“But
he was awarded the Military Cross on the field of battle and his citation... “
The
major grunted in a manner that suggested that he had been trotted round this
particular course several times before.
“And
so you see,” Mrs. Trentham continued, “I have every confidence that Guy will in
time become Colonel of the Regiment and I don’t mind telling you that I already
have someone in mind who will assist him in that quest. After all, wives can
make or break a career, don’t you know, Daphne.”
“At
least on that I am able to concur fully, my dear,” murmured her husband.
I
traveled back to London somewhat relieved that, after such an encounter, Becky’s
relationship with Guy must surely come to an end. Certainly the more I had seen
of the damned man the more I distrusted him.
When
I returned to the flat later that evening, I found Becky sitting on the sofa,
red-eyed and trembling.
“She
hates me,” were her first words.
“She
doesn’t yet appreciate you,” was how I remembered phrasing my reply. “But I can
tell you that the major thinks you’re a grand girl.”
“How
kind of him,” said Becky. “He showed me round the estate, you know.”
“My
dear, one does not describe seven hundred acres as an estate. A freeholding,
perhaps, but certainly not an estate.”
“Do
you think Guy will stop seeing me after what took place at Ashurst?”
I
wanted to say I hope so but managed to curb my tongue. “Not if the man has any
character,” I replied diplomatically.
And
indeed Guy did see her the following week, and as far as I could determine
never raised the subject of his mother or that unfortunate weekend again.
However,
I still considered my long-term plan for Charlie and Becky was proceeding
rather well, until I returned home after a long weekend to find one of my
favorite dresses strewn across the drawing room floor. I followed a trail of
clothes until I reached Becky’s door, which I opened tentatively to find, to my
horror, even more of my garments lying by the side of her bed, along with Guy’s.
I had rather hoped Becky would have seen him for the bounder he was long before
she had allowed it to reach the terminal stage.
Guy
started out on his journey to India the following day, and as soon as he had
taken his leave Becky began telling everyone who cared to listen that she was
engaged to the creature, although there was no ring on her finger and no
announcement in any paper to confirm her version of the story. “Guy’s word is
good enough for me,” she asserted, which left one simply speechless.
I
arrived home that night to find her asleep in my bed. Becky explained over
breakfast that Charlie had put her there, without further explanation.
The
following Sunday afternoon I invited myself back to tea with the Trenthams,
only to learn from Guy’s mother that she had been assured by her son that he
had not been in contact with Miss Salmon since her premature departure from
Ashurst more than six months before.
“But
that isn’t... “ I began, but stopped in midsentence when I recalled my promise
to Becky not to inform Guy’s mother that they were still seeing each other.
A
few weeks later Becky told me that she had missed her period. I swore that I
would keep her secret but did not hesitate to inform Charlie the same day. When
he heard the news he nearly went berserk. What made matters worse was that he
had to go on pretending whenever he saw the girl that he wasn’t aware of
anything untoward.
“I
swear if that bastard Trentham were back in England I’d kill him,” Charlie kept
repeating, as he went on one of his route marches round the drawing room.
“If
he were in England I can think of at least three girls whose fathers would
happily carry out the job for you,” I retorted.
“So
what am I meant to do about it?” Charlie asked me at last.
“Not
a lot,” I advised. “I suspect time and eight thousand miles may well turn out
to be your greatest allies.”
The
colonel also fell into the category of those who would have happily shot Guy
Trentham, given half a chance, in his case because of the honor of the regiment
and all that. He even murmured something sinister about going to see Major
Trentham and giving it to him straight. I could have told him that the major
wasn’t the problem. However, I wasn’t sure if the colonel, even with his vast
experience of different types of enemy, had ever come up against anyone as
formidable as Mrs. Trentham.
It
must have been around this time that Percy Wiltshire was finally discharged
from the Scots Guards. Lately I had stopped worrying about his mother
telephoning me. During those dreadful years between 1916 and 1919 I always
assumed it would be a message to say that Percy had been killed on the Western
Front, as his father and elder brother had been before him. It was to be years
before I admitted to the dowager marchioness whenever she called how much I
dreaded hearing her voice on the other end of the line.
Then
quite suddenly Percy asked me to marry him. I fear from that moment on I became
so preoccupied with our future together and being expected to visit so many of
his family that I quite neglected my duty to Becky, even though I had allowed
her to take over the flat.
Then,
almost before I could look round, she had given birth to little Daniel. I only
prayed that she could face the inevitable stigma.
It
was some months after the christening that I decided to pay a surprise visit to
the flat on my way back from a weekend in the country with Percy’s mother.
When
the front door opened I was greeted by Charlie, a newspaper tucked under his
arm, while Becky, who was sitting on the sofa, appeared to be darning a sock. I
looked down to watch Daniel crawling towards me at a rate of knots. I took the
child in my arms before he had the chance to head off down the stairs and out
into the world.
“How
lovely to see you,” Becky said, jumping up. “It’s been ages. Let me make you
some tea.”
“Thank
you,” I said, “I only came round to make sure you are free on... “ My eyes
settled on a little oil that hung above the mantelpiece.
“What
a truly beautiful picture,” I remarked.
“But
you must have seen the painting many times before,” Becky said. “After all, it
was in Charlie’s... “
“No,
I’ve never seen it before,” I replied, not sure what she was getting at.
T
he day the
gold-edged card arrived at Lowndes Square Daphne placed the invitation between
the one requesting her presence in the Royal Enclosure at Ascot and the command
to attend a garden party at Buckingham Palace. However she considered that this
particular invitation could well remain on the mantelpiece for all to gaze upon
long after Ascot and the palace had been relegated to the wastepaper basket.
Although
Daphne had spent a week in Paris selecting three outfits for the three
different occasions, the most striking of them was to be saved for Becky’s
degree ceremony, which she now described to Percy as “the great event.”
Her
fiance though she hadn’t yet become quite used to thinking of Percy in that way
also admitted that he had never been asked to such a ceremony before.
Brigadier
Harcourt-Browne suggested that his daughter should have Hoskins drive them to
the Senate House in the Rolls, and admitted to being a little envious at not
having been invited himself.
When
the morning finally dawned, Percy accompanied Daphne to lunch at the Ritz, and
once they had been over the guest list and the hymns that would be sung at the
service for the umpteenth time, they turned their attention to the details of
the afternoon outing.
“I
do hope we won’t be asked any awkward questions,” said Daphne. “Because one
thing’s for certain, I will not know the answers.”
“Oh
I’m sure we won’t be put to any trouble like that, old gel,” said Percy. “Not
that I’ve ever attended one of these shindigs before. We Wiltshires aren’t
exactly known for troubling the authorities on these matters,” he added,
laughing, which so often came out sounding like a cough.
“You
must get out of that habit, Percy. If you are going to laugh, laugh. If you’re
going to cough, cough.”
“Anything
you say, old gel.”
“And
do stop calling me ‘old gel.’ I’m only twentythree, and my parents endowed me
with a perfectly acceptable Christian name.”
“Anything
you say, old gel,” repeated Percy.
“You
haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said.” Daphne checked her watch. “And now
I do believe it’s time we were on our way. Better not be late for this one.
“Quite
right,” he replied, and called a waiter to bring them their bill.
“Do
you have any idea where we are going, Hoskins?” asked Daphne, as he opened the
back door of the Rolls for her.
“Yes,
m’lady, I took the liberty of going over the route when you and his lordship
were up in Scotland last month.”
“Good
thinking, Hoskins,” said Percy. “Otherwise we might have been going round in
circles for the rest of the afternoon, don’t you know.”
As
Hoskins turnd on the engine Daphne looked at the man she loved and couldn’t
help thinking how lucky she had been in her choice. In truth she had chosen him
at the age of sixteen, and never faltered in her belief that he was the right
partner even if he wasn’t aware of the fact. She had always thought Percy quite
wonderful, kind, considerate and gentle and, if not exactly handsome, certainly
distinguished. She thanked God each night that he had escaped that fearful war
with every limb intact. Once Percy had told her he was going off to France to
serve with the Scots Guards, Daphne had spent three of the unhappiest years of
her life. From that moment on she assumed every letter, every message, every
call could only be to inform her of his death. Other men tried to court her in
his absence, but they all failed as Daphne waited, not unlike Penelope, for her
chosen partner to return. She would only accept that he was still alive when
she saw him striding down the gangplank at Dover. Daphne would always treasure
his first words the moment he saw her.
“Fancy
seeing you here, old gel. Dashed coincidence, don’t you know.”
Percy
never talked of the example his father had set, though The Times had devoted
half a page to the late marquess’ obituary. In it they described his action on
the Marne in the course of which he had single-handedly overrun a German
battery as “one of the great VCs of the war.” When a month later Percy’s elder
brother was killed at Ypres it came home to her just how many families were
sharing the same dreadful experience. Now Percy had inherited the title: the
twelfth Marquess of Wiltshire. From tenth to twelfth in a matter of weeks.
“Are
you sure we’re going in the right direction?” asked Daphne as the Rolls entered
Shaftesbury Avenue.
“Yes,
m’lady,” replied Hoskins, who had obviously decided to address her by the title
even though she and Percy were not yet married.
“He’s
only helping you to get accustomed to the idea, old gel,” Percy suggested
before coughing again.
Daphne
had been delighted when Percy told her that he had decided to resign his
commission with the Scots Guards in order to take over the running of the
family estates. Much as she admired him in that dark blue uniform with its four
brass buttons evenly spaced stirrupped boots and funny red, white and blue
checked cap, it was a farmer she wanted to marry, not a soldier. A life spent
in India, Africa and the colonies had never really appealed to her.
As
they turnd into Malet Street, they saw a throng of people making their way up
some stone steps to enter a monumental building. “That must be the Senate
House,” she exclaimed, as if she had come across an undiscovered pyramid.
“Yes,
m’lady,” replied Hoskins.
“And
do remember, Percy... “ began Daphne.
“Yes,
old gel?”
“...
not to speak unless you’re spoken to. On this occasion we are not exactly on
home ground, and I object to either of us being made to look foolish. Now, did
you remember the invitation and the special tickets that show our seat
allocation?”
“I
know I put them somewhere.” He began to search around in his pockets.
“They’re
in the left-hand inside top pocket of your jacket, your lordship,” said Hoskins
as he brought the car to a halt.
“Yes,
of course they are,” said Percy. “Thank you, Hoskins.”
“A
pleasure, my lord,” Hoskins intoned.
“Just
follow the crowd,” instructed Daphne. “And look as if you do this sort of thing
every week.”
They
passed several uniformed doorkeepers and ushers before a clerk checked their
tickets, then guided them to Row M.
“I’ve
never been seated this far back in a theater before,” said Daphne.
“I’ve
only tried to be this far away in a theater once myself,” admitted Percy. “And
that was when the Germans were on center stage.” He coughed again.