‘So what did they do?’
‘You remember the gentleman in the wheelchair who so frightened Grace at the memorial service?’
‘How could I forget?’ Joanna remembered the cold eyes that had swept over Grace as they had left the church.
‘He was a very senior member of the British Secret Intelligence Service. His remit at the time was the safeguarding of the royal family. He went to the Harrison homestead and demanded James give up the letter the Duchess had written to him, for the sake of the future of the monarchy. James, understandably, refused. He knew that without the letter he was unprotected. Unfortunately, Grace was listening behind closed doors and heard the gist of the conversation.’
‘Oh dear.’
‘Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so bad if she wasn’t as neurotic and needy a character, but she felt betrayed by the one human being she had placed all her trust in. Here was absolute evidence of her husband’s previous – and obviously powerful – liaison with another woman. A woman whom Grace could never hope to compete with. She accused him of keeping secrets, of still being in love with the Duchess. You have to understand, Joanna, we are not talking about a rational woman here. This discovery sent her completely off the rails. She’d always liked a drink and she started making drunken references in public to a secret thathadto be kept at any cost. In short, she became a liability.’
‘Oh God. How awful. What did James do?’
‘He told me later that Grace went absolutely mad after the meeting had ended. She confronted him and demanded to see the letter. When he refused, she began to tear the house apart in an attempt to find where he had hidden it. So James did the only thing he could, and tore one of the letters the Duchess had sent him from its hiding place. Of course, it was not the letter they wanted back, but a decoy.’
‘But Grace believed it was the letter they wanted?’
‘Yes.’
‘Was it the letter she sent to me?’
‘Yes.’ Rose sighed. ‘Of course, it said nothing of real importance, but she was not to know that. She refused to give it back to James, telling him she would hold it with her forever as proof of his unfaithfulness. That letter stayed with her for the rest of her life. Where she hid it when she was in the sanatorium remains a mystery, but she certainly showed it to me just before she left for England last November.’
‘But this affair was years before James had even met Grace!’
‘I know, my dear, but as I said, she had gone quite mad. He wrote to me in France, confiding his fears, knowing I was a friend of Grace’s and one of the only people who also knew the truth. He knew it wouldn’t be long before our friend in the wheelchair and his cronies got wind of the fact Grace knew, of her indiscreet behaviour. She had also tried to take her own life by then, blaming the attempted suicide on James for his affair with the Duchess. He was desperately aware of what lengths they would go to, that even the letter in his possession could not save a woman who might give the game away. So he decided to act before they did.’
‘How did he get her out of danger?’
‘He brought Grace to France. They stayed with me for a while then James made arrangements to install her in a comfortable institution near Berne in Switzerland. I’m sure that these days the poor lamb would have been diagnosed with manic depression or some such, but I assure you, at the time, it was the kindest thing to do. She was known there as “Rose White” – James using her middle name. A few months later, he then made it known to those in England that Grace had taken her own life whilst on holiday with me, her oldest friend. At the time, most of London was aware of her instability. It made a believable story. We held a funeral in Paris with an empty coffin.’ Rose gazed into the distance. ‘Let me tell you, my dear, she might as well have been in there for the difference it made to James. I’ve never seen a man so distraught. For her own safety, he could never see her again, he knew that.’
‘Good God.’ Joanna shook her head sadly. ‘No wonder he never remarried afterwards. His wife was still living.’
‘Exactly, but no one else knew that. Then, of course, the war came. The Germans invaded France and my husband and I left for our house in Switzerland. We were close by and I’d see Grace at the sanatorium as often as I could. She ranted and raved, asking where James was, begging me constantly to take her home. My husband and I rather hoped that, for her sake, her health would fail, for it was no life, but she always was a tough old boot, physically anyway.’
‘Did she stay in the Swiss institution for all those years?’
‘Yes. And I admit I stopped going to see her as often as I had before, because it all seemed rather pointless. And dreadfully upsetting. Then, one morning, seven years ago, I received a letter. It was from one of the doctors at the institution, asking me to go and see him. When I arrived, the doctor told me that Grace had improved. My guess would be that with all the advances in medical science, they had found a drug to stabilise her condition. She was better to the point where he suggested she was well enough to take a step into the outside world. I admit to being dubious, but I went to see her and talked to her, and there was absolutely no doubt that she was. She was able to talk rationally about the past and what had happened. And she begged me to help her at least enjoy the final years of her life in some semblance of normality.’ Rose raised her arms in an elegant shrug. ‘What could I do? My beloved husband had died a few months before. I was rattling around in a huge chateau all by myself. So I decided I’d buy a smaller house and have Grace come and live with me. We agreed with the doctor that if there was any deterioration, Grace would go straight back to the institution.’
‘How on earth did she cope with the outside world after all those years of being locked away?’ Joanna muttered, more to herself than Rose.
‘She was absolutely delighted with everything. Simply the treat of making her own decisions about what she should eat for breakfast, and when, thrilled her. She had her freedom, after all those long years, bless her.’
Joanna smiled. ‘Yes.’
‘So, we settled down to a life together; two old ladies grateful for each other’s company, sharing a past that bound us tightly together. And then, a year ago or so, Grace began to develop a cough that wouldn’t go away. It took me months to convince her to go to the doctor – you can imagine how frightened she was of going anywhere near them. When she finally did, tests revealed she had cancer of the lung. The doctor wanted to hospitalise her, of course, and operate, but you can imagine Grace’s reaction to that idea. She refused point-blank. I think that was the most tragic part of the whole tale. After all those years of incarceration, to finally find some peace, a little happiness, and then be given a year to live.’ Rose fumbled for her hanky and wiped her eyes. ‘Sorry, my dear. It’s all still very fresh in my mind. I miss her dreadfully.’
‘Of course you must.’ Joanna watched Rose compose herself before she continued.
‘It was a few months later when Grace saw the article about James dying in the EnglishTimes. And took it into her head that she wanted to go back to England. I knew it would kill her if she did. She was seriously ill by then.’
‘Yes, and you should have seen the squalor she was living in. What on earth was in those tea chests?’
The comment brought a smile to Rose’s face. ‘Her life, my dear. She was the most dreadful magpie; she’d steal spoons from restaurants, toilet rolls and soap from powder rooms, and even hide food from our kitchen under the bed in her room. Perhaps it was due to material deprivation in the institution, but she hoarded everything. When she left France, she insisted on having the tea chests shipped over with her. When I kissed her goodbye, I . . . knew I would never see her again. But I understood she felt she had nothing to lose.’
Joanna watched Rose sink lower into the chair, as grief overwhelmed her. From the way her energy was visibly ebbing, Joanna knew it was now or never. ‘Rose, do you know where this letter is?’
‘I really can’t talk any more until I have a good meal inside me. We shall send for room service,’ Rose decreed. ‘Be a dear and pass the menu, would you?’
