The Secret Hours

by Santa Montefiore

  Later, as I settle down to read more of her diary, I sense that tonight I will find out why. I prepare myself for the advance of the storm.

  Chapter 16

  London

  The Past

  Arethusa was swept up in a dizzying whirl of soirées, dinner parties and balls under Augusta’s close supervision. With no daughters of her own Augusta relished having a young lady in the house to show off and spoil. Arethusa did not disappoint her new world. She was considered beautiful, entertaining and spirited, although a few of Society’s matrons criticized her for being as outspoken and bold as the Americans. ‘She has a brazen look in her eyes which is not ladylike,’ said one disparaging observant. ‘Well, my dear, you know what the Anglo-Irish are like,’ said another. Indeed, the Anglo-Irish were famous for their wild hunts and reckless riding habits, but this reputation only served to enhance Arethusa’s appeal among her suitors. When compared to the demure, subservient English girls, Arethusa was refreshing.

  As for Rupert, he accompanied his sister everywhere, which made Charlotte, the miserable governess and chaperone, more miserable than ever for she felt redundant and unappreciated. She was left alone in the parlour to do her needlepoint, or to call upon friends whom she knew from her previous incarnations as governess to other well-to-do young ladies, all the while her charge blazed a trail around London on the arm of her brother.

  Rupert and Arethusa threw themselves wholeheartedly into their new London life. In the mornings they rode in Hyde Park (for two people who didn’t much like riding they put on a fine show of Anglo-Irish horsemanship for the admiring crowds who observed them). Arethusa, sitting side-saddle, cut a dash with her small waist, tight bodice and discreet veil, while Rupert, in pearl-grey trousers, frock coat and top hat, attracted gasps of appreciation from mothers and daughters alike. They went for daily carriage rides, greeting their growing circle of friends with smiles and waves, promenaded beneath the plane trees and watched the children playing rounders and bowling hoops in Kensington Gardens. In the afternoons they drove to Hurlingham, Roehampton or Ranelagh to watch the inter-guards polo matches, and stood in the Strangers’ Gallery at the House of Commons to listen to debates. They were invited to the theatre and the ballet, to concerts, small five o’clock tea parties in private houses and elaborate garden parties thrown by ambassadors and visiting grandees from Europe, keen to rub shoulders with the English aristocracy. There was Royal Ascot and Goodwood, Henley Royal Regatta and Cowes Week. They barely had time to catch their breath.

  Rupert was besieged by strident, ambitious mothers, determined to ensnare him for their daughters. Although he was a second son and not in possession of a great fortune, he was nonetheless of a good family (the brother of the future Lord Deverill of Ballinakelly) and devilishly handsome too. He charmed the mothers, flattered the daughters, but made not one proposal. By June Arethusa had received four. Had Ronald known, he would have come to London immediately, bent the knee and proposed, but he did not. Arethusa deliberately omitted that piece of information in her regular correspondence.

  At the beginning of June she was finally presented at Court. A moment Augusta had been waiting for with much anxiety, for once presented, Arethusa would have the Queen’s seal of approval and entry into the grandest houses in London.

  Dressed in her finest low-cut, short-sleeved white gown with its three yards of train, a trio of white ostrich feathers in her hair, a diaphanous veil and long white gloves, Arethusa set off in the family state coach, emblazoned with the Deverill arms and driven by a bewigged coachman seated in front on a splendid hammer-cloth, with Augusta by her side. Behind, hanging on to embroidered straps at the back, were powdered footmen in the Deverill family livery. Crowds of spectators gathered along the Mall and at the Palace gates to watch the debutantes arriving in their finest gowns and jewels. As they queued to enter the Palace forecourt Arethusa noticed a portly little man running from coach to coach in a state of great excitement. ‘He’s a hairdresser,’ Augusta informed her, with a sniff of disapproval. ‘Hurrying to make last-minute adjustments to his clients’ veils and feathers, I suspect.’ She looked at her charge with pride. ‘With regard to you, my dear, one cannot improve on perfection.’

  Once inside, Arethusa was nervous. She knew what to do. Goodness, she had practised her curtsey enough times and how to walk backwards while holding her train, curtseying again with every step. Arethusa knew that, as she belonged to an aristocratic family, she was to receive the Queen’s kiss. Daughters of Commoners kissed the Queen’s hand and had to take off a glove beforehand prior to entering the Drawing Room, which was most inconvenient. ‘Don’t be nervous, my dear,’ said Augusta, as they waited in line. ‘This is a proud, proud moment and one you shall remember for the rest of your life. When I was presented, the girl in front of me froze mid-curtsey and had to be rescued by a courtier.’

  ‘I do hope that doesn’t happen to me,’ said Arethusa, wishing that Augusta had not mentioned it.

  ‘Good Lord no! Strong, well-bred girls like you don’t need any help sinking to their knees and up again. You’re born to curtsey, Tussy dear.’

  The waiting seemed to go on for hours. There were no refreshments or comforts of any kind in the stiff, formal atmosphere of the Palace. Arethusa waited, holding her bouquet of flowers and wishing the time would go faster so the whole dreary business would be over. When at last her name was announced, she walked confidently across the crimson carpet into the Queen’s Drawing Room. There sat the Queen, looking weary, and, Arethusa thought, much like a trout. The room was full of courtiers, footmen, ladies-in-waiting and equerries, the air so stifling that Arethusa was very pleased when it was all over. She had curtseyed, been kissed by the Queen and had left the royal presence backwards without fault, as she had been taught to do. Augusta was very proud. ‘However, I did notice that your walk has a little too much bounce in it,’ she said, giving her charge a stern look. ‘Had your governess taught you to walk with a book on your head, as English girls are taught deportment, the bounce would have been subdued.’ But Arethusa had no intention of subduing her bounce and, that evening, she bounced merrily into the Duchess of Sutcliffe’s ball with Rupert by her side and Augusta on Stoke’s arm behind her, trying not to be alarmed by the confidence in her walk.

  The house, one of the largest in London, was festooned with roses sent up from the Sutcliffe country estate. There were garlands winding up the banisters on the marble staircase and cascades trailing from the chandeliers in the hall. The Duchess herself stood at the top of the staircase with her flaxen-haired daughter, Lady Alexandra, to receive their guests, and as Rupert and Arethusa reached them, Lady Alexandra smiled at Rupert and blushed a deep scarlet. Rupert kissed her gloved hand and allowed his eyes to linger on her shiny brown ones for longer than was necessary. ‘I think you have an admirer there,’ said Arethusa as they walked on into the ballroom, which was gradually filling with guests.

  ‘Pretty little thing, isn’t she?’ said Rupert casually, taking two crystal flutes of champagne and giving one to his sister. ‘But easily outshone by her dashing brother Peregrine.’

  ‘You mean your new best friend, Peregrine.’

  ‘He’s an interesting fellow.’

  ‘Indeed, he is. Having a grand title and a big estate certainly helps,’ Arethusa replied. ‘Wouldn’t Augusta be thrilled if I bagged a marquess and a future duke?’

  ‘And I suppose you are going to pretend that you’re impervious to such trivialities?’

  ‘You know as well as I do that he wouldn’t look at a lowly Miss Deverill, Rupert. He’ll go for a woman with a fortune, and I, sadly, do not have one.’ She grinned at him. ‘I don’t think you have one big enough for Lady Alexandra, either.’

  ‘Well, isn’t that a shame,’ Rupert replied distractedly, running his eyes around the room. Being so tall he was able to see over all the heads. ‘Ah, and there is the beautiful Marquess of Penrith. Come, let’s go and say hello.’

  They weave
d through the throng, doing their best not to get lured into conversation with anyone else before reaching him. When Peregrine saw Rupert he swiftly ended the conversation he was having with a dowager duchess and her simpering granddaughter and gave him a broad, grateful smile. ‘Ah, Rupert old fellow, how good to see you.’

  ‘Peregrine,’ said Rupert. The two men shook hands with vigour.

  Peregrine settled his gunmetal-grey eyes onto Arethusa and bowed. She gave him her hand and he kissed it. ‘Miss Deverill, how nice to see you again.’

  ‘And you, Lord Penrith. I do believe this is the most spectacular ball I have yet been to. The roses take my breath away.’

  ‘Mama has spent months in the planning. She’ll be thrilled that you appreciate her hard work.’

  ‘Oh, I do, very much. It’s quite the most enchanting ballroom in London.’

  He turned his lovely eyes onto Rupert. ‘Mama has hired a very special kind of entertainment for her guests tonight,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Ah, how like the Duchess to entertain with entrain,’ said Rupert, knowing little of the Duchess and whether or not she liked to be original.

  ‘Have you heard of the Madison Minstrels from New York? No? Well, allow me to let you in on a little secret, which won’t be secret for much longer because they are due to start shortly after the Prince and Princess of Wales arrive.’ Peregrine’s eyes gleamed with excitement. He looked from Arethusa to Rupert, relishing keeping them in suspense. ‘George and Jonas are brothers and they play the banjo.’

  ‘The banjo?’ said Arethusa. ‘What’s a banjo?’

  ‘It’s an instrument which resembles a small violin but is unique to America. It’s going to be all the rage, you know. After tonight everyone will want to play one. They are performing in London and then they are travelling the country. Apparently, they’re heading to Manchester after London and on to Glasgow and Edinburgh. Mama heard them when they gave a private recital for the Princess of Wales and managed to get them to come tonight, before they begin their tour. It’s really quite a coup.’ He looked from one to the other. ‘Do you know what makes them so very special?’

  ‘I can’t imagine,’ said Rupert.

  ‘They’re black.’ His eyes gleamed.

  ‘Black?’ Arethusa repeated.

  ‘Well, that is exciting. I can’t wait to hear them.’

  ‘They are raising funds for a Christian school in New Jersey.’

  ‘That’s a noble cause,’ said Arethusa approvingly.

  ‘Indeed it is, which is why we must support them. I think Alexandra is going to have banjo lessons while they’re in London.’

  ‘Oh, I am jealous. I’d adore to learn how to play the banjo,’ said Arethusa. ‘It would amuse me greatly to be able to list banjo playing among my accomplishments!’

  Peregrine laughed. ‘I’m not sure whether or not you’re being serious, Miss Deverill.’

  ‘Tussy is rarely serious about anything,’ said Rupert.

  ‘Oh, I’m perfectly serious about this,’ retorted Arethusa.

  Peregrine looked at Rupert and held his gaze. ‘Perhaps it can be arranged,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘We’d very much like to see more of you, of both of you. You could both come. Mama always has company for tea. You could help me entertain the old ladies, Rupert. What do you say?’

  ‘I’m very good at entertaining old ladies,’ said Rupert.

  ‘Good, I’ll see what can be arranged. Now you must excuse me,’ Peregrine whispered. ‘I must go and and stand with my family. I will catch you later.’ Arethusa noticed him lightly touch Rupert’s arm before disappearing into the throng.

  A moment later the ballroom went quiet. A frisson of anticipation rippled through the warm air. Everyone looked to the double doors in expectation. There was a murmur of voices and a rustle of silk as the Duke and Duchess, their daughter, Lady Alexandra, and Peregrine accompanied the royal party into the room, where they remained with every eye upon them. There came three bangs of a staff upon the floor and then the Prince and Princess of Wales were announced in a loud and pompous voice by a footman wearing Sutcliffe green-and-gold livery. The ladies dropped to the ground in deep curtseys and the gentlemen bowed.

  The Princess of Wales walked in on the arm of her husband in a blue dress, as pale as a duck’s egg, with an exquisite sapphire necklace sparkling at her throat. She had poise and dignity and a somewhat solemn air, but she was beautiful in a handsome way and Arethusa couldn’t take her eyes off her. She radiated grandeur, serenity and majesty. The Prince swept the room with his big watery blue eyes and smiled at one or two of the prettier ladies, a smile that was barely perceptible behind his grey beard.

  Presently the Duchess took to the stage, which had been set up at the far end of the room. Once again everyone went quiet. ‘Your Royal Highnesses, my Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen,’ she said. ‘It gives me great pleasure tonight to welcome a very special pair of brothers, who have come all the way from America to bring their music to our country. I’m sure you will find them as entertaining as I do. Please will you give a very warm welcome to the Madison Minstrels.’

  Arethusa would have clapped but she was holding a glass of champagne. She watched two men in crisp white shirts and black tailcoats step onto the stage with their little banjos and give a bow. Their skin was a rich, mahogany brown, such as Arethusa had never seen before, and lustrous, like satin. The two of them were so dark that the whites of their eyes shone brightly by contrast. They began to play. The twangy sound of the banjo made everyone smile. The smiles grew wider when, in clear tenor voices, they began to sing ‘A Boy’s Best Friend Is His Mother’. Arethusa couldn’t take her gaze off them. The Duchess, who was standing between her son Peregrine and the Princess of Wales, laughed in delight. The Minstrels began to do a soft-toe dance, moving lightly across the stage. Soon toes were tapping in the audience and Arethusa was swaying to the rhythm along with everyone else. They sang ‘Home, Sweet Home’ and finally ‘Star Of The Night Waltz’. When they stood to take their bow there was a thunder of applause.

  ‘I must meet them,’ said Arethusa to Rupert when the brothers were escorted off the stage.

  ‘Then you need to find Lady Alexandra.’

  ‘You have to come with me,’ she insisted. ‘She thinks you’re marvellous.’

  ‘Very well, come on then.’ But they didn’t get further than a few feet before they were accosted by Mary Pilkington and her friends Lady Clarissa Wellbroke and Lady Julia Almstead. Rupert, who had no intention of being waylaid by three such uninspiring young women, bowed and kissed hands before making a hasty retreat, leaving Arethusa in the awkward position of having to make polite conversation. ‘Weren’t the Madison Minstrels a delight,’ she said.

  ‘They were wonderful!’ Mary Pilkington exclaimed. ‘Did you notice the Princess of Wales’s foot was tapping?’

  ‘Yes, I did, and she was swaying to the music too,’ added Lady Clarissa.

  ‘I overheard Lady Alexandra saying that her mama has already booked her a lesson. Did you know that the Prince of Wales has requested one too?’ gushed Lady Julia.

  ‘How do you know that?’ asked Lady Clarissa, put out.

  ‘Because my mama had tea here yesterday and the Duchess told her.’

  ‘Goodness, the whole of London will be wanting lessons,’ said Lady Julia mournfully. ‘I doubt they’ll have time for me.’

  ‘If the whole of London learns to play the banjo it won’t be original anymore,’ said Arethusa, whose enthusiasm for banjo lessons had suddenly deflated. ‘It’s only worth doing if no one else is doing it.’

  At that moment her attention was diverted by the animated gestures of a vivacious girl she hadn’t yet met. Her dress was exquisite and obviously expensive and her poise remarkable. There was something very unEnglish about her that sparked Arethusa’s interest. She was talking to an older, buxom lady Arethusa assumed to be the girl’s mother. There was something brash about the pair of them. A brashness that appealed to Arethusa in t
he same way a glittery thing might appeal to a magpie.

  ‘Who’s that?’ she asked, nodding in the girl’s direction. The ladies turned to look, then stiffened and lifted their haughty noses.

  ‘She’s American,’ said Lady Clarissa in a nasal voice. ‘She’s frightfully rich and after a duke, I suspect. I don’t know what it is about these American girls, but Englishmen can’t get enough of them.’

  ‘They’re bold,’ said Lady Julia disapprovingly. ‘Mama says it’s the ones who can’t make a success of themselves in New York who come over here to bag dukes. You know, some of them even pay vast sums for sponsors to introduce them to Society. Then they return to New York and are welcomed with open arms by the grandest ladies in the city. Americans can’t resist English titles, apparently.’

  ‘Do you think her mama has paid a vast sum to get her presented?’ asked Mary Pilkington, exposing her sense of superiority with a smug smile.

  ‘Oh, I would say most likely,’ said Lady Clarissa. ‘And I dare say it will pay off. We’re probably looking at the next Countess of Ronaldshay.’

  ‘American women really know how to dress, don’t they?’ said Arethusa, ignoring their gossip and admiring the American girl’s gown. It was embellished with small pink flowers that shimmered in the light of the chandeliers. ‘I suspect it’s from Worth.’

  Lady Clarissa frowned. ‘It’s exceedingly mal vu to flash money in the way the Americans do,’ she said crisply. ‘I dare say she has fifty gowns by Worth. My mama says one can make the bottle as lavish as you please but if the wine’s no good . . .’ She turned up her nose and inhaled through her nostrils, pursing her thin lips with displeasure.

  At that moment Mary’s fiancé appeared, as pink, porky and pinguid as Ronald, and Arethusa took the opportunity to move off. She decided to go and introduce herself to the American, even though, or possibly because, the three snooty girls she’d just been speaking to would think it very mal vu.