Flora walked to the door that separated them from the congregation, and opened it a few inches to peek out. A pair of dark eyes swivelled to meet hers from where he was standing at the front of the church. Swiftly closing the door again, she turned to her sister and nodded. ‘Yes, he’s there.’
Signals were given, and the organ began to play the wedding march. The door swung back and Flora followed her father and her sister down the aisle. Flora listened to the vows, shivering in her thin ivory silk dress as she watched her sister become Archie’s wife in the eyes of God. When the bride and groom emerged from the vestry, having signed the register, Flora forced herself to meet Archie’s stare as he passed her with Aurelia on his arm. She took up her place to walk behind them out of the church and into the frosty winter day.
Despite herself, Flora could not help but appreciate the sheer beauty of her sister’s wedding breakfast. Being only three weeks from Christmas, the Great Hall at High Weald was decorated with flickering candles, and sprigs of holly and mistletoe hung from the beamed ceiling, baked from the heat of the enormous fireplace. Apparently, so one of the guests told her, Henry VIII had once romanced Anne Boleyn in this very hall. Rather than champagne, speeches had been toasted with mulled wine, and mince pies had been provided instead of trifle.
Flora felt drugged from the heat and the vast amounts of food and wine. She was grateful when Archie stood up and announced a break in proceedings while the orchestra set up for the evening’s dance. She took the opportunity to leave for some much-needed fresh air. Collecting her velvet cape, she walked out into the early evening chill. Darkness had well and truly fallen and the wide terrace and the magnificent walled garden beneath it twinkled with lanterns that had been placed along its many borders. Flora only wished she was seeing it in high summer, rather than adorned by artificial light. She made her way down the steps, pulling her cape about her more closely as she wandered the length of the gardens, the noise of the feast receding in the distance. She paused as she reached a high brick wall in front of her, her breath crystallising in the cold air.
‘It’s rather beautiful, isn’t it?’
Flora jumped and turned to see a shadowy figure standing beside an enormous yew tree. The voice caused her heart to lurch.
‘Yes.’
‘How are you, Flora?’ the voice came out of the darkness.
‘I am well. You?’
‘I am married. I did as you asked me to.’
‘Thank you.’
‘I love you,’ he whispered.
Flora stood rooted to the spot.
‘Will you not answer me? I just said I love you.’
‘Your statement does not deserve an answer. You married my sister only a few hours ago.’
‘Only at your behest.’
‘For God’s sake! Are you trying to punish me?’
‘Perhaps, yes.’
‘Then please, if you love me as you say you do, stop this. Whatever was between us for those few days is gone.’
‘If you believe that, then you are deluding yourself. It can never be gone.’
‘Enough!’ Flora turned to make her way back to the house. As she did so, a hand whipped out and grabbed her upper arm, pulling her closer. Unable to cry out for fear of attracting attention, Flora found herself in Archie’s arms. And his lips descended upon hers.
‘My God, Flora, how I have ached to do this again . . .’
For far longer than she wished to admit, Flora abandoned herself to the sheer joy of being in his arms with his mouth on hers. Eventually, some modicum of sense entered her brain, and with huge effort, she struggled out of his grasp.
‘What have we done!’ she whispered. ‘Please, let me go.’
‘Forgive me, Flora. I saw you walking into the gardens from the terrace, and remembered all that we talked about when I was with you at Esthwaite and . . . you mustn’t blame yourself.’
‘Let us pray that Aurelia never has to forgive us,’ she said with a shudder. ‘I beg you, make my sister happy.’ Without waiting for a reply, Flora stumbled back along the path towards the house.
Archie stood in the shadows of the ancient yew tree and watched his love run away from him.
26
Flora ran up the stairs and into her room. Slamming the door, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts, she sat down on the bed, trying to still her heartbeat.
‘God forgive me,’ she muttered, too aghast and ashamed at what had happened to even allow herself the comfort of tears. Almost immediately, there was a knock on her door. Shrugging off her cape, she opened it.
‘Where have you been?’
‘I . . .’ Flora thought she might faint at the sight of Aurelia, looking unusually tense and cross.
‘Well, never mind where. I’ve been waiting for you to come and help me out of my dress and into my evening gown!’
‘Oh my, of course! I must have dozed off . . .’
‘Please, can you hurry, Flora? I must meet Archie at the doors of the Great Hall at seven and it is almost half past six now.’
Still apologising profusely, Flora followed Aurelia along the corridor and into an impressively large room dominated by an enormous canopied four-poster bed. It was made from solid dark wood, and Flora quickly averted her eyes from it, trying not to think of its imminent purpose. A fire had already been lit to warm the room for the bridal couple, and its light danced across the heavy tapestries that adorned the walls.
Flora fumbled with the seed-pearl buttons at the back of Aurelia’s gown and prayed her numb fingers might drop off from frostbite – it was no less than she deserved.
‘And of course, all through the wedding breakfast, everyone noticed how Freddie Soames’ eyes never left you,’ Aurelia chattered on as Flora helped her into a dusky rose-coloured evening gown. ‘It’s obvious he’s completely smitten. Mama says that he is almost twenty-five and has to take a bride soon. Would you say yes if he proposed?’
‘I’ve never given it a thought.’
‘Flora, for all your time in Mrs Keppel’s household, you really are very naive when it comes to men. Now, I think I should let my hair fall loose at the back. What do you think?’
‘I think it would look wonderful.’ Flora only hoped that Aurelia would not notice the deep blush of guilt spreading like a rash up her neck.
‘Can you fetch Jenkins? Apparently she is to be my permanent lady’s maid – a wedding gift from Archie’s mother. I’m not sure that I like her much, but she is awfully good with hair. Then you must go and make yourself beautiful. I am sure Freddie will be asking for many dances with you tonight.’
Flora went in search of Jenkins, then tended to her own toilette. Not that she cared to fix her appearance for tonight. Despite her protestations to Aurelia, it was true that Freddie Soames had pursued her relentlessly for the past two months. Even though most women in London society gushed over his handsome looks, Flora thought him an arrogant, louche bore, who had seemed on all occasions she’d met him to be in his cups. If he possessed a brain, she had not yet been privy to its machinations.