Flushing with pleasure, he squeezed her hand until it hurt.
‘You’re the most …’ He drew a shuddering breath. ‘The most beautiful girl I’ve ever met.’
Her eyes swept lazily over him. ‘Thank you.’
‘Let’s dance again.’
‘Can I finish my cigarette first?’
They danced until they realized they were almost alone in the ballroom. Stragglers were drifting through the lobby into Park Lane, and disembodied shouts of goodbye filled the air. Over Hyde Park a full moon bathed the trees in a ghostly light and the grass was a shimmering silver carpet.
The débutante season of 1935 had come to an end.
‘My darling girl,’ Liza sympathized, putting her arms around Rosie as she helped her up to her room. She’d been awakened from a deep and much needed sleep shortly after midnight, when Rosie had burst into their room, sobbing hysterically.
‘I could kill her,’ she kept saying, between explaining what had happened.
Henry, annoyed at being disturbed on their only early night of the week, huffed and puffed, and told Rosie it was better to find out now, rather than later, what the wretched fellah was like.
‘It’s all Juliet’s fault,’ Rosie wailed. ‘She went after him the minute she saw him, before I even got to the dance, and she hung on to him all night.’
‘Presumably he could have desisted,’ Henry retorted acidly.
‘It’s so unfair, Mummy,’ Rosie wept. ‘Juliet behaved terribly badly.’ Mother and daughter shared a deep conviction that men were easily led astray, couldn’t help themselves, could be duped, seduced and preyed upon by designing women, as if they had no will of their own. It was the ‘other woman’ they both feared, never the ‘poor man’.
Liza looked grave as she sat on the edge of Rosie’s bed. If Juliet started jumping the queue to the altar now, something would have to be done about it. Liza didn’t know quite what, but what she did know was that Rosie must get married first.
‘There’s nothing you can do until the morning, sweetheart,’ Liza told her. ‘Try and get some sleep.’
It was nearly three o’clock in the morning when Rosie heard the landing floor creak. With a bound she was out of bed, pouncing on Juliet as she was about to go to her own room.
‘How could you! That was the meanest thing … and what have I ever done to hurt you?’ Rosie sobbed. ‘I love Alastair.’
Juliet eyed her sister with contempt. ‘It’s not my fault if he prefers me. I didn’t ask him to dance all night with me.’
‘Knowing you, I bet he couldn’t get away. You knew how much I cared for him and you deliberately set out to take him from me. I’ll never forgive you for this. Never,’ Rosie stormed.
‘You’re so busy whispering to Mummy, how was I to know it was Alastair you were after? If you weren’t so bloody secretive …!’
‘But you knew … you knew …!’ Rosie screamed, making a wild grab for her sister’s long hair.
‘Get off me.’ Juliet tried to push her away.
‘He was going to marry me. You’ve ruined my life …’ Beside herself with rage and grief, Rosie pulled harder at Juliet’s hair. ‘I hate you … I hate you …’ She lashed out, delivering a stinging clap on Juliet’s cheek with her other hand.
Juliet grabbed her by the wrist, twisting her arm and forcing her down on to her knees. ‘He’s no longer interested in you,’ she shouted harshly. ‘Who would be interested in a drab creature like you, once they’d met me?’
‘You bloody cow!’ Rosie screeched. ‘You’ve always been jealous of me.’
They started punching and slapping each other, rolling over and over on the landing in unabated fury.
‘Jealous of you?’ Juliet shrieked. ‘I can get any man I want, while you can’t even keep one.’ She tried to grab Rosie’s hair, but it was cut too short to get a real grip.
‘You spoil everything. You always have. I wish you’d never been born,’ Rosie shouted, breathless now. She crumpled up into a heap on the floor, with her knees drawn up to her chin.
‘You’re such a Mummy’s girl,’ Juliet snarled, punching Rosie on the shoulder.
They were unaware of bedroom doors being flung open, as Nanny and the rest of the staff leaned over the bannister from the top floor, open-mouthed at the spectacle of the two young ladies slugging it out like a couple of fishwives.
Then there were thunderous footsteps pounding along the corridor and a man’s voice, roaring, ‘Girls! Girls!’
Henry stood over them, in his silk dressing gown, his face crimson with anger. Behind him Liza stood, a study in mortification.
At first the sisters didn’t hear him, so engrossed were they in trying to do damage to each other.
‘Girls!’ Henry yelled.
‘Stop that at once!’ boomed another voice, of such authority that even Henry jumped, and the girls instantly loosened their grip on each other.
‘How old do you think you are?’ continued Nanny, looking down on them, her hands on her hips. ‘I used to smack your bottoms when you were small, and don’t go thinking you’re too old to be punished now. Go to your rooms at once, and in the morning you will apologize to your parents for your disgraceful behaviour.’
For a moment there was a stunned silence, broken by Ruby giving a nervous giggle.
‘Sorry, Nanny,’ Rosie said automatically, struggling to her feet, her dress torn and her hair awry.
‘Sorry, Nanny,’ muttered Juliet, picking up her evening bag and gloves.
Henry and Liza watched as their daughters stumbled into their rooms and shut the doors quietly behind them.
Nanny turned to the servants, who stood stock-still and wide-eyed. ‘Never seen children having a tantrum before?’ she jeered, before stomping back to her own room.
In order to avoid further confrontation, Juliet stayed in bed until quite late, telling the parlour maid who wanted to ‘do’ her bedroom, that she had a bad headache. In fact she’d never felt better. Alastair had kissed her goodnight. On the lips. And he’d done it so sweetly and gently, cupping her face in his hands, that she’d allowed him to kiss her again, more intimately this time.
‘I’ll see you later? Four o’clock at Gunter’s?’ he said insistently.
‘Yes,’ she whispered, nodding.
Now, as she snuggled under her pink satin eiderdown, she thought pleasurably about the previous night, knowing she had Alastair in the palm of her hand.
Her reverie was broken at ten thirty, by her mother marching into her room.
‘I want to talk to you, young lady,’ Liza said without preamble. ‘How dare you go off with Alastair Slaidburn when he’s Rosie’s boyfriend? Don’t you realize what you’ve done?’
Juliet drew herself up in bed, her hair tumbling around her shoulders. ‘What? They’re lovers? Engaged to be married? Do let me know when the wedding’s taking place, won’t you?’ she said sarcastically.
Liza stood at the foot of the bed, like a tragic figurehead.
‘He was about to propose to Rosie.’
‘Like it’s about to rain? Mummy. He’s a free agent. He could never have been all that keen on Rosie in the first place, or he wouldn’t have kept me on the dance floor all night.’
‘But you stole him from your sister,’ Liza said, on a rising shrill note.
‘I did not. It’s not my fault if he finds me more attractive, you know. Anyway, I didn’t know Rosie was really serious about him, because she’d never said a word to me. You never mentioned him either, which is very strange if you’d hoped he’d become your son-in-law.’
Liza bit her bottom lip with vexation. ‘That was because …’ she began uncertainly and then stopped.
Juliet seized the moment with relish. ‘Exactly! You didn’t want me to know about him, because you thought he’d make a perfect husband for your precious Rosie.’
Liza blushed and looked confused.
Juliet continued; ‘So last night I saw no reason not to be friendly, did I? Edwa
rd Courtney introduced us, Alastair asked me to dance and we got on so well …’
‘Stop! Stop …’ Liza raised her hands as if to push Juliet’s words away.
‘Don’t you want me to make a good marriage, Mummy?’ she asked wistfully, hugging her knees with her slim arms. ‘Don’t you want me to make you proud of me?’ She tilted her head to one side and her pale blue eyes held a look of hurt. Beneath her abrasive manner there were moments when she appeared like a four-year-old who was being scolded just for being herself.
‘Of course I want you to make a good marriage, darling,’ Liza said guiltily, ‘but Rosie has to come first …’
‘Why? Why?’
‘Because, well, because she’s the eldest. It would be terribly humiliating for her if her younger sister got married first.’
‘No, it’s because she’s your favourite,’ Juliet burst out, her voice thick with unshed tears. ‘Don’t pretend she isn’t, because everyone knows she is. She always has been. Everything has to be for Rosie.’
‘That’s not true, darling. Daddy and I want all of you to do well and have happy lives.’
Juliet raised her chin. ‘Good. Then I’ll marry first and Rosie can have my leavings.’
Alastair was already seated at a table in the window of London’s most fashionable tea room.
‘Juliet,’ he greeted her, rising and coming forward as soon as she entered.
‘Hello,’ she replied, giving a low sexy chuckle. She glanced askance at the white damask-covered table, set with gilt-edged white china. ‘Can we perhaps …? My mother thinks I’m out shopping and the whole of London will spot us if we sit in the window.’
Alastair looked abashed. ‘I never thought. Sorry.’ He quickly asked for a table at the back of the restaurant, grinning sheepishly as they took their seats. ‘It shows you how unaccustomed I am to taking young ladies out to tea. I live in the sticks these days; my etiquette is a bit rusty.’
She smiled beguilingly, but said nothing.
When he’d ordered China tea for both of them, and a selection of sandwiches and tiny cakes frosted with icing sugar, he said, ‘It’s wonderful to see you again, Juliet. I was beginning to wonder if last night had just been a marvellous dream.’
‘I woke up wondering the same thing,’ she admitted.
Then he frowned. ‘Will your mother mind awfully, your meeting me like this?’
Juliet regarded him from under the straw brim of her hat. ‘She worries about things like reputations.’
‘Yours or mine?’ he countered swiftly, with an engaging grin.
She laughed. ‘Definitely yours!’
Their conversation continued in a bright and breezy way, as if they were dipping their toes in the water, hovering on the edge of real intimacy, which for the time being suited Juliet very well. She could tell he was fearful of plunging in, in case he got carried away, and then it crossed her mind that she’d quite like to be ‘carried away’ by him. And then, suddenly, it seemed to her that he decided to throw caution to the winds.
‘I know this sounds crazy,’ he began diffidently, ‘and you’ll probably send me packing, but … but I’m in love with you, Juliet.’ His eyes bored into hers and she felt her insides quicken with excitement. ‘I didn’t even go to bed last night because I couldn’t stop thinking of you. I was desperate to telephone you this morning, and then I realized I didn’t know your telephone number. I don’t even know your last name! Isn’t that the maddest thing? The moment I saw you, something happened. I’ve never felt like this before,’ he added, almost brokenly.
His face shone with a fervid intensity that shocked her, and his hands, resting on the table, were clenched into fists.
For a moment she felt overwhelmed and slightly scared. Brought up in a family where it was de rigueur to control one’s emotions, Alastair’s impassioned admissions made her feel uneasy.
‘I see,’ she said inadequately.
‘Please say you’ll come out with me tonight? We could go to the Savoy; what do you say?’
‘I’m not allowed to go out at night without a chaperone,’ she pointed out.
His face suddenly lit up. ‘I have an idea.’ He leaned forward earnestly. ‘I’m staying with my cousin, Alice Heysham. I’ll get her to telephone your mother, and invite you to a supper party at her house in Chelsea. I can pick you up from your house, and we can go straight to the Savoy. How about that?’
Juliet nodded. ‘There’s just one thing.’ He looked both excited and embarrassed. ‘Can I have your telephone number? And … erm … what’s your mother called?’ he added, blushing.
That was when Juliet realized he honestly had no idea who she was. Oh, dear! And she did so like intelligent men.
‘My mother’s Mrs Henry Granville, and I’m Juliet Granville; Rosie’s sister.’
‘I can’t bear it …’ wailed Rosie, when she heard Lady Heysham had telephoned, inviting Juliet to supper. ‘Mummy, can’t you see what’s happening? Alastair is staying with her. You should have said Juliet couldn’t go.’
‘I was rather caught on the hop,’ Liza protested, knowing Rosie was right.
‘Ever since I can remember, I’ve dreamed of marrying a man like Alastair,’ she wept. ‘This is breaking my heart.’
‘Oh, darling. What about Charles Padmore? He’s besotted with you.’
‘You said that about Alastair,’ Rosie shot back.
‘Yes. Well, lots and lots of young men are in love with you.’
‘But Alastair is the only one I’m in love with,’ she said piteously. The absolutely worst part about the whole thing, and what made it so galling, was that her younger sister had pinched Alastair. Not one of the Duke of Rutland’s two beautiful daughters, which would have been sort of bearable. Not Megan Hamilton, or any of her other fellow débutantes, but her own sister, who shouldn’t have come out at all this year.
Alastair was fifteen minutes late, and Juliet, lingering in the hall in a beautiful silk evening coat with white fur cuffs over her evening dress, was terrified he wouldn’t turn up. There was something edgy and unpredictable about him that was exciting but also nerve-wracking.
At last, the front door bell rang, and Juliet hurried to answer it.
‘Thank you, Parsons,’ she said lightly, whipping open the door before the butler could get to it.
Alastair was standing on the doorstep, looking flushed and harrassed. ‘I’m so sorry. The traffic is at a standstill at Hyde Park Corner, because there’s been a road accident. Will you forgive me?’
Juliet just wanted to get away. ‘That’s fine,’ she replied. ‘You’re all right, are you? You weren’t involved in the accident?’
Alastair’s expression softened. ‘Oh, you’re so sweet. No, I wasn’t anywhere near it.’
A shabby old Daimler was parked outside the house. He ushered her into the passenger seat, and then walked around the car and climbed in himself.
As it pulled away from the curb, a face at the second-floor window peered down, seeing it gather speed as it headed towards North Audley Street. Then the view became blurred, breaking up into fragments like a kaleidosope, as the tears poured down Rosie’s cheeks. She knew now, without a doubt, that she’d lost her great love.
‘I do hope your sister …?’ Alastair began diffidently, as they drove round Trafalgar Square. ‘I do hope she doesn’t think … I mean, I never said anything to give her the impression that I was …’
‘Rosie has masses of young men, all mad about her,’ Juliet said quickly, wanting to alleviate any feelings of guilt he might have.
‘That’s what I thought,’ he said gratefully. ‘I’d hate her to think …’
‘Oh … quite.’
‘She’s awfully sweet, a dear girl, but …’ He drew a deep ragged breath. ‘But I feel quite differently about you.’
‘I’m glad you do,’ Juliet said in a small voice.
He took his eyes off the road ahead, and threw her a searching look. ‘Really?’
‘Yes
. Really.’
‘Oh, darling. I wish to God we’d met at the beginning of the season, and not the end.’
‘So do I.’ Compared to Edward and Archie, or James and Colin, this slightly older man had a dark, dangerous strain running through him which she found irresistible.
Seated at the best table in the restaurant, he ordered their dinner with flair; champagne and oysters, followed by ragout of lobster with a side salad, and a chocolate pudding laced with fine shreds of real gold, created by the resident chef, Gustav Escoffier, which greatly impressed Juliet.
‘When can I see you again?’ he kept asking obsessively, as they danced. ‘Can we meet tomorrow?’
‘I told you I was going away for the weekend.’ Juliet gave him her catch-me-if-you-can smile.
‘Is there no way you can stay in London?’
‘Mummy would never allow that.’
‘God, it’s going to be a long weekend without you,’ he groaned, pulling her closer. ‘And a longer summer if you’re in the country.’
‘Can we have some coffee?’ she asked. The intensity of his feelings slightly alarmed her.
‘Of course.’ Alastair led her back to the table. ‘Turkish coffee?’
‘Yes, please.’ She’d never had Turkish coffee before, but she wanted to appear sophisticated in the face of such open passion.
‘So what will you do while I’m pining, all on my own?’
She shrugged. ‘Play tennis. Go for walks. Relax. Just the usual things.’
‘Real family life. How sublime. Both my parents are dead and as I’m an only child, I envy you having a big family.’
Juliet sipped the thick black coffee from its tiny cup, and the bitterness made her lips shrivel, but she kept on smiling sweetly.
‘It’s very nice,’ she remarked without enthusiasm, knowing the next three days would be spent with Rosie.
Hartley Hall was grand, but it was not a stately home. Wisteria, climbing up to the grey slate roof, softened the lines of the white-framed symmetrical windows, and Virginia creeper grew neatly around the white front door. There was also an adjoining staff wing, stables, and a coach house.
Lady Anne had been brought here as a bride, shortly after Frederick Granville had inherited the place from his father. She loved the house with its big airy elegant rooms, but most of all she loved the sixteen-acre garden. With Spence, the head gardener, and three under-gardeners, she’d created a magical place of beauty and style that was the talk of the neighbourhood.
The Granville Sisters Page 5
