Chapter Seven
The next day
"I must say, I am very curious to meet Mrs Kent," Violet admitted when Isobel told her about her plans. The news about the accident had quickly travelled from the Abbey to the Dower House and despite the terrible weather Violet had walked over from the Dower House to see how her friend was. To her relief her worry had been needless. After a good night's rest Isobel was (against Dickie's advice) up and about and had already discussed the details about the upcoming dinner party with her cook, Mrs Fields.
"I just wonder what you want to accomplish," the Dowager added. "I mean I can understand you want Dickie to meet his daughter, but wouldn't it be wiser to leave Mrs Kent out in the cold?" Violet pretended to shudder.
"Well, it wouldn't make a lot of sense to invite Helen who we don't know, but not her mother, wouldn't it?" Isobel asked.
"Why don't you just go to York to meet Helen there?"
Isobel shrugged. "I think, it's better to receive them here."
Violet smirked knowingly, "I see…. You plan to beat Mrs Kent on your own turf and you want to use Helen as a weapon against her mother in case she plans to win back her former… benefactor. What happened to your fear of losing your husband to his former mistress?"
Feeling she was being seen through, Isobel pursed her lips. "Let's say, I believe that an attack is the best form of defence. That's why I want you here that evening."
"Your wish is my command," Violet said with a delighted chuckle. "What does your husband say to your plan?"
"He knows it's the right thing to do," Isobel answered vaguely.
"In other words he only agreed to keep you satisfied." Violet's dry remark didn't miss its purpose.
"Listen, Cousin Violet, I know what I'm doing," Isobel replied snappy.
"I never doubted that, my dear, I just wonder if you have contemplated all the variables in your calculation, one of them being Larry Grey."
"We'll see about that, when the time has come," Isobel answered and the defiance in her voice told Violet the discussion was finished - for now.
Upstairs in his library Dickie was looking through several boxes he had brought with him when he moved out of Cavenham Park. They contained everything private he didn't want Larry and Amelia to get their hands on: letters, diaries of Ada and himself, and old photographs. He had never been someone who dwelled on the past, but he couldn't deny that looking at some of the old pieces made him mawkish. Hidden in one of his old note books he found a photograph of Annabelle and another one from his first wedding day. He groaned by the memory of the hot spring day that had been the beginning of an unhappy marriage.
Ada had insisted on having a big country wedding while he had prefered to keep it as simple as possible. Back in the day Dickie had still been in love with Annabelle and the mere thought of marrying someone else had felt like a neverending nightmare. In the end he hadn't been left with much of a choice and had gone through with Ada and his family's wishes.
His bride had been the daughter of an old friend of his father. The late Baron Merton feared Dickie would never produce an heir and had forced the engagement between Ada and his son. Ada's father, the owner of a bank, also provided a considerable amount of money as marriage portion. Dickie, feeling to obliged to do what his family expected of him, had agreed to marry Ada in the vain hope whatever they had would be enough to share a good life together.
He had always known how socially unacceptable it were for a man of his breeding to marry a woman with a past like Annabelle, but as the wedding day had come closer, he found it impossible to give up on Annabelle just like that. Even when he had spoken his vows, his mind and heart had been occupied with the woman who hadn't been his bride and today he was sure Ada must had known he had loved someone else. Back then he hadn't wasted a second thought on Ada and her feelings, something he regretted today.
Shortly after their honeymoon Ada had become pregnant, but things had gone quickly downhill from there. His newly wed wife had told him quite frankly she wished he would seek love and comfort in any bed but hers and he had done as she asked - until Annabelle had been the one to end their relationship, because she wanted to get married herself. She had met a considerable rich man who had offered to marry her on the spot in the very business Dickie had once invested in to allow her a more comfortable and fulfilling life.
He had no idea if the other man had ever known he wasn't the father of Annabelle's child or not. It didn't matter. What mattered to Dickie was that Annabelle had robbed him off the daughter he had always wanted to have. Perhaps the reason of his fondness for his godchild Mary rooted in the missing of the girl he never had the chance to raise.
As emotionally draining as his former double life with Annabelle had been, he would given his right arm to have the chance to be a real father. Ada had always made sure he wouldn't see much of his sons and had raised them as her creatures.
Especially after Larry's birth Ada had hardened herself against the world. Her firstborn son had become the centre of her world and that had remained so until the day of her death. She had spoiled him beyond measure and hadn't done him any favour in doing so. Larry had never grown up and Dickie feared he never would. Larry was a victim of his insecurities and his spoiled upbringing. He had more hope for Tim, but even his younger son was often arrogant and unwilling to rise to the challenges life had in store. These days his diplomatic post had transferred him to Washington D.C. and Dickie hoped the new world made a better man of him.
He felt a strange sting in his heart while he looked at the photographs. It was as if he explored a strange man's life, not his own. He remembered his feelings for Annabelle with sentimental sensation, even remembered his blind, youthful desire for her, but none of his faded feelings for her matched the love he felt for Isobel.
He knew it wasn't fair against her, but he feared Annabelle's presence could eventually damage what he had built with Isobel and he didn't want to risk any of it. As much as he appreciated Isobel's wish to introduce him to his daughter, he feared her plan could backfire on all of them.
With a loud sigh he closed the notebook and hid it underneath Adas' diaries. Some memories better stayed buried in the past.
Two days later
When Dickie entered the bedroom Isobel had just finished dressing. She had chosen a dress he had never noticed on her before. A stunning piece made a blue and black velvet that went perfectly with a string of black pearls he had given her for her last birthday. She had even taken off the bandage, even though her wrist was still hurting, but she had no wish to appear infirm in front of Annabelle.
"Do I know that dress?" he asked, as he absorbed every detail of her appearance.
"I bought it last winter," she replied to his reflection in the mirror. "Do you like it?"
"You look so splendid that I almost regret that we're entertaining tonight." He stepped closely behind her and wrapped his arms around her.
"Careful, my hair!" she reminded him, but chuckled nevertheless when he kissed her cheek.
"I'm sure you won't regret tonight's invitation," she said after a minute of comfortable silence between them.
"I love you and your optimism," he said quietly.
"I shall hope so," she said. "Otherwise I would be really worried by the presence of your old friend Mrs Kent." She turned in in his embrace and wrapped her arms around his middle.
"You have nothing to worry about," he said. "Annabelle is a part of my past and after the bombshell she delivered on me I wonder, if I ever knew her at all."
"She did what she thought was right… and in a way I'm glad she did. Who knows if we would have met, if she had stayed in your life." She leaned in to kiss him.
"Strange that you should say that… I was thinking about it the other day."
"And?" she asked curiously.
"I can't think of any scenario in my life when I wouldn't have fallen in love with you," he answered, much to her surprise. "I think you could have been married to the King of England and I still would have wanted to be with you."
She blushed and cleared her throat, "Yet, you never made me your mistress," she teased him and played with his collar.
"Because it wouldn't have been enough," he replied and pulled her a little closer. "From the very moment I laid my eyes on you, I wanted more."
"Oh Dickie…" she cupped his face in her hands and kissed him fiercely.
"And then there was the fact that I was afraid you would send Lady Grantham with a broomstick after me if I ever made such a proposition to you," he added with an amused smile, once the kiss had ended.
She blinked and said, "I think you were quite right in that assessment."
Annabelle Kent and her daughter Helen arrived right after Violet who looked more imperious than Isobel had seen her in a long time. She was covered in her best fur and in a dress Isobel had never spotted on her before. After the snowfall of the last days had finally stopped the temperatures had dropped increasingly and for the first time in weeks it was a star-bright night.
Just as Isobel had expected it Annabelle had also tried to outdo herself. Every time isobel had met her, Annabelle's wardrobe had been very expensive and very modern. Tonight it was simply formidable. Every inch of Annabelle looked impressive and Isobel noticed during the introductions that even Violet was short of a snarky remark, while her eyes absorbed every detail of their unknown guests. While Helen's fashion choice reminded Isobel of a simpler version of Mary's wardrobe, Mrs Kent was splendidly dressed a dream of green silk that matched her the colour of her bright eyes, but what her clothing couldn't balance was the woman's nervousness. As the minutes passed by Isobel observed with growing satisfaction how Dickie's perfunctory smile interritated Annabelle while his obvious interest in Helen put her off. Isobel had no idea what Annabelle had expected, but her silence while the small party enjoyed their cocktails in the drawing room spoke volumes.
"Do you know how long you will stay in England?" Violet asked Helen.
"As things look we will spend Christmas here," Helen said. "My husband's in Paris these days and he'll join us for the celebrations next week."
"How nice," Isobel remarked. "How long haven't you seen him?"
"Over two months, but I'm afraid us meeting up here is more a necessity than a joy," Helen said. "I haven't seen my children in weeks and I will certainly miss them over Christmas."
"You have children?" Isobel asked surprised and saw in the corner of her eye how Dickie swallowed.
"Yes, a girl and a boy. Lawrence's eight and Chloe is five."
For a second Isobel felt numb. She didn't believe for a second that she name Helen had chosen for her son was accidentally the same as the one of her lover.
"You should have brought them with you," Violet said before an uncomfortable silence could settle in. "To see how the old world operates."
"My husband talks enough about the old world. I doubt they have to see it to know everything about it." The sarcasm in Helen's words wasn't lost on Isobel and she prayed the dinner would be ready soon, before their conversation shifted into areas that she didn't want to have covered tonight.
The sudden, unusual noise in the hallway cut off Violet's reply. Dickie, on his way to see what was going on, stopped in his tracks, when the door flew open and Larry came in. He was out of breath and looked dishevelled as if he had walked through a storm.
"Father, I need to talk…" He broke off, when he saw the unlikely assembly staring at him. His eyes wandered from one person to the next in the room until they came to rest on Helen. He swallowed, "What is going on here?"
"We have guests," Isobel informed him about the obvious.
"Forgive my intrusion," Larry said mechanically, while his eyes still rested on Helen.
"What is it, Larry?" Dickie asked, his voice sounding unusual harsh. As if he was awakening out of a trance, Larry looked at Dickie.
"It's Amelia. I've just brought her to the hospital. She's gone into labour… way too early. Clarkson says, it doesn't look good."
Violet and Isobel exchanged an alarmed glance.
"What does that mean 'It doesn't look good'?" Dickie asked.
"He thinks she might die."
After a minute of affected silence, Helen rose to her feet. "I think it's best we left," she said without facing Larry.
"I think you're right," Annabelle agreed.
"Tragedy has a way of spoiling one's appetite," Violet agreed and grabbed for her walking stick.
"Do you want us to come with you to the hospital?" Isobel asked Larry.
"If you wouldn't mind…" Larry said and watched Helen as she passed him on her way to the door.
"Of course, we don't mind," Dickie said. "I'm sure we can repeat this some other evening," he said to Helen.
"Don't worry about that," Helen said friendly. "After all, family comes first."
She left the room and Larry followed her instantly. Annabelle stayed behind, obviously shell-shocked.
"Are you feeling all right, Mrs Kent?" Violet asked her.
"Yes, yes...," Annabelle answered quickly and then she addressed Dickie for the first time directly, "It won't work out like this."
"I beg your pardon."
"She'll never be your daughter," she said quietly. "I didn't raise her to lose her to you. Just do as I asked and tell your son to stay the hell away from her."
"I'm afraid that won't be possible," Dickie answered. "You had your chance to make this right many years ago."
"What did you want me to do? Wrap her in scarf and leave her on your doorstep so that Ada got her hands on her while I was left with nothing?"
"There were other ways," he shot back, rather unimpressed by Annabelle's demeanour.
"Not for me."
Isobel who had watched the low, but heated exchange with growing uneasiness stepped between them.
"Perhaps it's best we discuss this another time." She pointed to the half open door that led to the hallway.
"Of course, you're right, Lady Merton," Annabelle said, without granting Isobel a look as she left the room.
Isobel took Dickie's hand and pulled him with her into the hallway where Annabelle was watching Larry and Helen. They stood near the front door, absorbed in a low voiced, but heated discussion.
"How can you say anything like that?" Larry hissed. "I didn't want this to happen!"
"That's what you always so! It's always…," Helen barked at him, but broke off when she saw the others approaching. "We got to go and you should go to your wife," she said instead.
"I'll be waiting for you at the hospital," Larry said to his father. Dickie replied with a nod and Larry bid the women goodbye.
While Isobel called for the maids to call off dinner Violet kept herself in the background. She had been watching the scene with keen interest. Leaning on her walking stick, she waited until Helen and Annabelle had finally left the house, before she spoke again.
"And I thought I had seen it all."
"What do you mean?" Dickie asked puzzled.
"I never thought I would see the day when Larry gets a taste of his medicine. Married to one woman and helplessly in love with another - and he has no idea who she really is. It's like a Greek tragedy - only without thunder and lightning."
*tbc*