When the music brought them to the far end again May caught a glimpse of their hostess, and remembered the scene on the stairs.
‘Archie, has there ever been any quarrel between Step-mamma and Lady Hindlesham? She gave me such a strange look, she seemed almost, well… hostile.’
‘Yes, I noticed that myself. Obviously Aunt Ju disapproves of the fair Della, but that wouldn’t worry her. On the contrary, the disapproval of a woman like Lady Clarence is meat and drink to the Lady Hindleshams of this world. No, it was you she didn’t take to.’
‘But she doesn’t know me!’
‘You are naïve, May. She sees you as a rival, but with a good twenty years’ lead.’
‘Oh come on, Archie, don’t be silly. Emily is the beauty in our family.’
‘Maybe, but she wouldn’t see Emily as a challenge. Della Hindlesham is a beauty all right, but she attracts the men because of something else, and that’s what she recognised in you, May.’
May felt her face crimson. Archie grinned down at her.
‘Be your age, May, you must be the lousiest dancer in London, but when do you ever have to sit one out?’
‘Why, only last week,’ May retorted. ‘Jonny Yoxford said he’d rather not dance the quadrille.’
‘So what did you do instead?’
‘He offered to show me some particularly fine camellias, in their conservatory.’
‘And did Aunt Julia enjoy the camellias?’ Archie’s tone was guileless.
‘She said she did – how ever did you know she came with us?’
Archie threw back his head and roared with laughter.
‘I knew we could rely on her!’
May tapped her foot on the floor. ‘Stop making that ridiculous whooping noise and take me back to Grandmamma; the dance has finished, in case you haven’t noticed!’
As soon as they were back amongst the chaperons May sat down and stealthily eased her right foot partly out of its shoe; she had stubbed her toe in the attack on Archie and her dancing slippers were tight-fitting. Just as she was wriggling her cramped toes she had to jump up again: Lady Woodbridge had arrived, fussy as a small tugboat and towing behind her a solidly built, heavy faced young man whom she introduced as her eldest son, Lord Alcester. While explanations and commiserations were being exchanged over the absence of Lady Clarence he stared at May, who began to feel that she was being looked over by a man thinking of buying a new horse. Archie had, of course, melted into the crowd on the arrival of the Woodbridges and May now had to sustain a one-sided conversation in which her gambits were met with a wall of ‘Yes. No. Really?’ and a species of grunt. But eventually it appeared that Lord Alcester thought this particular horse might be the bargain he was looking for, since he finally muttered, ‘D’ye care to dance?’ and dragged her off into a waltz without waiting for a reply.
Even through her silk glove May was unpleasantly aware of the sweatiness of his palm, while it was soon apparent that his talent for dancing was even less than her own. Her heart sank. She reflected grimly that they might have had some chance in the lancers, but their progression round the floor to the tune of the lilting ‘Schönbrunn Valse’ rapidly deteriorated into an ungainly scramble. When one moved up, the other moved down; both pulled back simultaneously then cannoned into each other with a thud whereupon Lord Alcester seized control of the situation by clamping May to his chest. May, hot and uncomfortable, braced her left hand against his shoulder and gave a fierce push. She thrust herself free just as her partner tried to execute a complicated turn and the result was disastrous. She collided with the couple behind them and her right shoe flew from her foot and was lost in the surrounding mélée.
Lord Alcester’s face reddened with fury, May’s with embarrassment; she breathed a fervent prayer that the floor would open up and swallow her where she stood. At that moment the man she had crashed into reappeared, her shoe dangling nonchalantly from one hand. ‘Allow me,’ and in one polished movement he was kneeling at her feet, had taken hold of her ankle in a firm grasp and had slipped her shoe back onto her foot. In seconds he was upright again, there was a smiling bow, a murmured ‘My pleasure’, and he caught up his waiting partner and was away. May had only a fleeting impression of a bony face, a flashing smile and an unruly lock of hair falling down over his forehead. With a feeling of fervent gratitude to her unknown rescuer she followed his example, seized hold of the awkward young man in front of her and, deciding that her dancing was marginally better than his, began to steer him firmly round the floor.
He muttered in protest: ‘Hey, you’re pushing me around. I’m supposed to lead.’
May, her composure now partly restored, hissed back, while smiling sweetly, ‘Not after what happened last time.’
‘That wasn’t my fault, you pushed me!’
‘A lady shouldn’t need to push a gentleman.’
‘Well, how was I to know that ass Cussons was so close behind? It was all his fault.’
May disdained to argue further, and they waltzed clumsily on in acrimonious silence.
When a sulky Lord Alcester had propelled her back to her grandmother and made a rapid escape, May turned and saw Archie leaning against the wall, with a wide grin on his face.
‘Well, May, that was priceless – what a performance! I know Alcester’s not the most exciting of partners, but to go and throw yourself at Harry Cussons like that. Some women will stop at nothing!’
‘It wasn’t my mistake, he shouldn’t have grabbed me like he did. And I don’t know who it was I bumped into, but I was jolly grateful to get my shoe back – I didn’t notice you rushing to my rescue with it!’
‘What? Me? Try and compete with old Harry, the ladykiller himself – I’d have no chance. Why, he could put a lady’s stocking back on, let alone her shoe, in the time it’d take me just to kneel down!’
‘Archibald, that’s quite enough.’ Lady Andover spoke sharply to her grandson and rapped his hand with her fan. ‘Go and find Bertie, I wish to speak to him.’
Archie, unrepentant, bounded off, and Lady Andover turned to May.
‘Don’t worry, my dear, Archie only happened to notice because he was dancing nearby. I’m sure most people were quite unaware of your little contretemps.’
‘I do hope so, Grandmamma. I was so embarrassed, I just didn’t know what to do, and Lord Alcester just stood there, gobbling like an angry rooster.’
‘Yes, he takes after his father, they’re quite a trial to poor dear Mabel – but May, you really should not have slipped off your shoe like that. I tried to attract your attention, I could see you had not got it on again properly, but you left so suddenly.’
‘I won’t do it again,’ May promised fervently, thankful that her step-mother was safely at home.
Her hand was claimed next by the persistent Jonny Yoxford, and they moved off into a lively quadrille. Jonny kept up a lighthearted banter, apparently unaffected by May’s refusal of his hand and heart a mere two months ago, and she relaxed gratefully in his arms.
As she returned to her grandmother May noticed a tall figure leaning over her chair in close conversation; there was something familiar about the set of his shoulders and when he turned and smiled May’s heart jumped as she realised it was her recent deliverer. Jonny’s greetings were restrained, and he soon left to find his next partner.
‘My dear, Mr Cussons wishes to be presented to you.’ And amid May’s confusion the introductions were made.
‘Are you free later in the evening – perhaps we could dance before supper?’ His voice was low-pitched and attractive. May murmured an acquiescence.
‘Good, I shall be looking forward to our dance. Good evening Miss Winton, Lady Andover.’
He strode off, just as May’s next partner came for her; but half an hour later he was at her grandmother’s side again, and had swept her on to the floor before she had time to draw breath. She soon realised that besides being an expert dancer he was strong enough to pilot her without mishap; when she did lose
the rhythm his tactic was simply to lift her off her feet and then deposit her again in time to the music – and this with a smile which, while acknowledging her slip, made it seem of little consequence. Indeed, May soon began to suspect that he found her occasional lapses amusing, and she laughed with him.
He seemed in no hurry to open the conversation, but once May had relaxed in his arms he grinned, and spoke teasingly.
‘So, Cinderella, you’ve come to the ball at last?’
May smiled back, replying candidly, ‘I’m afraid my foot would never have squeezed into her tiny slipper – you would have exposed me as one of the ugly sisters!’
He threw back his head and laughed aloud. ‘But you are Cinderella, because I’ve never met you at a ball before. However have you escaped tonight?’
‘I’m sure we must have been in the same company sometimes, perhaps at a squash, but my step-mother is very strict about whom I meet.’
As soon as the words were out May could have bitten off her tongue, and she felt the crimson rise from her throat. Her partner pulled down the corners of his mouth in an exaggerated gesture, but his eyes sparkled.
‘I am silenced – utterly!’ But within seconds he whispered, ‘You blush beautifully, Miss Winton,’ then louder, ‘So where is your step-mother tonight?’
In further confusion May murmured, ‘At home, she had a headache. She sent me with Grandmamma.’
‘…who is an old friend of mine, and so we met.’ The note of satisfaction in his final statement was unmistakable.
He was silent for a few bars, then, to the mingled relief and disappointment of May, he turned the conversation into more conventional channels. The dance seemed to flash by, and so did their supper interlude. However, May was not so bewitched by her new partner as to fail to do justice to the excellent refreshments, and she exclaimed with delight over the table.
‘I never tire of lobster mayonnaise – why, there are truffles in this partridge pie – do try the mousse, Mr Cussons, it’s delicious, and a little of the salad? – oh, quails, I never feel quite happy about them, they are such small birds.’
‘But I notice you have no objection to eating large birds, since you’ve selected the chicken galantine.’
May smiled. ‘One is never totally consistent, Mr Cussons.’
He looked down at her. ‘How true, Miss Winton, how very true.’
The tiny meringues, coffee eclairs and Neapolitan ices were all sampled and eaten with pleasure, then he whisked her off to the dance floor again. May, well aware that Lady Clarence would certainly have been annoyed at her spending so long with one partner, made a half-hearted protest, but the lively strains of the polka, one dance she genuinely enjoyed, seduced her into compliance, and they pranced happily round the room in an amicable silence, Mr Cussons only venturing one question.
‘Tell me, Miss Winton, do you ever suffer from indigestion?’
May widened her eyes in surprise. ‘No, why ever should I?’ Which made him laugh again.
Towards the end of the dance she saw a slight frown cross his face as he glanced towards the side of the room; she followed his gaze but could see only their hostess, Lady Hindlesham, in conversation with her grandmother.
This time, when the music ended he led her straight back to Lady Andover. Lady Hindlesham’s face was smooth and unruffled as they approached, but May still sensed a coolness in her polite query.
‘I trust you are enjoying yourself, Miss Winton?’
‘Yes, thank you Lady Hindlesham, very much. And supper was absolutely delicious.’
At this last remark Lady Hindlesham seemed to relax slightly, and her smile almost reached her eyes. Then she turned to the tall man at her side and laid her slender hand on his arm
‘Come along Harry, I need you. Good evening, Melicent my dear. Good evening Miss Winton.’
As they moved away Harry Cussons turned back for a moment and murmured to May, ‘Farewell, Cinderella.’
May could not resist it; she smiled up at him and whispered, ‘Goodbye, – Buttons!’
He blinked, then laughed aloud. A look of distaste crossed Lady Hindlesham’s face as she led him off.
The rest of the evening was an anti-climax, and May barely protested when Lord Clarence, a guilty expression on his face, almost seized her from the arms of her last partner, muttering, ‘Come along, my dear, it’s nearly twenty past three, whatever will your mother think? You know her views on young women who stay dancing until the servants are ready to sweep up!’
‘But Papa, hardly anyone else has left yet,’ but she allowed herself to be taken away.
Outside the night air was blessedly cool and clear, and May leant back gratefully on the cushions as they drove through the quiet streets. The steady clip-clop of the horses’ hooves was pleasantly soothing, and when they alighted outside the house she paused a moment to gaze at the fluttering leaves of the trees in the square, silhouetted against the dawn sky.
‘Come along, May, don’t dawdle.’
She followed her father up the steps and through the open front door.
Chapter Five
Three weeks later May and her parents were on their way to Stemhalton, the Marquis of Andover’s country seat in Norfolk. The London Season had ended and the round of summer visits begun. May missed her sessions at the Bath Club, but otherwise she felt relief at finishing the never-ending round of calls and tea parties, of dances and receptions, interleaved with stately strolls beside Rotten Row or in the Park. And all the time there had been the constant preoccupation with dress standing immobile, transfixed by pins, at Konski’s; inspecting a long procession of hats at Paquin’s; and day after day, the continual changes of costume.
As she gazed out of the compartment window at the golden fields and green woodland of East Anglia May became aware of a certain stiffness in the low-toned conversation between her parents.
‘Had I known that Lady Hindlesham was to be among the guests I would have pleaded an alternative engagement.’
‘Come now, Julia, Hindlesham’s a good chap, y’know.’
‘I have no objection to meeting Lord Hindlesham.’ Her voice lowered still further and May only caught the words ‘Cussons’ and, a little later, ‘openly known’.
Lord Clarence spoke more loudly, ‘I’m sure my mother knows what she’s about.’ He glanced at May. ‘We won’t discuss it further.’
Lady Clarence subsided into a thin-lipped silence, while her husband applied himself to his ‘Morning Post’.
‘Stemhalton Market, Stemhalton Market.’
May jumped down from the railway carriage and looked around her at the familiar brightly painted station buildings with their sentinel rows of hollyhocks. At the rear of the train Bella and Fenton, and Makins, Lord Clarence’s valet, were standing over a pile of luggage, directing the energies of a couple of porters. May turned towards the barrier and saw her uncle’s Coachman, advancing with a beaming smile.
‘Hello, Saunders, what a beautiful day; are we the only people on the train?’
‘Good afternoon, Miss May; yes, the other guests mostly came on the two forty-five, and one of the gentlemen, a Mr Cussons, why, he motored over!’
‘Goodness, that was adventurous of him.’ May spoke calmly, but she felt her heart miss a beat. She had not seen Harry Cussons since the night of Lady Hindlesham’s ball, but she remembered his strong features and commanding manner.
Lofthouse, the Marquis’ butler, met them at the door; he had been with the family for years and was an old friend of May’s. She felt the familiar lift of excitement as she crossed the spacious hall and entered the drawing room. Her childhood holidays at Stemhalton had always seemed golden times, especially when she and Emily had been packed off with just old Nanny, leaving their parents behind. Aunt Dora had exercised only minimal supervision from her sofa and the four children had ranged at will over the estate, May and Emily tagging along behind their older cousins, determined not to be left out. It had been worth the penalty of a sco
lding from Nanny, ‘Your frock, Miss May, what have you done! And it’s all stained with green at the back!’ Later, even the governesses had seemed to relax a little at Stemhalton, although May well remembered the formidable Miss Worth, who had insisted on all rents and tears being summarily mended by the one who’d done the rending. Still, it had been a small price to pay for weeks of near freedom. May felt very old as she sighed for the lost days of youth, but she rapidly brightened when she spotted a pair of well-tailored shoulders outside on the terrace – so it was that Mr Cussons!
‘Good afternoon, Grandmamma.’ She bent to kiss the scented cheek. ‘Hello Archie, don’t scoff all the cake, leave some for me.’
‘You should be as fat as a pig, the amount you eat!’
May made a face at her cousin.
‘Nineteen inches, and that’s without my corset,’ she replied complacently.
‘Stop squabbling, children.’ Their grandmother’s tone was goodnatured but firm. ‘What would your mother say if she heard you speaking of undergarments at the tea table – and to a gentleman!’
‘It’s not a gentleman, it’s Archie.’ But May sat down and obediently began to play the young lady.
Harry Cussons had not come in from the terrace by the time Lady Clarence sent May upstairs for her obligatory quiet hour before dinner. May roamed restlessly round the light airy bedroom, missing Emily; then rang for Bella too early. Stemhalton had been built long before the days of bathrooms, and although two cavernous apartments had since been converted these were generally reserved for the gentlemen, so two housemaids struggled in with the hip bath and large cans of hot water, and arranged the screens around the rug in front of the fireplace. Splashing in the water on a warm August evening was pleasant enough, but May remembered shivering in the icy draughts of December when the roaring fire barely warmed even the area in front of it.
This evening May took more interest than usual in her toilette. She gazed critically at her reflection in the long glass, contrasting herself unfavourably with the remembered elegance of Lady Hindlesham. The frills which crossed over on her bosom, and were themselves ornamented with ribbons and tiny tulle roses, seemed over-ornate and fussy; she turned away, tugging impatiently at the spangled tulle of the heavily flounced overskirt.
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