Elaine looked surprised. ‘I never think about the price of things when I am buying clothes.’ Her voice was sincere and Daisy thought she would say no more. It must be nice to have always had money, she thought. And then she wondered whether money had made Elaine happy.
Next day, Elaine and Violet settled down with a pack of invitation cards and a list of caterers and the arrangements for the ball began. They were blind and deaf to anything else and only too happy for the other girls to amuse themselves. Poppy and Daisy came quickly to an agreement that Rose would accompany one or other of them on alternate days. So she went either to the music shops of Denmark Street – where Baz was liable to appear – or to the film studios of West London. Morgan was quite happy to trust to Daisy’s godfather to look after the two girls, but informed her privately that he stuck like a limpet to Poppy and Baz.
‘Some funny folk in the music scene,’ he said with a grin. ‘Not sure your father would think much of them, but I’ll make sure they are safe.’
Eventually the great day of Violet’s coming-out ball arrived. Daisy was the first to be ready and when she came downstairs she found Bateman reassuring Elaine.
‘I wouldn’t worry, my lady – everything will be fine. The hired staff are all very adequate – need telling, of course, but so far they’ve carried out their duties in a most satisfactory manner.’ It had been a wonderful inspiration on the part of her father to have sent Bateman with them to London. Elaine was shy, diffident and wary of trusting her own judgement about anything other than clothes. Now, with Bateman in charge, she could concentrate on getting new outfits for the three girls and making sure that she and Violet would be splendidly dressed for the presentation to the King and Queen.
Daisy looked around the house with approval. It was such a change to live in a place where the curtains and carpets were new, the paintwork was shining, the pictures were light, fresh landscapes, not gloomy, smoke-smeared oil paintings, and the furniture shone with a high polish.
There were mirrors everywhere – every wall opposite a window was lined with them and they filled the house with light. Daisy looked at herself in one of them with satisfaction. She herself was as smart as the paintwork, she thought. Her hair was bobbed in the latest fashion and it swung around her neck, giving her head a lovely light feel. Her dress was incredible: closely fitting around the shoulders and then falling straight down to just above the knee in cascades of pale pink frills, set on a rich, deep pink background. Over it she wore the long rope of pearls given to her by her godfather and they added the perfect touch.
Daisy took a few experimental dance steps and watched how the dress shimmered and the colours blended as she moved. The dress was so short that for the first time in her life her legs, encased in white silk stockings, looked quite long. She pointed a toe and pirouetted and then came face to face with Justin, who had wandered out of the dining room and into the back hallway. He had been on business in London and was as much of a fixture in the house here as he had been at Beech Grove.
‘You look like one of the flower fairies in my little niece’s book,’ he said with a grin.
‘Your favourite reading material, of course.’ Daisy wasn’t going to admit to being embarrassed.
‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘I’m a great fan of the flower fairies. I love the way that you can see them at the bottom of your garden when twilight comes, don’t you?’ His voice changed as he looked around. ‘Where’s Violet?’ he asked.
‘She’ll be down in a moment.’ Daisy studied him. He looked pale and his eyes were heavy as though he had a headache or something.
‘Have you had a bad day looking for a job?’ she asked. She herself had had a wonderful day with Sir Guy at his West London film studios. She had worn her latest outfit, a little close-fitting pink velvet hat and an elegantly cut, tan-coloured coat made from wool so fine that it clung to her figure like a silk dress. The young men in his studio had all been watching a film and shouting praise and criticism when they arrived, but they had fallen silent as she had stood in the light of the opened door.
However, what came next was even more satisfying as all these young men viewed her revised film, exclaiming, voicing comments and suggestions, and showing how they appreciated the artistic decisions involved in making cuts and re-jigging scenes from the original film. And eventually, prompted by Sir Guy, they had estimated its commercial worth as forty pounds – something that made Sir Guy exclaim that he would soon be bankrupt if this sort of extravagance went on.
Remembering the fun, she smiled involuntarily, but then frowned as she thought of how she had begged Elaine to ask the boys from the film studio to Violet’s coming-out ball, but Elaine, usually so pliable, had refused.
‘These are not the sort of young men that you ask to a dance, Daisy,’ she had said, commenting, ‘They are not our sort, dear,’ and explaining that it might spoil Violet’s chances if riff-raff were allowed to attend her coming-out ball.
However, she had acquiesced happily to Poppy’s request to issue an invitation to Baz and his friends, who were all in London for the season. None of them were rich – all were younger sons – but all came from aristocratic families. Daisy eyed Poppy enviously as she came down the stairs and Justin gave a whistle of admiration, saying, ‘I say, what a dress!’
‘Pretty good, isn’t it?’ Poppy glanced over her shoulder at the tall looking glass. Her dress was of wine-coloured silk and Justin was right: it certainly looked spectacular with her mane of dark red hair.
‘You must never cut your hair.’ He seemed anxious to talk to Poppy now and not to resume his conversation with Daisy about getting a job.
‘I certainly will!’ declared Poppy. ‘But we thought it might be best to do it one at a time in case Father dies of apoplexy. Daisy and I drew lots to see who would be first.’
‘Hope you two silly girls don’t try to persuade Violet to cut her beautiful hair. I don’t know why women are bobbing their hair all over the place. Not a man that I know likes it.’
‘Perhaps the girls do it to please themselves,’ said Poppy coolly. ‘Perhaps that is more important than trying to please men.’
‘I’ll go and fetch Violet,’ said Daisy. A peep into the front hallway showed that the first guests had already arrived. Bateman was welcoming them and would take them into the long drawing room and introduce them to Elaine. Violet should be there – it was supposed to be her coming-out ball after all. Elaine had told Daisy and Poppy that they were to stay in the background and let Violet shine.
These first guests were a family party – a woman who had known Elaine in the days when Elaine and her younger sister had been debutantes together. She was accompanied by her son and her striking-looking daughter, who was sporting a haircut as short as any boy’s. This must be the Eton crop, thought Daisy as she sped upstairs to fetch Violet, who was in her room, looking through copies of The London Illustrated News showing last week’s debutantes arriving at the palace. Next week would be Violet’s turn. Elaine had insisted on buying a new dress for the occasion. Full-skirted and slightly old-fashioned so as not alarm their majesties, the dress was hanging in the wardrobe, the regulation ostrich feathers placed on the top shelf, carefully wrapped in tissue paper.
‘Are you ready, Vi? The guests are starting to arrive.’
Violet looked up at her and Daisy saw such a storm of emotion in her eyes that she sat down beside her and put an arm around her.
‘I can’t believe it’s actually happening, Daisy – I never really believed it could. This is it – I have to be perfect or it will all be for nothing.’
Daisy squeezed her sister’s shoulder. ‘Well, you look perfect, so that’s a jolly good start. Come on, let’s go downstairs and you can see your dreams come true.’
Violet’s dress for the ball was quite spectacular. It was made from emerald green silk, but the silk was barely visible because thousands of tiny blue feathers – just fluffy pieces of down – were sewn on to the fabric. The ri
ch green-blue colour enhanced the intense blue of Violet’s eyes. Daisy escorted her sister downstairs and enjoyed the effect that she made.
‘Look at Justin. His eyes are standing out on stalks.’ Daisy whispered the remark into Violet’s ear when they reached the door of the long drawing room. Justin was standing in the background, but his eyes had widened at the sight of Violet.
And then everyone turned and saw Violet and gasped. Lord Elbury, heir to a dukedom, sprang forward and seized her by the hand, smiling down at her. Violet continued to hold his hand, but went from guest to guest welcoming them with smiles, and then went to stand beside her aunt who was dressed in pale yellow – Violet looking like a bird of paradise beside a pretty, though nervous, farmyard chicken.
And still Lord Elbury kept his place beside her, engaging her in conversation, laughing from time to time. Daisy stole a glance at Justin and saw that his eyes were full of sadness. When he saw her looking, he rapidly readjusted his features and turned away with an air of indifference and began to flirt with Violet’s friend Marjorie.
How many people are really enjoying themselves? Daisy wondered as she looked around the room. The orchestra had struck up the first few notes – Poppy and Basil, now joined by George and Edwin, were openly laughing at the prim genteel sound they were making as they played an old-fashioned waltz, but the rest of the faces were serious. Violet floated in the arms of David the Heir. There was exactly the same smile on her beautiful face as when she danced with Lord Elbury, but she didn’t look as she had on the night she had tangoed in the arms of Justin. Some of the girls were dancing, but most were standing by the side of the room, looking glumly certain that no one was going to ask them to dance. Young men were in short supply – even numbers of male and female had been asked, but the young men were obviously going to arrive late. Daisy looked at Elaine’s worried face and felt sorry for her. She certainly didn’t look as though she was enjoying herself. Many of the older women there had been older sisters or cousins of people she had known during her debut year, but they seemed to have little to say to her.
She moved a little nearer. Elaine was hesitantly smiling at the father of a girl of Violet’s age, who was looking down at her with his eyeglass.
‘We’ve never met,’ he was saying, ‘but I’ve heard of you, of course.’
And Elaine winced, then caught Daisy’s eye and tried to smile. There was some sort of mystery about Elaine; there was no doubt about that. This man seemed to be implying something as he peered at her through his eyeglass before letting it fall and shaking her hand with that look of curiosity still on his vacant-looking face.
Men! thought Daisy, feeling suddenly irritated. She marched down to the jazz band boys and Poppy. Simon was lost in an unhappy dream, staring moodily at Violet, his passion for her unabated, but the others were amusing themselves. Edwin was pretending to play a violin, Basil was at an imaginary piano, and George tapped daintily at an invisible tambourine.
‘You’re supposed to be dancing,’ said Daisy crossly. ‘Go on, Poppy, you can have one of them. The rest of you must go off and select some girl without a partner and ask her, very politely, to dance. If you don’t do that, I shall personally see that you have a very poor supper and won’t get asked again.’
‘What’s got into you?’ Poppy raised her eyebrows in amazement, but grabbed Basil by the arm and steered him on to the floor. The other three boys gave Daisy an astonished look, but obediently crossed the dance floor, huddled together for reassurance, and appeared to be asking the nearest girls to dance.
Daisy looked over at Justin, who was still staring at Violet in the arms of David. She couldn’t quite treat him the way she had treated the jazz band, and tell him to dance. But then she tilted her chin and thought, why not? This is the 1920s, not the Victorian era. Women have rights as well as men.
‘Dance with me, Justin,’ she said casually and took his hand.
He moved obediently after her and even smiled at her once they reached the dance floor. He opened his mouth – probably to talk about Violet, but Daisy was too quick for him.
‘I’m a woman of means now, Justin,’ she said as he swung her around.
That got his interest, she thought, but then he laughed.
‘Got a rise in your pocket money?’ he said teasingly.
‘No,’ she said smugly. ‘I got paid for a job well done – just like you would get paid for defending a client in court.’
He was still smiling but he looked puzzled.
‘Done a few successful burglaries, have you? Got yourself hired as an organizer of Debs’ Events by Buckingham Palace?’
‘No,’ she said proudly. ‘It’s to do with my chosen profession: I sold a film that I made.’
He nodded infuriatingly. ‘Sir Guy, I suppose,’ he said. ‘Wish I had a rich godfather.’
‘It wasn’t a present,’ said Daisy. ‘He showed the altered film to his team and asked them how much he should pay for it. He told them to forget that I had made it. Some of them said thirty-five pounds and some forty-five, but most said forty so he gave me forty pounds. What do you think of that?’
It had been a wonderful moment. She had still been hesitant about taking it, but Sir Guy told her that he could get double that by the time he sold it to some cinemas.
‘It’s just the sort of thing that they are looking for in a “short”,’ he said. ‘I’ll sell that to perhaps five hundred cinemas – remember there are more than twenty million people visiting cinemas these days, so you can see why there’s money in producing films.’
Daisy looked at Justin to see the effect on him of her words.
‘Justin, did you hear me?’ she asked impatiently.
He didn’t answer. His eyes had gone to Violet again. The music was slowing and then stopped. Everyone clapped politely, Basil with exaggerated gentility, bringing his hands gently and slowly towards each other, but not allowing them to touch. He and Poppy went towards the champagne and the other three members of the jazz band joined them with evident relief. Most girls returned to their mothers or chaperones, who were sitting on small gilt chairs – perhaps the same chairs that had been hired for the ball at the Duchess’s party – but Violet still kept a white-gloved hand tucked into David’s arm.
Daisy glanced at Justin and saw the look of gloom intensified on his strong-featured face. He jutted out his chin and looked as if he were about to accost the two of them. It’s not fair, thought Daisy. He can’t ask her to marry him as he is a younger son with neither money nor a job, so he should really just leave her alone. If it had been up to her, she would have chosen Justin in preference to that slack-jawed David with his weak chin and his blonde hair slicked back from his narrow forehead, but she wasn’t Violet. Violet was a romantic – she wanted to be a princess, not the wife of a younger son, or even of a busy barrister.
Annoyed with herself for mentioning her film, Daisy went across to the table, picked up two glasses of champagne and walked up to a fair-haired young man standing with what looked like his mother and sister. She gave him a bright smile and said with a fashionable drawl as she handed over the glass, ‘Fizz! Don’t you just love it!’
And then she smiled flirtatiously at him.
She was just about to ask him to dance – why not? she asked herself – when there was sharp ring at the hall door and one of the footmen beckoned to the butler. A moment later Bateman opened the door with a flourish.
And he was followed by one of the most devastatingly handsome men that Daisy had ever seen. He was dark-haired and dark-eyed, immensely tall with very broad shoulders – he had the build of an athlete and he was dressed in a splendid uniform of red and gold. Bateman marched straight up to Elaine and the crowd parted to allow the newcomer to follow him.
‘His Excellency, Mr John Nelborough,’ announced the butler, and Elaine, to Daisy’s amazement, blushed like a sixteen-year-old, and came forward with both hands stretched out.
‘Jack,’ Elaine said. ‘How on earth did you
manage to get here on time?’
‘Ship docked half an hour ago, got togged up on board, sent my man with the luggage to The Ritz and came straight on here.’ The mysterious stranger lifted both of Elaine’s hands to his lips in a manner which Daisy thought to be rather dashing.
‘Let’s dance,’ he said, and whispered in her ear. And Elaine, still blushing, went across to the orchestra and said something. The conductor lifted his baton and began to play ‘Danube Waves’ and the newcomer lifted his voice and began to sing almost as though he and Elaine were the only ones in the room:
‘Let this be the anthem of our future years,
A few little smiles and a few little tears.’
And Elaine gazed up at him as if he were the answer to all her dreams.
‘Excuse me,’ said Daisy to the blond boy and made her way around the edge of the dancers until she reached the butler, who was watching Elaine and the mysterious stranger with an indulgent look in his eyes.
‘Who’s he, Bateman?’ asked Daisy, noting with interest how Elaine almost lay back in the muscular arms of the new arrival.
‘High Commissioner of the Indian Police, my lady,’ said Bateman. He had a look of satisfaction on his elderly face and nodded gravely when Daisy said, ‘He looks rather dashing.’
‘Good voice, nice bass-baritone.’ Poppy had appeared at her elbow with the jazz band boys in tow. They stared critically across at His Excellency, who was laughing as he sang: ‘Tell me this is true romance.’
‘From India,’ said Daisy with emphasis, but Poppy wasn’t interested in that.
‘Wonder how he would sound with a good jazz-band backing,’ said Edwin.
‘Like to hear him sing “Everybody Loves My Baby” with a voice like that,’ said Baz. He hummed a few lines of the jazz tune in his half-broken adolescent voice.
‘Any possibility of getting some decent music, Daise?’ asked Simon.
‘Wait until it’s Poppy’s coming-out dance,’ said Daisy with a grin. ‘Tonight is Violet’s special night.’ And Elaine’s, she added silently to herself as she watched her aunt, looking as young as Violet, whirling around the room in the arms of her dashing suitor. ‘Why are you standing around here? Ask Rose to dance,’ she ordered Simon, and he saluted and went off.
DEBUTANTES Page 20
