Authors: Lucinda Riley
“Please, Anni,” said Selina, “sit down. I’ll send for some tea.”
“Thank you.”
She sat down, and once the maid had been dispatched, Selina said, “Anni, what has happened to you? Where have you been? You look dreadful. Donald and I have been out of our minds with worry.”
“It’s a long story. I fell ill when I was in France. I returned to England and was in hospital for many months.”
“Anni, why didn’t you contact me? You know I would have helped.”
“Yes, Selina, I know and I thank you for it, but at the time I was too ill to know where I was. Some things happen—unexpectedly.” Anni sighed.
“I’m so sorry to hear of your illness.”
“Thank you. I’m regaining more of my strength as each day passes,” Anni said, smiling for the first time.
“Where are you living now?” Selina asked, understanding that whatever the truth of Anni’s disappearance, she was guarded and reluctant to speak of it.
“I have a friend from my school days named Charlotte who lives up in Yorkshire. She very kindly offered me somewhere to live until I was recovered. Her family owns a house up on the Yorkshire moors and we—I live there. Soon, when I’m stronger, I hope to return to London and work as a nurse again.”
“You should have contacted one of us, at least,” said Selina as the maid reappeared with the tea.
“But, Selina, I sent a long letter from Paris telling Donald I’d be away for some time and to wait for me. I’ve sent more letters recently too. Did he not get them?”
“No, Anni, he didn’t. In fact, he hasn’t heard a single word from you since you docked in Calcutta fourteen months ago.” Selina watched Anni pale and her long, thin fingers tighten their clutch on her teacup.
“How is Donald?”
“He’s well, he’s very well, he’s . . . abroad at the moment for the summer,” Selina added, completely unprepared and unable to tell this sad, frail woman the truth.
“Oh, I see. Then I presume it will be more months before I see him.” She gave Selina a weak smile. “Well, we’ve both waited this long; what’s another few weeks?”
“Of course.” Selina was on the brink of tears at the desperation of the situation.
Anni took a tentative sip of her tea. “So, where exactly is Donald?”
“He’s currently in New York, and then I believe he’ll go from there to Europe until the end of the summer.”
“I suppose he’s sold Astbury and needed to get away?”
“No, Anni, Astbury has not been sold.”
“Really? Then I’m happy for him. I know it was causing him great sadness to think of selling it.”
“Yes. And you’re lucky you’ve caught me today. I’m only here collecting the last of my things to move to the house that I now share with Henri in Kensington. We’re expecting another child.”
“Selina!” Anni’s eyes filled with pleasure. “It seems your love, which was so difficult in the beginning, has had a happy conclusion.”
“Yes, it seems it has.”
As Anni sipped her tea, Selina came to a decision. It was not her place to tell this girl, who said she had written to ask Donald to wait for her, that the man she loved had married someone else.
“Could you perhaps ask your maid to bring down my suitcase?” asked Anni. “I believe Donald stored it for me in his bedroom.”
“Of course. The best thing is, I think, that you write down your address and I’ll give it to Donald on his return. I’m sure he’ll be in contact with you immediately, Anni dear.”
“Thank you.”
Selina rang for the maid to find the suitcase and searched for paper and a pencil in the bureau drawer. “Now, Anni, tell me, honestly, do you need money?”
“No, thank you, I have enough,” she answered proudly.
Selina handed her the paper and pencil. “Please write down your address, and I’m going to give you my new address in Kensington.
While Donald’s away, if there’s anything you need, you must write to me. Do you promise?”
“Yes, but as I said, I hope to return to work very soon,” she replied as the maid brought in her suitcase. “Do you have an address for Donald in New York? I’d like to write to him too. If he didn’t receive my letter, he must be very worried.”
“Indeed he has been, but sadly, I don’t have an address for him in New York; he’s moving around a great deal,” lied Selina. “Next time he telephones, I’ll tell him you came by. He’ll be extremely relieved to know that you’re alive and well.”
Anni put her cup down on the table. And
Tatler
magazine, open at the photographs of the wedding, caught her eye. “Is that Donald?” she said, bending forward to take a closer look.
“Yes, at some social function—”
But it was too late. Anni had grasped the magazine in her hands.
Tatler
magazine celebrates the wedding of the year between Lord Donald Astbury and Violet Rose Drumner . . .
She spent a few seconds surveying the pictures, her eyes agonized. “He’s married?” she said, her throat closing, making it hard for her to breathe. “He’s married—I—why didn’t you tell me? How could you not tell me!”
“Anni, I—”
“I can’t believe he’s married. I told him to wait . . .” Anahita’s head fell toward her hands, which she screwed into fists as she pummeled her forehead.
“Anni, please, Donald had heard nothing from you for months. Your friend Indira said you were returning straight to England from Paris. When you didn’t come back, all he could think of was that you didn’t want him any longer. Please, it’s been fifteen months since you left for India. I’m so sorry, Anni, you deserve better than this,” Selina finished helplessly, all out of platitudes.
“I must leave now,” said Anni, staggering to her feet again. “Good-bye.” She turned to walk to the drawing room door.
“Anni, I promise you, he doesn’t love her, I know he doesn’t. It was you he loved, always!”
The drawing room door slammed and Anni was gone.
21 August
Well, here we are back at Astbury. Not that I’d recognize it as my old home from the inside at all. The worker bees have continued doing their job while we’ve been away and I feel now that I’m staying in some form of luxury hotel as I walk into the drawing room or the dining room or along the corridors. It will take some getting used to, but I have to say that I’m impressed with V’s organization. New York was wonderful, and Violet’s family and friends embraced me with open arms. No wonder she’s so active—the energy in the city is unlike anything I’ve ever known. The pulse beats fast, twenty-four hours a day, and there’s an urgency there that makes London feel positively pedantic and rather dull.
Europe was as beautiful as I remembered and Violet held parties and dinners every night to keep us amused. She is a wonder, and everyone adores her. Even Prince Henry, King George’s young son, found time to enjoy her now-famous hospitality.
Happily, I’m growing fonder and fonder of her, for I find her willingness to learn and her zest for life so appealing, even if she makes me feel like an old man. Sometimes, I can hardly believe we’re the same age. She’s like an overactive child who also needs protecting and teaching, and at least I’ve found comfort in providing that for her. I’m yet to see her in a funk or a black mood. Whatever the problem is, she makes it her business to overcome it. Suffice to say, many of my fears that had surfaced before the wedding have been laid to rest. And, thank God, I truly believe the ghosts of the past are finally leaving me . . .
Donald sat in the library at his desk, opening the heap of post that had materialized for him over the past four months. Any request for money he now had the luxury of putting in a heap to give to Violet to pass on to her father. The room was sweltering—it was the first time he’d ever been tempted to open one of the old sash windows to let in some air. Violet had been testing the new central-heating system, and the smell of fresh paint permeated the air. Donald sank his shoes into the carpet, which was so thick he wondered if it should be mowed, and drank his coffee from a new Limoges china coffee cup. Everything in the house was designed to comfort, from the soft new mattresses on the beds to the new bathtubs with their glistening gold taps that always pumped out piping-hot water, whatever time of day it was. Turning
his attention back to the post, he recognized Selina’s handwriting and opened her letter.
21 Pitt Street,
Kensington, London
15 August 1920
Dearest Donald,
I hope this letter finds you well on your return from your travels. Thank you for your postcards from all the marvelous places you’ve been lucky enough to visit. Perhaps when you’re home you might find the time to visit me at our new house in Kensington. I’m sure it couldn’t possibly be as grand as the newly renovated Astbury Hall, but I’d like to see you as soon as possible. I had a visit, you see, from someone we both know. Do give me a call and perhaps you could come up to town as soon as you can. You might include some other business that you need to attend to as well.
Best love, dear Donald, and Eleanor sends a kiss.
Selina
Donald reread the letter to make sure he hadn’t mistaken the subtle inference, but knew he had not. He sat back in his chair and then, without further ado, picked up the newly installed telephone contraption on his desk, dialed the exchange and gave the woman Selina’s number.
Two days later, Donald traveled to London and went straight to Selina’s Kensington house.
“She came to the house in Belgrave Square? You saw her? How was she? Where’s she been all this time? I—”
“Donald, please, I’ll tell you,” said Selina, “but first let’s go into the drawing room where we can talk privately.”
“I apologize, Selina, but I haven’t slept a wink for the past forty-eight hours, as you can imagine,” he sighed.
“I understand. As the sun’s almost past the yardarm, how about a stiff gin?”
“Will I need one?”
“I certainly might.” Selina sighed and asked the butler to bring through a tray of drinks to the drawing room.
Having closed the door firmly behind them, Selina surveyed her brother. “Firstly, I must say, Donald, that you look awfully well. Did you have a jolly time?” she asked as she sat down with difficulty and Donald noticed the bulge in her stomach.
“Yes, but, Selina! You’re pregnant. How absolutely wonderful!” He walked over to his sister and threw his arms about her. “Congratulations. When’s it due?”
“In about two months, and to be honest, I wish it would hurry up. It’s been a long, hot summer stuck in London. Henri refused to let us travel to France in case it harmed the baby.”
“May I say that you look absolutely radiant, Selina.”
“I’m terribly happy, yes. And I feel it completes the circle. It will be good for Henri and I to have a child of our own.”
“Of course. And this house is beautiful.”
“We moved here simply so that the children could at least have some space to run around in a garden when we’re in London. I’ve realized recently how lucky we were being brought up at Astbury with the moors all around us.”
The butler arrived to pour the drinks and Donald took a hefty swig of his gin. Once they were alone again, he could bear the suspense no longer. “So, tell me, Selina, is she all right?”
“Well, she’s certainly alive, but—oh dear, she looked dreadful, Donald. She was as thin as a rake. She told me that she’d been very ill in hospital.”
“Oh God.” The blood froze in Donald’s veins. “Is she recovering?”
“The thing is, I don’t know. I swear I didn’t say anything to her about what had happened to you, but she saw the photos of your wedding in
Tatler
, which was lying open on the coffee table when she arrived. And then, I’m afraid, she left in rather a rush.”
“What a dreadful way to discover the news. Did she say why she hadn’t written?”
“She said she
had
, Donald, to tell you that she’d be away longer than she’d expected. And”—Selina’s eyes filled with tears at the thought—“to ask you to wait for her. I said that I thought you’d never received such a letter, as you’d certainly never mentioned it to me. Did you?”
“No, indeed.” Donald shook his head firmly. “You know I would have told you. If I
had
received such a letter, I would have done as she’d asked. Do you know where she is now?”
“She wrote down her address for me before
Tatler
dropped the
bombshell. I said I’d give it to you as soon as you were back from Europe.”
“Where’s she living?”
Selina stood up and went to her writing desk. She removed a slip of paper and handed it to Donald. “This is the address. She’s somewhere up in Yorkshire staying with an old school friend.”
“What the hell is she doing up there? Anni knew if she needed help I’d be there for her. She
knew
how I loved her and that whatever she needed I—”
“Donald, please, forgive me, but I’ve spent every day since I saw her here three months ago asking myself the same questions. I’m sure she had her reasons.”
“Well, of course, I must go and see her as soon as possible. Will you cover for me here?”
“Of course, but there’s no certainty you’ll still find her there. She may well have moved on by now.”
“At the very least, surely they’ll be able to tell me where she’s gone? My God, Selina, why on earth didn’t I receive those letters?”
“I’ve thought about that too,” Selina sighed, seeing the agony in her brother’s eyes. “And I fear that it might be my fault.”
“How on earth could it be your fault?” Donald asked her.
“Because I may have inadvertently mentioned to Mother, just before the awful row about Henri and I getting married, how you had met Anni again in France when the war ended. And Anni had been here with you at the house in Belgrave Square. One of the servants may have mentioned it to Mother.”
At this, Donald sat down in his chair, understanding his sister’s inference immediately. “Right,” he said.
“Of course, I’m not sure, but given the fact that Mother knew how close the estate was to penury at the time, it may not have been in her interests to see you sell up her family home and marry an Indian girl.”