Ever After (17 page)

Virginia and Clare stood together, supported by each other’s company among the twittering, white-clad throng in the anteroom. At last the doors to the Throne Room swung open, and there was a rustle and a slight press for places. A calm, precise voice somewhere up ahead of them began to announce names, it might have been for the guillotine. They inched forward step by step, and reached the Picture Gallery, which was the last anteroom before the Throne Room. During the wait there the inevitable happened and some poor girl was quietly sick. Everybody turned their heads away and pretended not to notice, and a footman was seen approaching, and Clare whispered, “It’s exactly like the
mal
de
mer
crossing the Channel—you’re sure to be next!” “Count by three’s,” said
Virginia
desperately, through her teeth. “It’s very difficult. Try it!” “Edward put sherry in some soup and made me drink it,” Clare
moaned. “I
told
him it wouldn’t stay down, and he
laughed
!”

Virginia felt herself drifting ahead, imperceptibly—there was no way now to go back—the arm which held her train was aching unbearably—Clare was in front of her, Clare would have to go in first—at least the weight of the train would soon be lifted from her arm—never take your eyes off the Queen as you advance—don’t touch her hand with yours—don’t move your lips audibly in the simulated kiss above it—don’t forget to curtsey to the other Royalties present—don’t turn your back—don’t cough or sneeze or move your hands—and for the love of God don’t trip—I wouldn’t do this again for a million dollars—my arm is going to drop off when he takes the train away—I’m shaking so it shows on the orchids—I
must
hold this bouquet steady—two more—they say the Prince always smiles if you’re pretty enough—I suppose Lady Shadwell has done this so many times it only bores her—I bet the Queen is more bored than anybody—there goes Clare—it’s worse for her, being a famous peer’s daughter she has to get her cheek down where the Queen can kiss it—there’s the man with the gold stick they promised us—he put it where her train had to drag around it and straighten out—clever of him—my arm, my arm—more footmen with white gloves—there, they’ve taken my train at last—they do handle it nicely—I mustn’t look back—oh, golly,
that’s
me
—

The Queen was seated in an armchair instead of on a dais—it made her so much lower than you expected—a little dumpy lady in black taffeta, with a lace cap and lace lappets, and the broad blue ribbon of the Garter slanting across her breast—so many orders, so many jewels—so many chins—down, down,
down
—she saw me—she
looked
at me, kindly too—who else is here?—the Princess of Wales—dip—I’m all right now—the Duke of Connaught—dip—who’s that?—dip—I could go on like this all night—

It was over. And the Prince of Wales had smiled.

“I
NEVER
saw anything so pathetic as the way young Dinah enjoyed herself at the Savoy,” Bracken remarked at breakfast a few days after the presentation. “It haunts me. I am convinced that her family is a collection of inhuman monsters, yes, including Clare, and that’s flat. Ginny, I want you to do something for Dinah.”

“Why, of course,” said Virginia promptly, wondering if Bracken had some warped idea of courting Clare through Dinah, and unable to see where it would get him.

“I want you and Aunt Sue to borrow her for an afternoon. Go and fetch her here to the hotel in the carriage. And then I want you to turn her over to me for the rest of the time. Don’t you think that would work?”

“I think so,” said Virginia, interested. “What have you got in mind?”

“Anything she likes,” said Bracken vaguely. “A ride on the top of a bus—a trip to the Zoo—the new picture gallery down on the Embankment—some shopping at Hamley’s—maybe tea, all of us together, at Rumpelmeyer’s—nothing Miss French would take
exception
to, only I don’t want her breathing down our necks.”

“That’s reasonable enough? When shall I get her?”

“Oh, I dunno—tomorrow, if you like. I’ll take the afternoon off.”

There were no objections raised to Dinah’s spending an afternoon with Virginia and her aunt. Bracken refused the carriage after it had delivered Dinah to Claridge’s, and they set off together in a hansom. Sue and Virginia were to shop, and meet them at
Rumpelmeyer’s
at five.

Dinah’s cheeks were pink and her eyes shone. She wore the same white pongee dress and ridiculous hat because it was all she had.

“This is fun,” she said. “I feel like a real young lady. What are we going to do?”

“Well, first we are going to see about that birthday present. You’ve got to choose it because I don’t know enough about you yet.”

“I never chose my own present before,” she said. “It seems a very whimsical idea.”

“It has only one drawback. You must promise not to think of the price. Just shut your eyes and choose what you want and leave the rest to me. I’m the Bank of England.”

“Does that mean you’ve got lots of money?” she inquired with one of her long, direct looks.

“Well—quite a lot. And I like to give people presents, ask Virginia if I don’t.”

“She said you gave her that exquisite watch.”

“Yes. Would you like a watch?” His voice quickened.

“Oh,
no
! I mean—you mustn’t give me one! I—wasn’t hinting.”

“I never thought you were.” He spoke to the driver through the trap. “Asprey’s,” he said, and—

“
No!
” cried Dinah in a panic. “You mustn’t! Father wouldn’t like it!”

“Just a
little
watch!” cried Bracken recklessly. “You could wear it underneath, on a chain.”

“I can’t wear anything underneath that Miss French doesn’t see!”

They were still wrangling when the cab stopped outside Asprey’s in Bond Street and Dinah refused to budge.

“All right,” said Bracken, his left eyebrow a little up. “You wait here. Sit well back so you aren’t seen by everybody you know. I shan’t be long.”

He was back in no time at all, with no visible purchase, and told the driver to go on to Hamley’s in Oxford Street. Dinah breathed easier. Hamley’s was a toy shop.

As the cab moved on, Bracken put his hand into his coat pocket and then held it in front of her. Lying naked in his palm was an incredibly small ball-shaped watch, with a magnifying crystal and a blue enamel and gold case, attached to a filament of gold chain.

“Just a
little
watch?” he repeated persuasively, and his voice was not quite steady.

Dinah said nothing. While the cab trundled up Bond Street she sat gazing at the watch in Bracken’s palm, until suddenly her lips began to tremble and with a gasp she hid her face against the end of his shoulder nearest her.

“Dinah, darling, for heaven’s sake—” He sat very still, holding the watch. “I never meant to make you cry—”

“I’m not crying,” she said, and her breathing was controlled. “It’s just—I can’t have it, and I
want
it so, I never wanted anything so badly in my life! Silly, isn’t it!”

“Can’t have it, eh.” Bracken dropped it back in his pocket and locked both his hands in front of him. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll keep it for you. It’s yours, you see, even if you can’t wear it—yet. Some day I’ll find a way to give it to you without there being a row. In the meantime, whatever happens, you’ll know it’s here, waiting for you.”

“In your pocket?” She lifted a smiling face.

“Always in my pocket. It’s our first secret. Virginia and I have dozens of secrets.”

“What fun she must have had with you all her life!” she sighed enviously.

“Don’t forget, now there are three of us,” he reminded her. “You’re to have fun too, from now on. Here we are. Don’t mind that it’s a toy shop, will you, they have lots of things besides dolls and mechanical trains.”

For nearly an hour they dawdled about the fascinating shop, warding off helpful assistants, inspecting everything from
jack-straws
to toy theatres. Gradually Dinah forgot to be afraid of wasting his time, of being a nuisance, of not making up her mind quickly, of spending his money. Gradually it seeped into her humble consciousness that the afternoon was hers and that he was enjoying himself too. Gradually she ceased trying to restrain him
every time his hand went towards his wallet, and gradually they accumulated a stereoscope with a large assortment of pictures to go with it, a set of ornamental playing cards for patience, a tiny doll dressed like the Queen at the time of her coronation, a magnet which attracted the oddest things, and a lump of artificial toffee on which an artificial fly was fastened.

Then they came to the music boxes.

They played them all, and Bracken bantered the young lady shop assistant who was there to demonstrate them till she was dissolved in giggles. Dinah could not help seeing the prices on some of them, and suddenly turned shy about letting him buy her one. There was a handsome mahogany box which played three different tunes, including the Barcarolle from
Tales
of
Hoffman
, and there was an exquisite small silver-mounted affair which had only one tune—
Du
Bist
Wie
Eine
Blume,
with no flatting and no missing notes. Bracken favoured the latter, and yet was not sure she might not prefer more variety. Dinah would not choose. Bracken shut his eyes and brought his forefinger down unerringly on
Du
Bist
Wie
Eine
Blume
. “That one,” he announced, and paid for it without further ado.

When it was wrapped up he handed it to her rather solemnly and said, “That’s your birthday present, Dinah. The rest of this is just trash. Put that away and don’t open it till you’re sixteen.”

“Thank you,” said Dinah, awed, and accompanied him out to the cab.

There wasn’t time to go to the Zoological Gardens then, so they drove around Hyde Park admiring the flower borders and talking nonsense. Promptly at five they arrived at Rumpelmeyer’s and found that Sue and Virginia had been equally prompt. They all entered the restaurant together, which was fortunate, as Lady Davenant was having tea with some friends near the door. When he had given the order, Bracken said, “Now, listen, children, if anyone should ask you, we all went to Hamley’s together and bought Dinah some silly presents because she’s having a bad time with the dentist, and a birthday present that she’s to put away and not look at till September. The birthday present is a music box. Is that quite clear?”

They nodded.

“But you might have let us know,” Virginia grumbled. “I shall buy her a present myself tomorrow.”

That night when he emptied his pockets on to the chiffonier before going to bed Bracken stood for a long time with the watch in his hand, observing the play of light on the fine jewelled chain and enamel case. Not one of the extravagant things he had given Lisl had ever roused in him the same peculiar possessive joy as the
little watch from Asprey’s. Some day he would put the chain around Dinah’s neck himself, and when that day came he would be entitled, please God, to collect a kiss as his reward.

Finally he put the watch away in the small flat box which belonged to it, and every day after that it went into his pocket as regularly as his keys and wallet and engagement book, an amulet to keep the powers of evil at bay.

I
T SOMEHOW
came about quite naturally that Sir Gratian should accompany Sue and Virginia when they returned to Farthingale as his tenants instead of his guests, and take Bracken’s place as the man of the house in his absence. It was an arrangement which Sir Gratian himself found highly satisfactory and Bracken was only too glad to have him in charge of them. It pleased the women too, and Sue was heard to remark that any household without a man in it was like an egg
without salt.

Virginia found Farthingale a new and fascinating toy, and was inclined to spend more of her time there than in Town. She enjoyed an opportunity to return in kind some of the hospitality the family had received in recent years, and the guest rooms at Farthingale were usually full when she and Sue were not in London. Her pretty aunt had become a great pet among girls accustomed to more severe chaperonage than Sue was capable of. Even the younger men considered it a privilege to escort Sue in to dinner, seeming as eager for her company as though she were their own age, and they always clustered around to ask her to dance in the evenings when they rolled back the rugs and somebody played waltzes on the piano. Naturally, Sue bloomed under this treatment. She played every game there was going, from croquet to blow-feather and bezique. She took part in their
tableaux
vivants
and charades on rainy days. And as Eden had prophesied, she was having the time of her life.

People fell in love with Virginia during that Diamond Jubilee Summer almost as readily and numerously as she had boasted to Miles Day that they would. But she was not satisfied with any of them, and the most fatuous among them could hardly have fooled himself into thinking he was the one. To Bracken, who saw more than anyone gave him credit for and always knew exactly who was which without seeming to keep track of things, it looked almost as though Virginia had something on her mind. Not something to spoil her fun. But something that acted as a balance wheel.

Bracken awaited his father’s reply to the letter about Dinah and the proposed purchase of Farthingale with some anxiety. When it came it was in line with his parents’ policy of allowing him to make his own decisions as far as possible, and he was grateful for their apparent lack of astonishment or caution. He knew that they could have as yet no clear idea of Dinah Campion, and his request that they keep his letter confidential and not let Sue or Virginia get wind of Dinah’s part in his plans was an additional handicap which must have been very irksome to them. He wondered what impression of Dinah they had already got from Sue’s and Virginia’s letters, and longed for a chance to talk to them face to face—or better yet, to show Dinah to them. He was sure then they would understand everything and would conspire with him to rescue her from her barren existence at the Hall.