CHAPTER ONE 1904-1
2025 Words
CHAPTER ONE
1904Lady Viola Northcombe stared at her reflection in the old misted cheval mirror that stood in the corner of her bedroom and sighed.
She was supremely unaware of the beauty of her face, surrounded as it was by tumbling blonde curls, her eyes the most startling violet blue fringed with dark lashes that swept down onto pink cheeks.
No, all Lady Viola could see at the moment was the old-fashioned, ivory lace ball gown she was wearing.
At nineteen Viola was not a fashion conscious girl.
She was more than happy wearing riding clothes or a plain cotton dress to sit in the garden.
But tonight was a special occasion and she wished she looked just a little more – well, special!
“Nanny, is there anything we can do to make this look a little more fashionable, a little more up to date?” she asked as a round-faced, elderly woman dressed all in black with a small lace collar came into her bedroom.
Nanny Barstow carefully placed the large armful of freshly ironed clothes she was carrying onto the top of the chest of drawers.
She now took a deep breath and smoothed down the linen apron she was wearing. The endless flights of stairs up from the basement of the tall London house were very steep and she was not getting any younger.
“Now then, my Lady, I’ve got quite enough to do to get you and your brother packed for your trip to America without fussing about with a perfectly good ball gown.”
Nanny Barstow’s rather ferocious expression hid a kind and gentle heart.
She had been a lady’s maid to Viola’s mother and nanny to both Viola and her twin brother, David, since they were born and would cheerfully have laid down her life for both of them without a murmur.
It upset Nanny that her Lady Viola had to wear an old ball gown that had once belonged to her elderly cousin, Miss Edith Matthews.
Miss Matthews owned the house in the big London Square where they were living, but as she wryly told Viola, her ball-going days were long past. She was badly crippled by pains in her hips and knees and rarely left her room.
“Now, no more complaining, my Lady. It’s so very good of Miss Matthews to let you wear her dress. Now, if I just trim a few of these loose threads from the hem and sleeves and you wear your nice long gloves, it will do very well.”
Viola sighed.
“I do wish Papa had sent us some money instead of two boat tickets to New York. I cannot understand why he wants us to visit him. He never has before when he has travelled abroad.”
Nanny Barstow sniffed, but did not reply.
Her opinion of the Earl of Northcombe was not one she would repeat to his daughter!
His wife, Helena, had died of pneumonia when the twins were just four years old.
Nanny believed that any normal man would have turned all his attention and affection towards the twins, but the Earl had never seemed interested in his children at all.
He had very little money of his own and relied on the income from his late wife’s investments.
All the family capital was tied up to be inherited by the twins when they reached the age of twenty-one.
For the past number of years, the Earl, who had a restless nature, had plunged into one business scheme after another – always about to make his fortune, but somehow never quite managing to do so.
If it had not been for the kindness and generosity of Miss Edith Matthews, Nanny had no idea what would have become of the twins.
The Earl had gone out to America two years before and apart from a few infrequent letters, the twins had heard nothing until the tickets had arrived, urging them to travel across the Atlantic and join him in New York as quickly as possible.
“I’ll thank you to just let me finish packing your steamer trunk or else you’ll never be ready to leave in the morning,” Nanny scolded. “Now hurry along, Lady Viola. Your brother has been waiting for you in the drawing room these past twenty minutes.”
Viola pinched her already rosy cheeks and picked up her stole.
“Just think, Nanny, this time tomorrow we will be at sea!”
“Hmmph! In my humble opinion, you would have done better having a quiet evening indoors, the pair of you!”
Viola chuckled.
“Oh, Nanny! How you do fuss over us. You know that Charlotte has asked us especially to her birthday ball. There is no way we could have refused to go. She is my best friend in all the world.”
Nanny’s stern features softened a little.
She did approve of Miss Charlotte Brent and had to admit that the lively young heiress to the Brent fortune had never faltered in her loyal friendship to the Northcombe children, even though they were very poor in comparison.
“Well, make certain you are home at a respectable time. You have to be up early to travel to Southampton.”
Viola kissed Nanny’s wrinkled cheek, picked up her wrap and hurried down the steep flights of stairs to the ground floor.
In the drawing room her dear twin brother, David, the Viscount Powell, was sprawled out on the sofa, reading the evening newspaper.
Viola hesitated in the doorway watching him.
She loved David very much. He was slim and tall like her, but his hair was a darker blond than hers and his eyes were dark grey.
David, shy and retiring, was completely different in character from his far more outgoing sister.
He did not care overmuch for parties or balls. He was a talented artist and his sketches of birds and animals were outstanding.
He was a dreamer and had undoubtedly inherited his father’s restlessness, because he longed to travel to the Far East and the more remote islands of the Pacific where he could observe and paint strange birds and butterflies.
Now he looked up and grinned at his sister.
“Thank goodness, Sis! I thought we would arrive at Charlotte’s in time for breakfast, you have been so long getting ready!”
Viola laughed and they hurried out into the street.
Luckily Brent House was situated on the other side of the Square from their cousin’s house, so it was easy to walk through the gardens to where carriages and taxis were arriving with the cream of London Society.
“Does this dress look very bad?”
David peered down at his sister.
He had no clear idea of what was or was not ‘bad’.
Viola was wearing something creamy and lacy. It smelt a little of mothballs, but he did not think it would be wise to tell her so.
“No, why?”
Viola sighed.
“It belongs to Cousin Edith, that’s why! Nanny has packed the only other one I could possibly have worn and, to be fair, that is just as shabby.
“I do wish Papa had sent us some spending money as well as the boat tickets. There are holes in the soles of these shoes and a big darn on the palm of this glove. Oh, I do so hate being poor!”
David plucked a pink rosebud from a trailing bush as they passed and pushed it into his buttonhole. He had never known a life when they had had money to spare.
He frowned at Viola.
“Don’t you think it odd, Papa asking us to go out to America? I mean, I am delighted we are going. I long to travel the world, as you know, but he has never wanted us to visit him before.”
Viola paused as they left the shelter of the garden and stood on the pavement, waiting for a chance to cross the road to the sweeping marble steps of Brent House.
Tall gas torches were flickering brightly on top of ornamental pillars and the big front doors stood wide open to admit the crowds of partygoers.
Viola felt sad when she thought about her father.
She realised that at nineteen years old she still did not know him. Indeed she could count on the fingers of one hand the times she had spent more than a fortnight in his company.
But now he wanted his children with him and had sent expensive tickets for berths on a fast cruise liner.
It was all very puzzling as David had remarked.
Well, she would worry about it when they were on the ship and heading for America.
Tonight she was going to enjoy herself.
She loved dancing and was quite certain that even if she was wearing a perfectly hideous dress, Charlotte would make certain that she danced with plenty of partners.
The great marble entrance hall to Brent House was crowded.
Gentlemen in full evening dress escorted ladies resplendent in dazzling gowns, all their jewellery glittering and gleaming in the light from the huge crystal chandelier hanging above them.
David leaned against an imposing marble pillar at one side of the hall, waiting for Viola.
As soon as they arrived she had been whisked away upstairs by Charlotte Brent, who looked magnificent in a very dark amethyst silk dress, diamonds at her neck and the famous Brent diamond ear-drops plainly on show.
Suddenly David turned and realised that behind the pink and white flower arrangement on a tall pedestal by his side, two dark brown eyes were staring at him.
He moved a stem of white lilies and smiled.
A slender girl, just as tall as his sister, was standing there, her smooth dark hair braided and coiled around her head like a coronet.
She looked nervous and David could see that she was trembling.
“Hello! I say, are you all right there in the middle of all those flowers?”
“Thank you, aye, I am quite all right.”
David smiled.
She had a soft Scottish voice.
“I am David – Viscount Powell. How do you do?”
A small lace gloved hand crept out and touched his fingers for a second.
“Margaret – Lady Margaret Glentorran.”
David pushed the flowers to one side.
“Do come out into the hall, Lady Margaret. Or else you will ruin your pretty dress squashed up against those blooms and leaves.”
“It was just so noisy! I am not used to so many people. I-I – ”
“I know exactly how you feel. But at least it is a cheerful noise. It is just because everyone is so happy and enjoying themselves. Surely you cannot be on your own?”
“Oh, no! I came here with my brother, the Duke of Glentorran. We live up in Scotland – I expect you can tell from my accent. But my brother has business in London with Mr. Brent and so Charlotte’s father kindly asked us to her birthday ball.
“But Robert – that is my brother – has gone into the study to converse with Mr. Brent and his City colleagues.”
“Well, Lady Margaret, there is no reason for you to stand out here in the hall waiting for him. My sister, Viola, has gone upstairs with Charlotte and if I know them, they will be up there for ages gossiping. What do you say to a dance, while we are waiting for our respective siblings?”
Lady Margaret looked into his kind grey eyes and smiled timidly.
She put her hand on his arm,
“My friends call me ‘Meg’.”
Upstairs Charlotte and Viola were sitting together in the pretty little anteroom that led from her bedroom.
They had exchanged all the latest information about mutual acquaintances and Viola had exclaimed over her friend’s many extravagant birthday presents and Charlotte was fascinated by Viola’s forthcoming trip to America.
“Oh, I do wish I was going! It sounds so exciting. And you could meet the man of your dreams on board ship, Viola!”
Viola laughed, her blue eyes sparkling.
She and Charlotte had spoken very many times of the kind of man they would like to marry.
Viola just knew it would have to be someone very special. She did not want a marriage of convenience such as some of her friends had made.
She was sensible enough to recognise that powerful families frequently married their offspring to each other for dynastic reasons, but she wanted to experience the wonder of falling in love and having that love returned.
“The man of my dreams? Goodness, I don’t think he exists. I have never met anyone who comes even close to what I would consider to be a man I could really fall in love with!”
- Writer
