The Return of the Gypsy (61 page)

“Poor Helena,” said my mother. “She’s a nice girl. I sometimes think men are quite stupid. They pass over the girls who would make the best wives.”

“I’m glad Uncle Peter isn’t my father. He’s too ambitious … for himself and for his children.”

My mother’s mouth hardened in the accustomed way when he was mentioned and I wished I had not brought him into the conversation.

“Yes,” she said. “You’re lucky. I always thought my father was the best in the world, but you are as lucky in that respect as I was.”

I flung my arms around her. “I know. That’s why I’m so sorry for Helena … though I don’t think he has actually
said
anything. It is just that he is there and everything he does goes right. Papa is wonderful and everything
he
does is right, but he doesn’t make you feel … degraded … if you are not so good yourself.”

“He wants you to be happy … above everything … and so do I.”

“I know.”

“Do you like Rolf?” she went on.

“Why do you ask?”

“I just wondered. I don’t think he’s indifferent to you.”

I felt flustered. I stammered. “Yes … I like him all right.”

“Just that?”

“Oh … I like him … very much, I suppose.”

She smiled. “Your father and I like him very much.”

I did not answer and she changed the subject.

At the beginning of June we left Cador. Jacco was to join us later, so my father, my mother and I travelled alone. We were to spend a few days in London before going to Eversleigh. We went to the family house in Albemarle Street and the very next day Amaryllis and Helena came to see us.

They invited us to dine that evening—an invitation which we were delighted to accept.

I thought Helena looked happier than I had seen her for a long time, and I wondered what had happened.

While her mother was talking to my parents she and I slipped up to my room and she was all eagerness to tell me.

“What’s happened?” I demanded as soon as we were alone.

“I … I’ve met someone.”

“Oh?”

“He’s so charming, Annora. I have never met anyone who is so nice and so kind. That’s what I like about him. He’s not like any other young man. He’s gentle … and I think he doesn’t like the social round any more than I do.”

“Who is he?”

“Well, the funny thing about it is that he is really quite important … or at least his family is. He is young … younger than I am actually, two years younger, Annora … but he is so
nice
…”

“I know. You said that before. Do tell me more about this
nice
young man.”

“He’s John Milward. Lord John Milward. You’ve heard of the Milwards?”

“I confess to ignorance.”

“A very important family … Dukes of Cardingham. Only John is a younger son, thank goodness. That he should notice me is quite amazing. We met at a dance. I was hiding behind some of the plants trying to pretend I wasn’t there … and he came upon me and we talked a bit and discovered that we were both doing the same thing … trying to look as though we were not there. It was the first time I’d ever enjoyed one of those occasions. It was funny because he said it was the same with him.”

“And you’ve seen him again?”

“Oh yes. I’ve seen him at other places and when we’re somewhere together, we always find each other.”

“That’s wonderful. And what does your father say?”

“He doesn’t know. Nobody knows yet.”

“I expect they’ve noticed you. From what I’ve heard those mamas with marriageable daughters have eyes like hawks.”

“I do hope they haven’t because I don’t suppose anything will become of it.”

“Why shouldn’t it?”

“He’s very young.”

“Your father wouldn’t object.”

“Oh no. He’d be delighted. The Milwards are one of the oldest families in the country.”

“You think
they
would?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, our family is not to be sneezed at.”

“Father is a merchant. Of course the Milwards are notoriously impoverished and I believe my father is very rich.”

“Let not Society to the marriage of wealth and breeding admit impediment.”

“Oh, Annora, it has made such a difference.”

“I can see it has. I do hope all goes well. Won’t it be wonderful? I shall look forward to visiting the country seat. You’ll be Lady John Milward. Fancy that!”

“I’m so glad he is only a younger son.”

“I think it is wonderful, Helena.”

We joined the others.

I did not mention, even to my mother, what Helena had told me for she had been insistent that it should remain a secret. I just hoped fervently that all would go well with her. She seemed like a different person when she did not seem to be apologising all the time for her inadequacies.

It was rather a splendid dinner party that evening, though it was only a family affair. A great deal of entertaining was done in the house in the square and it seemed impossible for a dinner party to take place in that splendid dining room without a certain amount of ceremony. Aunt Amaryllis said we were lucky because Peter was able to join us; and it was probably his presence which added dignity to the occasion.

“Very often his work takes him away,” Aunt Amaryllis explained. “There is always some important committee, particularly now he is concerned with parliamentary affairs.”

She spoke of him in almost reverent tones. I thought it must be rather uncomfortable to live with such a man. I knew it was for Helena and Peterkin but Aunt Amaryllis was like an acolyte serving in the master’s temple.

Uncle Peter told us how glad he was to see us in town.

“We’re spying out the land,” my father told him. “We shall have to be thinking about Annora’s coming out.”

“It is a little late, I suppose,” said my mother. “She’ll be past eighteen.”

“There have been delays all round because of what has been happening,” replied Aunt Amaryllis. “The Court has been in disarray. The King’s been ill for so long and poor Queen Adelaide too. Now we have a new young queen on the throne, things will change, I have no doubt.”

“Have you seen her?” I asked eagerly.

“We were at the Guildhall dinner in November,” said Uncle Peter.

“What is she like?”

“Delightful,” said Aunt Amaryllis. She turned to Helena and Peterkin. “You’ve seen her, haven’t you, riding in her carriage?”

“She looks very young and very sure of herself,” said Helena.

“I suppose she would have to be sure of herself,” added Peterkin.

“She certainly seems full of confidence,” said Uncle Peter. “I believe it is a good thing for a country to have a young queen for whom the people can show affection. They are tired of doddering old gentlemen.”

“Peter!” said Aunt Amaryllis in a kind of shocked delight.

“It’s true, my dear. George was almost senile at the end, and William was adept at making a fool of himself.” He lifted his glass: “Long live Victoria. God save the Queen.”

We all drank to that.

“You’ll be here for the coronation?” said Aunt Amaryllis.

“Well …” began my father.

“Oh come,” said Uncle Peter. “It’s an historic occasion.”

“We have to see how things are at Eversleigh.”

“Jonathan’s taking care of that.”

“There was a time,” said my mother, looking at Uncle Peter, “when you were of the opinion that he would not be able to run Eversleigh successfully.”

He gave her a strange look, almost as though there was some understanding between them and he found it hard to suppress his amusement. “It was one of my mistakes,” he retorted. “Rare, you will agree, but nevertheless a mistake.”

“The coronation festivities will be exciting,” said Aunt Amaryllis. “Several state balls, levees, a Drawing Room and a State concert,” added Uncle Peter.

Aunt Amaryllis looked at her husband with pride and then at her children. She said to them: “Your father will of course be able to go to any that he wishes to.”

Uncle Peter gave her a fond look and I thought: She is the perfect wife, which is one who thinks her husband is always right, laughs at his jokes and loves him without question. There must be very few perfect wives. It was typical of Uncle Peter that he should have acquired this rarity. My parents loved each other dearly, but there were often disagreements between them. It had been the same with my grandparents; Tamarisk and Jonathan lived a tempestuous existence; yet they were all love matches. Only Aunt Amaryllis, from a husband’s point of view, must be the perfect wife.

“My dear,” he said fondly, for who would not be fond at such blatant admiration, “I shall have to wait and see whether my presence is commanded. I daresay we shall attend one of the balls.” He looked at me. “I’m afraid, my dear Annora, that we shall be unable to take you with us as you are not yet out.”

“I didn’t expect to go,” I told him. “And shall we be in London?”

My father hesitated. He said: “I don’t really want to extend my stay. I am thinking of going to Australia and there will be a great many things I have to do at home before I can leave.”

“To Australia,” said Uncle Peter. “How interesting.” He added with a smile: “The scene of your youth, eh?”

“Exactly. I have property there.”

“It will be very interesting.”

“Peter has a wonderful project in view, haven’t you, Peter?” said Aunt Amaryllis.

He looked at her with a kind of tender exasperation, but I knew that behind it he was pleased, because we were now going to hear of another of his triumphs.

“My dear,” he said reproachfully, “they will not be interested …”

“But of course we are,” insisted my father. “What is this new achievement? I know they are commonplace with you, Peter, but we country folk like to hear of the great exploits of government. Is there an election coming up?”

“Not in the immediate future. The Whigs are not very secure, as you know. Melbourne, of course, gets on very well with the Queen.”

“Yes,” said my mother. “Even in the country we hear what a good relationship there is between them.”

“It means,” went on Uncle Peter, “that the Whigs, through one man, have the Queen in leading reins. That sort of thing won’t be tolerated long.”

“You mean by the Tories?”

“Exactly.”

“So what diabolical schemes have you hatched for unseating your enemies?” asked my father.

“Nothing unconstitutional. It will happen naturally.”

“And when Sir Robert Peel’s government is in power …” said Aunt Amaryllis, looking proudly at her husband.

“A post in the government?” asked my father. “Well, we expect that of you, Peter. But we have digressed. What about this triumph of yours? You were just about to tell us.”

“We are all eagerness to hear,” said my mother, looking rather coldly at Uncle Peter.

“Well,” began Uncle Peter with a show of reluctance. “Nothing is settled yet. A commission is being set up. There is a great deal of vice in the Capital. Drugs …” He glanced at me and hesitated. I guessed he was thinking of my youth and the inadvisability of discussing unpleasant realities in my presence. “Disreputable conduct,” he went on. “The chairing of this commission will go to a politician.”

“You?” said my mother in a rather blank voice.

He smiled at her and I saw that understanding flash between them. He seemed to find it very amusing. “I’m not sure,” he said. “It’s really a matter of party politics. Actually I believe it is a toss-up between myself and Joseph Cresswell.”

“Peter says that if he could get it and it was a success … the road would open,” said Aunt Amaryllis. “What do you think, Peter? The Home Office?”

“When Melbourne’s Whigs are defeated and Peel’s Tories are supreme,” said my father.

“Yes, that will have to come about first,” agreed Peter. “But it has to be … sooner or later.”

“So really,” added my father, “it is a question of either you or Joseph Cresswell.”

“I think one could say that with some certainty.”

“Surely they would not be so foolish as to give the post to Joseph Cresswell,” said Aunt Amaryllis rather heatedly.

“They do not all possess your discernment, my dear,” said Uncle Peter, giving her another of those fond glances.

My father said: “Cresswell is, of course, a well-known man. He’s had a great success with the Commission for Canals. He is very able. I daresay in the next Melbourne ministry he’ll qualify for a very high post.”

“Certainly he will. That’s if he gets this and makes a success of it.”

“That’s not going to happen, is it?” asked my father. “It’s going to you, isn’t it?”

Uncle Peter lifted his shoulders. “Melbourne will be behind Cresswell and his power is increasing every week. He certainly knows how to handle the Queen, and that makes him important to his party.”

“But as you say, he is on shaky ground.”

“I think this matter will be resolved before we get rid of this government.”

“That looks like good luck for the enemy.”

“Don’t call Cresswell that. We’re good friends out of the House. I respect and admire Cresswell. He’s a good politician … although on the wrong side, of course.” Uncle Peter laughed. “But none the less an admirable man. He’s a good family man … and Melbourne, with his record, needs such around him. We visit now and then. They are a very pleasant family, aren’t they, my dear?”

“Oh, they are charming,” said Aunt Amaryllis. “I like them all very much. Young Joe is very nice … and that girl Frances.”

“Oh, full of good works,” said Uncle Peter. “As you see, I have a formidable rival.”

“I don’t doubt you have more irons in the fire.”

“It’s always wise to,” said Uncle Peter.

Soon after that we left the men at their port and went with Aunt Amaryllis to the drawing room.

“I do wish you were staying longer in London,” said Aunt Amaryllis.

“It would be nice,” agreed my mother, “but we have to go to Eversleigh.”

“It must be very sad there for you now that your parents have gone, Jessica.”

My mother nodded. “It can never be the same, but I do think Claudine likes to see us and there are Jonathan and Tamarisk.”

“Those two are all right. My mother comes up now and again but my father does not like to leave the place.”