‘Partly, yes, but not wholly.’
‘Sir Ernest.’ She stood up and warmed her hands by the fire, her frustration and exhaustion and grief getting the better of her. ‘Ever since I was called to come to London seven months ago to reside under this roof, I have felt that I am an innocent pawn in a game that everyone knows the rules of, except me. Forgive me for my bluntness, but I entreat you to tell me why I was brought to London in the first place. I was a nineteen-year-old girl from a good but hardly aristocratic family, whose parents had not even the funds for their eldest daughter to make her debut. Then I suddenly find myself with Mrs Keppel as my sponsor in the highest echelons of society, taking tea with the King himself! And having a viscount propose to me, which meant that one day I would become a countess, married to an earl and presiding over one of the greatest estates in the whole of England.’
Out of breath from emotion, Flora paused and turned to look directly at him. ‘And now, the King is dead, Mrs Keppel has left me behind here and I am no longer to be married. Sincerely, I understand neither of these abrupt changes of fortune, and it is maddening! I have felt constantly that everyone else knows something that I don’t. I—’
‘Miss MacNichol, I can see quite clearly now why you describe yourself as an innocent pawn. Like others, I presumed you knew. Please, let me pour us both a brandy.’
‘Really, I do not drink brandy.’
‘Think of it as medicinal. You are going to need it.’
Sir Ernest rose and went to the tray of decanters as Flora, embarrassed by her show of emotion, did her best to regain her composure.
‘Here, drink it, my dear, it will warm you.’
‘Please, Sir Ernest, I never wished to come to London originally, and in retrospect, I am ecstatic to be released from a marriage to a man I could never have begun to love. So do not fear you will upset my sensibilities further. The very fact you are here with me tonight, on the night of the death of our king, only confirms that you must have the answers I need.’
‘Forgive me, for on this night of all nights, you bring my emotion to the surface. Last year, the King told me he was uncertain about Mrs Keppel’s idea of bringing you to live with her in London. But then, of course, he grew fond of you, and, just as Mrs Keppel intended, fonder of her for introducing you into his life, especially at a moment when his days were numbered. And he knew it, oh, how he knew it. Just after you had been with him in Biarritz, he sent for me and asked me to make provision for you on the event of his death. He asked me to give this to you.’ Sir Ernest opened his briefcase and removed a slim envelope which he handed to her.
As she took it, she saw it was addressed to her in an erratic spiky hand.
‘Also, when I visited the King last night, he had asked me to bring some money with me – a large sum – and it was to come in notes. I went to see him, and put the amount by his bedside. He nodded and thanked me, and said he hoped to be able to pass on the money to where it was needed. Sadly, only shortly afterwards, he slipped into a coma. One of his advisors returned the envelope to me, feeling it was inappropriate for such a large amount of cash to be sitting by the King’s bedside. It was almost ten thousand pounds. I knew who the money was intended for. And here I am.’ He reached into his briefcase once again and brought out a parcel wrapped in brown paper, which he placed into Flora’s shaking hands.
‘You cannot mean the money was for me? I hardly knew the King. I only met him twice—’
‘My dear young lady, I am truly surprised Mrs Keppel never told you. And I wish I wasn’t the one whose duty it is to tell you now.’ Sir Ernest downed the rest of the brandy as Flora watched impatiently.
‘Miss MacNichol – Flora . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘You are his daughter.’
Flora knew she would remember that short sentence for the rest of her life. As she stared out into the night, she began to wonder why she had never contemplated the thought before. Yet, she knew that even if she had considered it, she would have dismissed it as absurd. Now, as she looked down at the envelopes on her lap, and then at the man who had been the King’s closest advisor sitting opposite her, everything made perfect sense.
Perhaps in some untouchable part of her psyche she had known, but because the idea was so untenable, she had never allowed it to come to the surface.
The mistress and the illegitimate child . . .
Deciding brandy was definitely in order, Flora took a gulp from the tumbler she had ignored earlier. ‘Forgive me, sir, it is quite a shock. And surely, there is no proof that this is so?’
‘It is known by all concerned to be the truth. And, most importantly, by your father. Your real father,’ he corrected himself. ‘You can understand that, after the King’s liaison with your mother, there could be no acknowledgement of her . . . predicament. Your mother agreed to marry immediately and to move away from London.’
‘Which is why my grandparents would not set eyes on me, or attend my wedding . . .’
‘It is also why you did not have a debut. How could you possibly be presented at court to the Queen, who would almost certainly know who you were?’
‘I could not, sir, I agree. And my father – that is, my mother’s husband – now I understand why he could hardly look at me. He must have known.’
‘I am sure you are correct in your assumption. If you were to study your parents’ marriage certificate and your birth certificate, you would find that there is a three-month . . . inaccuracy in the dates.’
Flora thought back to the letter she had found in her father’s chest of drawers.
‘Yes. And I also know that money changed hands. I believe my . . . step-father was paid to marry my mother. Did he . . . did the King love my mother?’
‘Forgive me, I cannot comment, but he was certainly most fond of you.’
‘Mrs Keppel knew of the relationship between my mother and the King?’
‘They made their debuts together. They were friends.’
‘The whole of London has known who I was,’ she whispered. ‘And I have not.’
‘At least, under Mrs Keppel’s patronage, your fortunes rose.’
‘I too was part of the King’s “alternative” court . . .’
‘And it was a court that made the King very happy.’
‘Why did Mrs Keppel bring me to London?’