‘Me?’
‘Yes. After all, the reason you first entered the bookshop was to find out more about your own past. And now we’ve all messed your life around, through no fault of your own, might I add. So I thought it was only fair to come here and offer to tell you what more I know about Flora MacNichol. And at least explain to you where I believe that cat came from originally.’
‘I see.’
‘It’s at Sotheby’s, by the way. I dropped it off earlier today. They’ll give me a call once they’ve made their enquiries, but they’re pretty sure it is a Fabergé. And I should tell you that, if it’s authenticated, it’s worth a fortune. Even a tiny figurine like “Panther” can go at auction for hundreds of thousands.’
‘Really?’ I was amazed.
‘Yes, really. It seems like you may well have just realised your own inheritance. Now . . .’ Mouse pulled a number of slim silk-covered volumes out of another of his capacious pockets. I saw they were identical to the ones I’d found on the shelf in the bookshop. ‘This one’ – he tapped it with his fingertips – ‘continues from where my transcription left off. One way and another, I haven’t had time to do the same with this, but I have read it. Star, do you want me to tell you more? Put it this way, it’s an absolutely fascinating story. With what one might call a dramatic denouement.’
I hesitated. Yesterday, and this morning, I’d made such an effort to put the last few weeks behind me and march on determinedly into a future of my own making. Was being dragged back again to High Weald and its long-dead residents a good thing? If a connection was established between us, I would be inextricably linked to them for the rest of my life. And I was no longer sure that I wanted that.
‘Okay then,’ I said eventually, knowing that I’d kick myself if I refused.
‘It might take some time, though. Flora’s writing is quite difficult to decipher, so I’ll read it out to you, as I’m used to her hand now. We won’t be disturbed, will we?’ he asked, opening the journal.
‘Not for a while, anyway.’
‘Good. Then I’ll begin.’
Flora
London
December 1909
25
The Keppels had not been invited to attend the wedding of Archie and Aurelia, which was being held at High Weald, the Vaughan seat in Kent. This omission had surprised Flora, given that they seemed so popular in London. Mrs Keppel herself had taken it in good part.
‘Frankly, we hardly know the Vaughans,’ she said with an airy wave of her hand. ‘They tend to stick to the country set.’
Flora accepted her explanation, although she knew that Mrs Keppel had a country residence in Kent and was presumably a part of the ‘set’.
A motor car had kindly been put at Flora’s disposal for the weekend of the wedding. Sitting in the back seat as Freed drove her out of London, she wondered how she could face the next forty-eight hours. She had dreamt up dozens of plans to make it impossible to attend the wedding – from standing at the top of the stairs and trying to pluck up the courage to throw herself down so she could plead a broken leg, to standing in the park as the chill November wind and rain cascaded over her, wishing for pneumonia. It seemed that, physically at least, she was indestructible. So here she was, on her way to her sister’s wedding to Archie Vaughan, the man she loved.
And the thing that made it worse was the fact that she would have to see High Weald and Archie’s beloved gardens, which he’d described to her with so much passion in the summer. Yet she could not let herself forget that it was she who had set the events in motion.
Flora remembered her mother’s face, so animated at the engagement party that Aunt Charlotte had hosted for the happy couple at her London house. There was a genuine sense of relief that the sacrifice of Esthwaite Hall had been worth it. Her parents were already in situ at High Weald, ready for the wedding celebrations.
There were eight bridesmaids in all – although Elizabeth, Archie’s sister, would be absent. She had sailed for Ceylon with her new husband in November, and an heir to the tea plantation was already on its way.
In forty-eight hours, it will all be over and I will be travelling home, Flora thought determinedly as suburbia disappeared and ploughed fields and bare winter hedgerows began to appear on either side of the road.
An hour later, Flora spotted a number of tall, fragile chimneys peeking through the skeletons of the trees. As the motor car turned into the drive, a ravishing old red-brick building appeared in front of her.
‘I do not want to love this house,’ Flora said to herself as she gazed at the mellow facade. The charmingly uneven windows had partially surrendered to their age, the hinges and frames crooked and bowed in places, like elderly people. Even though the day was icy cold, the sun was shining, setting the frost on the perfectly clipped box hedges a-glitter. It was like the entrance to fairyland.
‘We’re here, Miss MacNichol,’ said Freed, who then duly walked to the back door of the motor car and opened it for her.
Flora stepped out and gazed at the large arched oak doors with the trepidation of a prisoner about to enter a jail. The doors opened as she walked across the gravel and Aurelia appeared through them.
‘Darling! You’re here. I do hope the journey wasn’t too tiring.’
‘It was barely two hours, it’s so close to London.’
‘Yet a world away, don’t you think? And so much gentler than the surroundings of Esthwaite. Now,’ she said, tucking Flora’s arm in hers, ‘as there’s much to do and so many people arriving, I thought we ought to pretend we aren’t here just for a while, so I can have you all to myself.’
They entered a low-ceilinged hall, where a fire burnt brightly in the grate, spreading its warmth across the well-worn stone floor.
‘Come up with me and we’ll hide in my room,’ said Aurelia with a giggle, pulling her sister up a wide wooden staircase, bedecked with heavy Tudor carvings. Aurelia led her along a corridor and opened a door at the end of it, revealing a small room containing two single brass beds. Its walls had the same rich oak panelling that gave the rest of the house a comforting warmth, even in the chill winter light that streamed through the narrow windows.
‘This is where I will sleep tonight. I was hoping you would stay here too in the other bed.’
‘Of course I’ll stay here, if you wish me to,’ Flora answered.
‘Thank you. It all feels rather overwhelming, as you can imagine. And I’ve hardly seen Archie since we arrived. Both of us have been so busy . . .’
Flora saw her sister’s expression darken for a few seconds, then Aurelia recovered herself and smiled brightly.
‘So firstly, do tell me everything you’ve been up to in London. From what I hear, you’ve been quite the social butterfly.’