.
“If we are to invite weekend houseguests, I simply can’t have them sleeping on the ones here at the moment. They’re probably crawling with bedbugs too.” Violet shuddered as she climbed off a mattress laid out on the drawing room floor. She grabbed a sample of gold damask cloth and held it up to the window. “Don’t you think this would look darling in here? It would make the room so warm. Or”—she put it on top of her blond tresses—“shall I wear it as a veil instead?” She walked toward him and gave him a fond kiss on the cheek. “It would just be swell to get the house looking the piece by the time all our friends arrive for the wedding.”
Donald knew that if anyone could get Astbury Hall in order that quickly, it was Violet. Already, floorboards were up all over the house, with plumbers and electricians surveying what could be done to bring heat and modern lighting to the house, and painters gathered to plan for the enormous job of decorating the house once the basics had been finished. Donald sent the quotes by post and telegram to Ralph as they came in, his eyes watering at the cost. So far, he had received no complaints.
Violet had already engaged an interior designer, Vincent Pleasance, whom one of her smart London friends had recommended. Personally, Donald couldn’t bear Vincent, as he minced around the hall extolling his vision of the new Astbury to Violet.
“Good grief,” said Maud at breakfast one morning when Violet was otherwise engaged with Vincent redesigning the master bedroom. “Can’t she see it’s the emperor’s new clothes? That ghastly little man will have you lying at night in a tart’s boudoir if you’re not careful, Donald.”
“I’ve told him not to touch my dressing room, Mother. I’ve said I like it just the way it is.”
“I should hope so too. Violet has also suggested that Vincent comes to cast his eye over the dower house to ‘update’ it for when I move in there after your marriage. Suffice to say, I’ve declined his help. It will do me very well just as it is.”
The wedding date had been set for early April 1920. Donald removed himself thankfully to London, leaving Violet in charge of organizing the house and the wedding. She was tireless in her efforts to oversee the tiniest detail and Donald felt that the best thing to do was to leave her to it.
At his club, he received numerous slaps on the back and bottles of champagne.
“Got yourself a good one there, old chap!”
“She’ll sort you out well and truly, and the pile in Devon!”
“Absolute stunner, can’t wait for the wedding, and I bet you can’t either, eh?”
14 October
Went home to Devon last weekend to talk to the estate manager about the new equipment he needs. The house is in chaos with tradesmen and workers everywhere, and V presides like a queen over everything. I do admire her, though; her tenacity and refusal to take no for an answer is so very un-British. Mind you, I do sometimes wonder if she loves Astbury more than she loves me.
The Drumners arrived back from New York for Christmas, and Donald knew they were impressed with what their daughter had achieved so far. Donald had declined to comment on the proposed
rug for the drawing room. Fashioned out of eighteen leopard skins, it was sewn together by a famous Italian designer. Donald could not help but smile at his mother’s face as she surveyed it for the first time.
“What do you think, Mother?” Violet had taken to addressing Maud thus.
“Well, it’s not what I would have had in my day,” Maud said with considerable grace.
“I think it’s beautiful, honey,” said Sissy, sitting down on the newly covered red Chesterfield. “You’ve warmed the old place up very well.”
“Do you like it, Donald?” Violet turned to her fiancé anxiously. “Animal skin is just so in fashion right now.”
“I think it’s . . . very striking,” he replied diplomatically.
The plan was for much of the structural work to be undertaken when Donald and Violet left for an extended honeymoon after their April wedding. First stop would be New York, where Donald would be introduced to society. After that, Violet had expressed a longing to go back to Europe, so they were to take a house in Italy for the summer.
“Venice will be so romantic, just you and I,” Violet had said happily when she made the suggestion.
Knowing Violet, Donald mused later, they almost certainly wouldn’t be on their own for long. She’d already mentioned friends of hers who were staying nearby. Never one for the frantic social whirl, Donald only hoped that once they returned to Astbury after their honeymoon, Violet would settle down. But as a trail of friends from London came to stay for the weekend and the corridors rang with the sound of laughter and the gramophone played endlessly, Donald doubted it.
“We must employ some more servants, Donny,” Violet said one February morning as the final houseguest departed after a particularly raucous weekend. “The ones we have simply can’t cope.”
“Of course,” he replied, then took himself off for a hack across the moors on Glory. He sat in his favorite place by the brook and shivered in the cold morning air, wondering if he would ever have the courage to say no to any of Violet’s requests. And indeed, given that she’d paid for everything, how could he?
Standing up and pacing because it was too cold out on the moor to sit still, Donald wondered what exactly
would
be left of the old Astbury
once Violet had finished with it. Her current project was focusing on new artwork for the walls. This morning, she had expressed a dislike for the family portraits that ran up the stairs.
“They’re so dull, honey! There’s some wonderful work by modern artists that would really brighten the old place up. I’m just so in love with Picasso,” she said dreamily. “I kind of gave Pa a hint that I adore him, so I’m hoping he might get one for us as a wedding present. Wouldn’t that be swell?” she said as she hugged him.
He had buttoned his lip, deciding those kinds of arguments were best undertaken once they were home from the honeymoon and the house was finished.
Donald kicked morosely at a frozen clod of wiry grass. During the past two weeks, he hadn’t been sleeping very well, waking up in the middle of the night in a muck sweat, panicking about the future. All he held on to was the fact that the Astbury estate would be secure for at least another couple of generations, even if he had to suffer it being filled with Violet’s friends.
Donald sighed. In saving Astbury, he seemed to have sacrificed himself. Yet he knew there was nothing that could be done to stop it. The wheels had been set in motion, and like a runaway train, it was picking up speed as it hurtled forward.
2 April
Tomorrow, I will marry V. The entire household is in a state of high excitement and nerves, with V racing around making sure everything from the flowers on the table in the ballroom to the exact style of her bridesmaids’ hair is as perfect as she needs it to be. Yesterday, she threw a fit and sent back the order of service cards because the typeface was not to her liking. Sometimes I can only hope that I will be to her liking too.
Donald finished writing in his diary, then tucked it away on the shelf with his other books. He felt it had become his only form of self-expression—whom else could he talk to about his fears for the future? He had watched his mother’s eyebrows rise time and again at what she saw as Violet’s vulgar and excessive taste. But since she herself had initiated the process which would finally lead her son to the altar in the family chapel, she could hardly complain.
Donald climbed into his single bed for the last time as a bachelor. Tomorrow night, he would be moving to their newly decorated master suite—complete with interconnecting doors to a sitting room and bathroom—where he would begin to share a bed and a life with Violet.
He lay sleepless into the small hours, longing for Anni’s calm, wise strength. And dusky, butterscotch skin. If only it was she whom he would be taking up the aisle tomorrow as his wife, and then to bed later . . .
Guilty with his sudden arousal at the thought, Donald turned over and tried to sleep.
• • •
For months afterward, the wedding of Violet Drumner to Lord Donald Astbury was talked of in awed tones. The lucky guests who were present spoke in wonder of the abundant, beautiful flowers that filled the chapel, the sumptuous wedding breakfast and dancing in the long gallery to the sound of the Savoy Quartet, who had come all the way from London.
And of course, the bride herself, stunning in hand-embroidered French lace, with a train nearly as long as the chapel aisle.
Tatler
awarded the wedding an unprecedented eight-page spread, with photos of the elite of both American and British society, a healthy gathering of politicians and glamorous stars of stage and screen.
The following morning over breakfast, Donald arrived downstairs and found the Drumners cooing over the photographs in all the national newspapers.
“It seems our little party caused quite a stir, son,” commented Ralph, beaming from ear to ear.
“Violet looks so wonderful in the photographs, and of course you look mighty handsome yourself, Donald. So,” Sissy said with a conspiratorial wink, “how’s my little girl this morning?”
“Very well indeed, I think. The maid has taken up a breakfast tray to her and I thought I’d leave her alone to give her a chance to get ready in peace.”
“Sensible boy,” murmured Ralph, “you’re learning the rules already.”
As the guests who had stayed overnight began to filter into the
breakfast room, Donald made himself scarce and went up to his dressing room.
4 April
Well, here I am married to V. Everyone thrilled with the way the day went off, and I admit V did a wonderful job.
He paused, looking out of the window as he thought how to express his feelings in words.
And our first night together was fine. V looked a dream in her silk nightdress—preferred it to the mountain of lace she wore to marry me—and I think that all went off satisfactorily. Of course, not like it was with A, but then, I’m resigned to the fact that nothing ever could be. Henceforth, I’m a married man and will do my best to be a dutiful husband. V’s a sweet girl and she deserves it. Have to pack now as we leave for America with Ma and Pa Drumner early tomorrow morning.
A month later, Selina was sitting in the drawing room of the London house, looking at the photographs of Donald and his new bride in
Tatler
.
Before the wedding, he had come to tell her that he had insisted to their mother that she, Henri and Eleanor were invited. She had asked him, “Are you happy?”
“Happy enough,” he had replied, then swiftly changed the subject.
Selina was now at the Belgrave Square house organizing the last bits and pieces that were to be taken to the house in Kensington she shared with Henri. When Donald and Violet returned from their honeymoon, this would become their house alone, and a maid was upstairs packing the last remnants from her old bedroom.
Selina heard the bell ring but didn’t move to answer it. Three minutes later, there was a knock on the drawing room door and the housekeeper poked her head around it.
“Excuse me, Countess, but there is a—foreign person who wishes to see you. She came to the house yesterday saying she left something here a few months ago, but I sent her on her way.”
“Really? What is her name?”
“She says her name is Anahita.”
Selina’s heart missed a beat. “Right,” she said as she composed herself. “Please show her in.”
She stood up as Anni walked into the drawing room. Selina saw immediately that she was agonizingly thin.
“Hello, Selina. I’ve come to collect my suitcase. I left it here before I went away.”