A Season of Secrets (22 page)

‘And Roz?’

‘Roz thinks like you. That her uncle remarrying was bound to happen.’

‘That’s what I like about Roz.’ Hal swerved to avoid a straying sheep. ‘She’s always so clear-eyed about things.’

Though Carrie’s mane of wheat-gold hair was anchored in a plaited bun, the air rushing past them had tugged tendrils free around her face. Pushing them away from her eyes, she said with
concern in her voice, ‘I just hope she’s being clear-eyed about this man that she says she’s head-over-heels about.’

Hal gave a dismissive shrug. ‘Stop worrying. Lord Fenton wouldn’t be allowing their friendship unless he’d vetted him thoroughly.’

They were nearly at Gorton now and Carrie’s tummy muscles tightened with anticipation. ‘Which he has,’ she said, leaning forward as if, by doing so, she would see the view of
the house a fraction earlier. ‘They’re both on something called the Dawes Plan committee, which is something to do with helping Germany pay its war debts.’

‘War reparations,’ Hal corrected automatically. ‘A debt would be just a debt. A reparation payment is a payment compensating for an injustice done.’

He changed gear as they approached the bend in the road that gave the first sighting of Gorton. ‘And stop worrying about Roz’s love life. If Lord Fenton and Congressman Bradley know
of each other because of the Dawes Plan, then Congressman Bradley’s intentions are honourable. If they weren’t, he’d have dropped Roz like a hot brick the minute she mentioned her
uncle’s name – so put your mind at rest, Carrie.’

Carrie did so, sucking in her breath as they rounded the bend and Gorton came into view. Backed by trees and then by rising moorland, the house shimmered in the August heat, its mellow Yorkshire
stone glowing like dull gold.

She let out her breath on a long, ecstatic sigh. ‘It’s so good to be back, Hal,’ she said, a lump in her throat as they began skirting the river in the direction of the
bridge.

‘Even though it’s only for a day?’

‘A day is better than nothing. And it was so thoughtful of Lord Fenton to suggest that I come here first and then leave for the church with Olivia, Thea and Violet.’

‘And with him as well?’

‘Oh, no. Miss Cumberbatch’s father is dead and, as she doesn’t have a brother, Lord Fenton is going to give her away. He’ll be leaving for the church with her.’

Hal raised an eyebrow. ‘From Gorton Hall?’

‘Of course from Gorton Hall. Miss Cumberbatch doesn’t have a private home in Outhwaite. As Violet’s governess, her home is wherever the family is.’

As he sped over the bridge and turned into the long drive that wound through Gorton’s parkland, Hal wondered if, because Carrie’s father was also dead and because, like Miss
Cumberbatch, she had no brothers, Gilbert Fenton would take it upon himself to give Carrie away, when the day came for her to be married. Knowing how red she would blush if he said such a thing, he
kept his thoughts to himself. To the best of his knowledge, Carrie hadn’t done any courting as yet – and though he knew it was none of his business, the thought of her doing so always
disturbed him.

‘There’s nearly two hours to go before the wedding,’ he said. ‘So after I’ve dropped you off, I’m going to the Pig and Whistle for a pre-wedding celebratory
pint, which is where I’ll likely find the groom and best man.’ He brought the car to a squealing halt before the house and flashed her a broad grin. ‘Don’t forget your hat
– and I’ll see you in church at two o’clock.’

Using the side-entrance to Gorton – the entrance she had used ever since she had been a child, and the one Thea and Olivia regularly used in preference to the front entrance – Carrie
stepped inside and, as the door closed behind her, took a deep steadying breath.

For a long moment she stood quite still, remembering how overcome with awe she had been on her first day there, and how Blanche Fenton had calmed all her anxieties and had chatted to her about
the people in the portraits hanging on the wall of the grand staircase. In her memory she could smell the delicate fragrance of Blanche’s rose perfume and hear again the low, soft tones of
her voice. She remembered, too, how Blanche had taken her with her when she had sought out Charlie Hardwick and, in order to offer him sanctuary from the thoughtless cruelty he was meeting in the
village, had offered him the position of head gardener at Gorton.

It was a long time now since Charlie had met with thoughtless cruelty. Thanks to the genius of Harold Gillies – the surgeon now famed throughout the world for his reconstruction of hideous
facial disfigurements suffered by soldiers and sailors in the war – Charlie now had a face that, though not the handsomest Carrie had ever seen, was no longer mind-numbingly horrific.

It was a miracle and, where once he had been ostracized, now, with the piratical black eye-patch he still wore, he was something of a celebrity, and Carrie knew that the whole of Outhwaite would
be turning out to see him get married.

‘Carrie!’
Violet shouted, breaking into her thoughts and running up to her. ‘I’ve been waiting
ages
for you. Hermione wasn’t going to have any
bridesmaids – she said when middle-aged spinsters married they didn’t have bridesmaids – but I’ve talked her into it, and I’m to wear my yellow satin party dress and
carry a posy of white roses.’

She hugged Carrie’s arm. ‘Hermione is getting ready in her own room, and Miss Calvert is here, helping her. Thea and Olivia are in Olivia’s bedroom, and Roz hasn’t
arrived yet. For some reason, I don’t know why, she’s been in Paris for three days and she’s travelling up to Yorkshire straight from the boat-train. Papa’s new chauffeur
has gone to Richmond station to meet her. Papa is in the drawing room and is looking forward to giving Hermione away. He says it will be a practice run for when he has to do the same for Thea and
Olivia and me – though he’ll never have to do it for me, because I shall elope.’

Ignoring the threat of elopement, Carrie said, a little shocked, ‘You don’t call Hermione “Hermione” to her face, do you, Violet? She is still your governess.’

Violet’s exuberance vanished, to be replaced by a deep glumness. ‘She won’t be, when this Pyke person marries Papa. Papa says that once I have a stepmother I won’t need a
governess. Even if I did, my governess wouldn’t be Hermione, because she has explained to me that she doesn’t want to live for large parts of the year in London. She wants to be in
Outhwaite, with Charlie.’

As they talked they began walking up the grand staircase, the portraits looking down on them as familiar to Carrie as if they were her own ancestors.

‘If Lady Pyke has had no children of her own,’ she said, ‘she’ll probably be so pleased to have daughters that she’ll spoil and indulge you. It could be quite nice
for you, Violet.’

‘It would only be quite nice for me if she persuaded Papa to let me go on the stage.’

‘The stage?’ Carrie came to a sudden halt. ‘You can’t go on the stage. You’re a viscount’s daughter. Your mother’s father was an earl. You will be
sixteen next year and a debutante. Whoever heard of a debutante who was an actress?’

‘That’s probably only because none of them have ever wanted to
be
actresses.’ Violet, too, stopped walking. ‘If you were born to go on the stage – and I was
– then that is what you do. Only Papa doesn’t agree with me – and I’m very disappointed in you, Carrie. I thought you at least would back me up. Olivia doesn’t. She
says Dieter’s family will be horrified if they think Dieter is marrying someone who has a sister on the stage – as if anyone cares what they think. And Thea says the only girls who
become actresses are those who have been born into a theatrical family.’

As they began walking up the stairs again she said crossly, ‘Thea also said that Papa wouldn’t like it if I became an actress, and that my being one would distress him. Well, Papa
doesn’t like her being a socialist, and I’m sure her being one distresses him, but she still is one, isn’t she?’

Privately Carrie doubted if Lord Fenton was distressed by Thea’s socialism, but she didn’t say so, because she knew it would only send Violet off on another argumentative tack.
Instead, as they reached the first landing, she said, ‘Are you going to change into your bridesmaid’s dress in Thea’s room?’

‘No. Hermione says it’s tradition for the bride and bridesmaid to get ready together, and my dress is in her room, which is where I’m going now.’

She walked to the foot of the right-hand run of stairs leading to the second floor and paused, one hand on the balustrade. Then, looking back over her shoulder, her face framed by her deeply
waving blazing-red hair, she said fiercely, ‘I
am
going to go on the stage, Carrie. Acting is my destiny.’

Carrie believed her, but as she made her way to Thea’s bedroom, she didn’t see how, for Violet, it could be an achievable ambition.

The minute she stepped into the room Thea rushed up to her, hugging her hard. ‘You’re lovely and early, Carrie! I didn’t think the Richmond bus to Outhwaite
got in until twelve o’clock.’

‘It doesn’t. I came in a motor car.’

‘Whose motor car?’ It was Olivia who was hugging her now, an Olivia looking breathtakingly sophisticated in a knee-skimming turquoise silk dress and a long rope of pearls.

‘Hal’s.’

Olivia’s reaction didn’t disappoint her. ‘Hal has a motor car? How spiffing! He must be the first person in Outhwaite village to have one, apart from the vicar and the
doctor.’

Seating herself at her dressing table so that they wouldn’t see the expression that had flooded her eyes on hearing Hal’s name, Thea said much less effusively, ‘A couple of
local farmers have trucks.’

‘Maybe they do.’ Olivia hooked her arm through Carrie’s. ‘But they’re not nineteen years old. For someone of Hal’s background, owning a motor car is pretty
exceptional. I can’t wait for him to take me for a spin in it.’ Another thought struck her. ‘D’you think he would take all three of us for a spin in it later this afternoon,
after the wedding?’

Before Carrie could say that she thought he would love to, Thea said swiftly, ‘And leave Violet behind, throwing a tantrum to end all tantrums? I don’t think so. The best plan would
be if he took you, Carrie and Violet for a spin. I get queasy in cars.’

Thea’s wedding outfit was a mustard-coloured tunic dress that, in comparison to Olivia’s turquoise silk dress, was almost masculine in its severity. It didn’t make Thea look
masculine, though. The colour brought out the red undertones in her chestnut hair – hair not merely bobbed, but shingled – and the startling greenness of her eyes.

She turned around to face them, determined that her reactions where Hal was concerned were not going to show again. Roz might guess at them, but as she didn’t know everything about her and
Hal, she wouldn’t guess too much.

Putting out her hand, she took hold of Carrie’s and pulled her down onto the dressing-table stool beside her. ‘I miss you, Carrie. I do wish we could get our plan for you to be my
lady’s maid off the ground. Papa said he spoke to Lady Markham and that she wasn’t happy about the idea of her lady’s maid training you up.’

‘That’s because she doesn’t want to lose me.’

‘Well, she’s going to have to lose you. It doesn’t matter that you aren’t trained – I only suggested you being trained so that Papa could have no objections. When
you get back to Monkswood you must give in your notice.’

Olivia, who had been watching Carrie’s face, said, ‘You’re being impossibly bossy, Thea. Perhaps Carrie doesn’t want to leave Monkswood.’

‘Of course she does! When she’s my lady’s maid she’ll be with me all the time – and that’s something we both want.’

Gently Carrie said, ‘But not if you are living mainly in London, Thea.’

Thea stared at her disbelievingly and Carrie gave her hand a loving squeeze. ‘This is the first time you’ve been back at Gorton in nearly a year and, when the wedding is over,
you’ll be leaving it for London again. If I was your lady’s maid I would be going with you, and I can’t face the thought of ever having to leave Yorkshire for long periods in
London. I’m sorry, Thea. I wasn’t going to tell you until after the wedding. I didn’t want to spoil the short time we all have together.’

Thea sucked in her breath and, aware of how deep her disappointment was, Carrie said, ‘Being apart for such long periods doesn’t alter our being best friends, Thea. Think how long
we’re often separated from Roz.’

Thea swallowed hard. If Carrie didn’t want to leave Yorkshire for Mount Street, then there was nothing she could do about it. She certainly couldn’t promise Carrie that she’d
begin spending the greater part of her time at Gorton. London was where all her socialist friends were, and where all the excitement of socialist meetings was. It was also where other, very
different friends – friends such as the Duke and Duchess of York and the Prince of Wales – were. Though her London life was loveless, it was full of interest and it had another
advantage over Gorton, one that was overwhelming. It was 250 miles away from Richmond and Hal.

She gave Carrie’s hand an answering squeeze. ‘I do understand, Carrie, but I can’t pretend I’m not hoping that one day you’ll change your mind.’

Carrie was saved from having to say she was sure that was never going to happen by a maid knocking on the door.

‘His lordship says to remind you of the time, Miss Thea, Miss Olivia,’ she said as she entered the room, her face shining with excitement at the fairytale prospect of Miss
Violet’s governess leaving Gorton for her wedding, just as if she were a daughter of the house. ‘And his lordship says when you are ready, would you and Carrie please join him in the
drawing room.’

‘Countdown time.’ Olivia darted across the bedroom and retrieved a shiny straw cloche dyed the exact colour of her dress from a hat-box with the words
Hohe Modenhüte
Berlin
emblazoned on the side of it. ‘I was hoping I’d have time to show lots of photographs of Dieter before we left for the church,’ she said, pulling the cloche snugly over
her orange-tawny hair, ‘but now that will have to wait until later.’