The Shadow Sister (The Seven Sisters #3)

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked him sharply. ‘How did you find me?’


‘I shall answer the latter question first, and tell you that your family have known of your whereabouts for years. You won’t be surprised to learn that your presence here was reported almost instantly to your mother by Stanley, the old stable hand at Esthwaite Hall. And, oblivious to the drama that had recently unfolded between her two daughters, Rose wrote to Aurelia.’

‘I see.’

‘You will understand that, in order for our marriage to survive, it was best for all three of us to let sleeping dogs lie and refrain from contact. However, Aurelia watched over you, from a distance.’

‘I am surprised indeed.’

‘It is a truism that time can heal, Flora. And all of us have realised during the past few years how little time we may have left.’ Archie’s eyes darkened.

‘Yes.’

There was a silence as both of them stared into the distance, memories gathering thick and fast.

‘I am here because Aurelia wanted to make amends,’ Archie continued eventually.

‘But it is we who are the guilty party.’

‘Agreed, but it was Aurelia who banished you from her life. When our child was born a month ago, her first thought was to write to you. She felt it was time.’

‘A new baby? How many do you have now?’

‘Just the one. I . . .’

Flora heard the catch in Archie’s voice and read the expression on his face. And then she knew.

‘No,’ she whispered.

‘Aurelia died three weeks ago, ten days after she gave birth. I am so very sorry, Flora. You know she was never strong, and the pregnancy took a fatal toll on her health.’

She closed her eyes as tears sprang to them. Her beautiful, sweet-natured sister no longer breathed. She would never again look into those clear blue eyes, so full of hope and laughter. Even in her self-imposed exile, she had always felt her sister there. The finality of it horrified her. And she berated herself for all the wasted years.

‘Oh God . . . oh God . . .’ she muttered. ‘I can hardly bear it. Did we . . . contribute? I would gladly have given my own life in her place, you must know that.’

‘Above anyone, I know it, Flora. You sacrificed your own happiness for hers. And truthfully, when we first married, it was . . . difficult. Especially as we struggled to have the one thing we needed to bond us – a child. Aurelia lost our first baby, then went on to suffer more miscarriages. Soon after that, the Great War came. I joined the Royal Flying Corps and was away from High Weald for most of the last three and a half years. We continued to try for a child, but to no avail. The doctor warned us that it would be pertinent for Aurelia’s health to refrain, but she would have none of it. And last autumn, she found herself with child once more. We . . . I . . .’ he corrected himself, ‘have a daughter.’

‘I . . . oh Archie . . .’ Flora dug out a filthy handkerchief from her pocket and blew into it.

‘I am so very sad I am here because of this terrible news. But Aurelia insisted upon it.’

‘Insisted on what?’

‘That I come here in person, to give you this. It was her last request before she died.’ He took an envelope from his jacket pocket and handed it to her. Just the sight of the familiar script made Flora’s head swim.

‘Do you know what it contains?’

‘I . . . might have an idea, yes.’

She fingered the envelope, her hands shaking as terror surged up inside her, thinking of the damning words it might contain. Then she felt a warm hand touch hers. ‘Don’t be frightened. I told you that she wanted to make amends. Will you open it now?’

‘Excuse me.’ Flora stood up and walked from the kitchen across the entrance hall and into the drawing room. She sat down in an armchair and split the wax seal.

High Weald

Ashford, Kent

16th June 1919

My dearest sister,

There is so much I wish to say, but as you know, I am not an accomplished wordsmith like you. And I grow weaker by the day, so forgive me for the relative brevity of this missive.

I have missed you sorely, my darling sister. There has not been a day when I have not thought of you. At first, yes, I hated you, but recently, I have begun to berate myself for the actions my jealous nature induced in me nine years ago. There has been so much time wasted, which can now never be recovered.

Therefore, as I watch my darling daughter lying peacefully in her crib next to me, unaware that she will never know her mother as she grows, I must try to put things right. Flora, I do not want my child to be brought up without a mother. However much Archie will love Louise, he can never bring her the tenderness of feminine arms, or a listening ear to guide and nurture her as she grows into womanhood.

Dear Sarah will stay on, of course, to care for Louise’s basic needs, but she is getting old. And we both understand that her education and views on the world are narrow, through no fault of her own.

This brings me to the favour I must ask of you: when I enquired of my spies in Esthwaite recently as to your well-being, they told me that you live alone. If this is still the case, and you would be willing to come out of your isolation, I beg you to consider moving to High Weald to bring up my daughter as your own child.

I am certain you will love her with every shred of your beautiful heart. And also, comfort my poor husband in his grief. Flora, you cannot know what he went through during the war, and now to be faced with the loss of his wife, and to bring up our daughter alone, is more than I can bear for him.

Please, at least consider the possibility of such an arrangement, and allow me to have my immortal soul cleansed of my selfish error. You have suffered for long enough. You may find this letter surprising, but I have realised over time that we cannot help who we love. And Archie has confessed to much of the blame for what happened back then. He told me how he pursued you and misled you about the arrangement already made between himself and Father when in Scotland.

My darling Flora, I am exhausted and can write little more. But believe me when I say there has been so much suffering in the world of late, and my fervent last wish is to relieve those I love of further pain in the future. And to hope they find happiness.

I will pray that you can find it in your heart to understand and forgive me. And if it suits you to do so, bring up my daughter in her home, with love and compassion.

All my best love, dear sister.

Pray for me also.

Aurelia



Flora gazed out of the window, her senses numbed by the extraordinary letter. The generosity it contained was somehow worse than the recriminations she felt she deserved.

‘Flora? Are you all right?’ came a voice from the door.

‘She asked me for forgiveness,’ she whispered. ‘Oh God, Archie, she shouldn’t have done that. It was we who caused her pain.’

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