Hothouse Flower (20 page)

She did so and, when she stepped outside, saw a small table had been set for two in the corner of the terrace. Large candles, shielded from the wind in glass containers, cast their soft glow in the fading light.

‘Olivia, do come and sit down.’ Adrienne indicated the other chair. ‘I hope it is warm enough for you out here. I’ve brought you a wrap in case you get cold, but I like to eat out here whilst I can. In France, we barely ate inside at all between May and September. Now, I have some rosé, a pink wine we produce in the vineyards of our château in Provence. I have twelve cases shipped over every year. Would you like to try a glass?’

Olivia sat down. ‘I’d love to,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

Adrienne indicated that Sable should pour the wine. ‘We will eat in fifteen minutes, Sable.
Merci.
’

‘Very good, your Ladyship.’ The butler nodded and disappeared inside the house.

‘
Santé
.’ Adrienne reached her glass to Olivia’s then they both took a sip.

Olivia tasted the wine and found she liked it. White wine was too acidic and red wine too heavy for her; this seemed to be the perfect combination.

‘It is good,
non
?’ Adrienne asked.

‘Very good indeed.’

‘My family used to drink it out of large jugs, fresh from our
cave
,’ Adrienne sighed. ‘
Eh bien!
It is just one more thing that I miss.’

‘But you are happy here in England, aren’t you?’ Olivia asked.

‘Yes, of course, but this year I am a little sad. Always in August, we spend a month at my family château. This year, with Christopher so busy at Whitehall and Harry training his recruits, I felt I could not go without them. Christopher believes war is imminent.’

‘In London, it’s impossible to ignore the preparations. I was watching the air-raid sirens being erected along the Embankment on the day I left.’

‘I am sure.’ Adrienne skilfully steered the subject on to more palatable subjects. ‘You must tell me all about your Season. Was it all you imagined it would be?’

‘Actually, it was better. I met some marvellous people who were not at all as dull as I thought they would be.’

‘Like your friend Venetia Burroughs? She is unusual, like you. So,’ said Adrienne as Sable wheeled a large trolley, replete with silver salvers out on to the terrace, ‘tell me of the dances that you attended. Were they indeed as beautiful as I remember them?’

Over a dinner of fresh watercress soup and a salad made up of crisp, fresh ingredients from the kitchen garden, Olivia regaled Adrienne with as many interesting anecdotes of her experiences as she could think of.

‘
Voilà!
’ Adrienne clapped her hands together in pleasure. ‘It all sounds very much the same as when I came out. And, of course, I am sure there were many young men who were charmed by you. The question is, were you charmed by any of them?’

‘I … no. At least, no one I thought was special.’

‘Well, I am sure it will not be long before you are.’ Adrienne had read her discomfort. ‘Olivia, I would like you to feel as if this house were your own whilst you are here. You may have Fredericks, our chauffeur, to drive you anywhere, any time you wish. And perhaps we will go to the beaches together, of which there are many nearby, and you will see what a beautiful county Norfolk is. And Harry will be home for the weekends, to keep you company. He’s so tired, poor boy, but he was very happy when I told him you were coming here. It will be good for him too, to have some younger company. Now, I think it is time for bed,
non
?’ Adrienne rose, walked over to Olivia and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘
Bonne nuit, ma chérie
, sleep well.’

‘And you, Adrienne.’ Olivia stood up too. ‘I’ve enjoyed tonight very much indeed.’

The two women moved inside and walked through the series of rooms that led to the entrance hall.

‘Elsie will bring you a breakfast tray in your room tomorrow morning, at an hour that suits you. And we will meet at one o’clock tomorrow for luncheon, after which I will take you round the gardens and show you the hothouse. You must take whatever you wish to read from the shelves in the library. There is a summer house tucked away behind the rose arbour, in the left-hand corner of the walled garden, where I often sit to read.’

‘Thank you, Adrienne. You are very kind,’ Olivia replied as they walked up the staircase together.

‘And you are most kind to be my guest.
A bientôt
, Olivia. Sleep well.’

18

In the following few days, Olivia fell into a regular and relaxed routine, spending the mornings reading in the summer house then, after lunch, taking a stroll with Adrienne before an afternoon rest. They would enjoy dinner together on the terrace, talking of art, literature and France, whose culture Adrienne was so passionate about.

Olivia found the beauty of her surroundings and the slow pace of life at Wharton Park were lulling her mind into a state of almost catatonic peace. The impending war, and what exactly she was going to do with her life if there were one, slipped from her mind as easily as the spiders’ webs on the many roses in the garden dissolved through her fingertips.

One afternoon, Adrienne drove them out to the coast. Olivia gasped when she saw the beauty of Holkham beach spread in front of her like a vast, golden apron. They picnicked in the dunes, Adrienne dozing off after lunch, her straw hat over her face to protect her ivory skin from the sun’s rays.

Olivia walked down to the shore to dip her toes tentatively in the biting, salty water. It was not as cold as she had expected it to be, and – with the wind whipping through her hair, the sun shining and the magnificence of the deserted beach around her – Olivia imagined that she could indeed live in this part of England.

*

When they arrived back at Wharton Park, Olivia crossed the hall to escape to her bedroom and climb out of her wet and creased dress. But a familiar, much-imagined face was coming down the stairs towards her.

‘Olivia, how absolutely marvellous to see you.’

He kissed her warmly on both cheeks and she immediately regretted her dishevelled state. Harry was still in his officer’s uniform and looked imposingly handsome.

‘Hello, Harry, how are you?’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, fair to middling, I’d say, but you look awfully well.’

Olivia blushed. ‘Do I? Your mother and I have just been to the beach and I fear I look rather bedraggled.’

‘Well, I think you look perfect. I love blowing the cobwebs away with some sea air. What say you we go tomorrow, if you can bear to go again? I have the weekend off-duty and I mean to enjoy it.’

There was a lightness, almost a euphoria, about Harry, which Olivia hadn’t witnessed before.

‘That’s sounds fun. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I really must get out of this damp dress.’

‘Of course,’ he agreed. ‘See you at dinner, Olivia.’

‘Yes,’ she said as she tripped up the stairs. ‘I’ll see you later.’

That evening, Olivia asked Elsie to style her hair, with the front of it taken up in a roll, the rest hanging in ebullient golden curls around her shoulders. She donned her favourite blue gown then checked her reflection in the mirror.

‘You look a picture,’ said Elsie admiringly. ‘Master Harry is joining you this evening, isn’t he?’

‘I believe so.’ Olivia was too nervous to indulge in gossip. She walked downstairs and on to the terrace and saw Adrienne and Harry were already there.

‘Harry was just telling me that you have arranged to go to the beach together tomorrow.’ Adrienne smiled approvingly. ‘Olivia,
chérie
, the fresh air must suit you. You look beautiful tonight.’ She handed Olivia a glass of rosé from the silver tray on the table. ‘And tomorrow, Christopher is home too. So, on Sunday, we shall have a luncheon party for some of our neighbours, so that you can meet them. Shall we sit down?’

The evening passed pleasantly enough. Harry was attentive to Olivia, asking questions about the Season and London. Adrienne retired early, feigning tiredness, and the two of them were left alone together on the terrace. Olivia did her utmost to quell her shiver of anticipation and keep her composure.

‘I’m rather glad you’re here, Olivia. It’s marvellous for my mother to have a companion with her at Wharton Park whilst she can’t be in France with her family, especially with my father away so much. She is so very fond of you,’ he commented.

‘As I am of her,’ Olivia confirmed.

‘And is the beauty of this part of the world appealing to you more than before?’ Harry smiled at her and they both shared the absolute memory of their first conversation.

‘Oh yes! I adore it. Your mother has turned me into a complete convert.’

‘She’s awfully good at being persuasive.’ Harry raised his eyebrows. ‘But I am glad you like it here. It’s a jolly special place.’

‘And it must be a bonus for you to be able to spend this time at home,’ said Olivia.

‘It is,’ nodded Harry. ‘It makes the whole damned thing rather more bearable. Anyway,’ he stubbed out his cigarette, ‘bed for me, I’m bushed. You too?’ He offered her his hand and she took it and stood up. He dropped it again as soon as they started walking through the house and made their way up the stairs. ‘Goodnight, Olivia.’ He kissed her politely on both cheeks, ‘Sleep well,’ and ambled off in the direction of his bedroom.

Olivia climbed into bed, feeling confused as to why Harry had not tried to kiss her again. However, she comforted herself, it was only the start of her holiday here and Harry’s first day off in weeks. She must give him time.

The following morning, Harry seemed to be in high spirits as he drove her up towards the coast.

‘I won’t bore you with Holkham again. I thought we’d take a trip into Cromer. Take in some lunch and have a stroll along the front,’ he suggested.

Olivia’s vision of lying in Harry’s arms in the sand dunes immediately evaporated. She tried not to allow her disappointment to spoil the precious time she had with him.

They passed a pleasant day together, if not quite the one Olivia had envisaged. Over lunch in the restaurant of a hotel, Harry entertained her with tales of the raw recruits in his battalion, some of whom hailed from the Wharton Park Estate.

‘I’m particularly impressed with Bill Stafford, Elsie’s chap,’ commented Harry, lighting a cigarette. ‘There’s no doubt he’s officer material. He has that air of calm authority that makes the other men listen to him. He’ll make a far better soldier than I ever will, in a month of Sundays.’

‘I am jolly sure that’s not true, Harry.’

‘I fear it is, my darling girl.’ He sighed, stubbing his cigarette out morosely in the ashtray. ‘Well now, shall we head back?’

*

Dinner that evening was held in the dining room, in tribute to the fact that Lord Crawford was home from London. Adrienne was sparkling with happiness at having both her men at the table with her, and the atmosphere was infectious. Afterwards, Olivia made up a four for bridge. She and Christopher won, courtesy of Mr Christian and his careful tutelage.

At the end of the evening, Harry escorted her up the stairs and again she was fizzing with excitement when the time for a goodnight kiss came. But, again, he only offered her a chaste kiss on the cheeks before leaving for his bedroom.

There were twenty for luncheon the next day, the party made up of Lord and Lady Crawford’s friends and neighbours. Olivia enjoyed the lunch, used as she was to the company of older people, but had the queerest feeling she was being paraded for approval. She hoped she had acquitted herself well. Harry had behaved as he had been behaving over the last couple of days: attentive but distant.

That night in bed, Olivia decided stoically, but sadly, that it was time to think of plans for the future which did not include him.

As the dying summer sped on towards September, the fields were shorn bare of their bounty and the smell of burning stubble pervaded the estate. Olivia, in soporific mood, read voraciously, took long walks through the park and often went to visit Jack in the hothouse. She had not seen Harry since the Sunday luncheon party – he had spent the past weekend in London – and, at the very least, his obvious ambivalence made her more determined to focus on what exactly she was going to do when she left Wharton Park in a few days’ time. She would have departed sooner, but Elsie, with whom she had become firm friends, had begged her to stay on for her wedding and Olivia had agreed.

Three days before Elsie’s wedding, Christopher arrived home unexpectedly from London. He and Adrienne were cloistered in his study for much of the afternoon. Olivia was reading in the library when a white-faced Adrienne came to find her.

‘Oh, my dear,’ Adrienne put her hands to her cheeks, ‘it looks as if the war is upon us. Christopher has told me the British Government have received intelligence telling them that the
Kriegsmarine
has ordered all German-flagged merchant ships to head to German ports immediately, in anticipation of the invasion of Poland. They are not going to honour the German–Soviet non-aggression pact.’ She sat down abruptly in a chair, her head in her hands. ‘It is here, Olivia, it is here.’