Dizzy Dilemmas (2 page)

“No,
it is totally incomprehensible! But can we get to her name?” Glenmore’s mild curiosity was certainly piquing into something stronger.

“Yes all in good time. One thing she was good at was making up stories. Played for hours with her little dolls, coming up with the most amazing plots, I can tell you. She used to record them all in picture form until she learn
t her letters, that is. Then she would write reams and reams. Of-course her handwriting was, and still is for that matter, absolutely dreadful; totally indecipherable. Do you know I bet even our best cryptologists would be defeated by her scrawl?” Brockton observed.

“Yes, they should have used her in the war effort!
Might have proved counter-productive if our side were unable to decipher it, of-course.  A minor issue, though, I’m sure. But what is her name?” Glenmore’s mild curiosity piquing into something stronger was now a fairly blatant curiosity.

“Give me a chance! As for talking; it was incessant! Never any peace, you know. She always had so much to say, so many observations to make, endless questions to ask. Of-course we never listened to her; well you just couldn’t, I mean to say it was exhausting if you listened to a quarter of what she said, or even a fraction of it. She cottoned on to the fact that we all would just nod occasionally
to appease her and give the impression that we were paying attention, so do you know what she did?” Brockton asked but continued before an answer could be proffered. “She started to ask us questions on what she had said. Tested us to see if we had listened! We always got found out then and her ‘you weren’t listening were you?’ was quite wrenching I can tell you. Her looking up at you with those big, blue eyes clouded with hurt. Made us all feel terribly guilty.”

Glenmore debated bringing up the name issue again but there was something else he wanted to know first. “Did you start listening to her, then. If she made you feel bad?”
Goodness knows why, but he felt bad! He needed to be reassured that the little, blue-eyed Dizzy didn’t remain hurt!”

Brockton
looked at him askance. “Good Lord, no! Haven’t I just told you it was impossible to keep up with her? That it was too exhausting? No we just got very good at foisting her onto strangers. They always tried desperately hard to listen and respond, especially those not used to children. After all, it is what politeness and good manners dictate, isn’t it? Pity they didn’t understand that it made her talk all the more; a captive audience and all that!”

“Oh for goodness sake!” sighed the Duke. “Let’s just get on to her name!”

“Her name; that’s what I am telling you, isn’t it? If you stopped interrupting I would get there quicker,” Brockton said. Taking a deep breath he continued. “Where was I? Oh yes. One day when she was about seven she was having a particularly clumsy day. Did I mention that when she gets tired she starts to limp quite badly and she somehow becomes even more ham-fisted than she normally is?”

“No you hadn’t mentioned it” Glenmore’s teeth were almost clenched with frustration.

“In that case….”

“But let’s take it as read,” t
he Duke hastily interrupted before Brockton could go down another tangent.  “I understand she limps when tired. Carry on. Her name?”

“But it isn’t just a limp
old boy, her leg aches terribly, causing her a great deal of discomfort and us a great deal of worry as we don’t know what she is going to drop; walk into; fall over; damage….”

“Believe me, I fully understand,” t
he Duke exasperated interrupted again but this time he caught the twinkle in his companion’s eye and realised he was being deliberately baited.

“Sorry Glenmore. I could not resist a little
taunting. After all I must help my little sister in any way I can, no matter how small,” Brockton laughed.

“Point taken,
Brockton but can we now get back to her name,” good humouredly accepting the ribaldry.

“
Very well, I am ashamed to say I was a sullen, bad tempered teenager and one particularly bad day my sister’s clumsiness drew my ire and I was very cruel to her, which just meant she got even more awkward and gauche. As a family we had all gathered for breakfast and I thought it would be amusing to stick my foot out as she went past.”

“
Not the most gentlemanly of actions.”

“No, I am not proud of
what I did but as I said, I was a perfectly horrid teenager,” Brockton continued. “Predictably she went sprawling, but less predictably to an unthinking, irresponsible boy was what happened next. She crashed into the sideboard; where all the dishes were being kept warm, and slid right along the polished surface sending everything hurtling up and spraying various family members, before it all landed in an unholy mess on the floor. Pandemonium broke out, because even by Dizzy’s standards it was bad. What with Geneviève screaming that she was bleeding to death; though it turned out to be tomato sauce, and Mrs. Honey Dew slipping on the kippers, it was a full ten minutes before any semblance of order could be restored.

“And
what about Dizzy? Was she hurt?” Glenmore wanted to know.

There was a slight pause before the answer came. “
Yes she received several minor burns and one quite serious one. She still bears the scars today.”  Another pause followed this statement, longer this time whilst each man weighed up the other. “Do you know, Glenmore, you are the first person to ever ask after Dizzy. Whenever I have told this story before, the recipients have always questioned my parent’s reaction, or wanted to know about the damage done, but never how poor Dizzy faired.”

Brockton
glanced over at his sister and caught her looking at him, a frown marring her pretty face. He could very well guess what was troubling her and so he grinned at her, turning her frown into a positive scowl.

Glenmore had
not missed the interchange between the siblings and said. “Your sister is not best pleased to see us conversing, is she? So if I just smile and wave I can push her vexation up a notch or two!” Upon Dizzy’s scowl turning ferocious he added, “There! That is a more than satisfactory result!”

“If I could just drag
your attention away from Dizzy, Glenmore,” Brockton laughed, “I believe you wanted to hear about her name?”

“
Of-course I want to know her name.  It has been an epic tale to get this far it would be foolish indeed to miss the end. Pray, at long last, please enlighten me.”

“After the pandemonium,
knowing I was going to be in serious trouble when it became known that I had purposefully tripped her, as well as being an obnoxious brat, I shouted that her name didn’t suit her and she ought to be called a Dizzy Disaster.  She stood there with egg in her hair and her eyes shimmering with tears and looked at me with so much hurt and betrayal that I felt like a complete heel. I expected her to tell everyone that it was not her fault this time; that I had deliberately tripped her but she didn’t. If she had I was not so lost to propriety that I would have denied it and I would have been thrashed and rightly so; but she took it all on herself and saved my unworthy behind! From that day on I swore I would always champion my little sister, because for all her clumsiness and eccentricities she’s a real Trojan. ”

“So from that day on she has been called Dizzy
,” Glenmore stated.

“My father sweetened it by saying that she wasn’t a dizzy disaster
at all but his Dizzy Delight and that seemed to stick. It went from Dizzy Delight to Dizzy Dee and within a very short time everyone just called her Dizzy. Despite its unfortunate birth, it does suit her so much better that her given name.”

“Which is?”

“Ah I shall only tell you that if you come now and I will make a formal introduction,” Brockton said.

“Oh
no! I would be insane to go within twenty feet of your sister, thank you very much!” Glenmore expostulated. “Even a fool would think twice about approaching her after that first skirmish. I shall stay over here where it is safe. Or better still, I shall take her advice and stand behind a potted palm until I have quite dried off.”

“Oh Glenmore, I would have put you down as a man
with more backbone. Surely you are not intimidated by her? For what it is worth, I thought you came off quite well from that first encounter. Come. It is the only way you will get to learn her real name.”

“
No, I shall find a less dangerous way, Brockton.”

“Well if you are sure though I warn you it will not be an easy task. She is firmly ensconced in the minds of
the entire ton as Lady Dizzy Brockton. Even Dubrett’s Peerage has her listed under that name.”

Glenmore snorted, “Now I know you are jesting for they are very precise in their information.”

The cotillion having come to an end, everyone was preparing for the next dance which happened to be the waltz before supper. “Feel free to look it up old chap. But should you change your mind about being introduced the offer still stands. Just come and find me.”

“Why, I find myself asking, are you so eager to introduce me to your fearsome sister? If it were not so nonsensical I could almost believe you are acting as matchmaker.”

“Now that would be a ridiculous notion would it not?” Gideon Brockton replied, “The next dance is about to begin so I must find Miss Carstairs. Good evening, Duke,” and with a brief nod he wandered off towards the dance floor where, Marcus noted, his partner was already waiting; tapping her foot impatiently as the first strains of music could be heard above the general hum of conversation.

D
izzy handed over the glasses and took a seat with a heartfelt sigh of relief. She had sensed her adversary’s eyes boring into her back as she had precariously navigated the ballroom back to her grandmother, the Dowager Countess of Elveston. She was silently thanking God that she had made it without any further calamity when she became aware of her Grandmother next to her, tipping the glass first one way and then the other before shrugging and lifting it to her lips. Taking a deep breath she waited, knowing a comment was in the offing. She was not to be disappointed.

“I always thought the Waverley’s were penny pinchers and this just confirms it
,”  Grandmamma leaned over and muttered in confidential undertones “Of course I can understand them being a bit mean with the rum punch but you would think they would be a little more generous with the water! Why there was barely a sip in that glass and I so wanted a long cool draught for I am fairly parched.”

“
You should have savoured it Grandmamma, instead of gulping it all down in one go. See Lady Gosport is still enjoying her beverage for she has made it last!” Dizzy replied.

“I must protest my dear! To gulp such a meagre amount is impossible
. Besides she seems to have been more fortunate than I; her glass was quarter full! ” retorted the Dowager.

“
It is amazing isn’t it Grandmamma, how quickly water will evaporate in a warm ballroom? It must be the number of people.”

“Amazing indeed
my dear and almost beyond belief!”

“Almost,
but not completely,” responded Dizzy firmly.

They looked at each other then. The Dowager with a wisp of suppressed amusement and Dizzy practicing the look her old governess had that could, depending on the situation, slay a dragon at twenty paces or freeze the words of dissent on a
rebellious teenager’s tongue!

The look seemed to have done the trick so Dizzy, taking pity on her grandmother’s throat, said “The rum punch is flowing rather freely, going by the number of glasses of it being carried by that footman. If you wish I can procure a glass of that for you or I could ask him to fetch some more water.”

Dizzy proceeded to gain the footman’s attention and upon his reaching them
the Dowager said

“Rum always makes me flush an unbecoming shape of puce so could you fetch
a glass of water for me? It would be just the thing.”

“
Yes, my lady,” the young manservant assured her but as he turned away she added.

“Please make sure it is a full glass won’t you? Oh and do hurry. That way with evaporation being such a problem, or so my granddaughter will have me believe; I am guaranteed at least half a glass.
”

“Of course
My Lady.”  The young man looked exceedingly puzzled so Dizzy just smiled sympathetically at him and shrugged. “A full glass of water coming up, I shall just be one moment.”

It is an art form, Dizzy thought to herself as she watched the footman pass among the revellers with such agility and poise. On several occasions, people stepped into his path and by rights there should have been colli
sions galore, but he deftly sidestepped with a grace and elegance guaranteed to make a girl as clumsy as her positively forest green with envy. The tray, upon which several full and some empty glasses resided, must have been heavy and yet it remained steady, balanced on one hand; secure and safe. It was as if, Dizzy thought, it were an extension of the waiter himself.

As he disappeared from sight, Dizzy dragged her attention back to her immediate surroundings and realised that her grandmother, with her usual tenacity, had returned to the conversation they had been having some time earlier before they had been joined by Lady Gosport. Inwardly, she shuddered and reminded herself that the evening would have to come to an end eventually. Only in hell would it go on forever, stretching into eternity
. Perhaps she was in hell!