The Midnight Rose (65 page)

“Yup, I got that much,” said Rebecca, irony in her voice.

“Anyway, when he was deemed stable enough to be returned into the community after his breakdown, he came home to Astbury under the care of Mrs. Trevathan, who had worked at the hall as housekeeper for years and understood him. I swear, Miss Bradley, that woman is a saint. She’s dedicated most of her life to his care.” Dr. Trefusis sighed. “And as long as all was calm and nothing disrupted the tranquility and privacy of Astbury Hall, Lord Astbury could function perfectly well. He loved pottering around his beloved garden, which was therapy in itself. The drugs he took every day stabilized him so at least he could have a modicum of normality. He would occasionally disappear off to the cottage on the moors to enjoy what Mrs. Trevathan rather euphemistically called ‘playing house’ and ‘dressing up.’ We both felt it was better if he indulged his alter ego somewhere isolated where he wouldn’t be seen. I checked up on him regularly, of course, as did his
psychiatrist, and Mrs. Trevathan would contact me if there was any cause for concern. He went for a number of years without having a relapse.”

“I see,” said Rebecca.

“But earlier this year, he decided to let the film company use the hall. Money is tight at Astbury and he needed to pay some bills. Mrs. Trevathan was against it from the start. She knew him well enough to know he almost certainly couldn’t cope, but what could she do?”

“Nothing, I suppose,” Rebecca shrugged.

“Then, of course, you arrived. And immediately, Anthony saw a likeness to his dead grandmother, Violet, whom he’d been brought up to believe by his mother was the perfect woman—
and
the woman his alter ego is modeled on.”

“The first time Anthony met me in my ordinary clothes, he didn’t react at all,” mused Rebecca “It was only when he saw me with my hair dyed blond in my 1920s costume that he told me I was like her.”

“Yes, I’m sure he felt he was seeing a ghost. And at the same time—and I’m partly surmising here, because I haven’t yet read the psychiatrist’s report—he was also having a normal
masculine
reaction to you as a woman. And this sent him into total confusion. Both personalities were in conflict with each other, both destabilized. As the main, male part of Anthony fell in love with you, the ‘little girl’ didn’t understand what Violet was doing back, because you were supposed to be dead. Do you see, Miss Bradley?”

“Yes,” Rebecca said slowly, “sadly I do. And everything you’ve said fits in with what he told me last night. You know, I also saw him dressed up the other night at the hall. Mrs. Trevathan swore it was her elderly mother I’d seen, but of course, it wasn’t. And I’d heard him singing before too, in a weird high-pitched voice. I’m also pretty sure he came into my bedroom at night,” Rebecca added with a shudder. “I smelled the perfume.”

“I do apologize, Miss Bradley. I know Mrs. Trevathan feels very guilty about letting it get so far without taking action. Normally, Lord Astbury’s alter ego doesn’t make an appearance at the hall itself. And to be fair to Mrs. Trevathan,” he added, “she was only trying to protect him.”

“Well, she certainly knew the day after I’d seen Anthony in the bedroom. It completely freaked me out. She lied to me, doctor,” Rebecca said.

“I know, Miss Bradley, but do try and forgive her. She was trying to protect Lord Astbury, because she knew that if he
were
having a relapse, he’d end up back in the psychiatric hospital. And he hated it there.”

“I do understand, but all this doesn’t let Anthony, or whoever he thought he was last night, off the hook for drugging me, kidnapping me and then tying me up in some cottage in the middle of nowhere!” Rebecca put her hand to her brow. “I’m trying to listen to the reasons why I should just drop this, but I genuinely thought I might die last night!”

“I’m sure you were terrified, Miss Bradley. I’m so very sorry. I feel responsible too, as I should have also seen the warning signs sooner. You’ll be relieved to know that as of now, Lord Astbury is under lock and key at a secure psychiatric hospital, which will give him the help he requires. As to whether you bring in the police, that decision must be up to you. Although, the chances are, if you did press charges, Lord Astbury would only end up exactly where he is now. Besides,” he reminded her, “you’d both have to endure dreadful media coverage.”

“I’m aware of that,” Rebecca said. “How long will he be in the hospital for?”

“Until his psychiatrist believes he’s once again stable. Given his current state, I would say that could be many months, if not years, away. Sadly, he may never be well enough to leave.”

“You know, I always felt there was something childlike about Anthony, even when he was himself. I felt like I wanted to protect him somehow . . .” Rebecca found her eyes suddenly filling with tears. “He was such a gentle man, but the horror I saw him become last night—my God, I can’t describe how awful it was.”

“Miss Bradley, for your own sake and his too, please try to remember Lord Astbury as the kind, highly intelligent man you knew, not the freak of nature you saw last night. Really, given what he suffered as a child, he deserves our pity. He never really stood a chance of a normal existence. And you can certainly rest assured he won’t be causing anyone a problem for a very long time.”

“I understand that. And I do feel desperately sorry for him,” she agreed.

“Now, before I forget, I want to discuss the possible cause of your headaches.” Dr. Trefusis dug in his Gladstone bag for his papers. “As I said to you last night, your blood tests all came back negative. However,
I did notice slightly higher adrenaline levels than normal in one of them. Tell me, Miss Bradley, do you suffer from hay fever?”

“Why yes.” Rebecca was surprised. “I get it very badly in the States. I noticed my eyes were itchy and Mrs. Trevathan said that it was a reaction to the ragwort, or ragweed, as I’d know it, which grows nearby here.”

“Right, next question: have you by any chance been drinking chamomile tea?”

“Yes, Mrs. Trevathan made me some regularly; she said it was good for relaxing. I’ve been drinking two or three cups of it a day.”

“Then I think we may have the cause of the problem,” Dr. Trefusis said, relieved. “The pollen from ragwort that causes hay fever combined with drinking chamomile tea—especially when made from an indigenous local plant—can very occasionally create an adverse reaction and cause symptoms like the ones you’ve described. Severe headaches and constant nausea being the most common ones. I would surmise this is what’s been the cause of your problem, Miss Bradley. So,” Dr. Trefusis said, his eyes twinkling, “next time I see Mrs. Trevathan I’ll tell her that unwittingly, she
was
poisoning you!” He closed his bag and smiled at her. “Stay off the chamomile tea from now on and let’s see if those symptoms of yours abate. Now, I’ve left you more sedatives in case you need them, and if you have any further problems, of course I’d be glad to come and see you.”

“Thank you for all your assistance, doctor,” she said as he walked toward the door. “I’ll have a think about what to do with the Anthony situation.”

“Of course. Good-bye now.”

Dr. Trefusis made his way to the elevator and took it down to the lobby.

“How is she?” asked Ari, who had been pacing back and forth, waiting for the doctor’s return.

“Doing remarkably well under the circumstances,” he commented. “She may look fragile, but she’s a tough young lady.”

“I think she’s been incredible so far,” Ari said. “Before you go, doctor, there is just one other matter which I’d very much like to discuss with you.”

“Concerning what?”

Dr. Trefusis listened as Ari began to explain.

•  •  •

Ari made sure Rebecca had eaten lunch and then suggested she take a rest. An hour later, there was a knock at the door and Ari went to open it.

“How is she?” James Waugh asked. “May I come in?”

“Of course you can,” Rebecca called, smiling as she entered the sitting room.

“Oh good!” James bounded into the room and came to hug her.

“Rebecca, if you’ve got company, would it be okay if I pop out for an hour or so?” Ari asked her.

“Yes, of course,” she agreed.

“I won’t be long,” he said, “and I’ll retrieve your suitcase from the hall on the way back.”

“Thanks, Ari.”

“You’ve obviously got him where you want him, darling,” James commented when Ari had left. “Anyway, do tell all. You can imagine the film set is awash with gossip about what exactly happened to you last night. I’ve heard stories about you being dragged off to some godforsaken cottage on the moors by Lord Astbury.”

“Who told you that?” said Rebecca, horrified.

“Who knows where the story came from originally, but I’m sure it’s been blown out of all proportion. Has it?”

As Dr. Trefusis had rightly pointed out, the last thing Rebecca needed was for the story to hit the newspapers. It was the kind that would stick; she would be asked about it forevermore on talk shows. All she wanted to do was forget about it and move on.

“He asked me to marry him and didn’t take it well when I refused,” Rebecca said briefly, with a hint of irony in her voice.

“My goodness,” said James, sitting down on the bed and stealing some grapes from the fruit bowl. “Bees around the proverbial honeypot with men and you! And what about the handsome Indian who’s playing your protector? Is he another one of your suitors?”

“Ari’s been wonderful,” said Rebecca defensively. “But he’s just a friend.”

“If you say so,” James said with a smirk. “Anyway, darling, it’s good to see you looking more like your old self.”

“Yes, I’ve told Steve that I should be fine to continue shooting tomorrow.”

“Well, I don’t mind the delay in the slightest. As all the scenes I have left are with you, I’ve had a pleasant few days off.”

“With the waitress to keep you company?”

“Touché!” James grinned. “She’s stalking me now, following me around the hotel. I think she wants to have my babies. Sadly, that’s not in my life plan just at the moment. Well, I’ll leave you to it, but if you fancy a light supper later, I’d be more than happy to keep you company.”

“Thanks, James, but I think I’ll stay put in here and have an early night,” said Rebecca.

His eyes narrowed as he looked at her. “So, where am I currently in the line for your affections? I must be going up the ranks as you slowly dispatch them.”

Rebecca gave him a friendly punch on his arm. “You’re a player, James. I know you’re not serious.”

“No, probably not,” he agreed. “But I do hope we’ll keep in touch when you go back Stateside. Seriously, Rebecca, I’ve really enjoyed your company. It’s been fun. Robert’s said there’s been a real chemistry on-screen between us. You never know, we could become the next Olivier and Leigh, or Brad and Angie! Anyway, I’m off to see if my pet waitress will serve me a nice cream tea downstairs.” James kissed her warmly and stood up. “See you later, darling.”

•  •  •

When Ari arrived at Dr. Trefusis’s house, he followed him back to the kitchen.

“Do you fancy a cup of tea? I’m just about to put the kettle on.”

“Thanks.”

“As you asked, I’ve sifted through all my grandfather’s patient records for 1922 and haven’t found any details on the death of a child by the name of Moh Chavan or Prasad, on or around the dates you gave me.”

“Well,” Ari said with a sigh, “I’m hardly surprised, to be honest.”

“I’m a little confused about what happened to your relative. You said a death certificate was issued for him?” the doctor asked as he pulled out two mugs from a cupboard.

“Yes.” Ari reached into the plastic file and pulled out the certificate. “You can see it was signed by your grandfather. But I’ve looked on all the parish and public records for this area and there seems to be no record of it anywhere.”

“How odd.” Dr. Trefusis leaned over Ari’s shoulder to study the
certificate. “Yes, that’s my grandfather’s signature, but by law he’d have had to send the duplicate to be officially registered.”

“I’ve checked every public record online too, and there’s not a trace. Of course,” he added, “his mother never believed Moh did die that day.”

“Really?” Dr. Trefusis was obviously surprised. “So, did he?”

“No. Mabel Smerden was able to confirm he didn’t die. She’s sure that Moh was taken to an orphanage somewhere in London that day.”

“By whom?” said Dr. Trefusis, sitting down opposite him.

“I’m sorry to say, by your grandfather.”

Ari was waiting for a defensive reaction and was surprised when the doctor only lowered his eyes.

“I’m sorry to say, it doesn’t surprise me. I’m not sure of the circumstances surrounding your relative’s birth, but I can confirm that my grandfather aided a number of young women who found themselves in trouble. When the babies were born, he’d remove them discreetly to a number of church-run orphanages. You do understand, Mr. Malik, that the world was a very different place in those days.”

“I’m certainly beginning to, yes.”

“My grandfather wasn’t a bad man,” the doctor said. “He did what he could to help. In fact, I can help you with the names of the orphanages my grandfather used. Goodness knows whether any of them are still open today, but it’s worth a try. Wait here.”

Dr. Trefusis stood up and was back a few moments later with a slim leather book. “This was my grandfather’s medical contacts book, containing addresses and numbers of local hospitals, names of surgeons and the like. At the back are the addresses of three orphanages. Only one of them is in London. Shall I write down the details of it for you?”

“Thank you, although, as you say, who knows if it’s still open?” Ari sighed. “Also, I have no idea whether Moh retained his birth name or not, although I can be accurate as to the day he would have been taken there. It was the day Donald Astbury died.”

“Really? Well, you can check online I’m sure,” Dr. Trefusis suggested. “And if you don’t have any luck, please feel free to contact me and I’ll see what else I can do to help. I must admit I’m now intrigued to hear more of the story.”

“Mabel Smerden is the one to ask, although she swore me to secrecy. Anyway, I mustn’t take up any more of your time,” Ari said as he stood up. “I’ll let you know if I find out what happened to him.”