The Shadow Sister (The Seven Sisters #3)

‘Wonderful,’ Marguerite replied dreamily. ‘Oh, and the painting as well.’ She gave a soft laugh.

‘Rory’s talented too. He must get it from you.’

‘I doubt that.’ Marguerite raised her eyebrows. ‘His art is in a completely different league. His gift has come from someone else,’ she added as an afterthought. ‘You know Mouse went to see Orlando at the bookshop today?’ She dug in her voluminous leather handbag and pulled out a packet of Gitanes. ‘Smoke?’

‘Thanks.’ I took one from the packet and she lit it for me. It was a long time since I’d smoked a French cigarette. ‘Mouse said last night he was going to London.’

‘Orlando is distraught, of course.’ Marguerite took a deep drag of her cigarette and flicked ash into a hapless cactus pot that sat on the kitchen windowsill. ‘Apparently, he refused point-blank to even look at the accounts.’

‘I’m looking forward to tomorrow then,’ I muttered under my breath as I loaded some coq au vin onto a plate.

‘To be honest, I’m very glad you’re going to be with him. And so is Mouse. He swung me up from Gatwick on his way back from London. Even though it’s unlikely that Orlando will do anything stupid, one just never knows. Dear me, money really is the root of all evil, isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ I agreed, as I put the plate in front of her, then made myself some chamomile tea and sat down.

‘Star, you are a hero, really. This looks scrumptious. What a delight to arrive home and have a cooked meal put in front of me.’ She forked up some chicken and gave me an amused look across the table. ‘When the bookshop is eventually sold, you’ll be out of a job. You wouldn’t consider coming here and helping me out domestically and with Rory?’

I could see she was half joking, but I shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

‘Of course, you’re overqualified completely – please don’t be insulted by the suggestion. It’s just that it’s so difficult to find someone I trust to take care of Rory, and Mouse eulogised over how well the two of you got on. And Hélène, who owns the chateau, has offered me another room to paint. I’d love to take the offer. It’s an amazing place, and I just adore it there.’

I sat in silence, knowing Marguerite had no idea that she was offering me my dream. To live here at High Weald, taking care of Rory, the house and the gardens, and being able to cook every day for this unusual and fascinating household. I knew I had to seize the moment before Marguerite’s brain flitted on to something, or someone, else.

‘Seriously, I’d be happy to help you any time. I love it here,’ I said. ‘And Rory.’

‘Really?’ Marguerite cocked an eyebrow. ‘Goodness, do you mean it? I couldn’t pay you very much, as I’m sure you already realise, but you’d get bed and board . . . I’d have to ask Orlando, but perhaps we could even share you between us? If he agrees, it would mean I could accept that commission. Hélène is eager for me to start as soon as possible . . .’ Her voice trailed off and I could see the excitement of possibility in her eyes.

‘I wouldn’t want to let Orlando down, of course, or have him feel I’m deserting him. Especially now. But he doesn’t really need me all the time.’

‘Orlando will want what’s best for Rory, I’m sure. And besides’ – Marguerite’s eyes twinkled – ‘he mentioned that you might be related to us.’

‘I can’t see how. Not yet, anyway,’ I qualified.

‘Well, you’ve certainly managed to find a way into all of our hearts since you arrived, Star. I can’t wait to find out how you fit in. Mouse must have told you how messy the Vaughan/Forbes family tree was. And still is.’ She stopped suddenly and gave a huge yawn, her sensual, full lips opening and then closing. There was nothing delicate about her, but her attractiveness lay in her over-large features and the strength they implied.

‘Time for bed,’ she said, standing up.

‘I’ll lock up,’ I offered.

‘Would you really? Wonderful.’

‘Would it be all right for you to drop me at the station in the morning? I have to catch the eight o’clock to London.’

‘Mouse said he’d take you. I think he wants to brief you about Orlando. Goodnight, Star, and thank you again.’



I was up early the next morning so I could prepare breakfast for Marguerite and Rory before I left.

I wrote a note to tell Marguerite that the sausages, bacon and pancakes were keeping warm in the range, and directed her to the four pies that sat at the bottom of the freezer. Mouse tapped on the back door and I picked up my holdall and followed him to the car.

‘Did you see Marguerite last night when she got in?’ he asked me as we set off along the drive.

‘Yes.’

‘So she must have told you that Orlando didn’t take the news well.’

‘She did.’

‘Listen, Star, if there’s any way you can make him see sense, I’d be very grateful. I tried to explain that the bank would step in anyway if we didn’t sell the bookshop ourselves, but he literally put his hands over his ears and stormed upstairs. And then locked himself in his bedroom.’

‘Like a child having a tantrum.’

‘Exactly. Orlando may come across as sweet and gentle, but I don’t know anyone more stubborn when it comes to hard decisions he doesn’t want to make. The bottom line is, we have no choice. He must realise that.’

‘I’ll do my best, but I doubt he’ll listen to me.’

‘It’s worth a shot at least. He likes you and trusts you. Have a go, anyway.’

‘I’ll try,’ I said, as we approached the station.

‘Could you give me a call to let me know how he is? He wasn’t answering either his mobile or the landline last night.’

‘I will,’ I promised, as I got out of the Land Rover. ‘Thanks for the lift.’

‘It’s the least I could do. And when you’re at High Weald again, I’ll tell you about the next instalment of Flora’s journals,’ he called through the window. ‘Get ready to be amazed. Bye, Star.’ And then a wide smile hit his lips and spread slowly up to his eyes, lighting up his handsome face. ‘Take care.’

I gave him a small wave and headed into the station.

Arriving at Kensington Church Street, I was filled with trepidation as I unlocked the door to the bookshop. Not only because I had no idea what I’d find inside, but also due to the endless texts and voicemails from CeCe I’d received as my mobile had found a signal on the train. I’d been so wrapped up in High Weald, I’d completely forgotten to call and let her know I was staying on a further night. Her last message had read:

Star, if I dont here from you by morning, I’m calling the police to regester you as missing. Were are you?!



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