‘Who would have thought it?’ Rose had murmured as she’d helped Flora into her cream wedding dress on the day of her marriage. ‘We all thought you loathed Archie Vaughan. I am sure Aurelia would be happy if she could see what has happened since. Her babies thriving under your care.’
The wedding took place in the old church where Flora had last watched her new husband marry her sister. It was a small but intimate service, out of respect for Aurelia. And the look in Archie’s eyes as he had finally placed the ring on her finger was one she would hold with her forever.
‘I’ll love you always,’ he breathed as he kissed her.
‘I love you too.’
It was only on their wedding night that Flora saw the damage the Great War had wreaked on his body. Both of his legs were a mass of scars caused by burns from the Bristol 22 that he’d crash-landed. He had struggled to release himself from the burning wreck, but his co-pilot had perished a few minutes later when the plane had been consumed in a blaze of fire.
Flora could only love him more for his courage and bravery, as he gently made love to her for the very first time.
During the first year of their marriage, Flora often wondered that her body could contain the joy she felt with Archie by her side, and Teddy and Louise growing up at a High Weald that was filled with positivity and love.
Louise was gentle and sweet, just like her mother, yet she had also inherited her father’s sharp intelligence and natural air of authority. And despite Teddy’s more volatile nature, Louise not only tolerated, but adored and defended the boy she – and everyone else – believed to be her twin.
Over dinner one evening, Archie told Flora of how he’d taken two-year-old Teddy to the stables, and sat him up with him on his horse.
‘Do you know, he did not cry once, even when we began to trot. He kept shouting, “More, Papa! More!”’ Archie said proudly.
Flora was happy to see the bond between the two of them grow and deepen. And thought that perhaps Archie’s decision to lie about Teddy’s true birth had been the right one.
The Vaughan family settled down to enjoy the golden years between the wars in the paradise of their beautiful home. The ‘twins’ grew and flourished, their closeness remarked upon by everyone in the household and all who came to visit.
However, when they reached the age of ten, Flora’s discomfort over lying about the fact she was their blood mother became too much for her.
‘I feel like a fraud,’ she said desolately to Archie. ‘Louise at least must know that Aurelia was her real mother. Besides, someone from the village is bound to mention her as they grow up. But that means we must lie to Teddy about his own mother.’
‘As we have discussed many times before, surely it’s a small price to pay for his safety and comfort here with us?’ Archie countered. ‘Although I agree: we must tell them about Aurelia.’
Subsequently, Teddy and Louise appeared hand in hand in the drawing room a few days later, looking for all the world like little cherubs, freshly scrubbed after their bath. Flora and Archie sat them down and told them of their real mother, a pang in Flora’s heart as she looked at Teddy’s trusting expression. Both of her children looked shocked and uncertain.
‘May we still call you “Mother”?’ Louise asked timidly, her dark brown eyes fixed on Flora.
‘Of course you may, my darling.’
‘Because you’ve always been our mother,’ added Teddy, his own eyes filling with tears.
‘Yes, I have.’ Flora drew them both to her. ‘And I will always love you and care for you both, I promise.’
As Teddy grew to manhood, Archie taught him all he knew about country pursuits. Teddy, being a child of the Lakes, had taken to them like a duck to water. But when he reached thirteen, Archie insisted he followed in his footsteps and – against Flora and Louise’s fervent wishes – sent him to Charterhouse, a boarding school nearby. It was there that Teddy began to rebel against academia and the routine such an establishment insisted on. Flora tried to tell Archie that Teddy was happiest out in the open air, that it was in his blood to wander across the land, but he would have none of it.
‘He must do as any young man of his class does and learn how to be a gentleman,’ he’d insisted.
Teddy’s misery and continued rebellion was the only thorn in Flora’s side. She knew that, just like everyone else at High Weald, Archie had forgotten who Teddy really was.
37
December 1943
BEATRIX IS DEAD!
Lady Flora Vaughan, no longer able to see the page in her journal, put down her ink pen and wept. The telegram had arrived only a few hours ago and she could hardly believe that, amidst all the renewed death and destruction of war, and the telegrams that arrived regularly to the villagers of High Weald, she herself had received one.
‘My dearest, dearest friend . . .’ It seemed almost inconceivable that such a force of nature – the woman and the writer, and the kindest, cleverest person she knew – would never walk again across her beloved fells.
‘Darling, what is it?’
Archie leant over her to read the telegram. ‘I’m so very sorry. I know what she meant to you.’
‘What she meant to us. Beatrix was the one who encouraged me to come here to you and Louise. Not to mention bringing Teddy to my door.’
‘Yes, it’s a terrible loss. Would you like me to stay with you today? I am due at the Air Ministry for a meeting, but I can always cancel it.’
‘No.’ Flora kissed the hand clasping her shoulder. ‘As Beatrix always said, when someone dies, life must go on. But thank you for offering. Will you be back for supper tonight?’
‘I hope so. The trains are terrible at the moment.’ Archie gave his wife a tender kiss on the cheek. ‘You know where I am if you need me.’
‘Is Teddy taking you to the station?’
‘I’ll drive myself,’ Archie said abruptly. ‘I will see you later, darling.’
He left the study and Flora stared out at the walled garden the two of them had rebuilt. Currently, a thick layer of frost shielded its glory, reminding her of that December day thirty-four years ago when Archie had kissed her under the yew tree. Now, both Louise and Teddy were older than she and Archie had been then. And another Christmas was approaching.