by Betty Neels
It was two days later when her mother looked up from her letters over breakfast.
‘Our little dinner party, Leonora. I thought twelve of us—just a nice number, don’t you agree? We’ll ask Colonel Howes and Nora, the Willoughbys, of course, the Merediths, the vicar—Dulcie Hunt is visiting her mother so he’ll be glad of a little social life—and Dr Galbraith, and Tony simply must manage to come. We’ll have it on a Saturday; that should make it easy for him.’
She counted on her fingers. ‘With us that’s twelve—’
‘Mother,’ said Leonora, ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea to ask Dr Galbraith if Tony comes. They don’t like each other…’
‘Nonsense, darling, of course they do.’ She made a great business of buttering her toast. ‘Anyway, I’ve already invited them.’ She gave Leonora a quick glance. ‘Well, I hadn’t much to do yesterday so I wrote the invitations and your father gave them to the postman in the afternoon.’
‘When for?’ asked Leonora. ‘And have you any ideas about feeding them?’
‘Darling, what a funny way of putting it… Saturday week. That gives Tony lots of time to arrange his work. I thought we might have artichoke soup. You did say there were a lot still in the garden. Willer sent over two brace of pheasants—a kind of thank-you for your help, he said; wasn’t that nice? There must be some kind of vegetables still in the kitchen garden to go with them, and I’m sure Nanny will think of some delicious sweet. Thank heaven there are at least a couple of bottles of claret in the cellar.’
She smiled, well pleased with herself. ‘So you see, darling, there’s almost nothing to do and it’ll cost hardly anything, and if we use the best silver and those lace table mats and you concoct one of your centre-pieces it will all look much more than it is, if you see what I mean.’
‘Yes, Mother,’ said Leonora. Of course it would cost something—the best coffee beans, cream, cranberries for the sauce, more cream for the soup, after-dinner mints, sherry—two bottles at least—and a bottle of whisky for any of the men who wanted it. Her father wouldn’t take kindly to her using his…
Then there would be bacon and baby sausages to go with the pheasant, and the ‘delicious sweet’ still to be decided upon. They couldn’t afford it but it was too late to tell her mother that. Leonora cleared up the breakfast things and went to the kitchen to give a hand with the washing-up and confer with Nanny about a suitable pudding.
Tony phoned during the week. He had managed to squeeze out a weekend, he told her, and would be down at teatime on the Saturday, adding the rider that he hoped her father would be up to a dinner party. ‘He’s not as young as he was!’ he cautioned. ‘We must keep an eye on him.’
He was in such good humour that she thought it prudent not to mention that Dr Galbraith was to be one of the guests. After all, there would be twelve of them there and they didn’t need to do more than bid each other a civil good evening. She must remember to make sure that they were as far apart at the table as possible.
She went once more to see Ben, anxious not to meet the doctor in the hospital but disappointed nonetheless when she didn’t. Ben was doing well. He had been out of bed on crutches and was having physiotherapy. It would take a bit of time, he assured her, but he’d be as good as new by the time they’d finished with him.
She left him a bag of fruit and some magazines and drove home. When she saw Dr Galbraith again she must ask him just how fit Ben would be. The thought struck her that she might not have the chance to speak to him at the dinner party, not if Tony was there…
Saturday week came and with it a dozen or more things to see to. The floral arrangement she had already contrived from various bits of greenery, some daffodils and primroses and aconites from the neglected border at the front of the house. She polished the table, helped Nanny put in the extra leaf and arranged the lace mats.
The silver was old, kept in a baize bag in what had once been the butler’s pantry, and she had polished it to a dazzling gleam; she had done the same with the crystal glasses and had washed the Coalport dinner service. They combined to make an elegant dinner table, and her mother, coming to see that things were just as she liked them, gave a satisfied sigh.
‘We may be poor,’ she observed, ‘but we can still show the world a brave face. It looks very nice, dear.’
Leonora filled the Georgian salt cellars and went to the kitchen to start the syllabub. A dozen eggs was an extravagance; on the other hand the yolks could be made into créme brûlée, which if it wasn’t all eaten at dinner could be used up on the following day…
She went upstairs after tea and looked through her wardrobe. Her clothes were good, for they had been bought when there had been enough money to have the best. They still looked good, too, but were sadly out of date. There was a silver-grey velvet somewhere at the back of the cupboard…
She hauled it out and tried it on and it didn’t look too bad—very plain, with its modest, unfashionable neckline and long sleeves, but it fitted her nicely. She had a quick shower and got dressed; Tony had said that he would arrive in plenty of time for drinks and there were still one or two jobs to do in the kitchen, where Nanny was working miracles with the pheasants.
Downstairs she put on a pinny, tucked up her sleeves and began to whip the cream. The evening should be a success, she thought; her mother was pleased, her father was better, though somewhat irascible, Tony was coming…
He had come; he stood in the doorway looking at her. Frowning. She looked up, smiling as he came in and then puzzled.
‘My dear girl, do you have to spend your time in the kitchen? The guests will be here in ten minutes or so and I expected to be met by an elegant fiancée sitting in the drawing room doing nothing.’
She made the mistake of thinking that he was joking. ‘Tony, don’t be so absurd. Of course I have to be here. Nanny can’t possibly manage on her own; she’s doing two people’s work as it is. I’m almost ready. Go and pour yourself a drink; Father and Mother should be down at any minute.’
He turned away without another word, and since the cream had reached the peak of perfection she hardly noticed his going. The fleeting thought that he hadn’t kissed her or even said how glad he was to see her passed through her head, but just at that moment she had a lot to think about if the dinner party was to be a success.
Ten minutes later she slipped into the drawing room to find that everyone had arrived, and she went from one to the other, exchanging greetings. They were all old friends—excepting Dr Galbraith, elegant in black tie, talking to Nora. He smiled down at her and she offered a hand, and since Tony had made no effort to speak to her, had barely glanced in her direction she let it lie in his firm grasp for longer than necessary and gave him a bewitching smile in return.
‘I’m glad you could come. Have you got your dog—Tod—home yet?’
‘Yesterday. He brought my sister with him. She had to return home at once, though—her youngest has the measles.’
‘Oh, what bad luck, but nice to get it over with when you’re young. We had it at about the same time, didn’t we, Nora? We must have been seven or eight…’
The doctor stared down at her; she must have been an engaging small girl with those enormous eyes, he thought.
‘Yes, well,’ said Leonora, aware of the stare. ‘I must just nip along to the kitchen—the soup, you know…’
They watched her go. ‘She’s such a dear,’ said Nora. ‘She practically runs this great place on her own. If it wasn’t for Nanny she could never cope.’
Mrs Sims from the village, who occasionally obliged with the heavy cleaning, was waiting in the kitchen ready to carry in the soup tureen; the pheasants were done to a turn, everything was fine, declared Nanny.
Leonora went back to the drawing room, bent to whisper to her mother and everyone crossed the hall to the dining room. Leonora had had a fire burning in its elegant grate all day, sighing over every shovelful of coal and every log, but appearances had to be kept up and the room was nicely
warm now. She took her seat beside Tony and watched Mrs Sims place the tureen in front of her mother. So far, so good…
CHAPTER FOUR
THERE was a good deal of lively conversation over the soup. Leonora, listening to Colonel Howes describing the delights of a genuine Indian curry, hardly noticed Tony’s silence on her other side. When she was free to turn to him, he was talking to Nora beside him.
She glanced down the table; Dr Galbraith was sitting beside her mother, who was talking animatedly, and the vicar and her father were discussing the local fishing.
The soup plates were removed and her father began to carve the pheasants—quite a lengthy business, but the claret had loosened tongues and everyone was chatting, relaxed among friends…
‘Will you stay until Monday?’ she asked Tony. She smiled at him, no longer vexed; he was probably tired after a busy week and he hated to see her working around the house.
‘There doesn’t seem to be much point if you’re going to be in the kitchen all day.’
She refused to get needled. ‘Well, I shan’t be. We might go for a good walk—blow the London cobwebs away.’
‘London at this time of year is rather delightful. How is your father? I thought he looked very tired.’
‘Did you?’ She frowned. ‘He’s so much better—’
‘I shall have a word with that doctor of his before I go—make sure he’s getting proper treatment.’
Leonora helped herself to sprouts. ‘Quite unnecessary, Tony; Father is in good hands.’
‘It seems to me that that fellow has cast a spell over you all—he’s probably quite incompetent!’
Leonora’s eyes glittered with temper. ‘That’s an abominable thing to say. Would you have known how to get a man with a crushed foot free from a farm tractor?’
She turned back to Colonel Howes and began an animated conversation about the extension to be built to the village hall, and the doctor, watching her from under lowered lids and replying suitably to Lady Crosby’s chatter, wondered what she and Tony were quarrelling about. They were being very discreet about it, but they were quarrelling.
In due course the pheasant was replaced by syllabub and the crème brûlée, and since Lady Crosby refused to accede to modern ideas the ladies were led away to the drawing room while the men remained to drink the port Sir William had brought up from the cellar.
Leonora slid away as the ladies went into the drawing room, to reappear presently with the tray of coffeepot, cream and sugar. The small table had already been placed by her mother’s chair, bearing the Worcester coffee-cups and the silver dishes of after-dinner mints. By the time the men joined them, they were deep in comfortable talk—clothes, the price of food, their grandchildren, and the difficulty of getting a gardener.
When the men came in there was a good deal of rearranging of seats and Leonora was kept busy offering more coffee and refilling cups, and by the time she had seen to everyone Tony was sitting between Nora and Mrs Willoughby on one of the old-fashioned sofas. So she went and sat by the vicar and listened to him talking about his wife, to discover after a few minutes that Dr Galbraith had joined them. A moment later her father walked over.
‘Come along to my study,’ he invited the vicar. ‘I’ll show you that new trout fly I’ve just tied.’ Which left Leonora and the doctor together.
‘A pleasant evening, Leonora.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Why were you and young Beamish quarrelling?’ He smiled. ‘Still are?’
She was getting used to the way he eschewed the soft approach. ‘Well, you see, I was in the kitchen when he got here—and he was disappointed because I wasn’t in the drawing room.’
‘Quite.’
‘I should have thought of that but I had the cream to whip. I didn’t think it mattered much. I mean, would you have minded?’
‘In the circumstances, and seeing that the success of the dinner party largely rested on the cream being properly whipped, no!’ He put down his coffee-cup. ‘But there was something else, wasn’t there?’
‘Well, yes. He thinks Father doesn’t look well.’ She went pink. ‘He—he wondered if…’
‘Ah—he doubts my expertise.’
‘I’m so sorry. I mean, no one else does; we all trust you and think you’re a very good doctor.’
He hid a smile. ‘Thank you. I won’t let it worry me.’
‘He said that he would talk to you.’
‘Splendid. And since he is coming to join us now, what could be a better opportunity?’ He glanced at her troubled face. ‘Go and talk to someone else,’ he suggested quietly, and turned a bland face to Tony.
He stood up as Leonora moved away and Tony frowned, put at a disadvantage by the doctor’s height and size.
‘You wanted to talk to me?’ the doctor enquired pleasantly.
‘Look here,’ began Tony, ‘I’m not at all happy about Sir William…’
Dr Galbraith said nothing.
‘He isn’t a young man.’
The doctor inclined his head; he looked so exactly like an eminent doctor listening with courteous patience to one of his patients that Tony’s face darkened with annoyance.
‘Isn’t it ridiculous that Sir William should go on living in this great house? He needs to be in something smaller and modern where he would be properly looked after.’ He caught the doctor’s eye. ‘Oh, Leonora looks after him very well, I know, but she’s limited—no money. Now, if he were to sell the place or hand it over to her, I could restore it.’
‘Yes?’ queried the doctor gently. ‘Would you live in it—with Leonora, of course?’
Tony said rudely, ‘Oh, of course. We’d have a flat in town but we could come for weekends, bring guests.’ He stopped, aware that he was talking too much. He essayed a smile. ‘My dear chap, I’m sure you could persuade Sir William to settle in something more suitable to his age and lifestyle.’
The doctor said evenly, ‘No, I couldn’t do that. It isn’t my business. Sir William lives here, it is his home, his ancestor’s home, he loves it. Surely if you intend to restore the place there is no reason why he and Lady Crosby shouldn’t live here? Why move? There is ample room for them, is there not?’
‘I can’t see that it is any concern of yours,’ said Tony sulkily.
The vicar had joined them again and presently Tony went away. The talk hadn’t been very successful, he reflected, and went in search of Leonora. He found her talking to Nora, who finally drifted away, so that he was able to give her his version of his talk with Dr Galbraith.
‘Well,’ said Leonora in a matter-of-fact way, ‘he’s quite right; there’s no reason why Father should move from here. It’s a silly idea. It would break his heart, besides being an enormous undertaking. You have no idea of the stuff that’s stored in the attics.’
She saw his annoyance and said quickly, ‘It’s very good of you to bother, Tony—I’m sure Father appreciates your concern; we all do.’ She added soberly, ‘I suppose in due time I shall inherit the place, but not for a long while yet. If you want to restore it then, I won’t mind…’
Tony said soberly, ‘My dear girl, we shall probably be in our dotage. The place needs a complete overhaul now but it can’t be done while your mother and father are still here.’
Leonora gave him a puzzled look and he saw that he had said too much. He took her arm and smiled at her. ‘Darling, don’t let’s worry about it. As you say, your parents are very happy here. It is a lovely old place, just the right background for a dinner party. I must say it’s a splendid evening and dinner was delicious. I can see that I am going to be very proud of my wife.’
They were words which dulled the faint feeling of unease Leonora had been trying to ignore. She told him about the pheasants and the artichoke soup. ‘So, you see, it cost hardly anything…’
He squeezed her arm and laughed with her and Dr Galbraith, watching them from the other side of the room, thought it was a great pity that a sensible girl like Leonora should be t
aken in by young Beamish. She was too good for him and too honest, and once she had married him and found out about him, as she was bound to do eventually, she would keep her marriage vows and be a loyal wife and quietly break her heart. A pity that some decent man couldn’t come along and marry her before Beamish had a chance to complete his plans.
It seemed strange to the doctor that Sir William hadn’t seen what was happening, with all this talk about his health and the need to move away from his home. Could he not see that Beamish wanted to get his hands on the lovely old place and use it for his own ends? The doctor frowned; it seemed likely that the man was going to marry Leonora for that very reason.
He shrugged his enormous shoulders; it was none of his business.
Cricket, advancing to meet him as he let himself into his house later that evening, enquired as to whether he had had an enjoyable time. ‘A very pleasant young lady, Miss Crosby,’ said Cricket. ‘I have had occasion to have a few words with Miss South—her old nanny, sir—and she told me that she is a most capable person and shortly to be married.’
‘You old gossip,’ said the doctor cheerfully. ‘I had a very pleasant evening and now I am going to take Tod for a quick walk. I’ll lock up when I get back.’
Presently he did just that, saw Tod into his basket in the kitchen and took himself off to bed. He had had a long and busy day and he slept the sleep of a tired man, never once thinking of Leonora.
However, Leonora, tired though she was, didn’t sleep well. Tony had sewn the seeds of doubt in her mind; perhaps her father would be better off living in a smaller house where there was no need of buckets to catch the drips when it rained and the plumbing was up to date. What did Tony intend to do with her house after they were married? He had been enthusiastic about restoring it but for what reason? He had made it plain on several occasions that they would live in London because of his work.
