Page 162 of The Love Letter

‘Warburton, there are two or three subversive editors who would clap their hands in joy to get hold of a story like this, not to mention the foreign papers. For God’s sake, it’s the story of the bloody century!’

‘What would you like me to do, sir?’

‘Ask Miss Harrison if she’s heard from Haslam. They met at the memorial fund launch and went for a drink together afterwards. Haslam returned to her office, before Burrows lost her. Hold fast where you are. I’ll be in touch later.’

Joanna stared at the woman.

‘But you can’t be “Rose”. I met Rose at a memorial service for James Harrison. And she wasn’t you. Besides, she’s dead.’

‘Rose is a common enough name, especially for the era in which I was born. You are quite correct, my dear. You did meet a Rose. Except the one you met was Grace Rose Harrison, the long-departed wife of Sir James Harrison.’

‘That little old lady was Grace Harrison? James Harrison’s dead wife?’ Joanna confirmed in amazement.

‘Yes.’

‘Why did she use her middle instead of her first name?’

‘A flimsy attempt at protection. She would insist on going to England after James died. And then, a few weeks later, she wrote to me from London to say she was attending his memorial service. She was terribly sick, you see, had very little time left. She thought it the perfect opportunity to see her son, Charles, for the last time, and view her grandchildren – Marcus and Zoe – for the first. I knew it would stir up trouble, that it was dangerous, but she was determined. She didn’t think anyone would be there to recognise her, that they’d all be dead and buried by now. Of course, she was wrong.’

‘I was sitting next to her in the pew when she saw the man in the wheelchair. Rose . . . I mean, Grace had some form of seizure. She couldn’t breathe and I had to help her out of the church.’

‘I know. She told me all about you in the last letter she wrote to me, and about the clues she had given you. I was expecting to hear from you sooner, although I knew it might take you time to work it all out. Grace couldn’t give you too much, you see, put you or me in danger.’

‘How did you know I was looking for you? I’d written my advertisement especially for Grace.’

‘Because I knew everything, my dear. Right from the beginning. When I saw your advertisement in the paper, asking for the “Lady in White” to join her “Knight” at the Waldorf for tea, I knew it was meant for me.’

‘But the clue in Grace’s letter – “Talk to the White Knight’s Lady” – how did that refer to you?’

‘Because, my dear, I married a French count. His name was Le Blanc and—’

‘“Blanc” is French for “white”. Oh my God! I got it completely wrong.’

‘No, you didn’t. I’m here and all is well,’ Rose said with a smile.

‘Why did Grace choose me to tell?’

‘She said you were a clever and kind girl, and that she didn’t have much time. She knew it was over, you see, the minute he saw her. That he’d find her and kill her.’ Rose sighed. ‘Why she had to stir this up again, I really don’t know. She was so terribly bitter . . . I suppose it was an act of revenge.’

‘I think I know why she was bitter,’ Joanna said quietly.

Rose regarded her quizzically. ‘Do you? You must have been doing some very careful investigation since poor Grace died.’

‘Yes. You could say it’s rather taken over my life.’

Rose laid her small hands neatly in her lap. ‘May I ask you exactly what you’re going to do with the information you’ve gathered?’

This was no time for lies. ‘I’m going to publish it.’

‘I see.’ Rose was silent as she digested this. ‘Of course, it was the reason Grace wrote to you in the first place. It was what she wanted. Retribution, against those who destroyed her life, to blow the establishment sky high. Myself, well, let us say I still have some loyalty, though goodness knows why.’

‘Are you saying you won’t help me fit the pieces together? I think we’re going to be offered an awful lot of money for this story. It would make you rich.’

‘And what would an old woman like me do with money? Buy a sports car?’ Rose chuckled and shook her head. ‘Besides, I’m rich enough already. My late husband left me excellently provided for. My dear, have you not wondered why so many around me have died? And yet here I am, still alive to tell the tale.’ She leant forward. ‘The thing that has kept me alive is discretion. I’ve always been able to keep a secret. Of course, I didn’t expect to be harbouring the best-kept secret of the century, but such is life. What I’m saying is that, for Grace’s sake, I can lead you there, but for mine, I can’t tell you outright.’

‘I see.’

‘However, Grace trusted you and, therefore, so must I, but I absolutely insist on anonymity. If my name, or my visit here, is ever mentioned, then my subsequent death will be on your conscience. Every second I’m here in England with you, we are both in great danger.’