‘Hussy!’ she said out loud. She wished they would go, so that he would be distracted. But then when the horn sounded and they did start to move off, she wished they would stay just a little longer, so that she could still see him.
The colourful parade trotted off down the driveway, first the huntsman and the pack, then the snorting, clattering, chattering field of horses and riders, off for an exciting day’s sport, taking Hugo Rutherford with them. Amelie sat back with a great sigh. Now there was nothing to hope for but the remote chance that Hugo might be asked back to dinner afterwards.
He wasn’t. Instead she had to sit through a minute-by-minute description of the hunt, with the various participants interrupting each other and disagreeing over the details. The only interest was the frequent mention of Hugo Rutherford’s name, how well he had ridden, how magnificently he had taken a certain jump, how he had turned back to catch a horse for a fallen rider.
After dinner the younger people took the gramophone into the morning room and played dance records, so once again Amelie felt left out. Georgy came up to her as she sat in a sofa watching the others.
‘This is all a bit boring for you, isn’t it?’
‘I simply hate sitting and watching,’ Amelie agreed. ‘I want to get up and dance.’
‘You’ll make your poor old ankle even worse if you try. I know – why don’t we go to the music room? We could play duets or something.’
At any other time, Amelie would have refused, but she was so tired of sitting and watching other people enjoy themselves that she agreed. Holding Georgy’s arm, she hobbled off with him.
Electricity had not yet been installed in Mere Castle. In fact everything about the place had a rather run-down look about it which sat uneasily with the lavish scale on which it was run. The music room was at the end of the building, well away from the noise of the gramophone, and from the older people playing whist and bridge in the drawing room. Georgy lit a candelabra and set it on the grand piano, making a soft glow in the one corner of the room, then drew up an extra stool.
‘There,’ he said, ‘this is cosy, isn’t it?’
Amelie said nothing. She was beginning to have her doubts about this. She leafed through the pile of sheet music on top of the piano, looking for something easy to play. Like all young ladies, she had been taught to play and made to practise, but she was a poor musician. She pounced on a familiar piece.
‘Ah! Let’s try this,’ she cried, and proceeded to thump through it loudly and inaccurately.
Georgy clapped. ‘You’re very good,’ he said.
‘Rubbish. I’m dreadful. I never wanted to spend time practising, I wanted to be out playing with a ball. I used to wish I was a boy, so that I could do interesting things. Boys had much more fun.’
‘I’m glad you’re not a boy.’
Amelie was suddenly very aware of his closeness. She could feel the movement of his body just three or four inches away from her on the other stool. She made to take the music off the stand, but he reached out and caught her hand in his.
‘I – I liked you from the moment I first saw you in the park. Then when I found out you were Perry’s sister I got him to introduce me. At your Peacock Party – do you remember? You danced with me twice.’
‘I danced with a lot of people that night.’
Acutely embarrassed, Amelie tried to pull her hand away, he held on with surprising strength.
‘Please – what I wanted to say was, I – I’ve not been able to think of anything else since. Everything about you – you’re so – different, exciting –’
If Amelie had been more mobile, she would have got up at this point and run out of the room. But she knew that if she tried it, he would get up and try to help her, so she could only try to stop the limping flow of words instead.
‘Oh rubbish, I’m nothing of the sort.’
‘But you are. Beside you, the other girls are dull, they – they’re all the same. You – you’re so daring. I never know what you’re going to say next –’
‘I’m going to tell you to be quiet.’
‘No, I can’t, not now. It’s taken me so long. You see, what I wanted to say was – to ask – if you’d marry me?’
Amelie stared very hard at the piano keys. She could hear his breathing, and her own heartbeat. A silence stretched for what seemed like a year. A log shifted in the grate. The candles guttered in a draught. Amelie swallowed.
‘Well, this is a surprise,’ she said, but even as the words came out of her lips, she knew that they were a lie. She had known very well that he would come out with it eventually. Her mother had hoped for it when she accepted the invitation to visit Mere Castle. Lady Teignmereton had probably expected it when she issued the invitation. She felt the weight of both families upon her shoulders. They all wanted the match. It was approved. It was suitable. It would solve a lot of problems.
‘You – you don’t have to answer now. You can think about it if that’s what you want,’ Georgy said, desperate to please.
‘I don’t have to think about it.’
‘Then you will –?’
‘No! I mean, I’m sorry, but I really don’t think we’re suited.’
The trite words trotted out. But they were true. The very idea of marrying someone as stupid and empty as Georgy was laughable. In fact, she could feel laughter building up inside.
‘Oh –’
There was such real hurt and disappointment in that one word that she looked at him for the first time, and the laughter died within her.
‘Look, I – I’m sorry, Georgy,’ she said. ‘But I really don’t think I’d make you happy.’
She could see from his doglike eyes that he was not going to give up. The only solution was to escape to the safety of other people.
‘I’d like to go back to the drawing room now,’ she said, and to her horror she heard something of her mother’s tone in her voice, that note of command that brooked no disobedience.
The walk back was the longest she had ever taken.
The repercussions were immediate and angry. Of course it was obvious to everyone what had happened from the moment they entered the drawing room. One look at them was enough. Winifred whisked Amelie off to her bedroom for a long lecture which grew more and more acrimonious as Amelie refused to change her mind. In the morning, Lady Teignmereton spoke to her with a politeness so chilling that it was like a slap in the face while the rest of the family and the other guests regarded her with everything from mild amusement to total incomprehension. Amelie knew that for a few days she was going to be the subject of avid gossip. She could almost see the letters that would be departing from the Mere Castle postbox that very day. At least Georgy did not make an appearance. She was spared having everyone watching to see how they behaved together.
After one more long and forceful attempt at making Amelie see reason, Winifred ended the visit. The journey home was one of angry silences punctuated by Winifred’s letting her daughter know exactly what she thought of her. Amelie could only be glad that her grandfather had never given into the pressure to buy an estate. If he had, then she would most certainly have been made to go there now. As it was, they were on their way back to London, so she would be able to go to the store.
It was another grey morning as Amelie was driven down Oxford Street, accompanied by the inevitable footman. As usual, she stopped by the new Selfridges store. It appeared to be almost finished on the outside, and there were tremendous sounds of activity from within, where it was being fitted out. She had to admit that it was a most impressive building. In fact, if she had not been so partisan, she would almost have said that it was even more beautiful than Packards. The classical facade in its light grey Portland stone had dignity without heaviness. More worrying, the Selfridge genius for promotion was already in evidence. Hoardings and banners proclaimed the coming opening events. Looking at the reactions of passers-by, Amelie was left in no doubt of the interest the new store was engendering. The emotional strai
n of the last few days was pushed to the back of her mind. What did Georgy and the Teignmeretons and her mother’s anger matter? She had to make her grandfather see the danger approaching.
Packards had the slightly battle-weary look it always took on towards the end of the Sales. The shopmen and girls all looked tired and irritable and the customers, instead of ambling round the store in a leisurely way, barged into each other and picked over the goods as if they were in a street market. Amelie made for Ladies’ Sportswear. As always, Miss Higgs had everything in immaculate order.
‘We’ve done very well,’ she assured Amelie, in answer to her enquiries after the success of their first Sale.
Amelie hoped so. It was impossible to make comparisons, as they had been functioning for less than a year. Of one thing she was sure, the girl who had been brought in to replace Daisy Phipps was useless. The weekly figures had definitely dipped since Daisy had been moved. Amelie had not forgiven Edward for that. She had nearly gone and got the order reversed, as she had done when he dismissed Isobel Brand, but then she discovered that the change had been dressed up as a promotion. She knew that Daisy Phipps came from somewhere in the East End, and so needed the extra money, and she knew that Edward was playing on her knowing that and feeling unable to have her demoted. She had been outmanoeuvred.
‘You’re doing a splendid job in the department. Everyone thought we would fail, but we’ve proved them wrong,’ she told Miss Higgs.
The woman coloured faintly.
‘Thank you, Miss Packard. It’s a pleasure to be working with you personally.’ Her face took on an odd look. ‘It would take more than an offer from that Mr Selfridge to take me away from Packards.’
Amelie blinked as she took in this information.
‘I’m very glad to hear it,’ she said.
She limped up to the fifth floor as fast as her injured ankle would carry her and burst into Thomas’s office.
‘Grandpa,’ she cried, ‘did you know that Gordon Selfridge is trying to poach our best staff?’
Thomas looked up from the figures he was studying.
‘Why Amelie, this is a nice surprise. Come and sit down. What have you done to your leg? And why are you here? I thought you were at the Teignmeretons’ place.’
‘Oh, we left in a hurry. I’m in disgrace, as usual. But Grandpa, Miss Higgs tells me Selfridges offered her a job. Have they taken many of our staff?’
‘One or two. Nothing to worry about. Now tell me, why are you in disgrace? Did the Teignmereton boy pop the question?’
‘What? Oh – yes. Yes he did.’
‘And you refused him?’
‘But of course I did! Mother’s furious with me.’
Thomas gave a hearty laugh. ‘I can well imagine. She’s been angling for that match at least since Henley. I knew I could rely on you to have the good sense not to give in.’
Amelie saw her chance. She came and perched on the arm of his chair.
‘She’s going to be simply beastly to me now. Won’t you let me do something to get me out of her way for a bit? Let me come and work here?’
Thomas patted her knee. ‘You can make yourself busy setting up your department for the spring.’
Amelie had thought of this, but somehow it wasn’t enough. She loved Ladies’ Sportswear. It was her baby, and she had made it work. But Miss Higgs really ran it. She just looked in every once in a while.
‘I’m going to do that. But there’s something else that I’d like to do, Grandpa. Something to fight back against Gordon Selfridge.’
‘Gordon Selfridge! We’ve nothing to be afraid of from him, my pet. The man’s up to his eyes in debt over this new toy of his. The way he’s spending money setting it up, he’ll be bankrupt within six months.’
‘But he could take our custom in the meantime. Let me take charge of advertising. I know I could do it, Gramps! I was right about Ladies’ Sportswear, wasn’t I? Everybody thought it was just my silly little whim, and it would fail within six months, but it hasn’t. People come specially to Packards to go to my department. And I’m sure I’m right about advertising.’
‘What exactly are you thinking of doing with the advertising?’ Thomas asked.
‘We’ve got to make it more lively. Make new people want to come to Packards, make our old customers want to come back more often. Interest them. Make them wonder what we’re up to.’ She had been pondering this for some time, and now she was more than ever sure that she could make a real improvement in the number of people coming to the store.
‘But they know what we’re up to,’ Thomas pointed out. ‘Exactly what we’ve always done – the best range of goods at the most favourable prices.’
‘So that’s what we’ll tell them. We’ll convince them that they must come here rather than Selfridge’s.’
‘I don’t know. These American ideas of yours stick in my throat. They won’t work here, Amelie. The British are different from the Americans.’
Amelie resorted to coaxing. ‘Please, Gramps. Just to keep me out of Mother’s way. You didn’t want me to marry Georgy Teignmereton, now did you?’
‘Of course not. The boy’s an idiot. You need someone with some substance to him, my pet.’
‘So you’ll let me take over advertising?’
Thomas smiled and gave in. ‘Very well. Until April.’
‘April? But that’s only a couple of months!’
‘Long enough to show me what you can do. Now run along, I’ve work to do.’
‘Thank you, thank you, Gramps! You’ll not regret it, I promise you!’
She kissed him on the top of the head and hobbled out, on top of the world. Now she could really show him what she was made of.
Thomas leant back in his chair. If only she had been born a boy. All that flair and enthusiasm harnessed to some solid training, and she would have made a worthy successor. As it was, it wouldn’t do any harm to stir young Edward up a bit by giving her a bit of responsibility, at least until the Season started again. And as for Winifred . . . he chuckled to himself at the thought of Winifred’s being thwarted of the match she was trying to make. Winifred would be pacified soon enough when she found out what he had been doing these last two or three weeks.
He opened the top drawer of his desk and took out a series of photographs showing views of a gracious mansion with a Palladian portico. Winifred would be sweetness itself once she realised that at last she would have somewhere to play hostess to all those Society friends of hers. The fact that it was her parents’ house rather than hers would not stop her. She would have a party of them down there as soon as the ink was dry on the agreement.
22
DAISY TIDIED A huge pile of frilled and embroidered bibs back into their various drawers, making no secret of her irritation. The last half-hour had been a complete waste of her time.
‘You didn’t get nowhere with that one, then?’ one of the other shopgirls asked, a catty smile on her face.
‘Stupid woman never wanted to buy nothing in the first place. Told me she didn’t like anything we had to offer, but you won’t see nothing better anywhere else in London, that’s for sure,’ Daisy said, slamming drawers shut.
The floorwalker came over. Daisy fought hard to keep her patience. Now what? Why did everybody have to make a to-do about her not making a sale? She made more than anybody else in the department. The floorwalker sent the other shopgirl about her business.
‘Couldn’t you find anything to suit the lady?’ he asked.
‘So she said. I showed her everything we got.’
‘She asked a lot of questions, did she? About where the goods came from and what they were made of and how they were made?’
‘Well – yes. She did, now you come to mention it,’ Daisy agreed. ‘I told her all I knew, civil like, but still it didn’t suit. She was just a tabby if you ask me.’
‘Or spying.’
Daisy stared at him. ‘Spying?’
‘Just so, Miss Phipps. Either our goods or our
staff. Or both. It has happened in other departments, those who consider themselves more important than us, like Ladies’ Gowns.’ He sniffed, to show what he thought of the pretentions of Ladies’ Gowns. ‘Certain persons there have been offered positions in Mr Selfridge’s new store.’
Daisy had heard of this. Everyone had. Selfridges were taking on staff already, paying them now, before the place was even open.
‘I trust you will not succumb to their bribes,’ the floorwalker said.
‘Oh no, not me. Leave Packards? Never,’ Daisy declared.
The floorwalker nodded, satisfied. ‘I’m very glad to hear it. Not everyone is so loyal these days.’
Daisy was considering this as she went for her dinner. How could anyone desert Packards? It would be like betraying your own family. She wouldn’t even consider it, not for one minute. She stood with her tray, looking for a spare place, but with only half her mind on what she was doing. She did not bother competing for the coveted seats by the barrier any more. She was not interested in flirting. She started towards a place in the middle, but before she could reach it, someone else sat there. Two more became available, rather nearer the barrier, but again they were taken before she could get there. Then she noticed a girl getting up, right next to the barrier, and on the other side, just sitting down – was Johnny. All thought went out of her head. She just had to get near to him. She elbowed another girl out of the way and plumped down, flushed with success.
Packards Page 22
