The Midnight Rose (54 page)

“Yes! Although I still can’t quite believe it. At first, having to drink all that disgusting stuff made me sure I was going to get sicker, but I didn’t! And I’ve done as you said, every day, to the letter, and it’s worked! Oh, Anni—may I call you Anni? All the servants seem to—how can I ever thank you?”

“Really, there’s no need. I’m just happy that you’re better.”

She ushered me to sit down opposite her in a chair. “Dr. Trefusis came to see me yesterday and could hardly believe the change. Of course, I told him about you coming to visit and what a tonic you are,” Violet said, admiration and gratitude in her eyes. “I cabled my mother yesterday in New York—she’d been so worried she was about to board the steamer and come over to visit me. But of course, she isn’t well either, so I said that there was no need now and that I was feeling just fine. When she arrives for the birth, perhaps you’d be kind enough to take a look at her too, if she’s not better by then?”

“I’d be glad to, if she wishes it, of course.”

“I’m even feeling as though I can face inviting some of my friends to come and stay with us again. Since I’ve been sick, the house has been empty.”

I felt gratified by the change in Violet and realized her exuberance today was naturally part of who she was. I liked her for it.

“Well, I’m glad to tell you that you may come off the ginger tea. Take it only if you feel queasy. I’ve given Mrs. Thomas some fresh mint leaves, which also help with nausea, and which you may find more palatable. But I’m afraid you must continue with the stout.”

“Oh, I’m used to it now. Donny thinks it’s a huge joke to watch me drink it,” she giggled. “Oh, Miss Anni, he’s just been so sweet, so concerned for me. I’d guess he wants to embrace you as much as I do!”

I held my facial muscles firmly in place at this remark and stood up. “I must go, there’s a baby in the village I have to visit urgently.”

“Of course.” Violet stood too. “I do hope you can visit me often, and perhaps you’d be able to spare the time to come to one of my dinners.”

“Well”—I faltered—“I couldn’t, I’m afraid. I have a child and no one to leave him with.”

“Yes, Donny told me your husband died. I am so sorry. If your
little boy is as good-looking as you, he must be a beautiful child. You have such an exotic quality, I’m green with envy!”

“Thank you . . . you are too kind. Now, I really must go.”

“Perhaps I could come visit you at your cottage and meet your little boy someday too?” she said as she followed me to the door like an eager puppy. “I know so few people around here. All my crowd are in London.”

“I’m often out,” I said abruptly. “Do telephone me first.”

“I will. Good-bye, Anni, and once again, thank you.”

I
t seems I have my old wife back,” said Donald a couple of days later, when he dropped in on a further mission for Violet to present me with an enormous bouquet of flowers, chocolates and champagne. “And you have a new admirer.” He grinned. “I never thought in my wildest dreams that I’d be bringing gifts to you from my wife. Life is nothing if not ironic.”

“Yes, that is true,” I said, trying to stop you from getting your hands into the chocolates.

“You are just wonderful,” Donald said, giving me a hug. “I can’t exactly say your methods are traditional, but long may they reign.”

“They’re certainly traditional in India, and all natural,” I countered.

“Well, you’re incredibly clever, although I fear there is a downside to this,” commented Donald. “Violet, with her newly returned energy, is racing around at top speed organizing goodness knows who to come to stay at the house. She’s obviously making up for lost time. And you know how I dislike her set. But, the good news is”—he pulled me onto his knee—“that I’ve had a reason to visit you.”

He kissed me, and I put my arms around his neck.

“Yes, that is a very good thing. Although your wife did ask me if she could come to visit me here and meet Moh.”

“Really?” Donald frowned. “What did you say?”

“I said to telephone me first because I was often out, but I can hardly stop her, can I?”

“No. Well, that’s going to complicate things. I’m not at all comfortable with Violet knowing exactly where you live.”

“Do you think
I
am? But what can I do?”

“Nothing, I suppose. Although perhaps it’s best to take that photograph of the three of us down from your bedside table. I mean, she might find that rather odd,” he quipped with an attempt at humor.

“Please, it isn’t a joke. Violet’s always eaten into my conscience from the start, but now, having to pretend I’m her friend . . .” I shuddered. “It feels all too close for comfort. And besides, Donald,
I like her. She’s so sweet, and for all her money, I feel she’s very vulnerable.”

“I know, Anni. Well, let’s hope her attachment to you is temporary. As you seem to have been the only person who’s been able to help her, she’s currently clinging to the idea of you. You’ve become the fount of wisdom for all things to do with pregnancy,” he grinned. “I think Dr. Trefusis’s nose is rather out of joint.”

“As a matter of fact, he telephoned me earlier and he’s coming to visit me tomorrow,” I told him. “He said he wanted to see my herb garden and learn more about what I put in my remedies.”

“Really? I’m surprised. I’ve always seen him as rather old-fashioned and narrow-minded.”

“Well, perhaps he is more receptive to new ideas than you thought.”

“I really do wonder whether you should start charging for all this help you give people,” said Donald. “I wouldn’t want to see you taken advantage of.”

“Perhaps, when Moh is older, I’ll think more seriously about the future and take up medicine professionally again. But for now, I’m happy with the way things are.”

“Don’t tire yourself out, will you, darling?” he said as he stroked my cheek gently. “And don’t let my wife bully you into doing anything you don’t want. She can be very persistent.”

•  •  •

The following day, Dr. Trefusis arrived at the cottage. I took him into my small greenhouse and he walked past the ledges full of different specimens, asking me questions about each of the herbs.

“It isn’t just about the remedies themselves,” I explained. “It’s diagnosing who your patient is and which
dosha
—that is, whether she or he is a
pitta
,
vata
or
kapha
. This you discover through looking at the patient’s physical shape and coloring, and also asking some simple questions to assess their emotional state and personality. Then you can fit exactly the right remedy to the patient. The remedies I use have been part of Indian culture for thousands of years. As well as using the fresh plants, I dry the leaves and store them in jars or grind them into a powder. The roots of them provide the most powerful remedies.”

“Fascinating, absolutely fascinating,” he murmured. “So, what type is Lady Astbury?”

“She’s a
vata
type, doctor, which means she’s small-boned, carries
little fat and feels the cold very badly. She also has a temperamental digestive system which is easily upset and probably accounts for her severe morning sickness.”

“I see. Well, would you mind if I took a few cuttings for myself and tried to grow them? Perhaps you could teach me how to mix some of the basic remedies? Something for a bad chest, for example?”

“Yes, please take what you wish. Excuse me, I must attend to my son. He’ll have woken from his afternoon nap by now.”

“Of course,” Dr. Trefusis said. “I’ll stay here and take the cuttings, then follow you inside.”

The doctor left, saying he’d return one day the following week so that I could show him how to prepare a remedy. He never appeared on my doorstep again.

•  •  •

Violet
did
appear, however, delighting in the coziness of the cottage and waxing lyrical about how quintessentially English it was. When she met you for the first time, I held my breath, waiting for a comment on your blue eyes that would give us all away. But, thankfully, it never came.

“Oh, he’s so handsome! And the image of you, Anni.”

You seemed to take to Violet immediately, although perhaps it had something to do with the toys and sweets she lavished on you every time she came to visit us.

“Please,” I said to her on one afternoon, when Violet’s chauffeur produced a gleaming red tricycle from the boot of the car, which you proceeded to wheel ecstatically around the yard, “you spoil him far too much.”

“Nonsense! In my book, no child can be spoiled enough,” said Violet. “Besides, Anni, I know you give your services for free and have little income, so it’s the least I can do.”

Over the following few weeks, many cold February afternoons would see Violet and I sitting together by the fire eating the buttered crumpets she’d brought with her.

“I’m far too fat now to go to London and it’s so boring being cooped up in that house with only the servants and Donny for company,” she’d say. “I’m so glad to have you to come and talk to.”

Despite the fact that I was always tense, knowing I must be on my guard, I listened to Violet, fascinated, as she spoke about her privileged
life in America. She too was interested in hearing my stories about my childhood in India. And in truth, I found myself beguiled by her sweet, generous nature, and her naive certainty that everything in her life would always turn out just fine endeared her to me more and more. I began to actively look forward to our tête-à-têtes, as Violet’s vitality brightened up many a long winter day. I would even go so far as to say that we became friends of a sort.

She didn’t patronize me on any level; in fact, she said on more than one occasion that my royal connections by blood in India made her look positively common.

“Like everyone else in America, I’m simply where I am because my family has made a success in business. It’s money that buys nobility in my homeland, not breeding. Of course,” she added wryly, “Donny’s ghastly mama will never let me forget where I come from. Have you met her?”

“Yes, she was living at the hall when I stayed there years ago during my school holidays,” I replied.

“I know she constantly looks down her nose at everything I do.” Violet bit into her crumpet thoughtfully. “However”—she smiled at me—“she was perfectly content to see me spend my trust fund on restoring her family heap. I’m just so glad Donny insisted she move to the dower house when we married. I don’t think I could possibly stand living under the same roof as that woman.”

“She is a difficult character,” I agreed, choosing my words carefully.

“I’d go as far as to say she’s an old witch!” Violet tittered at her own rudeness.

“Most mothers-in-law are. She’s simply from a different era and finds it hard to adapt to a new one.”

“Oh, Miss Anni, you’re such a good soul. You’re always so kind about everyone, yet you’ve suffered so much yourself. The servants talk of you as though you’re a saint. I hope I can learn from you how to be a better person.”

I studied Violet at that moment and saw that she was genuinely eager to do as she’d just said, and I felt more acutely aware of my duplicitous life than ever before.

March came in, and, with it, the frosts disappeared and yellow gorse covered the moors, spreading like a golden carpet in front of the cottage. Donald would pop around on an occasional errand for
Violet and complain, only half joking, that his wife was seeing more of me than he was. I’d also begun to notice that when he was negative about her, I would find myself coming to her defense. In fact, as April arrived, I began to believe that I liked his wife more than he did.

When Violet had been an unknown person, seen by me only through Donald’s eyes, the situation had been easier to deal with. But as my fondness for her grew, I began to question just how long the three of us could sustain the eternal and monstrously deceitful triangle we were embroiled in.

One morning, I received a letter from Indira, forwarded to me from London by Selina.

Patna Palace

Patna

India

29 March 1922

Anni, my dearest, oldest friend,

How are you? WHERE are you? I’m at least glad to hear that you’re no longer lost, as Selina thought you were when I saw her in France. Why haven’t you written to me???

Please write and tell me everything very soon.

As for me, Varun is in Europe, and I’m stuck in the zenana with the dreaded Number One wife. Dearest Anni, I beg you to take a trip over here and see both me and my beautiful baby. He is a boy and we have named him Kunwar. This pleases me so much as Number One wife has only had two girls, which means our son will be the crown prince when Varun becomes Maharaja on his father’s death. Varun has promised to come and collect me in June when the baby is old enough to travel and we will take a house in the South of France. Perhaps you might be able to join us there too?

I miss you, darling Anni. Please write very soon,

Indy xxx

In truth, I hadn’t written because I wasn’t sure what to say. Indira and her husband moved in similar circles to the Astburys and discretion was simply not part of her makeup.

As I penned a bland letter back to her saying as little about myself and my circumstances as I could and asking after her, I was struck low by the fact that I couldn’t even be honest with my oldest friend. My entire existence was currently a web of deceit; more and more the fundamental
wrongness
of it hung over me like a black cloud. Whichever way I looked at it, I realized that our deception, which had the potential to wound another human being to the core, was removing all the intrinsic goodness from the love that had begun it.

Now every time someone thanked me for my help in treating them or a relative and spoke at length about my kindness and generosity, I only felt the guilt cutting deeper and deeper into my soul. For I was not the person they thought they saw—not a poor widow who gave up her time and skills so generously to the community, whom everyone liked and trusted. I was a kept woman, a mistress, who had borne her lover an illegitimate child and continued to conduct a relationship with him right under his wife’s nose. That same wife who now believed that I was her friend . . .