Packards

by Patricia Burns

  A small glow of satisfaction started. Did this mean his grandfather had no real plans to give Amelie a place in the store after all? It certainly sounded as if he wanted her married off.

  ‘Say what you will about them, they know how to live, these people,’ Thomas ruminated. ‘Why is it that outsiders like ourselves want to get in? Because it’s very pleasant to play all day. I’ve worked all my life, and the thought of lounging about and eating and visiting and amusing myself at the opera is beginning to look very tempting. And then when this is all over, off they go to Cowes or the grouse moors, and then back to their country estates for a bit of shooting and hunting.’

  The glow turned to an excitement so acute that it burnt like a ball of fire inside Edward. Was the old man actually thinking of retirement, or was he just testing him, sounding out the strength of his ambitions?

  ‘I’m sure Mother would agree with you there, sir.’

  ‘But not you, eh?’

  ‘I leave it to Perry to play the man about town. I prefer to do something useful with my time. Look at what you’ve done in your lifetime, sir. You’ve built an empire. Most of these Society people only fritter away what others have accumulated.’

  ‘Right enough, my boy, and the empire has to be maintained, or else it collapses like the Roman one. Continuity, that’s the thing. Society people understand that all right.’

  So there it was. His grandfather was ready to step down, but he wanted to be sure that Edward was going to secure the next generation. All at once the world was a brighter place. The sun shone hotter, the sky was bluer, the trees a more verdant green. The scene before him was no longer an irritating parade of the idle but a happy carnival. Everything he wanted was within reach. Packards was going to be his.

  ‘You’re right, sir. Maybe I should think about settling down. There’s certainly a feast to choose from here.’

  As if timed, a punt went by with a lovely raven-haired girl in a white dress reclining in it. She glanced up at them as she passed, and her dark eyes assessed Edward with a definite glint of interest. Thomas was not slow to notice it. He clapped Edward on the shoulder.

  ‘Handsome young chap like you should have no trouble.’

  Edward found himself laughing. ‘You’ve made your point, Grandfather.’

  Amelie came up to them, having just toured all over the houseboat. She gave her grandfather a tight smile and turned to Edward.

  ‘Isn’t this fun? This boat is like a floating playhouse. Have you seen inside yet, Edward?’

  Confident now of his place within the Packard hierarchy, Edward felt something like affection for his sister.

  ‘Never mind the inside, Mel. What do you say to a trip on the river? Mother –’ he turned to Winifred, who was sitting beside Bertie in an unusual show of marital harmony ‘– there is a skiff belonging to this houseboat, is there not?’

  ‘Indeed there is.’ Winifred was eager to have her offspring participate in all the rituals of the occasion. ‘Have one of the servants show you where it’s tied up. Just remember that luncheon is at one. We have the Teignmeretons and the Flynts coming.’

  The mention of the Teignmeretons put him, if it were possible, into an even better mood. Though Georgy Teignmereton was just the sort of sprig of the aristocracy that Edward most disliked, he could almost feel warm towards him when he saw the way he was dancing attendance on Amelie. Perry had done a good job there. He did have his uses, even if they cost a fortune. Amelie, not surprisingly, was not giving him any encouragement at all, but there was no need to give up hope. Not when his mother was so obviously keen on promoting the match.

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ll be back in time,’ he assured her. ‘Are you coming as well, Perry?’

  ‘Just so long as you and Melly are rowing,’ Perry agreed.

  ‘Lazy pig,’ Amelie said. ‘I’ll row both of you, if you like.’

  Edward was almost ready to let her try.

  It was as crowded as a cattle market on the river, with hundreds of small craft passing up and down and often getting hopelessly stuck in great tangles of oars and poles and paddles. Laughing men and girls waved and called out from one boat to another, admiring each other’s outfits and inviting each other to luncheon or tea or supper and a view of the fireworks. Sweating watermen in red coats and brass shield badges cut across the processions, ferrying boatless people from one side to the other. Picnics were being laid out under the trees on one bank, while the other was lined with the bright confections that were the houseboats, green and silver ones with banks of red geraniums, striped ice-cream-coloured ones with hanging baskets of petunias, white and gold ones trailing graceful vines, each perfect in its way as a floating pleasure platform.

  Occasionally the river was cleared, and all the cheerful crowd of boats had to pull into the bank, so that a race could be run. People gave a token wave and a cheer as the two teams of young men pulled by in gleaming racing shells, but unless they knew someone in one of the teams, the races were really only an interruption of the main point of the day, which was to see and to be seen. Perry and Amelie were constantly greeting friends as they made their leisurely way up to the bridge and back, and even Edward found there were plenty of people he knew, either from his schooldays or from parties his mother had obliged him to attend. In his present sunny temper, he hailed them all with enthusiasm.

  There was a huge crush where the Gaiety Theatre enclosure was situated. Like every other man in the crowd, Edward gazed unashamedly at the luscious beauties under their lace parasols, beside whom the Society misses on the river looked hopelessly plain and undesirable. He had taken up with several actresses and dancers in the short while since he attained manhood, but never had he been able to aspire to a Gaiety girl. He and Perry stood in the boat, in accord for once, discussing the attractions of the various girls, while Amelie chatted to one of her friends in a neighbouring punt.

  ‘See the girl at the side, with the blue dress?’ Perry said. ‘That’s the latest one, Minnie Morgan. Stunner, isn’t she? Now, who does she remind you of?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Edward said, though staring at the girl’s lovely face, he did feel a pull of recognition. He definitely knew someone who looked very similar.

  ‘I’ll tell you who I think she looks like –’ Perry glanced at Amelie, making sure that she was engrossed in her converation, then lowered his voice conspiratorially. ‘Isobel Brand, that’s who.’

  ‘Isobel –?’ And then it came to him. The shopgirl from Amelie’s department whom he had had dismissed, and whom Amelie had managed to get reinstated. Clear and whole in his mind came the brief scene in one of the corridors, when he had happened upon Isobel as she came out of the Staff Manager’s office. The fear in her flower face, the tremble of her full lips, the brave way in which she had tried to keep her dignity. Her bluebell eyes had met with his for a second, pleaded, then dropped in submission. As she hurried away, a sob escaped her. It was so vivid that Edward forgot where he was. He was disorientated for a moment when he realised that his brother was speaking to him.

  ‘Prettiest girl in the whole store. More than pretty, a real beauty. Stands out a mile.’

  Edward immediately went on the offensive. ‘Put her out of your head, Perry. Remember company policy – hands off the staff. Grandfather’s absolutely immovable on that one.’

  His brother sighed. ‘I know, and beastly unfair it is, too. Especially when there’s a peach like that there waiting to be picked.’

  Edward took in his brother’s rapt expression. ‘If you lay a finger on her, Grandfather will be stopping your allowance.’

  Perry’s lower lip took on a distinctive sulk. ‘Who’s going to tell him, then? I found a swain for Melly, didn’t I? Isn’t that enough?’

  ‘She’s not at all enamoured, and I’m not surprised. Teignmereton’s an idiot,’ Edward pointed out. ‘And in any case, it doesn’t need me to spill the beans on your little adventures. The store’s a hothouse. A nice piece of gossip like that woul
d be round the place in no time at all.’

  ‘I bet Grandfather doesn’t abide by his own rules. We all know he’s got a mistress out in St John’s Wood somewhere,’ Perry said.

  ‘For God’s sake, Perry!’ It wasn’t the sort of thing you discussed with people all around you.

  Perry looked mutinous. ‘Well, he has.’

  They were interrupted by Amelie.

  ‘You two look guilty! What are you talking about, as if I didn’t know? Gaiety girls?’ There was a note of contempt in her voice.

  ‘They’re there to be gazed upon, Sis,’ Perry said.

  ‘Well, I hope you’ve had your fill for the time being. I’m getting bored waiting here.’

  Edward sat down, deliberately making the slender boat rock so that Perry had to sit quickly and grab the sides to stop himself from falling overboard. Edward laughed, and used one oar like a punting pole to thrust them out of the crowd.

  ‘Hold tight, old chap. Don’t want to get yourself wet, do you?’

  Once they were in clearer water, he put all his concentration into powering them along the river, pulling hard for some hundred yards or so before the next log jam of boats held them up. The physical effort released some of the tension that had built so suddenly inside of him. He looked at his brother again, at his soft body and his fair face, reddening in the July sunshine. Perry, who always seemed to get what he wanted without raising a finger. Well, he wasn’t going to get Isobel Brand.

  18

  IF ALL OF the Season could be like Henley, then it would be much more fun, Amelie decided. Of course, there were still all the long meals to be got through. The luncheon her mother had put on for the Teignmeretons on the first day had taken two hours to eat through and she had been placed next to Georgy, but even that had been quite bearable when it involved sitting on the top deck of the houseboat with the sun glinting on the water and the trailing branches of the willows tapping the awning above their heads. For the rest of the time, she had been as near to free as it was possible to be in the midst of Society, rowing up and down the river with one of her brothers or, on one occasion, her grandfather to accompany her. In the evening, there were fireworks, and a supper party on the houseboat, and the whole scene turned into a fairyland lit by swinging Chinese lanterns.

  That was on the first day. By the afternoon of the second day she felt that she had seen everything several times over. She was trapped in the skiff with Perry and Georgy Teignmereton, who had insisted on taking the oars. He was not very good at handling them. It was only Amelie’s steering that kept them out of trouble.

  ‘Oops! Sorry, slight miscalculation,’ he called out, as he splashed water all over the boat. ‘Oh, I say, have I wetted your pretty dress, Miss Amberley? Most frightfully sorry. Here, let me mop you up –’

  He leant forward to dab at her with his pocket handkerchief. Amelie brushed him away.

  ‘It’s nothing. I’ll do it, thank you. Oh, look out!’

  Amelie pulled at the steering rope, but it was too late. With a bump, they ran into the group of punts in front of them. There was a good deal of light-hearted jeering about letting the fair sex take the helm. Amelie fumed beneath a polite smile.

  ‘That was all your fault,’ she hissed at Georgy, when they finally got clear. ‘If you hadn’t been fooling about, I could have got us round them.’

  He grinned happily back at her. ‘I say, you’re just tremendous when you’re cross.’

  ‘Hey, stop squabbling, you two, they’re clearing the river again,’ Perry called from the bows.

  This made Amelie even more irritated. She was not part of ‘you two’.

  Georgy caught her frown and misinterpreted it. ‘Dashed annoying, having to stop for the racing, isn’t it? And just when we were enjoying ourselves, too.’

  ‘I thought the racing was what it was all about,’ Amelie said.

  Both young men gave men-of-the-world laughs.

  ‘Good heavens no,’ Perry told her. ‘Haven’t you found that out yet? The regatta’s just an excuse for a three-day party.’

  She knew that perfectly well, of course. It was the same as the other sporting events of the Season. Very few people went to Ascot for the racing, or to the Eton versus Harrow match for the cricket. But she liked the thrill of the races, of seeing two teams of young men pulling with all their strength at the oars and the tiny racing shells skimming like rockets over the water. It made her impatient of the amateurish pootling about she was doing, and wish for a bit of clear water, and the chance to see just how fast she could make the skiff move, especially if she could get out of her restricting corsets.

  ‘Would you care for a stroll around the lawns after we get back to your people’s houseboat?’ Georgy asked.

  Amelie was not listening to him.

  ‘Here they come!’ she cried.

  It was a heat for the Diamond Sculls. One of the competitors was way ahead of the other. Amelie watched as he drew level then shot past, his powerful body bending and pulling, sending his fragile craft flying through the water. His face was set, every nerve fixed on widening the already large gap between himself and the other oarsman, while the sun glanced off his blond curls and lit the line of his muscular back. Amelie felt strangely breathless. There was a man who was striving to be the best, in striking contrast to Perry and Georgy, who never appeared to make an effort over anything.

  ‘Who was that in the leading boat?’ she asked her brother.

  Perry shrugged. ‘Sorry, old girl, wasn’t looking.’

  She looked to Georgy for an answer, but he was no help either, and for once there was nobody in the boats around them whom she knew and could ask. Tired now of the mindless toing and froing of the river party, she suggested they went back to the houseboat.

  ‘Jolly good idea. Time for another glass of bubbly, don’t you think?’ Perry agreed.

  It was not until the dusk was darkening the river that she managed to get an answer to the question of the oarsman’s identity. The houseboat was cheerful with a supper party. A trio of musicians was cramped into one corner of the upper deck where they played selections of music from the latest West End productions. Winifred had laid on a spectacular array of refreshments, champagne flowed and everyone was talking and laughing. Amelie spent her time avoiding Georgy Teignmereton. He really was becoming a nuisance, and the more he irritated her, the more the image of the blond-headed oarsman caught at her imagination, until she knew she could not ask outright about him without blushing.

  Her grandfather came up to her.

  ‘Enjoying yourself, Amelie? Looking forward to the fireworks, m’self. Always have loved fireworks.’

  ‘It’s very nice,’ Amelie said dutifully. She had not forgiven him for abandoning her to her mother’s schemes.

  ‘Nice? It’s splendid! Can’t remember having such a good time since I don’t know when. And don’t tell me you haven’t had some fun rowing up and down the river these last couple of days.’

  Once upon a time she would not have minded being teased, would have done the same in return. Now she just felt she was being patronised.

  ‘As I said, it’s very nice – if you like just playing about all the time. But do you know what my first thought was when I saw all these pretty houseboats? That if we could dress up the store like that, we’d get thousands of people coming to look.’

  Thomas laughed and patted her shoulder.

  ‘You and your ideas! They certainly would come to look. Whether they would buy anything is quite another matter. They wouldn’t know it was meant to be a shop.’

  ‘But if they came to look, they’d very likely stay to buy. That’s how it works in Chicago,’ Amelie said, trying to get a serious discussion going.

  Just as she hoped, Thomas could not resist taking up anything to do with the store.

  ‘Ah well, Chicago. Maybe it does work in America, but London’s quite another matter. People are different in this country.’

  ‘No they’re not, they’re just
as ready to be tempted to buy. We should try it, Grandfather. A special display. It’s too late for a Henley one, but perhaps we could have an autumn theme for September. I can just picture it – sheaves of corn and autumn leaves and fruits, rather like a harvest festival, with all our winter fabrics and clothes and things amongst them. It would look so pretty! A little piece of the country in the middle of London. I’m sure it would work.’

  But Thomas just shook his head. ‘It would be a lot of expense for no return. In fact, it could cost us money if we got a lot of sightseers getting in the way of the regular customers.’

  Amelie fought to keep the frustration from sounding in her voice. ‘It wouldn’t, Grandfather. I just know it would increase our sales.’ She put a hand on his arm and looked at him in the way she always used to, eyes big and pleading. ‘Let me do it, Grandfather. Please. Just to try it. If it all goes wrong, it will be my fault.’

  Thomas put his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze.

  ‘No, my dear, it’s too big a gamble, and besides, you have too many other things to do. You wouldn’t be able to oversee something like that.’

  ‘But you said, if I did the Season and kept Mother happy you’d –’

  Thomas cut her short. ‘The Season’s not over yet. Now, shall we find a good seat to watch the fireworks?’

  Amelie swallowed down tears of anger. ‘I promised someone I’d watch from the skiff,’ she lied, and left.

  Seething, she made her way to the opposite end of the houseboat. She was as cross with herself as with her grandfather. It had been stupid of her to try to persuade him here, in the middle of a party. She should have tackled him in his office, when his mind was fully on the store. But if he wouldn’t listen to her, she would just have to show him. She would have autumn displays in Ladies’ Sportswear, and dress up her window. He would see then that it drew in extra paying customers.