Juliet sat in silence, staring at him, and a lot of things were beginning to make sense. ‘I didn’t realize you were so shy,’ she said slowly, almost sympathetically. She couldn’t imagine anything worse than suffering from shyness.
Cameron shrugged. ‘Probably being an only child didn’t help,’ he said. ‘I find having to mix with a lot of people really painful.’
‘I had no idea,’ she admitted, shaking her head. ‘You don’t have any friends of your own age, do you?’
‘Running the estate keeps me busy, and I had tutors as a boy, so I’ve not really had much of an opportunity to make friends.’
‘I can ask my family to stay, I suppose?’
‘Of course you can,’ he said quickly. ‘And if you want to pop down to London for a few days now and then, to do some shopping, then I’ve got no objection.’
‘Thank you,’ she replied formally. She was stunned by the irony of the position in which she now found herself. Here she was, one of London’s most avid socialities, the toast of the town, accustomed to going to several parties a night, married to a man who was so shy he prefered solitude and the company of his mother to that of her and her friends.
Seven
‘You ask her, Mother,’ Cameron implored. ‘I’ve asked her several times, but she always says no.’
‘Are you sure she’s not doing something to prevent it happening?’
‘How should I know?’ he asked incredulously. ‘That sort of thing’s not up my street.’
Iona Kincardine gave her son a sideways glance; fond, understanding, coveting the knowledge they shared, which was all the sweeter because it was a secret. It gave Iona a feeling of one-upmanship over Juliet, the mere wife.
‘I don’t want to make her suspicious,’ Iona said, frowning, and biting her lower lip. ‘You’re getting on all right? I mean, you know?’
Cameron nodded manfully. ‘Yes. Maybe I should go to her room more often …’ His voice trailed off.
Iona hitched her plaid shawl closer around her narrow shoulders, and leaned forward to be closer. They mustn’t be overheard. Her dark eyes glistened in her small white face, enjoying the power she had over her son.
‘Why don’t you wait until the next time she’s indisposed – you know what I mean? And then afterwards, go to her room every night for the next month.’
Cameron’s mouth tightened. ‘Oh, God,’ he groaned.
‘Every night,’ she repeated. ‘That should do the trick. It’s not a hit-and-miss affair, my darling boy. You can’t leave it to chance.’
‘So, will you ask her now? I mean, she might already be pregnant,’ he said hopefully, ‘and then I needn’t … you know.’
The dowager’s eyes narrowed. Hadn’t she watched Juliet every day to see if there was a change in her? It usually showed around the eyes, but she also scanned her figure to see if her breasts were swollen. But Juliet, always looking slim and exquisite, flitted about the castle like a visitor, not belonging, not a part of the place.
It would soon be Christmas, and six months since she and Cameron had married. Surely she should be pregnant by now?
Juliet turned on the brass taps of the old-fashioned cast-iron Victorian bath with its claw-and-ball feet, and then tipped some sweet-smelling oil into the warm water. This was where she relaxed before she went to bed, for the room was large and comfortably furnished with a chaise longue, a dressing table, side table, and an oak linen press, in which were stored stacks of fluffy white towels.
Large mirrors faced each other on either side of the room, reflecting the bright candle flames in an endless galaxy which glowed gently into infinity. Watching herself undress, she couldn’t help revelling in the beauty of her perfect body.
When she was naked, she stepped into the bath, and taking some oil from another bottle, smoothed it on to her breasts and arms, across her stomach and down her thighs. The rising steam misted the mirrors, so that the reflection of the flames became crystallized, and her body a pale wraith that echoed itself again, and again, into the distance.
The perfume of the oils was heady and seductive. She felt herself becoming aroused as she lay back in the warm water, so she closed her eyes and began to fantasize. Cameron was her husband. She must try to love him, and show him that making love could be wonderful; not a miserable snatched few minutes, like animals mating, but something that could lift your soul, and fill your heart with joy.
He’d looked at her after dinner tonight in a way that suggested he might come to her room later on. She wanted to be ready for him.
As she lay there, in the warm scented water, her desire became unbearable.
‘Daniel … Oh God, Daniel …’ Juliet soaped herself gently, imagining him there, kissing her, stroking her … telling her he wanted her … With a shudder, the exquisite moment passed.
Then she got out of the bath to dry herself.
When Cameron came to her room shortly after, she pretended to be asleep.
‘Duchess,’ said Juliet, who refused to call Iona Mother or even Mama. ‘Where’s Cameron? I haven’t seen him all day.’
The dowager looked up from the book she was reading, her expression bright, like a little bird who has caught the early worm. Her smile was impish. Around her on the library floor, the labradors and Highland terriers raised their heads and wagged their tails lazily at Juliet.
‘He’ll be somewhere on the estate,’ she proffered unhelpfully.
‘He’s always “somewhere on the estate”,’ Juliet retorted impatiently. Cameron seemed to vanish, without a word of explanation, shortly after breakfast every morning and often didn’t reappear until the late afternoon.
‘Is there anything I can do, my dear?’ It was the wolf speaking, disguised as Granny.
‘I want to go to London next week. There are people I want to see.’ She’d only been south once since their marriage, and that had been to see her family, fleetingly, before Christmas, to give them their presents. Now she wanted to go again, but it wasn’t her parents she wanted to see this time. She was desperate to see Daniel, tell him she was sorry she’d ended their affair, and now that she was also married … did it matter that he was too?
‘So, there are people you want to see in London?’ Iona asked, curiously.
‘Yes, and I have some shopping to do as well.’
‘Ah!’ Her dark eyes flashed with meddlesomeness. ‘I suppose you’ll want to see your doctor?’
Juliet looked genuinely surprised. ‘No. Why should I?’
Iona’s smile was arch. ‘Are you not enceinte then?’
‘Not that I know of. Anyway, Cameron would be the first person I’d tell if I was.’
‘Yes, of course, my dear.’ Iona folded herself into her mass of tartan rugs as she sat curled up by a smoking log fire, and went back to her book.
Glenmally Castle and its inhabitants were driving Juliet mad, making her feel claustrophobic and imprisoned. Ever since they’d been married, Cameron’s attitude towards her had changed. Always shy and awkard, he was now becoming remote. At times Juliet could hardly believe she was actually married to this polite stranger, with whom she had less and less in common.
What a heavy price she’d paid, she realized, for becoming a duchess. Her original hope that they could at least be good friends had now faded away. It seemed Cameron didn’t even want her companionship. Instead it was his mother who hung around, listening to and spying on everything she did.
‘You don’t seem to realize,’ Cameron said to her one day when she complained he was never there, even to talk to her, ‘this is an enormous estate. I have work to do, tenants to visit, foresters to see, a hundred and one things …’ His voice had risen in agitation.
Juliet shrugged, unconvinced.
As a result she now craved to swap burns for Bond Street, mountains for Mayfair, and lochs for Leicester Square. She was sick of wearing tweed instead of tulle, and sheepskin instead of satin. And although the castle crawled with people who ran her bath, lit fire
s in her bedroom, laid out her clothes and kept the old gloomy place, with its long dark corridors, spick and span, she missed the buzz of the metropolis.
It was almost dark, and there was a high wind whistling through the tall pine trees. Juliet stood with her arms folded protectively across her midriff as the dogs snuffled around, their paws making little crunching noises on the gravel. How ironic, she reflected, that, with all her worldy goods, her only companions right now were a lovable collection of dogs.
She braced her shoulders and took a deep breath of the icy air. This was not going to do. She was only twenty and she did not intend to spend the rest of her life with a frigid husband, and a nightmare mother-in-law, in a remote part of Scotland.
When she returned from her walk, she picked up the smallest terrier, Molly, and carried her up to her bedroom.
At least the company of the sweetest of all the dogs would be better than nothing, she thought, placing Molly on the satin eiderdown. Cameron and his mother were going to be furious, for the dogs had to sleep in the gun room at night. This thought made the presence of Molly, curled up against the small of her back as she settled down to sleep alone once again, all the more delightful.
‘You’re in town, darling?’ Liza exclaimed with excitement, when Juliet phoned her two days later. ‘How perfectly lovely. We’re all going down to Hartley tomorrow; you will come for the weekend, won’t you?’
‘Yes, I’d love that. It seems like years since I last saw you all.’
‘How’s Cameron? We might give a luncheon party on Sunday; several people down in Surrey haven’t met him yet.’
‘I’m on my own, Mummy. I want to see all my friends, and do some shopping, and … well, catch up on everything.’
Liza’s voice was sharp with anxiety. ‘There’s nothing wrong, is there, Juliet?’
‘Why should anything be wrong?’
‘Then … then …’ Liza faltered, embarrassed.
‘No, Mummy,’ Juliet broke in impatiently, ‘I’m not pregnant. I’ve already had this conversation with the old witch. I just wanted to come down to London to have a bit of fun, for God’s sake.’
‘All right, Juliet. There’s no need to get angry. I just wondered … so, would you like Daddy and I to give you a lift to Hartley?’
‘No, thanks. I’ll drive myself down on Saturday morning.’
Liza didn’t like to say any more. Juliet had always had a mind of her own. Anyway, now that the two eldest girls were off her hands, Liza’s thoughts constantly turned to Louise, Amanda and Charlotte’s futures. They must be given the same opportunities as their elder sisters. The thought of three more débutante seasons filled her with excitement too. Oh, the parties she’d arrange! The eligible young men she’d cultivate! The fun it was going to be, once again.
Henry’s mind was on other things. He’d been talking to his old friend from the Foreign Office, Ian Cavendish, and he was deeply concerned about the ever-growing prospect of war. Only that morning he’d read in The Times that Winston Churchill was quoted as saying: ‘Hitler and the forces of darkness are preparing for an onslaught on Europe.’
In the reassuringly solid English masculinity of White’s the previous evening, Henry had dined with Ian. They were given a discreet table in a corner, where they could not be overheard.
Friends since they’d been at Eton, their relationship had always been based on total trust. They could confide in each other without fear of betrayal.
‘The American President is extremely concerned at what’s happening,’ Ian told Henry, after they’d given their order.
‘So I’ve heard, but what can Roosevelt do about it? I can’t see the Americans wanting to get involved,’ Henry replied.
Ian lowered his voice. ‘When Hitler invaded Austria in February, Roosevelt realized the lengths the Third Reich will go to, to get what they want. He was especially shocked when it got out that Hitler had informed the chief of his armed forces that Germany needed more Lebensraum, adding that they must go on to capture Poland, White Russia and the Ukraine.’
‘I never thought I’d live to see another war in Europe,’ Henry said sadly.
‘Did you know that the British Ambassador in Washington has been contacted by the White House?’
‘I heard a rumour to that effect. I know that MI6 are trying to find out exactly when Hitler plans to strike.’
Ian leaned closer. ‘Churchill says it’s vital we meet with Roosevelt. We’re going to need the Americans when things hot up. We can’t fight this war alone, especially as our government has dragged its feet about rearmament.’
‘But we’ve got to do something about the situation, before it deteriorates further.’ Henry crumbled his bread roll as if he wanted to destroy it. ‘You do know that the Duke of Windsor and Wallis have met Hitler?’
‘So I believe. Thank God he’s no longer our king. If it was up to him and Wallis, I think they’d welcome Hitler … because I gather he had promised to overthrow our present King, and reinstate David and Wallis when, not if, he conquers Britain.’ Ian’s busy little dark eyes flashed at the thought.
Henry spoke. ‘Nothing is going to stop Hitler rampaging through the whole of Europe, is it? Germany is armed to the hilt. Only last week I heard that the Nazis have trained six thousand pilots for the Luftwaffe.’
‘It doesn’t help, either,’ Ian remarked forcefully, ‘that Britain has been selling bloody Rolls-Royce aircraft engines to the Germans for some time.’
‘I know. Sometimes I despair of this government. The Prime Minister was crazy to trust Hitler when he signed that peace treaty in 1937.’
Ian glanced around to make sure he couldn’t be overheard.
‘There’s going to be something different about the way we fight this war if it happens,’ he murmured.
‘Such as?’
‘Apart from the usual armed forces there are plans to create a secret organization, led by a British Army Officer, which will train suitable people to be dropped behind the enemy lines; not only to spy on the Germans and transmit the information back to England, but also to carry out acts of sabotage.’
‘That’s interesting,’ Henry said thoughtfully. ‘I suppose they could recruit the members of any resistance movement in whichever country they will operate in.’
‘Better than that,’ Ian whispered. ‘In this country they plan to recruit the cream of the criminal world. Safe-breakers, cat burglars, pickpockets – they’ve all got skills that will be invaluable for a saboteur. The regular Army are furious of course; think it’s an underhand way of fighting a war.’
‘To hell with that,’ Henry agreed.
‘Churchill has been having secret talks … he backs the idea to the hilt.’
‘All we’re really waiting for now is for Hitler to make a move towards European domination, isn’t it? Before we do anything?’
‘We’ll intervene before that happens,’ Ian said quietly.
Henry raised his blonde eyebrows, his blue eyes sharp with anxiety. ‘When?’
Ian nodded, and drank deeply of his Burgundy. ‘What will happen is we’ll issue the German government with an ultimatum.’
‘When?’
Ian gave a slight shrug. ‘When the time comes. Where are we now? July … I’d say, if things continue like this, we’ll be at war in just over a year’s time.’
Although Henry already knew it was an inevitable outcome, he didn’t think it could happen as soon as 1939. Confirmation from someone in Ian’s position was like a blow to the heart.
‘Dear God,’ he murmured, appalled. ‘How can we? We’re not equipped for war. We won’t be ready by next year, even if we started to re-arm right now. Why the hell didn’t the government listen to Churchill back in ’35? Instead of calling him a warmonger?’
They’d sat talking until they were the last to leave White’s imposing dining room.
Henry slept badly that night, dreaming of the men in his regiment who hadn’t returned from the Great War. Dreaming of the she
ll fire, the bloodied and broken bodies of his comrades, the hideous pungent stink of latrines, sulphur, and of death. Wondering all the time, guiltily, why he was still alive.
When he awoke, he realized for the first time that he was glad he’d only had daughters.
‘Henry? … Did you hear what I said?’ Liza asked.
They were entering Guildford, busy with people doing their weekend shopping.
‘Sorry, darling. I was concentrating on the traffic,’ Henry apologized glibly. ‘What did you say?’
‘I said,’ Liza repeated, with martyred patience, ‘that I’d never make the mistake I made last time … by bringing out two of the girls together. It blighted Rosie’s year; that’s why she lost her confidence. I wish we’d done it differently. Given them each a season; things might have worked out better, mightn’t they? Anyway, now that Charles has got a job in an art gallery, and there’s another baby on the way, Rosie seems quite happy again. And coming out that year was certainly very good for Juliet. What a wonderful life she’s living now! I wonder when she’ll have a baby. Cameron must want an heir. Anyway, as I was saying, how far ahead do you think we should book the Hyde Park Hotel for Louise’s coming-out ball? On the other hand, there’s nothing as nice as a ball in a private house, is there? Henry! Henry, what are you doing?’
Gripping the steering wheel with both hands, Henry swerved the car violently up a side turning into a quiet little street. Then he slammed on the brakes so hard, Liza was thrown forward, her face missing the windscreen by inches.
She turned on him, enraged. ‘Have you gone out of your mind?’ she screamed. ‘What are we doing? You could have killed us both!’
‘Attempting to get you to face reality! That’s what I’m doing,’ he shouted back. It was the first time in twenty-four years he’d raised his voice to her.
‘What … what do you mean?’ she quavered, about to burst into tears.
‘Liza, do you never read a bloody newspaper? Or listen to the wireless? Unless it’s the weather forecast so you’ll know what sort of bloody hat to put on your head? How can you be so bloody stupid?’ Henry thumped the steering wheel with the heel of his hand, his face scarlet with anger. ‘Don’t you realize there’s going to be a war? Possibly next year? You’ve got to stop behaving like an ostrich. It’s going to happen, and it’s no good pretending it isn’t! Forget about bringing Louise out in three years’ time. Remember how long the Great War lasted?’
The Granville Sisters Page 20
