by James Anson
"St Mary's Nursing Home," said Agnes. "The excitement of the wedding was all too much for her. I have been to see her and will be taking over the arrangements - we are distantly connected on my father's side. I want to see poor Rosemary's only daughter married properly! And..."
There was a knock at the door. Miranda peeped round it.
"Miranda," said Agnes, "make a light lunch for Mr March. Nothing rich. What is your grandmother doing?"
"Playing cribbage with Uncle Mike in the kitchen," said Miranda. "She said to tell you she has her hat on and is awaiting orders!"
"I'd better see to them," said Agnes grimly. "Michael isn't here to enjoy himself."
Robert felt the thread escape him again. Miranda eventually returned with a light lunch and the news that Bessie, as the Dowager Countess was known to her grandchildren, had departed to the caterers, while her mother was on the phone 'giving orders'. Michael had left with Bessie who had a 'thing' about him.
Lord Bourton, he gathered, was standing firm and flatly refusing to join his wife in London for the wedding. As he was notorious among his fellow backwoods peers for his refusal to move more than ten miles from his country seat, this was not surprising. A Fanshaw had made the grave error in 1643 of riding out in support of King Charles and since then, apart from gallantly but reluctantly serving their country overseas when called on to do so, they had resolutely stuck to their ancestral acres.
"It is very annoying of Jack," said Agnes when she joined Robert later. "I could have done with him to give the bride away; he was just the same over poor Hermione's wedding - we had to have Uncle Clarence in the end and he's, well ..."
"Potty," said Miranda. "He has an Indian spirit guide called White Eagle."
"He is not potty!" said Agnes. "He is just a trifle ... eccentric. Ah, there you are, Michael..." She stared speculatively at her brother. He shifted uneasily.
"Now," said Agnes decisively, "as you will be giving the bride away, Michael, you need to have your dress uniform cleaned and pressed. As this is Venus's great day, I will also expect you to behave fitting the occasion."
"I am not giving any bride away," said Michael in a dangerously calm voice. "For one thing, remember, I wear a green uniform with Sons of the Fianna on my cap badge.
I'll be lucky not to be arrested at the Guards Chapel door! Ask Charles - at least he is in the right army!"
"I did," said Agnes. "He said he had better things to do than give away Giles Burke's halfwitted daughter. Then Winifred chipped in and said we had insulted Charles with the very suggestion and did we want to ruin his career?"
"My God!" said Michael. "I'll do it! I'll need permission to wear it, and I'm not sure I can get back into the thing, and I've passed my sword on to young Denis, but ..."
"You will have to see about borrowing another then, won't you," said Agnes, a 'don't bother me with trifles' note in her voice.
Michael, muttering darkly, took himself off to the kitchen. Robert reluctantly took his leave, giving Amos, now being firmly packed into his cat carrier by Michael ready for his trip home, an affectionate farewell. He also fitted in a quick lecture about being sure to clear the rubbish behind the greenhouse, and get the bins out for the 'men' to Michael, who didn't appear to be listening but insisted on an affectionate farewell for himself.
Montague Place seemed more cheerless than ever on his return there.
A couple of days later he staggered back from the London Library loaded with books. He'd given up on the British Museum Reading Room, convinced they were pumping alien gases into the atmosphere there to destroy his mind. He was surprised to find a tastefully engraved wedding invitation on his mat - now when did Agnes think he would have time to go to weddings?
Mr Halliwell who had called, more in hope than anticipation, to see how work was progressing, picked it up.
"What a stroke of luck!" he enthused. "This will make excellent publicity for the book!"
"You're mad!" said Robert. "I'm not going."
"Of course you are," said Mr Halliwell. "It's perfect. The bride is the daughter of one of Ireland's premier earls and very well-connected; from the reported guest list, half the peerage will be there. It will help to dispel rumours you are doing one of those hatchet jobs."
Robert glared at him. At that moment the door phone went and informed him a Lady Miranda Fanshaw was below and craved admittance. Robert groaned and said send her up.
Miranda staggered in loaded with carrier bags, one of which had burst, its contents endeavouring to escape. Mr Halliwell relieved her of the most at risk.
"Thank you," said Miranda. "It gave way, I'm afraid."
Robert introduced them and went to make coffee in his minute kitchen. When he returned, Miranda had opened a box of shortbread and was discussing the works of Mr Norman Thelwell, whom she held in high regard, with Mr Halliwell.
"Uncle Mike brought your best suit up," she remarked to Robert. "Mother is having it cleaned and pressed. Uncle Mike has permission to wear his uniform; he is borrowing a sword from the attaché at the Irish Embassy - they are pleased he has been invited."
"He's lucky to be invited anywhere," said Robert. "And leave some of that shortbread for me! I haven't said I'll go yet."
"But it will be fun," said Miranda. "Everyone will be there. I do hope Great Aunt Kathleen can come - she is wonderful. Uncle Mike will be up on Thursday for the rehearsal. Now, I must be off for my dress fitting."
"Excuse me," said Mr Halliwell, "but I have my car outside, could I drive you?"
Robert, aware that Mr Halliwell was clearly appalled that any twelve-year-old, no matter how self-possessed, was whisking all over London on her own, nodded to Miranda.
"He is all right," he said. "Has a daughter of your age himself."
"Yes, indeed," said Mr Halliwell, "but my Sally has red hair. Takes after her mother - she is Irish too, comes from West Meath."
"Thank you," said Miranda. "I wonder if she knows Great Uncle Brian. He is really strange ..."
They went off discussing some of the weirder members of the Faulkner clan. Robert began to wonder if leaving his home, if not Michael - and he was already having second thoughts there -had been a good idea after all. There at least he could work in peace, most of the time anyway.
Finally, a day or two later, surfacing after a weary night of checking references, swearing, making new notes, cross-checking, etc., Robert made his way to his kitchen to brew some life-giving caffeine. With luck it might just keep him awake long enough to finish this batch of references.
The door phone went. Michael had arrived up from the country - it couldn't be that late, could it? Yes, it could. Robert let him in and pointed to the kitchen.
"Help yourself," he said. "Came up on the milk train, did you?"
"Pretty well," said Michael. "Socks, as requested, cake from Alice - she is minding Sam and Amos for us - and Agnes expects you at 9 a.m. sharp tomorrow at 32 Boscombe Square. She has had your suit pressed to her satisfaction."
"Oh God," said Robert, "I'd managed to forget the wedding. Didn't I hear something about you looking for a sword?" He slumped into a chair yawning and looking like a red-eyed wreck.
"I wouldn't look dressed without it in the uniform," said Michael. "I'd passed it on to Denis, being a family one. He's at Sandhurst now." He waited for the usual sarky remark.
It didn't come. Rob must be really down, he decided.
"It's okay, though," he went on. "Military attaché at the Irish Embassy is lending me his. Still going to be tricky - dead embarrassing if I'm arrested at the chapel door with that great girl on my arm ..."
"That's not funny!" said Robert.
"No," Michael agreed, "but you look like you need a laugh. It's all right, I had tea with Egerton's commanding officer after the rehearsal. Soldiers understand each other - it's the bloody politicians and cowboys who screw things up. Wasn't sure I'd be able to get back into the uniform either, it's a very snug fit in some parts."
"Always said
spending long hours in the saddle was broadening your beam," said Robert, grinning.
"Ah, but it's done wonders for my thigh muscles," said Michael, with what could only be called a lascivious smirk on his face.
Robert squirmed. "And you can forget that!" he ordered. "It's too early and I'm too exhausted - and we are separated, in case you have forgotten!"
"Rubbish!" said Michael briskly. "Here, Ashley took some photos of the garden a while ago. You haven't seen them yet."
Robert looked through them slowly. "Everything has grown," he said. "Including Ashley."
"I took that one," said Michael. "He's very proud of that damned bed of onions. Rob, what's the matter?"
"Ah, nothing," said Robert. "I was just up late checking references ..."
"Oh yes," said Michael. "You haven't been to bed at all, you look bloody awful. Tell me what needs to be done. I can take notes for you - done it before, remember?"
Robert looked at him, then pushed over a pile of books and a heap of A4 paper.
"It's all there," he said, "just copy over the references where I have stuck slips in, make a note of page numbers. Oh, you know. Anything you're not sure of, make a note. I just need to get my head down for a few hours."
" Go!" said Michael. "I know your system. I'll wake you about three."
Robert opened his mouth to argue, then turned and headed bedward.
Later, in the early evening, having been persuaded that his schedule would not be completely ruined if he actually stopped to eat, they went out for a meal.
"Not a patch on yours," said Michael as he demolished a large plate of pasta at a recommended restaurant near the flat.
"True," said Robert, "but passable. I'm glad you rescued me now. I was beginning to go stir-crazy at that flat - kept forgetting what day it was. I even missed David's birthday."
"No, you didn't," said Michael. "I sent the usual donation off to the children's hospital."
"Thank you," said Robert. "How bad is tomorrow going to be?"
"Well," said Michael, "just look upon it as interesting copy for you. Agnes will be wearing the dreadful straw hat and costume she has worn for every family event in the last ten years at least; I'll be escorting a young lady who, with her heels on, is six inches taller than I am, and we will have Miranda and an eight-foot train behind us. Last I heard, they were still trying to sober up the best man, and some very odd relations are appearing out of the woodwork."
"I'm worried you might not be joking," said Robert. "Jack, I take it, is still refusing to make an appearance?"
"Said he would shoot himself in the foot if necessary," said Michael. "He's never forgiven Agnes for dragging him away on that Swiss holiday against his better judgement - and you know what happened there."
* * * * *
"Thank goodness that's over!" said Agnes, back at 32 Boscombe Square after the wedding.
She carefully removed her antique straw, secured to her head with about ten hatpins, and then kicked off her shoes. "How do you think it went, Robert?" she inquired.
Robert, settled comfortably in a vast overstuffed armchair with a plate of spare sandwiches and a glass of flat champagne, looked up.
"Like most weddings," he said. "Great time for everyone but the bride and groom.
They just looked concussed. I'll never forget that wonderful woman with the seagull on her hat and the fox fur tippet with the Attic smile."
"Great Aunt Kathleen," said Agnes. "Yes, there was no stopping her. I was terrified Miranda would catch sight of that bird."
"Mike did," said Robert happily. "He sort of quivered then kept his eyes straight ahead. Kept losing his place in the prayer book, too. Have to say his speech was mercifully brief - pity your Uncle Basil's wasn't. By the way, wasn't that Mrs Bradshaw dancing with Mike at the reception, gazing up at him with a moonstruck expression?"
"Yes," said Agnes. "Sickening, isn't it, the effect he has on sensible women? I knew she would enjoy the wedding, so I asked Aunt Lizzie. She said, 'Invite who you like, dear.' She and Great Aunt Kathleen hit it off right away, I thought they would. An admirer of Aunt's has given her use of his suite at the Savoy, so they have gone there with Bessie - to make a night of it, they said."
Robert raised his glass to the ladies. "I wish I had an admirer with a suite at the Savoy," he remarked.
Agnes looked at him. "I don't know about you," she said, "but as soon as Michael gets back from the station - and please God he puts the happy couple on the right train to Scotland - I'm going to join Miranda in the kitchen for some supper and an early night. She is very thrilled with the 'Thelwell' Mr Halliwell gave her. It was very kind of him to have it personally signed for her. Did you meet his Sally at the reception? She seems a very nice child; she will be at school with Miranda next term. It was such a relief that Michael could help us with the fees. Ah, that's Michael now."
Michael entered. "All safely off," he said. "Venus said to thank you so much for organising her wedding so beautifully, between sobbing on Egerton's shoulder, that is. He said, 'Oh dash it, Venus!' and to tell you, you are a real sport."
"Wonderful," said Agnes. "Still, he does seem very fond of her. Miranda looked sweet, didn't she?"
"Yes, she did," said Robert. "I was wondering how long it would take you to break down and admit it."
Agnes permitted herself a moment of maternal pride. "I'm off then," she said. "Just some clearing up in the kitchen. You can look after yourselves, I'm sure."
"She's enjoyed every moment of it," said Robert. "More women like Agnes and we would have kept the Empire."
"Damn the Empire," said Michael, "you might have kept Ireland. What have you got there?" He took a sip of Robert's champagne. "Flat," he said.
"Sandwich?" asked Robert. "That side's smoked salmon, this side's some sort of paté, I think. It's very good anyway. Bessie seems to have over-ordered, bless her. She went to the Savoy with Great Aunt Kathleen and your friend Mrs Bradshaw. Going to make a night of it, they said."
"A thought to ponder over," said Michael. "What did you think of the wedding? I saw you chatting to Egerton - you were looking stunned."
"Well," said Robert, "his remarks about his beloved's family, apart from her mother, were quite actionable. Is it true Giles traded Venus in for the price of a new hunter?"
"Probably," said Michael. "But as she has been mooning over Egerton for years, it's worth it. Surprised to see you up on your feet dancing for once - and with the bride."
"Lovely girl," said Robert. "Hope it turns out all right. I noticed you and Mrs Bradshaw whooping it up, too."
"Eugenie," said Michael. "Yeah, icing on the cake that wedding was, her last big event before going back to the farm. Told me she had a marvellous time trotting round stately homes - more than lived up to her expectations."
There was a snort from Robert. "She will hardly have seen the real England, trotting round damp stately homes here and in Ireland, hobnobbing with the shooting, huntin' set," he remarked acidly. "Going home with a sickly sentimental, rosy view."
"She was here on holiday," said Michael after a pause, "not to write a thesis on deprivation in the inner cities. I get really pissed off with you, Rob. Just like to rub people's noses in the dirt, you do. She's worked bloody hard all her life and has this romantic view of a Helen Allingham England. It's not hurting anyone. So why spoil it for her?"
"Wow!" said Robert. "You're in a sharp mood. Have a sandwich. I began to get worried in the church: they played 'Here comes the bride' twice - and she didn't. What was up?"
"Pre-wedding nerves in the porch," said Michael. "She's very young, after all, and suddenly wondered if Egerton might turn out like dear Papa. I told her no-one could be as lousy as dear Papa. Then had a couple of stiff words with Egerton about the need for patience etc."
"Hum," said Robert, "I can't quite see you as a marriage counsellor - hardly had much experience, have you?"
"Oh, I don't know," said Michael. "Living with you has been a real education."
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"And what's that supposed to mean?" Robert sat up sharply and spilt champagne down his sleeve.
"Blast!" he said. "Don't know what's with you all tonight - had Agnes going on to me earlier about the need for tolerance. Seemed to think I lacked it. So I told her my views - she didn't seem to be listening."
"Surprise, surprise," said Michael. "I expect, like me, she knows them off by heart. Look, Rob, I'm not giving way on this. If I want a couple of friends in for a chat and a couple of drinks, I'm going to do it. You don't have to meet them, or even approve of them. I'll be tactful and pick a time when you're out, but that's it."
Robert was silent a moment, then shrugged. "Suppose I do go on a bit. Ag says I must have been some ghastly minor prophet in another existence, the sort who goes round crying 'Woe unto Israel' and all that stuff. Oh, sit down. I'm getting a crick in my neck looking up at you."
Michael settled on the rug by his chair. "You're looking very pensive tonight," he remarked.
"Champagne's getting to me," said Robert. "I'm even seeing you through a rosy glow - can't even be bothered to quarrel. You looked fine, by the way."
"Glamour of the uniform," said Michael. "My Sam Browne belt was killing me. Must take Harry's sword back tomorrow. Why don't you join me down here - bring the sandwiches with you. Any more champagne?"
"Why not?" said Robert. "It's in the kitchen. I haven't the strength to walk out there and get it. On the table," he added as Michael departed kitchenwards. He returned saying good night to Agnes in the hallway.
"Good night, Robert," said Agnes. "Don't forget to put the lights out. And bank up that fire."
"Ta," said Robert, accepting another full glass. "So, when are you off on that horse-buying spree of yours?"
"Monday week," said Michael. "I'm not looking forward to any of it - they insist we use a helicopter for part of the trip. Terrible waste of money. We could buy two more horses with the cost of the thing. I can't stand 'em. I should have time to call on Oonagh - get you some plants from her garden."
"An old girlfriend of yours, is she?" said Robert, cuddling amiably.
