‘Sir,’ said Emmanuel, and bobbed his head awkwardly. It was the first time he had greeted a reigning monarch in his own home. But Mary extended her hand.
‘Good evening, sir,’ she said quietly. ‘So happy you could be with us.’ The King smiled at her and wheezed a little and kissed her hand.
‘My pleasure, ma'am,’ he said, and his voice wheezed a little too. ‘My pleasure, Evening. Lammeck. And bless my soul, here’s the whole family turned out. Evening, gentlemen! And what’s the world doing to you, hey? Got any offers for tomorrow’s racing?’
‘Not tomorrow', sir,’ Albert said. His voice was smooth as silk. ‘Next year perhaps. The English successor to Louis Bleriot should be a good bet.’
The King laughed, throwing back his head and almost choking with delight. ‘Damned good, Lammeck, damned good. you get your aeroplanes off the ground, damme, but you might get me up in one after all, damme if you mightn’t.’
He moved into the ballroom, and with one accord, as though obeying a signal, they followed him. Anyone who arrived now would just have to find his own way to the host and hostess. The time for receiving lines was past.
Mary settled herself on a small gilt chair near the entrance to the conservatory, under a particularly large pennant which was swaying in the breeze caused by the whirling dancers, and which consequently created a cook place for her. The ballroom was exceedingly hot and Hannah could see that she was genuinely feeling unwell in it. However much she may have exaggerated her distress before in her bedroom, in order to get her own way with Emmanuel, it was clear that by no means all of it had been artifice. She looked yellowish, and her eyes seemed to be sunken in her face. Hannah took a small bottle of eau de cologne from her beaded bag and unobtrusively soaked a corner of her handkerchief in it and gave it to Mary to cool her forehead.
‘You're a dear, Hannah, to know what it was I needed.’ Mary said, and smiled at her. ‘Now, when you are going to dance? There’s no joy in being at a ball and not dancing. We must find a partner for you.’ She stood up and looked about the room at the great press of people, and a once Hannah tugged at her elbow.
‘Please not, Mrs Mary,’ she said urgently. ‘I'm perfectly happy here with you, truly I am. I don’t want to dance.’
But it was not use. Mary had made up her mind, and with her usual weak stubbornness was not going to unmake it.
She beckoned, and Daniel moved out of the crush with Leontine on his arm and came towards them. Quite how Mary did it Hannah could not tell, but she managed to convey an unspoken message to Daniel which made him murmur something in Leontine’s ear, so that she stopped and turned to a small group of girls who were chattering not far away, leaving Daniel to come alone to his aunt’s side.
‘Dear Daniel.’ Mary smiled and tapped his wrist with her dance programme. ‘Here is my little Hannah looking quite lovely, I'm sure you'll agree, and she’s not torn herself away from my side once to dance. That won’t do, will it? Will you take her out, and see to it she enjoys a little dancing?’
‘Mrs Mary, I don’t want to dance,’ Hannah said almost angrily. ‘Really, I'm perfectly happy with you. It’s why I'm here.’
‘You see the trouble she gives me?’ Mary smiled, and took Hannah by the wrist and pulled her forwards. Daniel held out a hand and took Hannah’s. Short of making an unseemly scuffle there was nothing she could do. She had to walk out onto the dance floor with him, as the orchestra, which had stopped to catch its breath, swung into another ragtime.
‘There!’ said Daniel. ‘You're dancing! The lady who said she never did, and said she couldn’t, who insisted she wouldn’t be at this ball, and insisted she was just a servant. That gown, my dear Hannah, is no servant’s frills, is it?’
‘Mrs Mary is very kind to me,’ she said as primly as she could, which was difficult for he was whirling her round. ‘She insisted on this gown.’
‘And very wisely too,’ he said, and whirled her again. ‘You look quite magnificent.’
‘Not as magnificent as your other dancing partner.’ She hated herself as soon as the words were out. What right had she to complain about his dancing partners? What right had she to say anything?
He looked at down at her, holding her away from him so that he could see her face more clearly. ‘Dear me,’ he said. ‘Do I detect a note of waspishness? How very unlike a servant girl!’
‘You're getting boring,’ she said, as coldly as she could. ‘There is no need to keep on and on about that.’
‘My previous dancing partner,’ he said, as though she hadn’t spoken at all, ‘is my distant cousin. Her name is Leontine Damont, and she is very sweet and very beautiful and very very rich. My mother wishes me to marry her.’
‘Really,’ said Hannah, and concentrated on trying to follow his steps. There seemed very little she could so, as the music became more insistent. Anyway, she wanted to concentrate on the here and now, on fantasies come true, or almost true.
It wasn’t possible to concentrate. She could only react to feelings. It seemed to her that she was preternaturally aware of all that was happening in the big crowded ballroom around her. As they swung into yet another whir she saw Davida standing beside the floor, and Leontine by her side, her face a mask of anger, and as Daniel opened his mouth to say something Hannah said almost desperately, ‘There’s your mother. She wishes to speak to you, I think. You should go to her.’ She tried to pull away from him, so that he would have to stop, but he was much too determined to allow any such thing, and took her back into the press of dancers laughing a little breathlessly.
‘There!’ he said as they reached the far side of the ballroom, and the music stopped at last. ‘Now, have you had some supper? Let me take you down.’
‘No,’ she said, looking back over her shoulder to where Davida was standing. ‘No really, I must go back to Mrs Mary. Thank you for the dance, Excuse me - ’
But she had no chance o retrace her steps, because Davida and Leontine were coming towards them, threading their way through the groups of people waiting for the next burst of music. Behind them Mary, seeming casual and relaxed, but Hannah could clearly see, well aware of Davida’s state of mind.
‘Daniel!’ Davida sounded wrathful, even though her words were polite in the extreme. ’there you are, my dear, I could not imagine where you had lost yourself. Here’s Leontine weady to go down to supper, and I shall join you, I think. Your Papa is a usual talking to the King, I beg your pardon, I meant of course his good friend Mr Bertie, and will not be dislodged this next half hour. Come along, my dear.’ She linked her arm in Daniel’s, and moved expertly so that Leontine was available for his other arm and, totally, ignoring Hannah, moved majestically towards the staircase.
But Mary was equally swift and equally courteous. ‘Such a lovely idea, Davida. I too am ready for a little supper. Come along, Hannah, my dear. We shall go down together if Daniel does not mind having such a gaggle of females to look after!’
‘Not at all, Aunt Mary!’ he said heartily. He smiled at her and stood back so that she and Hannah could lead the way.
It was as they reached the top of the stairs that Hannah realized the King was standing there talking to Emanuel and Albert. He turned as they came up to him and smiled at Mary.
‘So, Mrs Lammeck? A splendid ball you are having, aren’t you? Very enjoyable, very. And who might this pretty little charmer be, hey? One of the family? Or perhaps not, with such red hair as that. None of your lot got such a copper knob, have they, Lammeck?’ He grinned at Emmanuel.
Emmanuel’s face was blank, but Hannah felt sick again. The way he did not look a her, the way he tightened his nostrils, the set of his head, were enough to tell her how angry he was and that was terrifying. Yet at the same time, somewhere deep inside herself she wanted to laugh. I'm a servant, thought. He said I was getting above myself, and now the King’s asking him if I'm a relation because who invited servant to balls? She wanted to giggle aloud.
‘Miss Hannah Lazar, sir,’ said
Mary’s voice, and for the first time for many years Hannah felt their positions were reversed. She had become so used to looking after Mary, protecting Mary, covering up for Mary, that she had forgotten that in the very early days of their relationship it had been Mary who looked after her, and now she looked after her again. ‘My protégée, sir, and a very dear child. So caring of my welfare, I don’t know how I would manage without her. She made most of the preparations for our ball tonight. Such a help to me… ’
The King smiled and reached out and pinched her cheek, and she could smell the cigar smoke on his fingers and schooled herself not to rear back, standing there looking as demure as she could, and she bobbed a little curtsey, at which he shook his head, but still jovial.
‘No formality, my dear, not tonight,’ he said. ‘Plain Mr Bertie tonight.’
Behind Emmanuel Albert laughed suddenly. ‘Now, sir, there’s a sight for sore eyes!’ he said. ‘Did you ever see a thing like that!’ The King turned and followed the direction of his nodding head and laughed too. The orchestra had started playing again another sprightly ragtime tune, and in the middle of the floor, capering as though she were a lamb in a field, was an elderly woman with a very raddled and painted face in a crimson gown which was totally unsuitable for her age. Other dancers were giving her room, and laughing too, for she had no partner and was clearly rather the worse for wear, having been down to supper, and champagne, rather more often than a lady should.
‘Oh heaven help us,’ Emmanuel muttered. ‘It’s old Mrs Goldsmid. I told he son to keep her away.’
Albert laughed, as the other men crowded round the door to watch, guffawing and grinning. ‘No one tells her what to do, not even her son. H may have half the City by its financial ear, but she still calls the tune in their house. Poor devil.’
‘Hannah, my dear, skip upstairs and fetch me something,’ Mary whispered in Hannah’s ear, and Hannah turned to look at her, red faced and relieved. She didn’t know what was worse; the confrontation with the King, or the woman the men were laughing at that stupid pathetic old woman in the ballroom.
‘Of course, Mrs Mary,’ she said. ‘What do you want?’
‘Anything you like. A handkerchief. Smelling salts. Anything, just to slip away, you see. Wait five minutes or so, and then bring whatever it is to me in the supper room. It will be better that way, I think.’
Hannah nodded eagerly, grateful and relieved, and marvelling again at how wise Mary could be when she had to. ‘Of course I will, Mrs Mary. Are you sure you all right?’ She looked at her a little closely. ‘You look awfully tired.’
‘I am. But I’m all right. Don’t fret. Just go and get me my whatever it is.’ She turned back to the little knot of people at the ballroom door, leaving Hannah to slip away up the other staircase that led to the bedrooms on the storey below.
She stopped on the landing and looked down for a moment, saw Daniel looking around, and shrank back into the shadows of the banisters, glad he could not see her. Clever Mrs Mary. She had seen not only that it was best to get her out of Emanuel’s and the King’s way, but also Daniel’s who seemed mischief bent tonight. She could have hit out at him physically, she felt so angry with him. It might amuse him to make a show of her in front of his mother and his precious Leontine Damont, she told herself as she went on her way to Mary’s room, but it doesn’t amuse me. I’ve got tomorrow and next week and next year to get through in this house. I think I hate Daniel Lammeck. When I was a child I knew no better than to think he was marvellous, but now I'm leaning.
She sat down on the sofa in Mary’s bedroom and took a deep breath. She could hear the music below and the smell of the ball drifted up to her; champagne and flowers and rich food and hot people, and again the excitement lifted in her. It was all very confused and worrying, but it was exciting. And she was rally and truly living it. What more could any girl ask?
She leaned back on the sofa and in so doing brought herself in line with the mirror of Mary’s dressing table. At the sight of herself she took a sharp breath and then stood up and moved closer to the expanse of bright glass.
I do look marvellous, she thought, almost in awe. I look really beautiful. My hair looks better than it ever has, so red and yet so dark, and my eyes are shining more than the lamps are and I look absolutely marvellous.
She turned and twisted in front of the mirror, throwing her head back to display the clean line of her throat and shoulders, and the curve of her waist and breasts and for one long delicious moment loved herself. She was all she had ever dreamed she would be. She was the heroine of her own reality, and it was the headiest moment of her entire life. Never mind Kings and Emmanuels or even Daniels. Hannah loved Hannah, just for a moment, and it was a good feeling.
And then she laughed. ‘Silly, she said aloud and made a face in the mirror, crossing her eyes so that she could only see double, and sticking out her tongue, and the giggled again and too the smelling salts and a clean handkerchief from Mary’s drawer, and turned to go. Enough of this nonsense. Mary was waiting for her.
The corridor was quiet as she ran along it, only the distant sounds of the music and chatter drifting up the stairs. She hummed the tune they were playing under her breath for a moment. Ta ta, tatata - and danced a little shuffling steps as she reached the stairhead.
‘Quite the little sprite!’ a voice said, and she was so startled that she almost tripped over her own feet. The King was standing at the top of the stairs grinning at her, his whiskers gleaming a little in the light that was thrown up the staircase from the floor beneath. He looked very large, suddenly, and she took a step back in some alarm.
‘Now, why be so shy, my dear? A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be so shy! You're a beauty, you know that? You could make quite a little stir if you had the mind to, I'm thinking. You’ve an odd little face, but your colouring’s superb, and you’ve a winning way with you! Come and give an old man a kiss, and smile a little, do. No need to look so solemn!’
She was terrified. He stood between her and the stairhead, her only means of escape, unless she ran back and went down the back stairs. She almost turned to go, and then remembered how ill lit the servants' stairs were and how far away from the rest of the house and people, and how easily he could follow her there. And then what?
There was only one thing to do. She took a deep breath and ran at him with her head down, so that she cannoned into his belly and left him gasping as she went down the stairs to the light and the noise and, above all, the people beneath.
28
‘I don’t understand,’ Nathan said for the tenth time. ‘I mean, how can a man understand such a thing? Seven years there’s no word problems, no word of any troubles and then pfft, in one night she’s back here, looking like the sky fell on her head, and she says, “That’s it?” She don’t say why, she just says “That’s it!” How can a man understand such a thing? I ask you, what sort of man is there could begin to … ’
‘Nathan, be quiet.’ Bloomahs voice was quite and unemotional, but it had its effect, for Bloomah spoke so rarely and certainly never spoke so to Nathan that his words dried in his mouth with surprise.
Hannah was sitting very upright at the table with her hands folded in front of her on the red plush cloth. She was still wearing her coat, a well cut sensible cloth one that looked incongruous under the wilting gardenias in her hair. She felt drained, to tired now even to try to help them comprehend.
She had arrived at the door in a hansom cab, unheralded, at two in the morning, wearing a frivolous whit raw silk and satin and lace ball gown under the sensible coat and with her face grey with tension. She had had to wake them up, inevitably waking an avidly curious Mrs Arbetier as well, and then had to explain what had happened. That she had come home for good. That the seven fat years in Eaton Square were over. That all her golden fortune had shrivelled to nothing in a matter of half an hour of squabbling and accusations that had made her feel sick.
Of course they needed her help to u
nderstand. She tried not to think of it at all, but she could not prevent the pictures forming in front of her eyes, the whole scene re-enacted against the plush tablecloth at which she was staring: Daniel at the foot of the stairs as she reached the landing, his face creasing with surprise as he looked at her. Daniel putting out one hand towards her with so generous a gesture that she had just hurled herself at him and held on, desperately
It had been stupid to be so alarmed, she knew that now. So a silly old man who stank of cigars and brandy had been familiar with her, had tried to kiss her. What was so terrible about that? She’d come across that sort of behaviour before, after all. There had been the footman who had stopped her on the back stairs one afternoon and thrust his spotty face at hers in an effort to fondle her. She had just laughed at him and pushed past, and that had been that. And the heavy winking, nudging chatter of the coachman. She had dealt easily enough with that simply by pretending that she hadn’t heard a word of it. So why get upset because another stupid man had tried another stupid trick? Because he was the King? Because she was as enraptured by his lofty position as any of the kitchen maids? Surely it couldn’t be that.
It happened because Daniel held out his hand the way he did, a secret part of herself whispered. It was nothing to do with the King. It was to do with the opportunity to have Daniel hold on to you, the chance to set your face against his chest and hold on to him. That was why it happened. It was your own stupidity, no else’s, your own attempt to make a fantasy real. And all you did was destroy the best thing that ever happened to you in all your life, or would ever be likely to happen again.
The Running Years Page 30
