The Pool of St. Branok (18 page)

Then, of course, there were the dressmakers and what seemed like endless consultations. Grace was very good and helpful; she often accompanied us to the dressmakers and even dared make a few suggestions there. Our court dresses were made by the most fashionable dressmaker. “I don’t want any expense to be spared,” was Josiah Pencarron’s comment. “Everything’s to be of the best. I don’t want my girl to go to the Queen looking any less well dressed than any of the others.”

So eventually we were on our way to the Queen’s drawing room in our court dresses each with its train three or four yards long which seemed to take a mischievous delight in getting into awkward and even dangerous positions and tripping us up if we were not careful. Our hair had been specially dressed by the court hairdresser, with three white plumes arranged in it, and we fervently hoped these would stay in place until the ordeal was over; we had been stuffed into our corsets and so tightly laced that we became breathless. It was not so bad for me because I was fairly thin but it must have been agony for Morwenna. She endured it stoically as she did everything else.

And there we were in the carriage with Helena, among all the other carriages on their way to the Palace. People looked in on us—some laughing at us, some envious. There were children without shoes or stockings. I could not take my eyes from their red chilblained feet and I felt ashamed.

Helena pulled down the blinds of the carriage but that did not shut them out of my mind. I thought then of the wonderful work Frances and Peterkin were doing and that I might like to join them.

But then we had arrived.

Into the Palace we went, and there was the Queen, a tiny figure, most elaborately dressed, diamonds glittering on her person and jeweled tiara on her head. There could be no mistaking her. Small she might be, but I had never before seen a more regal air. Beside her was the Prince, formidable, severity in every line of his once-handsome face. He looked strained and tired; and I remembered how the press had attacked him during the recent war. They did not like him because he was a German and they were not fond of foreigners. No people ever were. The French had hated Marie Antoinette because she was an Austrian, I remembered.

I was there before Her Majesty. I was thankful that my curtsy would have won the approval of Madame Duprey herself. I kissed the plump little hand, glittering with jewels; I received the benign smile and I walked backwards with ease … and it was all over.

I felt I had been weighed in the balance and found not wanting.

I was now fit to mix in English society!

Our first ball! It was given by Lady Bellington, one of the leading London hostesses, for her daughter Jennifer. The Bellington residence was a mansion which had a small garden beyond which was the Park.

Helena, with my mother, Aunt Amaryllis and Uncle Peter, accompanied us. My mother told me not to worry if I did not dance all the evening. If we were sitting out we should indulge in animated conversation and give the impression that we were not in the least concerned about not being asked to dance. It was hard to imagine Morwenna engaged in animated conversation and this only added to her worries.

“No one will surely want to dance with me,” she declared. “And if they did I should forget half the steps. I don’t know which will be worse … having to dance or sit out.”

“All things come to an end,” I told her philosophically. “Tomorrow it will be something in the past.”

I was quite looking forward to it. I loved dancing for one thing; and I did find it amusing to be among these people, to watch the ambitious mammas’ eyes on the most eligible of the young men, calculating, trying hard to push forward their daughters without seeming to.

I exchanged glances with my mother; she knew what I was thinking: and I had said to myself, It doesn’t matter. If I sit out the whole evening they love me just the same. I gave up a little prayer of thanksgiving for my parents.

At the top of the wide staircase Lord and Lady Bellington received us graciously, Jennifer beside them.

We passed on.

The music was playing. Two middle-aged gentlemen came up to us and asked us to dance. From Helena’s description of her coming out days I guessed they were needy scions of good family who were given an evening’s entertainment in exchange for services rendered to the unpreferred.

They whirled us round. I wondered how Morwenna was getting on. I thought she might find this a good baptism for the middle-aged gentlemen would do their duty which would surely include being affable and helpful to a shy young woman.

In due course we returned to our party. We had broken the ice. We had danced.

A young man appeared. He bowed before us, his eyes on me.

“May I have the pleasure …?”

I rose and put my hand in his; in a short time we were in the dance.

“Quite a crowd,” he said languidly.

“Yes.”

“It is always thus at Bellington affairs.”

“You attend them frequently?”

“Oh … now and then.”

We talked of the weather, the floor, the band and such matters which I could not find of absorbing interest; but we danced and, thanks to Madame Duprey, I was able to give a good account of myself.

And then I saw a face which was vaguely familiar to me. For a second I could not think where I had seen it before. He was looking at me with a kind of awestruck recognition. Then I knew. He was the young man who had come down to Cador with Jonnie to dig at the pool. I remembered his name: Gervaise Mandeville.

The dance led us away from each other but my thoughts had now turned from the band, the floor and the weather, and I was back in Cornwall. I was there at the pool, and it was all coming back to me, as it still did on such occasions, even now.

I was glad when I was returned to my party. Morwenna was still sitting out.

“Was that enjoyable?” asked Helena.

“He danced well,” I replied.

“I could see that,” said my mother. “Madame Duprey was a very good teacher.”

He was there almost immediately.

“Mrs. Lansdon … Mrs. Hanson, you remember me? Gervaise Mandeville?”

“Oh,” cried my mother. “Oh yes … you came down with …”

He understood. He did not want to raise painful subjects. “Yes,” he said. “For the dig. It was not very successful, I’m afraid. I came to ask Miss Hanson if she would care to dance.”

“This is Miss Pencarron,” I said. “She is being brought out with me.”

He bowed, smiling pleasantly at Morwenna.

“She comes from Cornwall, too. We’re neighbors,” said my mother.

Helena looked very sad. She, of course, remembered Gervaise as a friend of Jonnie’s. Gervaise knew this. I was to discover that he was very sensitive to the feelings of others.

He held out his hand to me. “Shall we dance?” And we were away.

“I couldn’t believe my eyes,” he said. “At first I wasn’t sure. It’s a long time ago. You’ve grown up since then.”

“You too are older.”

“An inevitable process, I’m afraid.”

“But you haven’t changed much.”

“Nor have you … now that I am seeing you at close quarters.”

He smiled at me, very friendly and with a hint of admiration in his face. I felt my spirits rising and the faint depression, which memory had brought, was fading.

“You have grown taller,” I said.

“And so have you.”

“Well, you would expect that, wouldn’t you? I was about thirteen years old I think.”

“Time passes. I liked that little girl very much. I am sure I am going to like the grown version as well … perhaps even better.”

“Don’t make rash judgments.”

“Somehow I think this is going to be one of my more sober ones. It will be rather fun to find out if I am right.”

“Tell me about yourself. Are you still digging?”

“No. I don’t think I have the aptitude for that kind of work.”

“You seemed enthusiastic.”

“Oh, that was special … that eerie pool and all the talk about those bells. By the way, have the bells been heard again?”

“Not recently. I used to think that people fancied they heard them, but when I thought I did myself …”

“It’s a good story. I was awfully sorry about …”

“Jonnie?”

He nodded. “I’m afraid seeing me must have brought it back.”

“Well, I suppose it has to be brought back every now and then … but it isn’t as bad as it was in the beginning.”

“Poor old Jonnie. He was made for martyrdom.”

“You did not go to the war, I suppose.”

“Not much in my line. I’m not the heroic type.”

“I often wonder what good it did in the end.”

“Ah, that’s the question. But at the time it seemed the right thing to do.”

“Do you remember Miss Gilmore … Grace Gilmore?”

“Oh yes, I do. She was a rather striking lady as far as I remember.”

“She married Jonnie.”

“Did she really?”

“Yes, she went out as one of Miss Nightingale’s nurses. They found each other out there and were married. She is here in London now. We see a great deal of her now she is a member of the family.”

“I thought she was a most unusual person.”

“Yes, I suppose she is.”

“Tell me about yourself.”

“There’s little to tell. You know what it is like at Cador. Well, that is my life, with occasional visits to London.”

“Where are you staying now?”

“With Aunt Helena … Jonnie’s mother. She’s bringing me out.”

“I see.”

“Are you often invited to occasions like this?”

“Frequently. They have to keep up the quota of young men to provide partners and escorts for the debutantes, and if one is not too old, maimed, or in any way afflicted, and one’s family is up to a certain level in the social scale … one is invited. The sexes must be evenly balanced—so here I am.”

“And do you enjoy the role?”

“I am enjoying it immensely at this moment.”

“It is pleasant to renew old acquaintances.”

“Well, not always. Sometimes it can be alarming. Just imagine being confronted by one of the skeletons which have crept out of the cupboard.”

“Are there many in your cupboard?”

“It is inevitable that such a worthless character as I should collect a few. You now … you have a life of virtue behind you. You are an innocent maiden just setting off into life’s devious paths. That is different.”

I shivered faintly. It was inevitable that meeting him should revive old memories and his references to skeletons in the cupboard made me uneasy.

He did not notice and we had just passed our group. Morwenna was still sitting out and as she could not manage animated conversation was looking bored and uneasy.

I said: “Will you do me a favor?”

“Even unto one half of my kingdom.”

“I shall not be as demanding as that. I want you to return me to my family and dance with Miss Pencarron.”

“Is that the young lady sitting there?”

“Yes. She is rather nervous. She is terrified that she is going to be a failure.”

“Which of course is the easiest way of becoming one.”

“I know. That’s why I don’t care.”

“You are asking a great deal.”

“Why? She is a charming girl, and she has been taught to dance. She won’t tread on your toes … too much.”

“I would endure a stampede to please you. But you are still asking a great deal because I have to abandon the pleasure of your company, and I have a better idea. Leave this to me.”

As we went on dancing he was scanning the groups of people as we sped by. Suddenly he halted.

“Philip,” he called. “Philip, this is Miss Hanson. What are you doing here standing partnerless? Is that the way to do your duty? Miss Hanson, this is Philip Martin.”

He bowed. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Let’s make a foursome for supper,” said Gervaise Mandeville. “You go and dance with Miss Hanson’s friend. She’s very much in demand so be quick. Let’s hope she’s free now. Come along, we’ll take you over and introduce you.”

We went back to the group. “Excellent,” said Gervaise. “She’s free.”

Philip Martin was introduced. He was a rather colorless young man, but he had a pleasant manner and all the usual clichés were exchanged.

He asked Morwenna to dance. There was a look of relief on Helena’s face as they started off. Gervaise and I followed them into the dance.

I liked him for that. In fact I was liking him more and more with every minute. He had an ebullient personality, and a way of turning the most faintly amusing subject into a hilarious joke. He laughed a great deal; and when he was not laughing his eyes were alight with amusement.

I spent almost the whole evening with him.

We met Morwenna and Philip Martin in the supper room; we sat at a table for four, eating delicious cold salmon washed down with champagne. I could see that Morwenna was enjoying the ball and I was grateful to Gervaise for that; and there was a great deal of laughter at the table.

We arranged that we should all take a ride in the Row the next day; and I was delighted that I was going to see Gervaise again so soon.

Riding home in the carriage we were rather subdued. I could see that they were all very pleased at the way in which the evening had gone.

I thought it was all thanks to Gervaise, who had certainly made it enjoyable for me … and for Morwenna. But for his timely introduction of Philip Martin Morwenna might have sat for the whole evening, uninvited except by the middle-aged gentlemen whose duty it was to ask the neglected for the occasional dance.

“He is a very charming young man,” said Helena of Gervaise.

“It was nice that we knew him,” commented my mother. “It is always pleasant at such affairs to come upon people one knows. He’s an archaeologist, I believe.”

“He isn’t now,” I said. “He gave it up.”

“The parties and balls get more interesting as the season goes along,” said Helena. “That is when you all get to know each other. At first quite a number are strangers to each other.”

“Gervaise Mandeville and Philip Martin are calling for us tomorrow,” I said. “We are going riding in Rotten Row.”

I was well aware of the significant glances between our elders. This was how these affairs were supposed to go. I daresay there would be a great deal of discussion among our elders about Gervaise Mandeville and Philip Martin.