The Midnight Rose (43 page)

Donald realized that at least he’d been walking with a little more of a spring in his step in the past two weeks. With their typically American enthusiasm, the Drumners had lifted the atmosphere of gloom that had hung over Astbury of late. His mother had roused herself and invited some local gentry around for a rare dinner party a few days ago. Even the servants seemed genuinely appreciative of the additional work they had to do because of the visitors. Maids hurried up and down the stairs preparing baths for the two American women and caring for their enormous wardrobes. The guest bedroom corridor smelled permanently of Violet’s perfume, light and summery, like herself.

Their bright faces greeted Donald at the breakfast table that morning, as Ralph extolled their plan to “take in Cornwall” in the next few days.

“Mother,” Violet said, “would you mind if I don’t accompany you? Amy Venables is having a dance in London and has written to ask if I can attend. It would be lovely to see some of my English friends from the season one more time before we leave for New York.”

“I’m sure it would, my dear, but you can’t possibly go to London alone. It’s simply out of the question,” replied Sissy.

“We have plenty of room at our London house,” Maud said. “You can stay there, Violet dear.”

“That would be most kind of you, Lady Astbury.”

“And didn’t you say you had to go up to town in the next few days, Donald?” added Maud.

“I . . . yes, I will be in London,” he replied uncomfortably, not wishing to appear rude.

“Why, it’s perfect—you can accompany me to the dance! I’m sure Amy Venables wouldn’t mind.”

“What a splendid idea!” said Maud. “Right, that’s settled then.” She smiled at the assembled company.

After breakfast, Donald retreated into the library with
The Times
but was unable to concentrate. Despite the fact that it was now five months since he had last heard from Anni, he felt uncomfortable at the thought of accompanying Violet to a dance. However, it seemed he’d been outmaneuvered by his mother, and it would look churlish to try to back out now.

Musing on his mother’s sudden new lease on life and unusually accommodating manner, for the first time Donald wondered if the Drumners’ sudden arrival at Astbury had been as random as it had seemed. After all, there was no doubt about the Drumners’ wealth,
and Ralph had talked only the other day about the large trust fund he looked after for Violet until she came of age in three months’ time, the amount, of course, that would come with her when she married.

“Damn you, Mother!” Donald slammed
The Times
down on the table, stood up and walked to the window. He berated himself for being so naive; how could he not have seen the web his mother was spinning around him? “I will not be bought or manipulated,” he said through gritted teeth as he looked out at the soft August light bathing the park in warm sunshine. Besides, one thing Maud could not control was Violet’s feelings for him. With her fortune, attractive personality and undeniable beauty, Donald supposed she could have any eligible man she chose. It was doubtful she’d be interested in him. Yet he thought of the way she smiled at him from under her long lashes, how she seemed eager to join him in any activity he suggested . . .

During the long train journey up to London, Donald listened as Violet chatted about her life in New York, the beautiful house on Park Avenue where she lived with her parents and the wonderful things she had seen on her European tour.

“I fear it will be awfully hard to return. Americans can be so insular, you know,” she added, as though the experiences of her three months in Europe had made her a citizen of the world.

“So you prefer England?” Donald inquired politely.

“Oh yes, I’ve always had a great passion for your literature. I just adore the countryside here. Everything is so quaint.”

Arriving at the house in Belgrave Square, Violet was taken upstairs to her room by a maid and Donald walked into the drawing room to find Selina sitting at the bureau writing a letter.

“Donald.” Her face lit up as she saw him and she stood to embrace him.

“How are you, Selina?”

“I’ve just arrived back from Henri’s château in France. He’s still over there, attending to some business. Eleanor and I are staying here for now until our new house in Kensington is ready for occupation. Tea?”

“Lovely,” said Donald, sitting down in a chair while Selina rang for the maid.

“So how is everything at Astbury?” she asked him.

“Well, Mother has certainly improved; she is positively lively compared to how she was when you last saw her.”

“Any sign of my being forgiven?” she asked him.

“To be honest, I haven’t broached the subject recently. She’s been so much jollier lately I haven’t wanted to raise anything that may disrupt her mood.”

“Besides, you’ve probably been busy escorting your young American heiress around the delights of Devon.”

“I’ve done my duty, certainly,” he said in agreement. “Tonight I have to go to some ghastly dance with all her ingénue debutante friends.”

“Do you like Violet, Donald? I’m looking forward to meeting her.”

“Yes, she’s a very nice girl. But”—Donald’s face darkened—“you understand that’s as far as it goes.”

“Yes, of course. Have you heard anything from Anni?”

“Not a peep.” He sighed. “I even wrote to Scotland Yard to see if they could make inquiries as to her whereabouts, but they’ve come back with nothing. She’s literally vanished into thin air.”

“Well, surely that’s something?” said Selina, trying to comfort him. “At least we can presume she isn’t dead?”

“Selina, she could be anywhere. She may not even have returned to England as she said she would. In fact, I’m starting to think she may have gone back to India and simply couldn’t bring herself to tell me.”

The two of them were silent in contemplation as the maid brought in the tea tray. Selina poured a cup for each of them, eyeing Donald thoughtfully.

“Donald, darling, I hate to say it, but—”

“I know, and please don’t. I’m beginning to realize that I may have no choice but to try to move on.”

“Yes, I’m afraid so,” Selina said. “I know how you loved her but—”

“
Love
her,” interrupted Donald.

“Yes, love her,” Selina said, correcting herself, “but any marriage between the two of you was never going to be easy. You know what English society is like, and the two of you would have struggled to be accepted.”

“I care nothing about that,” said Donald angrily. “I stood shoulder to shoulder in the trenches with men of all manner of creed and color, saw their bravery and watched them die just as painfully as anyone with white skin did, might I add.”

“Well,” Selina replied quietly, “it’s all credit to you that you carry no prejudice, but you know very well that many others do, and always will.”

“Are you saying that Anni has left me to protect me from that?”

“No, I was just suggesting it as a possible reason. I’m as baffled as you that she hasn’t contacted you.”

“I hope that Anni never felt any discomfort about her skin color from me.”

“Donald, darling, I’m not saying she did from you, but perhaps from others. Look at our own mother, for example. And what about if you’d had children? They would have been half-caste and—”

“Enough!” Donald clattered his cup into the saucer.

“Forgive me.” Selina was on the brink of tears. “I was only trying to point out the pitfalls if all had worked out as you’d planned it.”

“None of them would have mattered if we were together.” Donald stood up. “I’d better go and change for this damned party.”

Donald walked upstairs to his bedroom and sank onto the bed, his head in his hands. Could Selina’s theory be right? Had Anni, to save him from himself, decided it was best if she stayed away?

He simply refused to believe that this could be the case. Anni had known that he despised prejudice in any form.

Time and again, Donald came back to the same conclusion. He was now convinced she had simply realized she didn’t love him as she had thought. Or perhaps she loved someone else more  . . .

Tears came to his eyes as for the first time, he seriously contemplated a future without her. And realized that he was beginning to give up hope.

25 August

Enjoyed the dance last night more than I thought I would. A couple of my old friends from Harrow were there escorting two of the girls. It was remarkably good to see them and we chatted about old times. They’re both due to be married in the next few weeks and have invited me to attend. They both, of course, ribbed me about V, saying what luck I had to be dancing with the most beautiful girl in the room.

Violet had decided to stay on in town for a while longer than planned. Donald was loath to return to Devon to give Mr. Kinghorn his final decision on the sale of the estate, so he decided to put it off a little longer. In between escorting Violet to various dinners and to see some of the sights in London, Donald went to his club in Pall Mall. He enjoyed renewing old acquaintances and chatting late into the night about the war.

More and more he realized that, when he’d been in London after the armistice, his entire world had revolved around Anni and his love for her. Nothing else had mattered except being with her, and he’d had little time or inclination for anything else. It was as if he’d lived in a bubble, and though his heart still ached for her, at least the current social diversion was welcome.

Admittedly, he enjoyed the fact that his friends envied his relationship with Violet, who really did seem to be the belle of the social whirl in London. She was beautiful, quick-witted and, as Donald began to discover while she was away from the smothering cocoon of her parents, was possessed of both a vivacious character and a wicked sense of humor.

Even he found himself being charmed by her sense of fun and her genuine pleasure simply at being alive. Where Anni had been deep, passionate and dark, Violet was merry, frivolous and light. He also noticed
she was endlessly generous, often arranging thoughtful surprises to please her many friends.

The invitations came in thick and fast and she was welcomed at any London dinner table, the men vying to sit next to her to enjoy her company. Donald found himself chaperoning her most evenings to social gatherings, and, he had to admit, he began to enjoy it.

Toward the end of Violet’s time in London, they were invited to a dinner at Lord and Lady Charles-worth’s house near Hyde Park. Their son, Harry, was heir to one of the largest and most prominent estates in the country. He was also extremely handsome, with a charming and exuberant personality. As usual, Violet was seated directly opposite him at dinner, and Donald watched as Harry and she whispered to each other in an intimate fashion. It was obvious that he was very taken with her, and she with him. Over pudding, a territorial pang hit his heart and Donald realized with a jolt that he was jealous.

Taken aback by the sudden realization, he was in a contemplative mood on the drive home. Violet was in her usual high spirits, full of chatter about Harry and how he had invited her to visit his country estate in Derbyshire when the shooting season began in a few days’ time.

The following morning, a letter arrived on the tray in the hall for Violet. Donald, passing through for breakfast, turned it over and saw the Charles-worth seal on the back. That evening, Violet did not ask Donald to accompany her as usual; instead one of her girlfriends arrived to escort her and she left in a beautiful new Paquin dress and a haze of perfume. He didn’t manage to sleep until he heard her light footsteps tap-tapping up the stairs in the small hours.

She didn’t appear for breakfast the next morning, but at luncheon she was present at the table, yawning.

“Did you have a good evening?” Donald asked her politely.

“Wonderful,” she said dreamily. “Harry knows all the best places to go in London. He took me to an underground club where they play the best jazz music! We danced all night, so much that my feet hurt this morning. And his crowd were wonderful.”

“Are you seeing Harry again?”

“I do hope so. He’s such fun.”

“Well, I must think of returning home to Devon. Shall I leave you here in London? You seem more than capable of taking care of yourself.”

She looked at him from underneath her long lashes, suddenly vulnerable. “I’m not sure I’d enjoy traveling all that way back alone.”

“Far be it from me to spoil your fun,” he replied, feeling double his years. “Why don’t we compromise and leave for Devon at the end of the week?”

“Yes, that would be just perfect! I’ve had such fun in London. Thank you, Donald.”

“Not at all. I’m glad you’ve enjoyed yourself. Now, you must excuse me, I have an appointment at my club.” Donald stood up and moved toward the door, then paused and looked back at her. “Perhaps before we leave, you could take me to one of these new places that Harry knows?”

“Oh, I’d be delighted!”

Suddenly, the tables were turned. In his desire to please Violet, for the next three nights, Donald found himself learning to dance to the new jazz music which was so popular in America and causing a stir in England. They would arrive home in Belgrave Square sometime before dawn, sweating and giggling. Donald would kiss her good night sedately at the bottom of the stairs and she would smile at him, then tap-tap in her intrinsically feminine way up the stairs to bed.

On their last night in London, Violet had disappeared upstairs as usual and Donald walked into the drawing room to pour himself a brandy. As he took a sip, he knew that tonight he had wanted to kiss her properly. With a sigh, he realized he was actually looking forward to traveling back to Devon the following day and having her to himself.

“Anni,” he whispered to the air, sinking guiltily into the chair. “Forgive me.”

On the train journey home, Violet, obviously exhausted from her London exertions, fell asleep for most of the way and Donald used the time to take stock of his feelings.

He wasn’t sure whether his growing keenness on Violet was simply a reaction to the misery of losing Anni, but neither could he ignore the fact that in her beautiful eyes lay an alternative key to his future. If he was to sell Astbury, it would leave him without a purpose in life. When he had first contemplated this scenario, Anni had been included in his equation and the thought of beginning anew with her by his side had made the idea bearable. But now, Donald thought with a sigh, if he were to sell up and be alone, what point would his life have?