The Shifting Fog (34 page)

‘Was it love at first sight?’

Fanny screwed up her nose. ‘Certainly not! Godfrey took violently ill and spent most of the night in the bathroom. We only danced once that I remember. It was the quenelle; he became greener and greener with each turn until midway through he took his leave and disappeared. I was really rather cross at the time. I was completely stranded and very embarrassed. I didn’t see him again for months. Even then it took us a year before we were married.’ She sighed and shook her head. ‘The longest year of my life.’

‘Why?’

Fanny considered this. ‘Somehow I imagined that after my coming-out dance life would be different.’

‘Wasn’t it?’ Emmeline said.

‘Yes, but not the way I thought. It was dreadful. Officially I was grown up, yet I was still unable to go anywhere or do anything without Lady Clementine or some other dusty old lady minding my business. I was never so happy in all my life as when Godfrey proposed. It was the answer to my prayers.’

Emmeline, having difficulty figuring Godfrey Vickers—bloated, balding and habitually unwell—as the answer to anybody’s prayers, wrinkled her nose. ‘Really?’

Fanny looked pointedly at Hannah’s back. ‘People treat one differently when one’s married. I only have to be introduced as “Mrs” Vickers and people realise I’m not a silly girl, but a married woman capable of adult considerations.’

Hannah, apparently unmoved, continued her fierce translation.

‘Have I told you about my honeymoon?’ Fanny said, returning her attention to Emmeline.

‘Only a thousand times.’

Fanny was undeterred. ‘Florence is the most romantic foreign city I’ve ever seen.’

‘It’s the only foreign city you’ve seen.’

‘Every evening, after we dined, Godfrey and I strolled along the River Arno. He bought me the most beautiful necklace at a quaint little shop on the Ponte Vecchio. I felt quite a different person in Italy. Transformed. One day we climbed the Forte di Belvedere and looked out all over Tuscany. It was so beautiful, I could have wept. And the art galleries! There was simply
too
much to see. Godfrey’s promised to take me back again as soon as we can.’ Her eyes flickered toward the desk, where Hannah continued to write. ‘And the
people
one meets when travelling; quite fascinating really. One fellow on the boat over was en route to Cairo. You’ll never guess what he was going to do there. Dig for buried treasures! I couldn’t quite believe it when he told us. Apparently the ancients used to be buried with their jewels. I can’t think why. Seems an awful waste. Dr Humphreys said it was something to do with religion. He told us the most exciting stories, even invited us to visit the dig if we found ourselves out that way!’ Hannah had stopped writing. Fanny stifled a small smile of accomplishment. ‘Godfrey was a little suspicious—thought the fellow was pulling our legs—but I found him awfully interesting.’

‘Was he handsome?’ Emmeline said.

‘Oh yes,’ Fanny gushed, ‘he …’ She stopped, remembered herself and returned to the script. ‘I’ve had more excitement in the two months I’ve been married than in the rest of my life.’ She eyed Hannah beneath her eyelashes and delivered the trump card. ‘It’s funny. Before I was married, I used to imagine that having a husband one would lose oneself. Now I find it’s quite the opposite. I’ve never felt so … so independent. One is attributed with so much more sense. No one blinks if I determine to take myself out for a walk. Indeed, I’ll probably be asked to chaperone you and Hannah until such time as you are married yourselves.’ She sniffed imperiously. ‘You’re lucky to have someone like me, instead of being saddled with someone old and dull.’

Emmeline raised her eyebrows but Fanny did not see. She was watching Hannah, whose pen now lay by her book.

Fanny’s eyes flickered with self-satisfaction. ‘Well,’ she said, easing her shoe over her injured toe, ‘much as I’ve enjoyed your spirited company, I’ll take my leave. My husband will be back from his walk by now and I find myself thirsting for some …
adult
conversation.’

She smiled sweetly and left the room, head high. The posture was undermined somewhat by a slight limp.

While Emmeline started another record and triple-stepped herself around the room, Hannah remained at the desk, back still turned. Her hands were clasped, forming a bridge on which her chin rested, and she was staring out the windows across the never-ending fields. As I dusted the cornice behind her, I could see by the glass’s faint reflection that she was in deep thought.

The following week the house party arrived. As was custom, its members set about immediately enjoying the activities their hosts had undertaken to provide. Some rambled across the estate, others played bridge in the library, and the more energetic took to fencing in the gymnasium.

After her herculean effort of organisation, Lady Violet’s health took a sudden turn for the worse and she was confined to bed. Lady Clementine sought company elsewhere. Lured by the glinting and grating blades, she took up bulky occupation in a leather armchair in view of the fencing. When I served afternoon tea she was engaged in a cosy tête-à-tête with Simion Luxton.

‘Your son fences well,’ Lady Clementine said, indicating one of the masked swordsmen. ‘For an American.’

‘He may talk like an American, Lady Clementine, but I assure you, he’s an Englishman through and through.’

‘Indeed,’ Lady Clementine said.

‘He fences like an Englishman,’ Simion said vociferously. ‘Deceptively simple. Same style that’ll see him into Parliament in the coming elections.’

‘I did hear of his nomination,’ Lady Clementine said. ‘You must be very pleased.’

Simion was even more puffed up than usual. ‘My son has an excellent future.’

‘Certainly he represents almost everything we conservatives look for in a parliamentarian. At my most recent Conservative Women’s tea, we were discussing the lack of good, solid men to manage the likes of Lloyd George.’ Her gaze of appraisal returned to Teddy. ‘Your son may be just the thing, and I’ll be more than happy to endorse him if I find him so.’ She took a sip of tea. ‘Of course, there is the small matter of his wife.’

‘No matter there,’ Simion said dismissively. ‘Teddy doesn’t have a wife.’

‘Precisely my point, Mr Luxton.’

Simion frowned.

‘Some of the other ladies are not so liberal as I,’ Lady Clementine said. ‘They see it as a mark of weak character. Family values are so important to us. A man of certain years without a wife … people start to wonder.’

‘He just hasn’t met the right girl.’

‘Of course, Mr Luxton. You and I both know that. But the other ladies … They look at your son and see a fine good-looking fellow with so much to offer, yet left wanting a wife. You can’t blame them that they start to wonder why. Start to wonder whether perhaps he hasn’t an eye for the ladies?’ She raised her eyebrows pointedly.

Simion’s cheeks turned red. ‘My son is not … No Luxton man has ever been accused of …’

‘Of course not, Mr Luxton,’ Lady Clementine said smoothly, ‘and these are not my opinions, you understand. I’m just passing on the thoughts of some of our ladies. They like to know a man is a man. Not an aesthete.’ She smiled thinly and repositioned her spectacles. ‘Whatever the case, it’s a small matter and there’s plenty of time. He’s still young. Twenty-five, is he?’

‘Thirty-one,’ Simion said.

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Not so young then. Never matter.’ Lady Clementine knew when to let silence speak for her. She returned her attention to the jousting.

‘You may rest assured, Lady Clementine. There’s nothing wrong with Teddy,’ said Simion. ‘He’s very popular with the ladies. He’ll have his pick of brides when he’s ready.’

‘Glad to hear it, Mr Luxton.’ Lady Clementine continued to watch the fencing. She took a sip of tea. ‘I just hope for his sake that time comes soon. And that he chooses the right
sort
of girl.’

Simion raised a querying brow.

‘We English are a nationalistic lot. Your son has much to recommend him, but some people, particularly in the Conservative Party, may think him a little
new
. I do hope when he takes a wife she brings more to the marriage than her honourable self.’

‘What could be more important than a bride’s honour, Lady Clementine?’

‘Her name, her family, her breeding.’ Lady Clementine looked on as Teddy’s opponent landed a strike and won the match. ‘Overlooked as they may be in the new world, here in England these things are very important.’

‘Alongside the girl’s purity, of course,’ said Simion.

‘Of course.’

‘And deference.’

‘Certainly,’ said Lady Clementine with less conviction.

‘None of these modern women for my son, Lady Clementine,’ said Simion, licking his lips. ‘We Luxton men like our ladies to know who’s boss.’

‘I understand, Mr Luxton,’ said Lady Clementine.

Simion applauded the close of game. ‘If only one knew where to find such a suitable young lady.’

Lady Clementine kept her eyes on the court. ‘Don’t you find, Mr Luxton, that often the very things one seeks can be found right under one’s own nose?’

‘I do, Lady Clementine,’ said Simion with a close-lipped smile. ‘I most certainly do.’

I wasn’t required at dinner and saw neither Teddy nor his father for the rest of Friday. Myra reported that the two were engaged in heated discussion in the upstairs corridor late Friday night; however, if indeed they argued, by Saturday morning Teddy was his usual cheery self.

When I came to check the drawing-room fire, he sat in the armchair reading the morning newspaper, concealing his amusement as Lady Clementine bemoaned the floral arrangements. They had
just arrived from Braintree, resplendent with roses where Lady Clementine had been promised dahlias. She was not happy.

‘You,’ she said to me, flicking a rose stem, ‘find Miss Hartford. She’ll need to see them for herself.’

‘I believe Miss Hartford is preparing to take her horse out this morning, Lady Clementine,’ I said.

‘I don’t care if she’s planning on riding in the Grand National. The arrangements need her attention.’

Thus, while the other young ladies ate breakfast in bed, pondering the night ahead, Hannah was summoned to the drawing room. I had helped her into her riding costume half an hour earlier, and she had the look of a cornered fox, anxious to escape. While Lady Clementine raged, Hannah, with little opinion as to whether dahlias were preferable to roses, could only nod in bemusement and sneak occasional, longing glances at the ship’s clock.

‘But whatever will we do?’ Lady Clementine reached her argument’s end. ‘It’s too late to order more.’

Hannah rubbed her lips together, blinked herself back into the moment. ‘I suppose we shall have to make do with what we have,’ she said with mock fortitude.

‘But can you bear it?’

Hannah feigned resignation. ‘If I must, I shall.’ She waited a requisite few seconds and said, brightly, ‘Now, if that’s all—’

‘Come on upstairs,’ Lady Clementine interrupted. ‘I’ll show you how dreadful they look in the ballroom. You won’t believe …’

As Lady Clementine continued to deride the rose arrangements, Hannah withered on the spot. The mere suggestion of further floral debate brought a glaze to her eyes.

In the armchair, Teddy cleared his throat, folded the paper and placed it on the table beside him. ‘It’s such a lovely winter’s day,’ he said to nobody in particular. ‘I’ve a good mind to take a ride. See more of the estate.’

Lady Clementine drew breath mid-sentence and the light of higher purpose seemed to flicker in her eyes. ‘A ride,’ she said without missing a beat. ‘What a lovely idea, Mr Luxton. Hannah, isn’t that a lovely idea?’

Hannah looked up with surprise as Teddy smiled conspiratorially at her. ‘You’re welcome to join me.’

Before she could answer, Lady Clementine said, ‘Yes … splendid. We’d be happy to join you, Mr Luxton. If you don’t mind of course?’

Teddy didn’t miss a beat. ‘I’d count myself lucky to have two such lovely tour guides.’

Lady Clementine turned to me, her expression one of trepidation. ‘You, girl, have Mrs Townsend send up a packed tea.’ She turned back to Teddy and said, through a thin-lipped smile, ‘I do so love to ride.’

They made an odd procession as they set off for the stables, even odder, Dudley said, once all were on horseback. He had fallen about laughing, he said, watching as they disappeared across the west glade, Lady Clementine paired with Mr Frederick’s ancient mare whose girth exceeded even her rider’s.

They were gone two hours, and when they returned for lunch Teddy was soaking wet, Hannah was awfully quiet and Lady Clementine as smug as a cat with a bowl of cream. What happened on their ride, Hannah told me herself, though not for many months.

From the stable they crossed the west glade then followed the river, walking the horses beneath the row of mighty beeches that lined the reedy bank. The meadows either side of the river wore stark winter coats and there was no sign of the deer that spent the summer grazing on them.

They rode for some way in silence: Hannah up front, Teddy close behind and Lady Clementine bringing up the rear. Wintry twigs snapped under the horses’ feet, the river tripped and burbled on its way to join the Thames, and a distant cyclist pedalled toward the village, spokes whizzing.

Finally, Teddy brought his horse up beside Hannah and said, in a jolly voice, ‘It’s certainly a pleasure to be here, Miss Hartford. I must thank you for your kind invitation.’

Hannah, who had been enjoying the silence, said, ‘It’s my grandmother you’ll have to thank, Mr Luxton. For I had little to do with the whole affair.’

‘Ah …’ Teddy said. ‘I see. I shall have to remember to thank her.’

Pitying Teddy, who, after all, had just been making conversation, Hannah said, ‘What is it you do for a living, Mr Luxton?’

He was quick to answer, relieved perhaps. ‘I’m a collector.’

‘What do you collect?’

‘Objects of beauty.’

‘I thought perhaps you worked with your father.’

Teddy shrugged away a birch leaf that had fallen onto his shoulder. ‘My father and I do not see eye to eye on matters of business, Miss Hartford,’ he said. ‘He sees little of worth in anything not directly related to the gathering of wealth.’