‘I understand.’
‘I am not quite sure you do, my dear, but for my part, all I can say is that I am grieved at this unexpected turn of events. I believed that you could give Freddie the stability he needed, and was looking forward to welcoming you into our household. But given the altered circumstances, my husband cannot now advocate any union between you and his heir. As you know, women can only do what their husbands tell them. There now, please don’t be aggrieved, my dear. It is simply the way things have turned out, and no fault of yours.’
Flora said nothing, feeling like a leaf blown in the wind, completely powerless to control her own destiny.
‘Perhaps you can return to Scotland, to stay with your parents, if you can’t go to your sister’s house?’ Daphne suggested.
‘Perhaps I can, yes.’
‘Well then, I doubt there is more to say. You can be assured that Freddie is devastated, as all of us are, but no doubt he will recover, as will you.’ Daphne stood up and walked towards the door. ‘Goodbye, my dear, and God bless.’
Flora remained frozen in her seat for a while after Daphne had left. She felt numb . . . there was neither relief at her sudden release, nor fear as to where she would go from here. In this house, her life seemed to have begun and then ended.
‘Or maybe it has ended and begun,’ she muttered, trying to rouse herself from her grief over the King, the Keppels’ abrupt departure and the shock at her future coming to a sudden halt.
Dusk began to fall – a dusk that the King would never see. The streets outside were deathly silent, as if the whole of the city were tucked away inside their homes mourning the passing of their monarch. Leaning back in the chair, a tear dripped down Flora’s cheek as she remembered him in this house, his great presence and zest for life. She must have dozed off, as the clanging of the doorbell jolted her awake and she opened her eyes to see that it was dark. Searching in the blackness for the door of the drawing room, she opened it slightly and listened at the crack.
She heard Mrs Stacey and Peggie mounting the stairs.
‘Go and see if Miss Flora’s in her room, and I’ll put on the drawing room lights. It would be useful to know when she intends to leave – Mr George sent round a messenger earlier, asking me to mothball the house until they have decided what to do. I’ve sent the footman up to the attic for the dustsheets.’
‘If I was her, I’d be leaving London as soon as I could. Out of respect for the Queen if nothing else.’
‘I’m still not sure she even knows,’ Mrs Stacey replied.
‘Well, if she don’t, she ought to know; the rest of London seems to,’ hissed Peggie.
‘Get on with you! See if she’s up there, and I’ll light the lamps.’
Flora backed away from the door as Mrs Stacey entered, giving a little squeal of shock as she saw Flora standing in front of her in the dark.
‘Goodness, Miss Flora! You didn’t half give me a fright.’
‘My apologies,’ Flora said as Mrs Stacey began to light the lamps.
‘You have a visitor,’ she said. ‘I’ll send him up and also get Mabel to come and re-stoke the fire. There’s a right chill in here.’
‘Who is it?’
‘Sir Ernest Cassel, Miss Flora.’
Mrs Stacey left the room and Flora went to the large gilt mirror that hung over the fireplace to tidy her hair. She wondered what on earth Sir Ernest was doing visiting her or, for that matter, what Peggie had meant about leaving London out of respect for the Queen. And deducing that she must be tainted by her association with Mrs Keppel . . .
‘Good evening, my dear Miss MacNichol.’
Sir Ernest Cassel entered the room and came over to her to kiss her hand. She could see that his eyes were red-rimmed, his skin pale.
‘Please, Sir Ernest, do sit down.’
‘Thank you. I am sorry to intrude on your grief; it is indeed a terrible day for all of us who knew and loved the King. And, of course, for his subjects. He would be amazed and gratified by the outpouring of sentiment from his beloved empire. They are still standing vigil by the thousands outside Buckingham Palace. And this a king who thought he could never follow in his mother’s – or his father’s – footsteps. I . . . well . . .’ He swallowed hard. ‘It is a fitting tribute.’
‘May I ask why you have come, sir? Mrs Keppel is no longer in residence.’
‘I am aware of that. I called in on her in Grafton Street to offer my personal condolences to her and her family. She was indisposed, and dear Sonia told me that her mama is quite mad with grief and will not even see her own daughters.’
‘She loved him so very much.’
‘I believe so, yes. And also, being blunt, Miss MacNichol, perhaps she cries for herself. Her “reign” is over too, along with the King’s.’
‘It is a very difficult time for her.’
‘And for her daughters. Although, knowing her as I do, I am sure that Mrs Keppel will bounce back, but it is only right that she takes a low profile now.’
‘Do you by any chance know if she managed to gain an audience with the King before he died?’
‘Yes. I was there. And the whole episode was most unfortunate. When she saw the King, Mrs Keppel became completely hysterical. The Queen had to ask for her to be removed from the room. It was not the dignified performance we have come to know from her but then,’ Sir Ernest sighed, ‘what is dignified about death? So, while I was at Grafton Street, I asked if I could see you, and was most surprised to find that you had been left behind here. You seem to have been positively abandoned.’
‘Oh, I am sure it was not on purpose. As you said, Mrs Keppel has become quite mad with grief. At worst it was an oversight and at best it was due to the fact she knew I would find sanctuary at my sister’s house, or my fiancé’s.’
‘I admire your loyalty, but I can assure you that everything Mrs Keppel has ever done in her life has been carefully thought through. Perhaps you understand why she felt it important to disassociate herself from you at this moment?’
‘No.’ Flora gave a grim chuckle. ‘Although you are not the first to visit me here today. The Countess of Winchester, mother of my fiancé, Viscount Soames, arrived this afternoon to tell me that my wedding next week wasn’t only postponed due to the King’s death, but cancelled. Forever.’
‘Then the King is a wise man indeed, for he foresaw this.’
‘Did he? Was that because of my association with Mrs Keppel?’