Page 8 of Mirrors of the Past

Chapter Four

1911

June had run into July, and then August, and fortunately — fortunately — Laurie had been spared the purgatory of seeing that Viola woman again. Although within those weeks, he’d had the joy of meeting his niece, Marigold, for the first time when she’d been brought to Pencradoc. Indeed, that was where he was heading today. Brunswick Square, in Bloomsbury, London, to see Elsie, Louis and Marigold.

Although Laurie was glad he hadn’t seen Viola since the incident in Bodmin, he had a lot of time for Pearl and Ernie — especially knowing how close Pearl and Elsie were. Holly Andrews, wife of the successful novelist Noel Andrews, made up the triumvirate of friends. ‘Thick as thieves,’ Isolde said with a sniff now and again, when she was having a particularly jealous moment.

Once, when Elsie had been within earshot of Isolde’s remarks, Elsie had cackled evilly and responded, ‘Darling sister. The Unholy Trinity. Or the three witches from Macbeth. Pick one of those references, sweet Isolde, pick one.’

Laurie grinned to himself remembering that one. Elsie didn’t help herself — she was constantly dressed in black and had a habit of throwing herself around dramatically and couldn’t help but hold all the attention in every room. He sometimes wondered how two sisters had turned out so differently. Then he had to remind himself that they were only half-sisters; Elsie’s real father, Ellory, the previous Duke of Trecarrow — the one before Uncle Jago had inherited the title — had died before Elsie was born. The rest of them: himself, Isolde, Medora, Clem, Enyon and Arthur shared the same parents, Zennor and Ruan Teague. Ruan was an incredibly talented artist and sometimes Laurie wondered how Elsie had those talents as well — but he was well aware of the rumours surrounding the family and Lady Elsie Pencradoc’s true parentage, so he never dwelled on it too much.

His other sisters were quite handy with a watercolour palette themselves. Isolde’s paintings were always more controlled and prettier than Medora’s. Medora, modelling herself on her adored eldest sister, Elsie, was a lot looser and freer in her artwork. Elsie — and Ruan — agreed that at some point Medora would come into her own style, but she needed to do some growing up first. Medora, though, was already twenty, so Laurie, at the grand old age of twenty-three, wondered when that would actually happen.

But, here he was. In front of the tall, Georgian building in Bloomsbury Elsie had called home for the last few years. The garden square laid out neatly opposite was verdant, but Laurie knew that in a few weeks those trees would start changing colour and dropping leaves and autumn would be here.

He could see two figures in the square, a tall, fair-haired man and a small girl. The child was haring around the square, red ribbons flying free, her dark curls streaming out behind her as she yelled and whooped loudly.

Louis and Marigold. Of course. Laurie smiled again when he saw them and diverted to the square to greet them.

‘May I join in?’ he shouted as he approached the gate and Marigold spun around to see who had arrived.

‘Unca Laurie!’ She started running towards him instead, her arms outstretched and flailing like the sails of a windmill. Laurie caught her as she hurled herself into his arms and he started to swing her around. ‘Faster!’ she cried. ‘Faster, Unca Laurie!’ Obligingly, he spun her around a few more times until she was shrieking with laughter.

Then he placed her gently on the ground where she promptly fell over and declared the sky was moving too fast.

Louis came over and held his hand out to greet Laurie.

‘Oh, I’m not spinning you around,’ said Laurie with a laugh. ‘Good to see you though.’

‘I’m entirely disappointed,’ replied Louis. ‘Was it a good journey?’

‘Not too bad, rather hot.’

‘Yes, those trains leave something to be desired. But regardless, it’s good to see you. We’ve been for a walk and then someone decided they had energy to burn off and swore there were pirates in the park, so we had to come and look for them.’

‘Pirates,’ muttered Marigold, but she made no effort to move and lay at the men’s feet.

‘Is Elsie around? She can’t be at the Slade today, can she?’

‘No. And much as she loves going there, she’s enjoying her summer break. She’s got a friend visiting at the moment, so that was another reason I took Marigold out for a breath of fresh air. Let them chatter in peace.’

Laurie nodded. He knew Elsie’s good friend, Fabian Austen, often called round to see the little family. Ruan Teague, Laurie’s father, had somewhat taken Fabian under his wing as a protégé and Fabian was in the midst of painting a series of portraits for the Teagues. He was meant to start with Zennor, but she had stepped aside until last, understanding how excited her daughters would be to have their portraits done first. After all, she was married to a world-famous portrait artist and Ruan had done dozens of pictures of Zennor throughout their lives together.

Isolde bore it stoically, her portrait in its final stages portraying a rather aloof yet incredibly beautiful young lady. Medora was twittering in excitement and had been wasting daydreams over how Fabian might fall for her, the way Teague had fallen for Zennor the first time he’d painted her. Elsie had to take Medora to one side and quietly advise her that it was highly unlikely, if not impossible, that Fabian would fall for Medora — or any woman he painted, for that matter. It had taken a little while for that to sink in, but Medora had eventually realised that she was never going to change Fabian’s nature, and she determined to enjoy the experience regardless and turned her daydreams into someone else falling for her portrait instead.

That, the family could live with. And Fabian, God bless him, remained blissfully unaware of Medora’s original fantasy.

If not Fabian, Elsie’s visitor might be Lily Valentine, a family friend who had been closest to Elsie out of all of them. It would be nice to see Lily, Laurie thought, with her quiet Irish accent and her incredible tales of the stage when she’d been an actress so many years ago, before she’d married Edwin and had her children. Lily sometimes had Marigold stay at her house as well, so she was very special to all the family really. She had, he understood, been a great support to Elsie when she’d been pregnant with Marigold and had been absolutely invaluable to his sister over the little girl’s first three years as well.

‘I hope Elsie doesn’t mind me intruding, then,’ Laurie said to Louis. ‘She is expecting me, I suppose?’

‘Of course she is. The door is, I believe, unlocked, awaiting our return as well. Marigold, are you ready to go inside and see Mama again?’

‘No, Papa. I think there may be a pirate there.’ The child sat up and pointed to a copse. Then she scrambled to her feet and ran off towards it.

Laurie laughed. ‘Have fun, Papa.’ He waved at Louis as he jogged away after his small daughter. Marigold was delightful, but it was clear she had inherited more than her mother’s dark hair and heart-shaped face. She’d inherited her exuberance and zest for life too, and my word, was that child energetic. Laurie had had to peel her off the Pencradoc Grand Staircase more than once as she’d scrambled up and decided she’d slide down it “just so.”

He swore the child was like a limpet, clinging on so tightly to that banister with her knees and hands . . .