Packards

by Patricia Burns

  The sense of expectation was so strong it could almost be tasted. All around, women eyed each other’s gowns and jewels and made assessments as to their standing in the pecking order. Amelie, caught up in it all despite herself, decided that her Packards gown was indeed as good as any there, if not better. In fact she saw one or two girls looking at her with something like envy. Winifred noticed them as well.

  ‘Country gentry,’ she murmured. ‘No style at all.’

  Amelie felt a lift in her confidence. It helped to know that she more than passed muster, but it did nothing to soothe her now churning nerves. What if she trod on her train? What if she fell over while curtsying? If she made a mistake, she would die of embarrassment. Worse, her mother would never forgive her.

  At last they attained the object of all the waiting and pushing. As they reached the door of the Picture Gallery, Winifred and Amelie let down the trains that they had been carrying over their arms, and the gentlemen-at-arms spread them out on the floor behind them with wands. Amelie removed her right glove and Winifred fussed around, tweaking her veil and smoothing her skirt, then together they crossed the Gallery to the door of the Presence Chamber.

  There, seated on carved and gilded thrones, were King Edward and Queen Alexandra, along with various members of the royal family. Amelie felt sick. She gave over her precious card and followed the procession of girls and their mothers across the huge room. There was no unseemly overtaking now, but a stately progress. The surroundings blurred into a kaleidoscope of colour. Amelie kept her eyes on Their Majesties. As each debutante was presented, she watched, and as each one managed the curtsying and the kissing she became more and more determined. If they could do it then so could she.

  Then there were no more people between her and the thrones. The Lord Chamberlain had her card in his hand. Her name and her mother’s were announced. She stepped forward.

  The King was looking slightly bored, but his eyes brightened a little as Amelie approached. The Queen was wearing her gentle, vaguely vacant smile. All the intensive practice that Amelie had been forced to do came into play. She curtsied with grace and control, placed her hand beneath that of the King’s and kissed it, stepped back, shuffled sideways, repeated the action before the Queen, backed away without putting her foot on her train, curtsied to the other royals, backed away again.

  And it was over. Another girl was approaching the throne and Winifred was squeezing her arm and speaking in her ear.

  ‘Well done, my dear. You managed splendidly. I am proud of you.’

  To her amazement, Amelie realised that her mother was speaking with real warmth. There was even a tremble of emotion in her voice. She looked at her and saw tears standing in her eyes.

  ‘Oh Mama –’ she whispered. It was so sweet to feel loved. She could not remember the last time her mother had spoken to her like that. She wanted to throw her arms round her and hug her, to be embraced in return.

  But the smooth wheels of the ceremony swept them on. They were conducted through to the supper room where the debutantes, light-headed with relief now that the ordeal was over, were shrieking at each other in excitement while their mothers looked on proudly and worked out their chances on the marriage market. Amelie found some girls she knew and joined them to compare notes.

  ‘I nearly died when my name was announced . . .’

  ‘My foot caught in the hem of my dress. I felt it give . . .’

  ‘I thought the waiting was going to go on for ever . . .’

  Somehow, a plate of food came to be in her hand. Amelie found she was ravenously hungry. The weariness brought on by the endless queuing disappeared. She laughed and exclaimed with the others and even agreed that though she was glad it was over she wouldn’t have missed it for the world. She was really enjoying herself by the time Winifred told her they must be leaving.

  There was one more call to be made, to a photographer’s in Bond Street, and then, at half-past one in the morning, they made their way home to where the Peacock party awaited them.

  Once again the family were all waiting to receive them, soon to be joined by a household of guests. Everyone admired Amelie and asked about how the Presentation had gone and how she had felt, the women reminiscing about their own presentations. Amelie could not help basking in all the attention. It was very pleasant to be the centre of attraction for once in her life.

  It turned into quite the jolliest party that Winifred had given that Season, crowded enough to be lively without being an unbearable crush like a formal drum. There was enough space for the older people to sit and talk and for the younger ones to dance to the trio of hired musicians without treading on each others’ gowns. The weather was perfect, so windows and doors were thrown open to the cool summer night, and any overheated dancers or young couples wanting to escape from chaperons could wander out into the garden, where Chinese lanterns had been hung from the trees.

  The Amberley grandparents departed at about half-past two, followed soon afterwards by the Packards. Thomas put his hands on Amelie’s shoulders and kissed her forehead, then held her at arm’s length and looked at her.

  ‘My little granddaughter, the most beautiful debutante of the Season,’ he said.

  Amelie flushed and laughed. ‘Oh nonsense, Grandpa.’

  ‘You are to me. Now, don’t you bother about returning those baubles. Keep ’em for all these parties and balls. Little souvenir of today.’

  Amelie stared at him. ‘Grandfather! You can’t!’

  ‘Oh yes I can. It’s an old man’s privilege to spoil his favourite girl. Besides, they wouldn’t look right on anyone else.’

  And with that, he took his leave. Stunned, Amelie looked down at the diamonds glittering on her chest, at the matching ones on her wrist. She knew little about precious stones, but she did not need to be an expert to realise that this set was finer than anything owned by either her mother or her grandmother. She turned her arm and watched the rainbow sparkle as the light caught the facets. She had never even thought that such a luxury would ever be hers.

  ‘I hope you realise what a very fortunate girl you are.’

  Amelie looked up. She had forgotten that her mother was standing right behind her. Winifred was looking at the diamonds with a most remarkable expression on her face. She was trying to mask her naked jealousy with a smile, and the two simply did not mix. Amelie just could not resist turning the knife a little.

  ‘Pretty, aren’t they?’ she said, making the earrings shake, touching the necklace. ‘Grandpa is such an old dear to me.’ And she bounced past her mother to rejoin the party.

  At about three in the morning, Amelie was approached by Perry, trailing one of his many cronies.

  ‘There you are, Melly old thing. Wonder if I could introduce a dear old pal of mine. Don’t think you’ve met before.’

  Amelie looked at the young man in question. She wasn’t sure whether she knew him or not. Perry’s friends all seemed to look very similar. Perry named him as the Honourable Georgy Teignmereton. The name was certainly familiar, being that belonging to one of the more distinguished families of the realm, and pronounced ‘Tinton’. The bearer of the name was rather less distinguished, being no taller than Amelie, with a roundish face, brownish hair and greyish eyes, but Amelie was in a tearing good mood and happy to smile on everyone.

  ‘I’ve seen you several times on the park, Miss Amberley. Been wanting to speak to you for ages. You cut a very dashing figure on a horse, if I might say so.’

  ‘Thank you. Riding in the park is my favourite part of the day.’

  They talked about horses for a while, and Perry drifted off with the air of one who has performed a particularly clever task. Amelie was claimed by a dance partner, but when the polka was over she found that Georgy Teignmereton was once again at her side.

  ‘I say, Miss Amberley, it’s dashed hot in here. How about a turn around the garden?’

  Amelie might well have accepted if he had been at all prepossessing. As it was, she gav
e him a sharp tap on the shoulder with her fan.

  ‘For shame, Mr Teignmereton, we’ve only just been introduced! If you want to be of service, you can fetch me a glass of lemonade.’

  Far from taking this as a brushoff, he went to do her bidding, finding her the much-needed drink in a remarkably short time. As a reward, she agreed to dance with him again, and as he was a reasonably good dancer and she was in the mood to keep moving, she promised him another one later in the evening. By the time this occurred, it was rapidly getting light. Amelie’s wonderful gown was crushed and one of her court plumes broken, but she did not care. It had been the best party she had attended since the round began.

  What she did not realise was how her enjoyment enhanced her looks. When she happened to catch sight of herself in a glass she saw only a flushed face and hair that was beginning to escape from its pins. What Georgy Teignmereton saw was a lovely young girl glowing with life. The curve of her lips as she smiled, the energy with which she danced, the outline of her body beneath the layers of silk and whalebone all exuded promise. And on top of that the rumour was going round that her grandfather had just given her as a gesture of affection the impressive set of stones that she wore.

  When the musicians finally packed up for the night, Amelie found Georgy at her side once more.

  ‘When shall I see you again, Miss Amberley?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Amelie said carelessly. ‘I expect we’ll bump into each other somewhere.’

  ‘Shall you be in the park tomorrow – or should I say, later today?’

  ‘I expect so. We go there at some time most fine days.’ Amelie was looking over his shoulder to see if a friend of hers was still there.

  ‘Are you going to Lady Cossington’s ball tomorrow?’

  ‘I can’t remember – Mother does all the arranging – no, I don’t think we are.’

  ‘Dash it – well, perhaps I might call on you? What day are you at home?’

  ‘Ah – Thursday. Excuse me, I must go and say goodbye to Maudie. We were at school together, you know. I do hope you enjoyed the party.’

  And she swept off, leaving him staring after her.

  It was gone five o’clock when she finally stood in her room letting the yawning maid undress her. The excitement of the day caught up with her at last and she was bone weary, though her head was still buzzing with all that had happened. The maid unclipped the wonderful diamonds and laid them in their case.

  ‘Beautiful, ain’t they, Miss Amelie? Fit for a princess.’

  Amelie agreed, but as she looked at them glowing in their velvet nest, it came to her that they were far more than a very generous present. They were the seal on the day. She was now set on the course of a Society lady, and the business of her life was not to take a part in the running of the store, but to marry somebody with a name and a fortune and then be a proper wife to him. All this she had known, but hoped she would somehow be able to avoid with her grandfather’s connivance. But now the truth came home to her. Not only her mother but her grandfather expected her to be a successful debutante. Her grandfather’s promise of more responsibility in the store had been hollow. He had just been fobbing her off, believing that it was just a passing fancy, or that she would be married by the time next year came along. She reached out and shut the jewellery case with a snap. They might think she was caught, but she would find a way out yet.

  16

  ‘OH COME ON, Iz, where’s the harm in it?’ Daisy begged.

  They were in their attic room at the end of another long day. Daisy’s blouse was limp and crumpled and stuck to her in places. High summer had come to London and women strolled into the department wearing frothy light dresses in pale colours and talking of garden parties and boating and Ascot. Even now the sun was still bright, though the evening shadows were beginning to lengthen.

  ‘Don’t you want to get out? There we are stuck indoors all day, and it’s such lovely weather. Just think how pretty it must be out in the country.’

  ‘I’m sure it is,’ Isobel agreed.

  There was enough of a hint of longing in her voice for Daisy to press the point.

  ‘You must miss it, don’t you? I mean, you used to go on picnics and visits and stuff when you was back home, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ Isobel sighed.

  ‘Well, there you are then. There’s Johnny and Arthur asking us for a nice day out in the country. I want to go, they want to go and you want to really, so why not?’

  She knew very well why not, because Isobel didn’t like Johnny and Arthur, but Daisy was not going to let a detail like that stand in her way.

  ‘But, Daisy, it will be Sunday. One cannot be gadding about enjoying oneself on a Sunday. It isn’t right.’

  Now it was Daisy’s turn to sigh. ‘What other day have we got, Izzy? It’s all very well for those as can enjoy themselves any day of the week to sound off about Sunday, but we’re working girls. Sunday’s our only whole day off. You can always get up a bit early and go to early service if you want.’

  Isobel said nothing. Daisy knew she was winning.

  ‘It’ll do you good. You’re looking ever so pasty these days,’ she added. ‘Fresh air and all that. I ain’t never – I mean, I haven’t ever been further than Epping Forest. We used to go there once a year on the Sunday School outing. Lovely it was, all green trees and that. I love trees.’

  ‘I would not want it to be thought that accepting had any sort of – of significance,’ Isobel said.

  ‘What?’ Daisy said. She was getting good at understanding Isobel, but sometimes she still seemed to be speaking a different language.

  ‘I mean – just because I might agree to go, I don’t want the – the young men to think there is any sort of understanding between us, or any sort of special relationship.’

  ‘You’ll go then?’ Daisy asked, delighted.

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose I might, as your heart is so set upon it.’

  ‘Oh Izzy! You’ll enjoy it, I’m sure you will.’

  Daisy flung her arms round her friend and kissed her.

  The proposed trip filled all of her thoughts for the next few days. Ever since the outing to the music hall, Johnny and Arthur had been trying to persuade the girls to come out with them again, but as Daisy did not want to go out with Arthur alone and Isobel was against any association with them at all, it had been impossible to arrange. Arthur seemed to be cooling off the whole idea, much to Daisy’s satisfaction. Isobel wished that Johnny would take the hint as well, but he was as keen as ever. To Daisy, the prospect of any outing with him along was wonderful. A trip to the country was sheer heaven.

  On Sunday morning, Isobel got up at the same time as usual and went to early service, as Daisy had suggested. Daisy luxuriated in the extra time in bed, then spent a leisurely half-hour in getting dressed. She had to wear her usual skirt and blouse, since she had nothing else. Once upon a time, when she was still living at home and working in the factory, she would have gone to the second-hand stalls at the market and bought a summer dress. Now she had higher standards to live up to. She could not go out with Isobel and the men wearing second-hand clothes. Instead she spent two and ninepence of her savings on a perky straw boater and secured it to her head with a hatpin with an imitation pearl end. This, together with the bright ribbon at the neck of her blouse and the white cotton crocheted gloves on her work-worn hands gave her quite a holiday air. By the time she had finished, she looked at herself in the glass with satisfaction.

  Isobel merely pinned up a couple of stray ends of hair when she returned from church, and the two of them clattered downstairs, picked up their greaseproof-paper-wrapped packets of sandwiches from the kitchen and went to meet the young men, who called for them promptly at ten o’clock. When they got to the door, however, there was only Johnny standing on the top step. He was looking distinctly uncomfortable.

  ‘I – er – I’m sorry about this,’ he said, speaking to Daisy. ‘Arthur’s – er – had to cry off. Got t
o go and see his family. You know what families are.’

  ‘Oh yeah. Mine get the hump if I don’t go and see them regular,’ Daisy said, delighted at this development. ‘That’s all right, ain’t – isn’t – it, Izzy? Johnny’s company enough for us.’

  ‘Oh indeed yes,’ Isobel agreed, looking a good deal more cheerful at the prospect of not being paired off.

  Only Johnny seemed dissatisfied with the new arrangement, but he made the best of it, offering both arms to the girls, and chatting to them as they walked to the tram stop. He addressed his remarks to both of them, but as Isobel hardly said more than ‘Yes’ or ‘No’ to anything, it was Daisy who kept up the conversation, laughing over things that had happened in the shop and remarking on people and places they saw as they went along.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she asked, as they joined the queue of people waiting for the tram.

  ‘If we get on this one and ride right until the end of the line, we’ll get to Lee Green. Then it’s only a short walk to lanes and fields and stuff,’ Johnny explained. ‘Do you like walking, Isobel?’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  ‘Me too. What about cycling? Can you ride a bicycle?’