As he turned his horse away. I called quickly, ‘Thank you, thank you so much, Lord Gerald.’ He smiled to me, raised his hat and cantered off.
Sir John apologized and said he would speak to the groom. I said quickly, ‘It doesn’t matter, really it doesn’t.’
We set off for home and I rode in a happy dream as the short winter afternoon drew to its close. We jogged through a small village: lamps were being lit in cottage windows, little boys ran out to watch us and rooks cawed overhead as the church bells began to peal out for a practice. I felt utterly at peace with the world.
Chapter Five
But the next Season I scarcely saw him. Once we were at the same dinner party, but he was further up the table. It was very late before the gentlemen joined us, and then he stayed up at the far end of the big drawing room talking to a dark-haired young man. I longed for him to look in my direction, but he was engrossed in his conversation. I watched the movements of his finely shaped mouth avidly, and wished I were near enough to eavesdrop, but Mother was exchanging gossip with Lady Maud and did not move. They spoke in undertones, but I heard the names “Alice” and “young Danesford”, so I guessed what they were talking about. Now I looked over again at Lord Gerald and vowed that I would always be true to him, whether he cared for me or not.
I saw him in the distance at Covent Garden, looking so very elegant. He was talking animatedly to the same young man and I felt a surge of relief that, apart from his sister-in-law, I had never seen him in the company of a woman. I could not have borne it.
I was happier in my second Season. Mother was less relentless – or perhaps just bored with debutantes’ balls. She would let me go out with only Guy as a chaperon, and he was pursuing the sophisticated Eileen Fox, so I often did not see him all evening. But I would dance with his friends or with Lance, or Conan, who was in Town a lot that year. One day my cousin introduced me to a tall, fair young man, ‘This is Bron, Hellie – Bron Nichols – we were in the same house at school. He’s a ruddy awful dancer but I know you’re not that fussy!’ Bron Nichols had blond curly hair and guileless blue eyes set in the face of a mournful angel – he looked much too virtuous to be a friend of Conan’s but they seemed to be on the best of terms.
I used to dance for as long as I wanted to; then, when I had had enough, I would ask the footman to call a motor cab and set off for home. I would bowl through the dark streets on my own behind the driver and reflect on how stupid it was that in the daytime I was not allowed to step outside the front door without a maid yet after midnight nobody inquired as to how I got back. If Mother were entertaining at home I would call through the letter box, and the footman on hall duty would fetch Cooper to pay the cab, then I would whisper to the butler, ‘Please don’t tell Lady Pickering that I’m back so early.’ He would nod conspiratorially, and throw open the green baize door so that I could creep unnoticed up the back stairs.
Liliane escorted me to my singing lessons early in the morning. Madame Goldman had recommended to me a small fiery Italian, and I generally managed two or three lessons with him each week. Papa paid his bills uncomplainingly, since he knew Mother disapproved.
Pansy came out that year, and Mrs Benson often took me with their party to the opera. In April, Covent Garden celebrated Wagner’s centenary with the whole of the Ring Cycle; in May Caruso came to London and I heard him sing in Pagliacci.
We applauded Melba rapturously on her twenty-fifth anniversary, and I managed to persuade Guy to take me to her single performance in La Traviata. A Saint-Saens season followed – we glimpsed the composer himself; then it was five weeks of Russian opera at Drury Lane. Whenever Lance came too, the pair of us would dissect the performance afterwards bar by bar – until Pansy screamed at us to stop.
Miss Ling kept her promise and invited me to join her local music circle. They held a small concert every month, and I rehearsed and sang with them regularly. After my second concert the secretary asked me whether I would be available to sing the soprano part in their Messiah next Christmas. I was so thrilled, I said “yes” at once.
Dances were more fun with Conan in Town; it was like having an extra brother. I told him that, one evening, after he had rescued me from a sweaty-palmed German princeling who had pursued me through three dances because I spoke German and he knew no English. Conan bowed and laughed and plied me with champagne, then said that as a brother he must see me safely home. He insisted he preferred an old-fashioned growler and I realized why as soon as we had set off – he slid his arm round my shoulders and began to kiss me. Dizzy with dancing and too much champagne, I savoured his warm mouth on mine and our tongues met, until I felt I was drowning in sweetness. Then, outside, a man spoke to a friend; and something in the clipped tones recalled Lord Gerald’s voice. At once I pushed Conan violently away in anger and revulsion: ‘How dare you, how dare you!’ I hit out at him; he sat back in his corner fending off my blows until I began to cry. Then he said impatiently, ‘For goodness’ sake, Helena, it was only one kiss between cousins don’t be so childish.’
I hated him – he had made me betray my hero. But in bed that night I hated myself even more.
Towards the end of May the twins wrote to ask if we would be coming down to Eton on the Fourth of June – it would be their last. I reminded Mother of her promise and she looked furtive, then said she could not go after all. I exclaimed, ‘But Mother, you promised – last year you promised!’
For once she seemed almost apologetic. ‘But I didn’t know the Derby would be on the fourth this year – I’m sorry, Helena, it’s really impossible for me to go.’
Just this once I dared to argue. ‘But it’s the twins’ last Fourth!’
‘If you’re so set on going I’ll see if I can find someone else to take you. That’s the best I can do, Helena.’ She left the room with a swish of skirts.
Two days later she told me that Eileen Fox’s mother would take me with her party, and Guy could go with us too. Guy was so pleased at this that he offered to escort me to the Trooping the Colour the day before: his Grenadiers were not involved this year.
I sat in the stands looking down at the hollow square of troops on Horse Guards Parade, my heart thumping as I watched Captain Lord Gerald Prescott, splendid in his scarlet tunic and gold cuirass, commanding his squadron of the First Life Guards on the south side. My eyes were glued to him all through the ceremony; I never even looked at the King, or Lord Roberts. And tomorrow, surely, the Fates would be kind and I would see him again at Eton?
Next day Eileen Fox was dark and dramatic in a sheath of flame-coloured satin, her complexion vivid under an enormous hat, and I felt like a schoolgirl in my pale pink linen. In the railway carriage she and her two girlfriends chattered like a flock of starlings, whilst I sat and watched my brother compete with the other young men for a glance from Eileen’s flashing eyes, listening enviously to the sparkling volleys of repartee.
I saw the twins as soon as we drew into Windsor. They were both in Pop now so they were resplendent in gaudy waistcoats, blobs of sealing wax adorning their top hats, and the two of them sported enormous floral buttonholes. I jumped up, wrenched open the door and was out before the train had properly stopped. ‘Eddie, Robbie!’ I hugged them alternately, dancing from one to the other in my excitement until I heard Eileen’s amused drawl, of ‘I certainly hope Tommy’s not expecting a reception like that from me!’ and jumped back, embarrassed.
My twins doffed their toppers, ‘Morning Mrs Fox, Miss Fox – young Reynard’s down on the field somewhere – he told us to tell you. Come on, Big Sis, we’ll show you round.’ Feeling very smug I linked arms with my two tall brothers and walked off between them.
When we arrived Eddie said, ‘You don’t want to bother with speeches, they’re pretty dull – we’ll show you the sights instead.’ Robbie added, ‘We’ve arranged for you to have lunch with us and Stavey – Foxy Reynard’s in a different house.’ Eddie broke in, ‘And guess whose Uncle Gerald came by the earlier train?’ as Ro
bbie finished smoothly, ‘We do hope that suits you!’
I breathed, ‘Oh, yes Robbie – perfectly.’
Eddie raised his eyebrows exaggeratedly. ‘You know, Robert John George, I begin to suspect our dear sister had an ulterior motive in coming down today.’ ‘I do believe, Edwin John Alfred, that you might just be right.’
I blushed furiously. ‘I don’t know what you mean!’
‘We mean that with Guy goggling at Reynard’s sister…’ ‘And you goggling at Stavey’s uncle,’ ‘Nobody loves us at all!’ they ended in dismal chorus.
‘Oh I do, I do.’ I hugged their arms in dismay until they both burst out laughing and I began to laugh as well. The bright green leaves of the lime trees danced against the pink bricks of Upper School and my heart danced with them.
Lord Staveley came shyly to meet us at the house. ‘Good morning, Lady Helena. Uncle Gerald sent his apologies, he’s lunching with the Provost’. (‘With the Nobs,’ Eddie helpfully explained.) ‘He said I must be your host for luncheon.’ He paused, uncertain, and I realized my face had fallen at his news.
I pulled myself together quickly. ‘That will be delightful, Lord Staveley, and I’m relying on you to show me round properly – these two are hopeless, they just say “That’s the chapel over there” and head off in the opposite direction!’ The face of the boy in front of me lit up. He was younger and slighter than my brothers and I felt suddenly protective. ‘And please, do call me Helena – I feel as if I’ve known you for years.’
His thin face flushed. ‘I’m Stavey to everybody – except Mama, she calls me Arthur…’
Eddie was brutal. ‘Well, we’re not calling you Arthur, like that curly-haired twit in Unde Tom’s Schooldays. He’ll answer to Stavey, Helena, or a short sharp whistle.’ He pulled the corners of his mouth out and emitted a hideous screech until I kicked him hard on the shin bone. He screamed and danced around in an agonized parody while Robbie said kindly, ‘Just see how lucky you are, Stavey, not having any sisters.’ I put my heel down firmly on the toe of his boot, and slipping my hand through Stavey’s arm said, ‘Shall we go into luncheon, Arthur?’
Stavey closed his mouth with a surprised click, then with a blushing smile replied, ‘With pleasure – Helena.’
Lunch was salmon and cucumber, chicken in aspic and an incredible pie with a ring of pigeons’ legs apparently diving straight through the pastry crust. We followed these up with jelly and meringues and a quivering trifle spiked with almonds. I felt warm and happy and ate everything my three squires pressed on me.
Stavey whispered, ‘We’ve got strawberries upstairs in my room for tea.’
I exclaimed, ‘Oh, my favourite fruit!’ and his face was one beaming smile.
Replete and content we strolled up to Agar’s Plough to see the rest of the match between the First XI and the Eton Ramblers. The clouds had blown away now and the sun was shining. The twins installed Stavey and me in two chairs and went off in search of more. ‘Lucky we’re both duffers at cricket – else we’d be sweating away out there.’
Stavey said, ‘They’re wet bobs instead, so they’ll be out in the boats tonight.’ He added, rather sadly, ‘I’m useless at sport – I can’t play cricket, or row either.’
I put in quickly, ‘That’s just as well today, I shall need you to keep me company when the boys are on the river.’
He gave a sudden quick grin. ‘Then I’m glad I’m hopeless at sport!’ I smiled back and saw his face light up as he looked over my shoulder. ‘Here’s Uncle Gerald.’ Stavey jumped to his feet and his uncle clapped him lightly between the shoulder blades. ‘I hope he’s been behaving himself, Lady Helena.’
I took a deep breath and said, ‘Lord Staveley – Stavey – has been the perfect host.’
‘I’m delighted to hear it.’ He dropped into his nephew’s chair, beside me, and I was overcome with a paralyzing shyness.
Then the twins were back. ‘How were the nobs, Lord Gerald?’ ‘Knobbly, very knobbly!’ We all laughed, and I began to relax.
The boys chatted idly. Lord Gerald tipped his grey top hat forward and stretched out his long legs in the sun. I felt a wave of happiness flood through me as I sat between my beloved brothers and the love of my life – and his sweet shy nephew.
It was Robbie who heard it first. He looked up, then jumped to his feet, ‘Eddie, Hellie – there’s an airship – do you see?’ I leapt to my feet and squinted up into the sky and saw the fat cigar shape appearing over the trees. Eddie exclaimed, ‘By George, it’s coming this way!’ Lord Gerald smiled. ‘I rather think it is. Lucky the cricket match has nearly finished.’
Stavey’s eyes goggled. ‘You mean it’s going to land?’
His uncle nodded and the boys began to shout with excitement.
Our ears were filled with the throb of the engines. We watched the enormous dark shape slowly circle the ground, once, twice – a rope flew over the edge of the small boat hanging below – a group of khaki-clad men on the ground ran forward to secure it and then, in a sudden silence, it began to float gently down beside the cricket pitch.
Lord Gerald smiled. ‘I heard in Town this morning that they’d probably be over – it’s the Beta from Aidershot; Maitland’s commanding it, I believe.’
As soon as the ship was moored the spectators began to move towards it and in my excitement I picked up my skirts and ran with the boys. Lord Gerald arrived shortly after us, a little out of breath. ‘Well done, Lady Helena, you were the clear winner – first lady to the ship, the others are miles behind!’
I blushed with shame – then I saw the twinkle in his eye, and my discarded parasol in his hand.
The rest of the day passed in a blissful haze. We ate strawberries and cream in Stavey’s tiny room; he elected me guest of honour and solemnly dusted the one shabby armchair for me with his silk handkerchief. My brothers left to change, and I strolled in the late afternoon sun with Lord Gerald and his nephew until it was time to congregate in the school yard. At the last stroke of six silence fell on the crowd and “Absence” was called. I thrilled as “Mr E. Girvan” and “Mr R. Girvan” were read out and my tall good-looking brothers raised their flower-decked boaters in turn. Then, in white duck trousers and short monkey jackets, flaunting their brightly coloured ties, they moved off to the rafts.
Down by the river we sat on rugs with Mrs Fox’s party, watching as the boats rowed upstream then back again minus their jackets on their way to their own supper near Datchet. As we waited for their return our hampers were opened and champagne corks began to pop in the still evening air.
Darkness fell and coloured fairy lamps shone on the banks while the Guards’ Band played behind us. I watched the shimmering water falling gently over the weir until with a sudden screech the first rocket took off. It shot higher and higher into the air until it exploded in a shower of brilliant sparks. And just as it did so the “Monarch” leapt out of the darkness, closely followed by the “Victory” and the “Prince of Wales”. I craned to spot my brothers, but as suddenly as they had appeared they vanished behind the weir, and the trail of lower boats followed. Then the “Monarch” appeared again, the cox’s voice cried out and he rose up with his bouquet in his white-gloved hands; unsteadily each of his crew stood up in turn, as the rowers in the other boats followed suit. Stavey’s voice close by my ear said confidently, ‘They’ll fall in from the “Thetis”, they always do.’ A wobble, and the water was filled with bobbing heads swimming to shore, the cox still waving his bouquet as he trod water.
The fireworks blazed against the dark velvet sky; I gazed up wide-eyed until the final sizzling set piece portraying the King and Queen heralded the end, and we all rose to our feet to sing the National Anthem as the smoke drifted across the river. The band switched to the Eton Boating Song and my brothers sang lustily as they marched past us with the Boats. It had been a perfect day.
When I arrived back in Cadogan Place, Mother was fuming. She had backed the favourite in the Derby; it had passed the finis
hing post leading by a neck, and then the stewards had disqualified it and the race had gone to a 100 to 1 outsider. ‘It was bad enough that wretched woman throwing herself under the King’s horse – the poor jockey took quite a nasty tumble – but then to disqualify the favourite!’
Papa grunted. ‘If you ask me, it was that suffragette female’s fault – she upset all the horses.’
For once Mother nodded in agreement. ‘You’re right, Victor, that was when the rot set in.’ She frowned angrily. ‘As I said to Sir Ernest this afternoon, women like that are a disgrace – they have no moral sense at all.’ I slipped away to my bedroom to dream.
I only glimpsed him briefly one day at Ascot, but he spoke to me at the Eton and Harrow match. I felt my cup was full.
We went home to Hatton as usual, then in September I went to Scotland with Guy and the twins. Great-Uncle John, their godfather, had died the previous year, and as he had been a bachelor he had made Eddie and Robbie the joint heirs to his large estates; included was a small shooting lodge in the Western Highlands, and they had clamoured to go there to stay. Guy offered to take charge of us, Mother gave in, and we boarded the Scottish Express at Manchester Exchange in a state of bubbling excitement.
Kintonish could only be approached by boat; it squatted at the head of its loch, remote and peaceful. Conditions were spartan, but the ghillie’s wife came in every day to cook us large, simple meals which we devoured ravenously after long hours in the open air. We trolled for sea trout in the loch, and cast for salmon in the little river which ran its short way to the sea. Guy fished steadily and with some success; the twins and I took our sport more lightly, but I was thrilled when one evening on the loch I landed a beautiful three-pounder: it was black and gold, with spots the size of threepenny bits. I sat back with aching arms and watched the water and the moorland turn to shades of coral pink and was utterly content.
Song of Songs Page 13
