“Of course.” Lilian’s outfit was certainly more of a stage costume than anything Evelyn would have expected a woman to wear out for the evening.
“But I do love it. Of course, I can’t do anything to shave the inches from my hips, but this hides them well enough, don’t you think?”
“Well, yes, I suppose…” Evelyn flushed at being asked to make such an assessment.
“But, darling, why aren’t you dressed yet?” Lilian had apparently just noticed that Evelyn had not changed since her arrival.
“I had to rest a little. But I’ve just started to look through my clothes for something suitable,” Evelyn assured Lilian. She hoped her face did not look as tear-stained as it felt.
“Excellent, that means I can help you, then. At least until James gets here.”
“Oh. Thank you.” Lilian’s help was not something Evelyn felt she needed. In her mind she catalogued every outfit in her suitcase and knew instinctively that Lilian would approve of none of them.
“So show me what you have!” Lilian was clearly excited.
Evelyn removed the plain white blouse and navy skirt, which sat on top of her case, and reached under the grey, functional dress beneath them to pull out the dress she’d worn for Annie’s wedding. It was, after all, the best dress she owned. Plain, dull, and with no embroidery at all, it was nothing compared to the astonishing sight Lilian presented, but she had liked it well enough until now. “This is my best,” she told Lilian, letting the dress unfold and holding it up for inspection.
Lilian stood back, head tilted to one side in consideration. “That’s really all you have?”
“I have my blue dress, that’s smart too. But really, there wasn’t much call for evening wear in West Coombe.”
“The colour is good, that’s something. It’s just not very on fashion, is it?”
“We didn’t really have fashion in West Coombe.” Evelyn’s tone was flat. Lilian’s approval felt more important than she wanted it to. It was almost as though Lilian embodied London and Lilian’s approval was, therefore, London’s approval.
Lilian sighed, as if confronted by an intractable problem. “I’d lend you something but you’re so much taller and narrower than me, it’d be an indecent tent. So it will have to do.”
“Oh, good, thank you.” Evelyn let the dress drop.
“If I give you some pearls, that will liven things up a little.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Yes, I do. Darling, the Yellow Orchid is the height of fashion. You can’t just wear anything to a place like that.”
If the place was as Lilian described, Evelyn failed to see how a string of pearls would help her. However, it seemed to pay to humour Lilian, so she smiled her acquiescence and thanked her.
“You put the dress on and we’ll see what we can do, darling.”
Lilian turned to leave the room. Evelyn did as she was told, stripping her travelling dress and stepping into the lighter, smarter garment. Looking at the pale green fabric, with the darker pattern of leaves, her mind flew back to Annie’s wedding. The yearning for home twisted with the fear of suffocation, of ending up in a marriage like Annie’s, reminding her of one of the reasons she’d come to London. The despair that had led to her tears had gone, and a sort of determination replaced it. She had to make this work.
Lilian returned bearing not just the pearls, but a dark green scarf with silver embroidery and a hair decoration of pearls and sparkling white stones. “These will help create the right impression, darling.”
“If you say so.” Despite herself, Evelyn was drawn to the beautiful creamy pearls, the glistening of the stones and embroidery. As Lilian passed her the scarf, it shimmered, the silk trickling into her hands. For a moment she wondered how much such an item would cost, then cast the thought from her mind. She did not have to worry about that, not now. For now she could simply enjoy the luxury. She smiled as Lilian passed her the hair ornament and the heavy string of pearls. “They’re beautiful.”
“Well, put them on.” Lilian looked pleased by Evelyn’s reaction.
Evelyn draped the scarf over the end of the bed and carefully rested the hair ornament beside it, leaving her free to place the pearls around her neck. The string was long enough not to need a fastening. Against the skin on the back of her neck, the pearls were cold, heavy, strange. They hung between her breasts, pressing the fabric of her dress closer to her body, accentuating the curves of what was beneath. Even as they warmed with her body temperature, Evelyn was not sure she was comfortable with the pearls. Yet she had to admit, as she looked in the mirror, they were beautiful. Just because they were unfamiliar didn’t mean she couldn’t grow accustomed to the sensation.
“Excellent. That’s a big improvement. I was going to suggest you tie the scarf around your hair, but I actually think you should wear it as a sash. It’ll hide the fact that your dress isn’t really as low-waisted as it should be.” Before Evelyn could protest, Lilian was reaching around her body to position the scarf. Evelyn could do nothing but submit. Lilian tied it expertly so that it draped elegantly over her hips. Evelyn’s dress was not altogether old-fashioned; the waistline did sit low on her hips. But with Lilian’s handiwork, it was now hidden and the illusion created that her dress had a similar shape to Lilian’s. The hem was lower, the fabric plainer, but even Evelyn had to confess that she found it to be an improvement, especially if she was expected to brave the world of a fashionable evening in London.
“I like it,” she said to Lilian, who was watching her reaction.
“Me too. I’m going to lend you my green cloak to keep you warm, and if you keep your hair up, I think you’re nearly there. Do you have rouge or kohl?”
“No.”
“Of course you don’t. Well, I’ll see if I have time to do those for you too. It really does enhance the way you look, you know—” Lilian was interrupted by the sound of a male voice, shouting her name from downstairs. “That’s James! Excellent. I have to show him Frank’s letter. And introduce you, of course. If you don’t mind, I’ll talk to him first—it’s bound to be a surprise, you see. You just keep on getting ready, there isn’t that much time. Come downstairs in about thirty minutes, that should do it.”
“I will do. Thank you, Lilian.”
“Welcome. See you in a bit.” Lilian left the room, the crystals and silver thread of her dress glistening and shimmering. Such a gaudy outfit seemed entirely inappropriate for the sombre memories she went to share with her brother, but Evelyn guessed that James was used to his sister.
Left alone, Evelyn did as she was told, reaching for the hair ornament Lilian had given her. It was a beautiful filigree pattern of silver metal, decorated all over with pearls and sparkling white stones, at once delicate and ostentatious. Evelyn held the decoration against her hair as she looked in the mirror. It sat very well, her chestnut hair the perfect background for the silver and white. She could not help a smile. Reaching for the pins holding her hair on her crown, she removed them one by one. Her naturally curly hair tumbled down onto her shoulders. Thick and lustrous, her hair was one of the attributes she’d been complimented on since she was a child. To see it tumbling down, loosed from its restraining pins, was remarkably freeing. She shook her head slightly. She lifted a lock of her hair and twisted it, before sliding the silver and pearl ornament in, feeling the cool metal slide along her scalp. She let it rest there and examined her appearance again. She looked like a different woman or, at least, a woman she’d only ever seen in the privacy of her own room. Her hair cascaded below her shoulders, showing all of its autumn tones of brown, chestnut, and auburn. It curled luxuriantly, as if enjoying the freedom. And, to one side, the ornament glistened and gleamed, perfectly positioned to lift her hair from her face. Her eyes seemed darker and larger somehow, the way her hair framed her face accentuating its shadows and planes. Yes, Lilian had told her to keep her hair up, but Evelyn had decided. This was the face she wanted to present to fashionable London
, if present a face to it she must.
To give her confidence a physical representation she went to her suitcase. In a pocket sewn into the lining nestled her grandmother’s butterfly brooch. She watched the diamonds and rubies sparkle for a moment, then carefully pinned the brooch to her dress, over her heart. See me fly.
Smiling to herself now, Evelyn found her shoes and slipped into them. They were a neutral cream, perfectly suitable for her outfit, although Evelyn was sure they weren’t decorative enough to meet Lilian’s approval. She even thought they looked a little dull herself, in the light of Lilian’s loans.
Dressed and ready, Evelyn checked her wristwatch. It had not been thirty minutes yet. She opened the door of her room gently and listened. She could hear Lilian and a male voice, but she could not make out any words. What would James Grainger be like, she wondered. Would he welcome her in his house the way Lilian had done? Her situation was still really rather precarious. How ridiculous it was to be dressed for the evening, in borrowed pearls, in a house half-owned by a man she’d never met. Though she should have been distressed by it, now Evelyn laughed at herself. She laughed at what Edward would say, how surprised anyone in West Coombe would be to see her now. Life would go on there without her. Things would be the same one day to the next. But here she was, in London, with complete strangers, with a silk scarf around her waist, pearls hanging heavy between her breasts, and her hair caressing her shoulders. The laughter came again, so Evelyn closed the door and perched on the side of the bed to gather herself. She suspected this was only the beginning of a night of surprises. She rather hoped that would be the case.
Chapter Six
Evelyn allowed thirty-five minutes to go past before she ventured, a knot of apprehension in her stomach, down the stairs to meet James Grainger. Lilian heard her coming and opened the sitting room door to admit her.
“Excellent, Evie! What a splendid idea with your hair, even I didn’t think of it. Now, let me introduce you to James.” She took hold of Evelyn’s wrist and pulled her into the centre of the room. “Evelyn Hopkins, this is my brother, James. James, this is Evie.”
Evelyn smiled awkwardly at James, unsure how to respond to an introduction which was both formal and startlingly casual.
“And now, my darlings, I have to finish beautifying, so I will leave you to it.” With that, Lilian left the room. Evelyn wanted to call her back, but found she did not really have a choice.
James was almost a foot taller than his sister, though Evelyn knew him to be younger. He was broad-shouldered and possibly a little too plump for a man still in his prime. His neatly cropped and Brylcreemed hair was auburn, but not as fiery as Lilian’s. He had similar green eyes, already showing signs of age at the corners. He wore a short moustache which did not extend beyond the corners of his mouth. The slightly pink tone of his skin was exaggerated by the electric light in the room and the fact that the suit jacket he wore was a tone of light beige. Beneath were a crisp white shirt with rather too much starch in the collar and a sky-blue bow tie. James looked a little like a prematurely aged schoolboy, to Evelyn’s mind. He was handsome and yet also pink and a little pudgy.
James was regarding her in a way that suggested he was also taking in her appearance. From his smile, she assumed he did not disapprove of her lack of modern fashion in quite the way his sister did. “It’s my pleasure to meet you, Miss Hopkins.”
“And mine to meet you. You can call me Evelyn—Lilian already does.”
“Thank you. Then I’m James. Although I’m not sure we should be basing our interactions on Lilian’s rather loose grip of social etiquette.” James rolled his eyes and Evelyn smiled. She had half supposed James would be awkward; his appearance suggested it. But, instead, he seemed at ease, more formal than Lilian but just as comfortable. “Before we all get carried away with the joys—and spirits—of the evening, I wanted to thank you. For bringing Frank’s letter. I know it was for Lilian, not for me, but he did mention me by name, and it was good to hear some of his final thoughts. He was my big brother, you see, and I’d always rather looked up to him when we were children. Then he was gone.” James did not speak with emotion in his voice, simply a matter-of-fact acceptance of the tragedy. Evelyn guessed there was more beneath the surface, but good manners and bravado would not allow him to express it.
“You’re very welcome. I’m glad I had the chance to bring it to you. I suppose Lilian told you why it was so delayed.”
“She mentioned your brother and how he was shell-shocked.”
Evelyn would have liked a little less bravado and a little more compassion in James’s tone. She guessed this was just his way of dealing with awkward situations. “Yes. He is. Well, that’s what they call it, anyway. He’s not ever been the same since he came back. I don’t really know why he suddenly found himself able to communicate now.” It was a lie, of course. Edward had been triggered by Evelyn’s intentions with Michael. Michael. The image of him flooded into Evelyn’s mind, but it seemed so incongruous in this well-to-do if slightly shabby London sitting room. She could not imagine Michael standing in this room. She could not imagine introducing him to James, as her fiancé or as any kind of acquaintance. It had been such a short time since she had seen him, he still did not know just how badly she had treated him, and yet he seemed distant, a phantom of a remote past.
“Are you quite all right?” James was looking expectantly at her.
“Oh yes, I’m sorry. I was just thinking about home, and my brother, you know.”
“Devon, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” Evelyn managed to smile at James’s interest. “Apparently I have quite an accent.”
“Well, maybe you do, but Lilian told me.”
“West Coombe. I think your family knows it.”
“Oh yes! Well, I never. I’ve spent some excellent days sailing there.”
“A lot of people do.” Evelyn found it harder to smile now, at this further reminder that James and Lilian were very different from her and her family. Even when they’d been in the same town, they’d been divided, moved in different circles.
“Beautiful place.”
“Yes, it is. But I wanted to say thank you for letting me stay with you.”
“Oh, it’s no bother at all. Lilian’s always asking all kinds of waifs and strays to stay here. Not that I consider you a waif. Or a stray.” He added the last hurriedly, blushing slightly.
“I suppose I am. I don’t have anywhere else in London.”
“You don’t? Gosh, then we really are lucky that you took a risk to bring us the letter. Didn’t you have anyone you could bring to London with you?”
“Well, not really, you see Edward couldn’t travel himself, and my sister was recently married. So—”
The door burst open and Lilian appeared. Her face was now powdered and rouged and there was black kohl around her eyes. In the dull yellow electric light of the sitting room, she looked rather like a clown. Evelyn supposed it would be more effective when they were in different lighting and Lilian was onstage. She had a cloak of red velvet draped over her shoulders, her face now framed by a trim of fox fur, almost the same colour as her own hair. That red hair was now encircled by a band of the same colour as her dress, which held a decorative concoction of feathers and jewels at the right side of her head. In her hands was a dark green fabric, trimmed with cream fur, which she thrust towards Evelyn. “Top hole, you’re becoming friends, excellent. Evie, here’s the cloak I promised you.” Evelyn took the heavy velvet garment and made her best effort to swing it elegantly around her shoulders. “And what a pretty little brooch you have! Now we need to go or I shall be late for my first song. And you know how tiresome Vernon gets when I’m late.” She rolled her eyes but she was smiling coyly at the same time, a detail which intrigued Evelyn.
“Vernon is always tiresome, Lilian. I really think we should find somewhere new to pass the dark evenings.”
“Vernon lets me sing, even pays me to sing. Not every club would let
me do that. Besides, it’s where all of our friends are.”
“They’re your friends really, my dear.”
“Only because you don’t have any.” Lilian’s retort was gentle and followed by a little blown kiss. “Are we all ready now?”
“Let me help, Evelyn.” James helped Evelyn finally settle the cloak about her shoulders, fastening with two ribbons at the front. It swung around her body, heavy and rich, very different from her very functional brown winter coat. The soft fur brushed her neck and made her feel very sophisticated indeed. She did not miss James’s approving glance. Then they both went after Lilian, who was already heading for the front door.
*
The walk through the Mayfair streets to the Yellow Orchid was not very far. They left Hays Mews and walked towards Hyde Park. A few turns to the left and right and they passed through a very short alleyway, opening from the facade of a red-brick Georgian town house. Moments later they emerged onto a wider street. Evelyn looked around her for a landmark and noticed the name of the street. Clarges Street.
“Don’t worry, Evie, it’s not far now at all, just down this street.” Lilian, who was setting the pace and walking slightly ahead of Evelyn and James, sounded excited.
“I wasn’t worried,” Evelyn replied. “I’m just taking it all in.”
“Of course. I simply can’t imagine having never seen these dear streets before!”
“Well, there’s a lot of streets in London for Evelyn to see,” James chimed in. “Perhaps we’ll have to take her out. We can’t have her not knowing anywhere but the Mews, Clarges Street, and Hyde Park, can we now?”
“I arrived at Paddington,” Evelyn told him, keen that he should know she’d managed to make her own way to the house from the station.
“Even that’s not far though. What about seeing the sights? Westminster, Buckingham Palace? The Tower?”
“I would like that,” Evelyn replied. She realised she’d been so caught up in travelling to London and Edward’s mission to get the letter to Lilian that she’d almost forgotten she was in the same city she’d always hoped to visit as a tourist. “If you wouldn’t mind showing me one day.”
Fragile Wings Page 6
