Illusion of Love

by Denise Robins

Genres: Romance

Synopsis

Soon after Pamela Morris marries Lord Julian Eden in 1918, his plane is shot down and he is presumed dead. Julian's terminally ill mother offers her daughter-in-law a home at Eden Hall, but Pamela has married again. So Stella, Pamela's kind-hearted sister, takes her place to make the old lady's last days happy...

Release date: November 6, 2014

Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton

Print pages: 400

Sample

June 1919

‘If either of you know any impediment why ye may not be lawfully joined together in matrimony, ye do now confess it …’

The solemn charge, uttered in the low, sonorous voice of the officiating priest, echoed through the little church like a warning bell – then died away.

Silence followed.

Every eye was now focussed upon the young couple before the altar; the tall straight figure of the man; the slim, dainty form of the girl, who wore a biscuit-coloured lace frock; a wide-brimmed black hat on her golden head – an ostrich feather sweeping gracefully about the crown and curling down to her neck.

A slender girl in a blue costume – very shabby in comparison with the bride’s smart toilet – occupied the front pew, quite alone.

She was the sister of the bride.

A few minutes ago her face had been pale, emotional, bathed in tears. She had been mother as well as sister to the bride ever since their parents had died and left them alone in the world. She felt as though Pamela were her own child to-day – her child being taken away from her by this tall man, who was being bound to Pamela by God and man.

But when these significant, impressive words ‘ye do now confess it,’ were uttered, her whole expression altered. Her cheeks flushed scarlet. Her hands gripped the rail of the pew with a convulsive movement.

‘Oh, God!’ she said beneath her breath. ‘Oh, God, grant that there is nothing – nothing in the way of an impediment! Grant that Pamela’s marriage to Geoffrey may, indeed, be lawful!’

A strange prayer – passionately uttered – a prayer that would not have sprung to her lips had she not feared that there was the shadow of a doubt about it – a shadow that had darkened the brightness of her mind ever since Pamela had become engaged to Geoffrey Raynes.

The breathless hush in the church was broken. The clergyman was speaking again – to Geoffrey.

‘Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded wife?’

The ceremony went on. Nobody had answered to that solemn charge – nobody had confessed any impediment.

Stella Morris raised her head and looked through a mist of tears at her sister. Pamela had turned her head slightly, so that her charming profile was revealed. How lovely she was, Stella thought – a lovely child of nineteen – a gay, care-free, irresponsible child! And this was the second time she had been led to the altar in matrimony – the second time within a year!

Through the stained-glass window to the right of the altar, the sunlight slanted on to the bride and bridegroom – wrapping them in a gold and roseate mantle of living colour.

‘If only Geoffrey knew about it,’ Stella thought, her heart painfully jerking. ‘If only Pam had not deceived him – not pretended that she was an unmarried girl! She has done wrong – she will be committing a sin when she signs the register. ‘Pamela Morris.’ She is Pamela Eden – Julian Eden’s widow. …’

Widow! Stella suddenly shivered as the word crossed her mind. If she only were sure that Pamela were Julian’s widow! If only … but she was not sure … Pamela was not sure. This marriage, to-day, was a fearful risk; a gamble with fate. And if the fears that so often chilled Stella were ever verified, it would be a terrible thing – terrible for all concerned.

Supposing Pamela were committing bigamy to-day! Supposing that Geoffrey Raynes – kind, clean-minded, lovable Geoffrey – were ever to learn that the Pamela he worshipped and looked upon as an innocent baby, had been married, just over twelve months ago, to Julian Eden, an officer in the R.A.F.!

And supposing Julian, who had met a flying accident and been presumed dead, should return to find Pamela married again – faithless – forgetting her love and her vows within one short year!

Stella tried to rivet her attention on the young couple before the altar; to listen to the words the clergyman was saying; to deaden conscience, and countenance the wrong Pam was doing Geoffrey in so deceiving him. But it was difficult. Stella was one of those frank natures which shrink from anything shady or disloyal. She adored her young sister – had forgiven all her faults and follies time after time; but she was anguished in this hour by the fear that Pamela might be called upon, one day, to pay the penalty of her faithlessness and her lies.

‘I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together …’ the priest was saying in his low, clear voice.

Stella drew a long breath – opened her eyes again and looked at Pamela. The thing was done. Pamela was Geoffrey’s wife. From henceforward she would be Mrs. Raynes; the past would be wiped out – forgotten.

Forgotten by Pamela – but not by Stella. She could never forget that day, a year ago, when Pamela had come to her, a black-edged letter in her hand, her face swollen with weeping, and sobbed out her piteous confession.

A month previous to that, she had become acquainted with a fascinating young airman – the son and heir of Sir Richard and Lady Eden, who resided at Eden Hall, in Lyndhurst. He and Pamela – infatuated with each other – were secretly married at a registry office, on the fifteenth of June. Pam had been afraid to tell Stella, and he had not dare let his parents know that he had chosen an obscure little typist for his wife.

Three days after a stolen honeymoon, Julian had been sent on a world-flight in his aeroplane with a brother officer – Captain Horsman. He had promised that as soon as he came back, he would take Pamela down to Eden Hall.

He had never returned from that flight. The wreckage of his ’plane had been washed in to shore somewhere near Portugal and Captain Horsman’s body with it. The body of the pilot – Captain Eden – had never been found, but he was reported ‘missing – believed killed.’

A year had passed, bringing no word of him, so his young wife had presumed that he was dead.

Immediately after the fatality, Lady Eden had written to Pamela. She had been through her son’s papers – found proof of his wedding to an unknown Miss Morris, who lived in London. Lady Eden wished to have nothing to do with her, neither would she make any provision for her. In answer to this cruel letter, Stella had written on her sister’s behalf, proudly informing Lady Eden that Pamela would make no claims on her, but continue to earn her own living.

At first Stella had felt resentment in her heart against Julian for allowing Pamela to contract a secret marriage. But when she had seen his photograph – such a gay, boyish, winning face – she had forgiven him – just as she had forgiven Pamela her folly.

And now – a month ago – Pamela had met Geoffrey Raynes – a wealthy bachelor who had become acquainted with her at the big Insurance Office wherein both she and Stella worked as stenographers. And Pamela had forgotten that she had ever loved Julian so madly and passionately. She had wiped him right out – given her elastic heart to Geoffrey.

Stella believed that Pam really did care for Geoffrey – that he was her soul-mate as Julian Eden had never been. Poor Julian – so soon forgotten! Stella had begged her sister to wait awhile before marrying Geoffrey – wait – in case …

But Pamela had refused to wait, to admit that Julian might come back. And so here she was – married to Geoffrey. She had burnt her boats.

The ceremony came to an end. Stella followed the bride and bridegroom into the vestry, to sign the register. And now she made a valiant effort to control her emotion and conceal her fears – for Pamela’s sake. Pam looked so radiant; Geoffrey’s kind, handsome face was glowing with pride and happiness. Stella kissed them both.

‘It’s all too wonderful, Stella!’ Pam whispered to her. ‘I feel absolutely ecstatic.’

‘God bless you, darling!’ said Stella huskily. ‘May nothing ever mar your ecstasy.’

‘The only thing is that I shall hate leaving you when I go off to Paris this afternoon,’ said Pamela with genuine feeling. ‘You’ll be all alone, Stella.’

‘I shan’t mind that,’ said Stella bravely.

‘You must hurry up and get married too,’ said Pamela. ‘There’s Henry Waldon …’

Stella smiled a little. Poor Henry Waldon – the grave, rather heavy man, who had tried to woo and win her – in vain – for the last two years – and still vowed himself her suitor. He was one of the directors of the Insurance Company; and it would have been quite a good match. But not the match of Stella’s dreams, neither was Henry Waldon the lover she desired.

‘I shan’t marry Henry – nor any man,’ she told her sister. ‘I haven’t met the right one, Pam, darling.’

Half-an-hour later the sisters were in the bed-sitting-room in Kensal Rise, which they had shared for the last three years, in comparative happiness. Stella was on her knees before Pam’s brand-new trunk, finishing the packing, and furtively wiping away her tears as she worked. Pam was changing from her delicate lace-gown into a fawn coat and skirt. She was flushed and very pretty – dimpling at her own reflection in the mirror as she placed a smart little feathered hat on her golden head.

Not a cloud on that charming baby-face; not a fear in that butterfly, inconsequent heart. It was Pamela’s nature to be happy – and to cause unhappiness as she danced her way through life.

Stella was by far the finer character. Yet Stella had never had one-tenth the amusements or pleasure Pam had enjoyed.

She made a more beautiful picture than Pam, however – even in her simple clothes – as she knelt there beside the trunk, packing it with maternal care.

She was as dark as Pam was fair; smooth black hair plaited about a classical head; cream pale skin, with very faint colour save in the finely-moulded lips, which were naturally a deep red. She looked quite as young, although she was two years older than Pam. Despite the firm curve of chin and the steadfast expression of the wide grey eyes – there was something very youthful and appealing in Stella.

‘I’m aching to see Paris, Stella,’ came Pam’s voice. ‘Shan’t I have some lovely frocks to bring back, eh? I’ll bring you some, of course, darling.’

Stella rose and walked to her sister’s side.

‘Dear,’ she said gently, ‘I don’t want beautiful frocks. I only want to know that you are happy – that you are going to be a good, faithful wife to Geoff.’

‘I will,’ said Pam – her blue eyes suddenly solemn. ‘I swear it. I worship Geoff.’

‘I believe that. It is why I let you marry him,’ said Stella. ‘But, oh, my dear – even now I wish you would tell him the truth – not deceive him and –’

‘Nonsense,’ interrupted Pam, sharply, drawing away from Stella’s hand. ‘It is impossible. He must never know.’

‘Oh, Pam!’ said Stella with sudden anguish in her voice. ‘If Julian should not be dead – think – think –’ Pamela’s face blanched. She bit her lip and put her left hand, with its new platinum wedding ring against her cheek.

‘He won’t come back – he’s dead,’ she muttered. ‘Why do you want to spoil my wedding day?’

‘I don’t want to spoil it – only I’m so afraid sometimes,’ said Stella breathlessly.

Somebody knocked at the door.

The landlady entered, grinning as she looked at the bride.

‘Anyone here called Eden?’ she asked.

Dead silence. Stella and Pamela exchanged queer, frightened glances. Then Stella said:

‘Why, Mrs Smith?’

‘Letter here for Mrs. Julian Eden,’ said Mrs. Smith.

‘Yes – that’s – for me,’ said Stella impulsively shielding Pam. ‘Thank you, Mrs Smith.’

Mrs Smith looked at her curiously and departed.

‘Who’s it from?’ broke out Pamela. ‘Who has written to me – with – with that name?’

She had never used her first husband’s name. She had called herself Pamela Morris since the day he had flown away.

Stella, the calmer of the two, ripped open the envelope. She had seen the postmark was ‘Lyndhurst.’

‘It’s Lady Eden’s handwriting,’ she said tersely. ‘Quick – read it with me, Pamela.’

Downstairs, Geoffrey Raynes waited for his bride – unconscious of the shadow that threatened his happiness.

Together, Stella and Pamela read what Julian Eden’s mother had written.

‘My dear Pamela,

‘During this last year I have been thinking a great deal of my darling, dead son and the folly of his secret marriage to you. When I first learned of that marriage I was bitter and angry. But since then I have learned to bury my anger and to think more kindly of the girl my son made his wife.

‘Sir Richard – Julian’s father – died a month ago. I am a lonely woman and far from strong. I have thought, perhaps, that Julian would not have deceived me over his marriage had I been less proud and worldly; he might have brought you to me at once and told me that he had married a typist. In a measure, therefore, I am to blame, and I now wish to make amends for my uncharitable letter to you a year ago. You loved him, dear, so try to forgive me and love me. I want you to come to me at once – make your home with me. Accept me as your mother, and I feel sure our dear Julian will look down from his Heaven and be happy.

‘I am coming to London to-morrow afternoon in my car, to fetch you, as I know you will not refuse to forgive, and live with Julian’s old mother.

‘Till then – with every tender thought –

‘Yours,

‘Cecily Eden.’

Stella and Pam finished reading this long missive – then looked at each other in silence. They were both pale – their hearts pounding.

‘Good lord, what a catastrophe!’ muttered Pamela. ‘This to come now – now of all times!’

‘I knew something would happen,’ said Stella. ‘I felt it.’

‘Of course I can’t—I shan’t go to Lady Eden,’ said Pamela. ‘It’s too late.’

‘She arrives here this afternoon,’ said Stella.

Pamela bit her lip. Then she flung back her head with a defiant gesture.

‘Oh, well—I shall be gone with Geoff. You will have to see the old girl, Stella, and tell her I’m gone – and get rid of her.’

‘But how?’

‘Any way you like, so long as you don’t tell her where I am. I’m not going to let Julian’s mother step in at the last moment to make trouble between Geoff and me.’

‘But Pam!’ said Stella. ‘Am I to tell Lady Eden you have married again?’

‘Why is that necessary? Simply say I’m abroad. Oh, say anything, so long as she goes away and doesn’t make trouble.’

Stella clasped her hands tightly together. Her beautiful face was puckered with worry.

‘Pam, this seems all wrong,’ she said. ‘Really, you ought to make a clean breast of things with Geoff and Lady Eden.’

‘Are you mad, Stella?’ broke out Pamela, hotly. ‘Tell Geoff the truth now – lose all my happiness – go down to Eden Hall and act the mourning widow for the rest of my life? No – no – never!’

A long silence. Stella’s head ached with thought.

Then Pamela picked up Lady Eden’s letter, laughed – and pitched it into the grate.

‘That’s it,’ she said, shrugging her shoulders. ‘When my lady comes this afternoon, Stella, you must see her and send her home again.’

Stella looked at her sister sadly, anxiously.

‘I’ll do whatever I can to help you, Pam,’ she said. ‘But, my dear, have you no heart at all – no feelings for that poor, lonely old woman?’

‘No – none,’ said Pamela. ‘She deserves to be lonely. She ignored me when she first learned of Julian’s marriage. Now she has swung round because she is getting old and lonely and wants me. Well – she won’t get me.

Stella drew a long sigh.

‘Oh, well, I’ll have to go through with it,’ she said. ‘Lady Eden will be very surprised not to find you here, though. What had I better tell her? That you have married again – or not?’

Pamela was dusting her nose with powder now – smiling at her charming reflection in the mirror.

‘Oh – just as you like, Stella,’. . .