Picture Perfect (8 page)

‘
Here you are,’ a voice said from the shadows some time later. ‘It’s safe to come out now, everyone has calmed down.’ It was Mr Denham, Annabel felt her heart give a little lift and then she spied Justine. She was not exactly disappointed to see her twin, she told herself, and it was true, she was actually fascinated by Justine, the girl who shared her face and lived the life she was meant to have had, and she wasn’t sure what she hoped for from Mr Denham but she would have preferred him to have come to find her alone.

Justine did not appear to share her reservations. She came forward and took Annabel’s hands in her own. ‘Wasn’t that the most extraordinary tale you have ever heard?’ she asked, and Annabel wondered if her own eyes glowed like that when she was deeply moved. ‘Although they have agreed that it would be best for you to return with the Blacks for tonight, our poor mothers are in quite a state. But I myself couldn’t be happier, I’ve gained a sister tonight!’

‘I’m very glad to have gained a sister too,’ Annabel said, and found to her surprise it was true. Impulsively she kissed Justine on the cheek.

‘Miss Black,’ Mr Denham interrupted and smiled sardonically, ‘if you have quite finished admiring Lord Lockton’s fine collection of paintings - good Lord, one of them has been taken!’ Annabel almost laughed at the look on his face, in an instant he had changed from smooth society beau to someone much more real and genuinely shocked, but then she turned to look over her shoulder and saw an incongruously empty space on the wall, featuring only the image of a rectangle, slightly darker than its surroundings.

‘That seems most unlikely,’ Justine said with a giggle, ‘the painting must simply be being cleaned. The theft on Monday is causing you to imagine the worst.’ She turned to Annabel. ‘Did you know about it? It has been thoroughly reported in the Gazette.’

‘I was there, at the Dulwich Gallery that evening, at the viewing.’ Annabel shot Mr Denham a puzzled look. He seemed extremely concerned by the loss of Lord Lockton’s painting.

‘It’s not being cleaned,’ Mr Denham said grimly. ‘It was here earlier this evening. Not even the most devoted of servants take down a painting to be cleaned in the middle of a ball. It has been stolen.’

‘How shocking,’ Justine said. She did not look at all shocked, Annabel thought, but rather appeared to be trying to humour Mr Denham. ‘Shall we find Lord Lockton and tell him of his misfortune?’

‘No,’ Mr Denham caught at Justine’s arm as if he thought she were about to fly off immediately. ‘Neither of you are to say anything. The thief may still be on the premises. You can see the painting is rather large, it would not be easy to get it out of the house quickly.’

Justine frowned. ‘You’re taking this all far too seriously, Jack,’ she said and Annabel felt her heart clench on hearing her intimate use of Mr Denham’s Christian name. Perhaps they were old friends who had known each other since childhood and considered each other as brother and sister, she told herself in an attempt to put things into perspective, but somehow it seemed unlikely, Justine had sounded far too possessive.

Mr Denham ignored her advice. ‘Go back to your families now,’ he said. ‘They will be growing anxious about you. And remember; don’t say anything about the painting. I’m going to see what I can find out.’

Annabel had a sudden vision of her mother, worried about her and trying to hide it by making sensible suggestions which she couldn’t imagine either of the Beresfords listening to and suddenly she was more than ready to return. ‘Please come with me,’ she said to Justine who looked as if she were about to protest at Mr Denham’s pre-emptory orders.

‘Allow me to escort you,’ said Mr Denham in a tone that brooked no argument, and once again Annabel was only too glad to let him take charge.

‘
Darling!’ hearing the relief in Mrs Black’s voice, Annabel was glad she had decided to return when she did. ‘You father has ordered the carriage, it should be here shortly. Come with me to collect your pelisse. We shall wait in the vestibule.’

‘But what about the Beresfords?’ Annabel asked, gesturing at them.

‘It has all been arranged, my dear,’ Lady Beresford said rather firmly, as if she were trying to convince herself that all was for the best. ‘The three of you will call upon us tomorrow afternoon.’

‘We’ll soon have this nonsense sorted out,’ Lord Beresford began, but his wife shot him a reproving look and he subsided.

‘We shall bid you good night, then,’ Mrs Black said politely.

‘Good night,’ Lady Beresford said, her eyes on Annabel. ‘Take care, little Hannah.’ Annabel suddenly found herself in an embrace of silk and scent and then just as quickly Lady Beresford let her go and hurried off as if she couldn’t bear to see her walk away.

Jack watched the two graceful silhouettes as Annabel and Justine were momentarily framed in the entranceway to the corridor. They were exactly the same height and both looked radiantly beautiful in their long, trained evening dresses. Everything seemed far more complicated than it had only that morning. Then the two girls passed out of sight and he returned to Lord Lockton’s gallery examine the area where the missing picture had hung.

As he had thought, it told him little, the painting had been carefully removed and there were no clues. He cast around. The thieves could not have spirited the picture away through the crowded ballroom still in its frame, and clearly they had not cut it free and abandoned the frame here, so what had they done? A small sound caught his attention; it was a sash window rattling. He strode over to it and saw that it was not firmly closed. He hauled on the cord, lifted it up and leaned out, then leaned further, trying to confirm what he thought he saw. He was on the second floor at the back of the house and on the ground below him ran a double row of neatly trimmed laurel hedges, but marring their symmetry was a large rectangular object, glinting slightly. It was the picture frame, he’d lay money on it, the canvas cut free and the frame hurled out of the window to avoid immediate suspicion. That meant that the thief could have then easily rolled up the painting and hidden it under an article of clothing. A large article of clothing, he amended, like a greatcoat… or an evening dress.

By the time three o’clock the following afternoon came around Annabel felt completely recovered from the shock of the night before and was eager to see Justine and her family again. When she and her parents arrived at the Beresford’s house at the appointed hour Lady Beresford greeted her warmly, appearing to have regained her composure overnight, although she was cooler with Mr and Mrs Black.

‘The position is this, Black,’ Lord Beresford said abruptly when they were all seated in the parlour. ‘I’ve consulted with a magistrate and Hannah belongs to us, until she is twenty one we have complete authority over her.’

‘Now wait one minute…’ Colonel Black said, leaping to his feet, but he was interrupted by Lady Beresford.

‘However,’ she said in quelling tones and waited until Colonel Black had subsided before she continued, ‘however Hannah is not a child to be handed back without a thought, and we intend to consult her about her wishes. Naturally we would like her to live with us, but…’ Lady Beresford faltered for a minute and Annabel admired the way in which she drew herself up again to continue. ‘but obviously she loves you, the people who have cared for her for most of her life, and I would understand if she did not feel ready to take such a step, so we would like to invite her to visit with us for a short while and then visit again later in the season.’ She turned to Annabel. ‘What do you say? Will you come and stay with us for a few days? Please?’

For a moment Annabel felt quite overwhelmed but she glanced at her mother and saw approval in her eye. ‘I… I would like that very much,’ she said. She had neither expected Lady Beresford to offer her either so much freedom or so much sincerity.

‘Lady Beresford,’ Mrs Black was smiling broadly, but Annabel could see that her eyes were bright with unshed tears. ‘I would like to thank you for your graciousness and your generosity, and I am honoured to make your acquaintance.’

Chapter 5

Annabel’s visit to the Beresfords was to begin with a small dinner party the evening of her arrival, ‘Just an intimate gathering to introduce you to thirty or so of our closest friends’ Lady Beresford had said. With a valise packed with a selection of day dresses, and a small trunk containing her bonnets and evening dresses, including her current favourite, a simple, high waisted dress in peach silk, trimmed at the scooped neckline and the hem with delicate gold embroidery, and with peach satin shoes to match, Annabel was driven to St James’ Square. Alone in the carriage for the short ride, she felt a mixture of apprehension and excitement. She had never before paid an extended visit alone and she wondered if perhaps the Beresfords might do things very differently from the Blacks, perhaps they would be very devout and say grace before every meal rather than only prior to the evening meal, and she Annabel would disgrace herself by beginning her food while everyone else still had their eyes demurely downcast. Then she chuckled to herself, with closed or downcast eyes, no one would see her error and surely if she merely followed Justine’s lead she could not go wrong at mealtimes. And she couldn’t deny she was excited, she was being taken into the very heart of the family she should have grown up with. Staying in the Beresford’s house she would get to know Lady Beresford in a way in which she couldn’t possibly hope to simply as a casual visitor, and as for Justine, Annabel was fascinated by their likeness, she was sure that if they were dressed in identical clothing no one would be able to tell them apart. Did they hold the same opinions as well, or even think the same thoughts? Over the next few days she would find out.

The carriage drew up outside the smart, modern house she had visited for the first time only yesterday and Bill, the Blacks’ groom, opened the door for her. The house was square and symmetrical with the front door in the middle flanked and topped by rows of oblong windows through which she could make out the edges of pale coloured curtains. The white stone gleamed in the early spring sunlight and the house looked very inviting. Leaving her luggage to Bill, Annabel tripped lightly up the steps and knocked on the door. Almost immediately it was answered by a footman whom Annabel did not remember seeing previously, but she supposed that the Beresfords had many more servants than the Blacks. The footman seemed to know whom she was however. He bowed at once. ‘May I take your things and may I show you to the parlour, Miss Beresford?’

‘Miss B-’ Annabel choked back the words and managed a croaking assent. She handed the footman her pelisse and gloves and followed him to the parlour her mind in somewhat of a turmoil over the way in which she had been addressed. Somehow, until now, the fact that Hannah Beresford was her given name had not seemed important, but of course that would be how Lord and Lady Beresford would think of her. The footman knocked smartly on the parlour door. ‘Miss Beresford has arrived, ma’am,’ he said.

‘Thank you, Stone. Ask the kitchen to send up coffee and cakes now.’ Lady Beresford said imperiously. There was one difference between the Beresfords’ house and the Blacks, Annabel thought abstractedly. She wondered if she could bring herself to address the servants by their surnames, it seemed so unfriendly compared with using their Christian names as they did in her home in Bedford Square.

Lady Beresford rose and her whole demeanour changed. She smiled, held out her hands to Annabel and embraced her. ‘Please come and sit by me my dear, I want to know everything about you. Justine will join us shortly, but I wanted to have you all to myself for a little while first. Tell me, what is your earliest memory?’

Annabel had always thought that Henry, goading her into climbing an apple tree which she had promptly fallen out of, and then her tears turning to laughter when she saw her brother’s horrified expression was her earliest memory, but as she looked at Lady Beresford’s face she once more felt a sense of familiarity. ‘I… I think I remember you,’ she said hesitantly and was rewarded by the look of joy on Lady Beresford’s face. Encouraged, she went on to tell her about the apple tree.

‘Ah, what it is to have brothers and sisters,’ Lady Beresford said. ‘I myself come from a large family, but Justine, ever since we lost you, has been an only child.’

As if on cue the door opened and Justine tripped into the room, a maid on her heels, bearing a tray. ‘Hannah,’ she said, kissing Annabel’s cheek. ‘I can’t tell you how excited I am to have you here.’

‘About my name,’ Annabel began uneasily, but Lady Beresford interrupted.

‘Yes, when you were very small you couldn’t pronounce the aitch, when asked, you always called yourself Anna. That must be how the mistake arose.’

‘We are so much alike,’ Justine exclaimed. ‘See how your hands are clasped, with your fingers interlaced? That is just how I clasp mine; no matter how many times Mama has told me it is not ladylike.’ Mrs Black had told Annabel no such thing and Annabel suddenly felt acutely self-conscious but she resisted the urge to unclasp her hands. ‘How do you take your coffee?’ Justine asked, while the maid poured. ‘Is it as I take mine, very milky with just a little sugar?’

‘Why yes it is!’ Annabel forgot about her hands in her surprise. ‘And no cream, I have never cared for cream.’