Edith smiled back. She was quite used to this curious need on the part of the upper-classes to demonstrate that they all know each other and do the same things with the same people. This was perhaps an unusually manic example of the palisade mentality but, looking at Lord Cumnor, aka Henry the Green Engine, it was not difficult to see that Jane had made some severe sacrifices to achieve whatever position she was in command of. It would be hard for her to set it aside, even for a moment, as a thing of little importance.
'Are you very political?' Edith said to Henry, who seemed to be recovering from the effort it had taken him to cross the floor.
'Yes,' he said, and turned back to the others.
Edith had been inclined to feel rather sorry for him but she saw in a moment that he perceived no need to feel sorry for himself. He was quite happy being who he was. Just as he was quite happy to demonstrate that he knew Charles and did not know Edith. Charles, however, was not prepared to have the Cumnors be rude to the girl he had invited for dinner and he consciously and obviously turned the conversation back to her.
'Henry's frightfully serious since he took his seat. What was your latest cause? Organic veg for prisoners?'
'Ha, ha,' said Henry.
Jane came to her husband's aid. 'Don't be beastly. He's done a lot of work for the national diet, haven't you, darling?'
'Which didn't include going on it, I gather,' said Charles.
'You laugh now but they'll come after you when your father snuffs it. You'll see,' said Jane.
'No they won't. Labour will win next time and they'll have the hereditaries out before you can say Jack Robinson.'
'Don't be so pessimistic.' Jane did not want to hear that the world she had pinned all her hopes on was threatened with extinction. 'Anyway, it'd be years before they came up with a formula for the Lords that works better and they won't do anything in a hurry.'
Charles stood up and asked Edith to dance.
She raised her eyes in a half-query as they shambled around the floor, by now crammed with Iranian bankers and their mistresses.
He smiled. 'Henry's all right.'
'Is he a great friend?'
'He's a sort of cousin. I've known him all my life. God, he's fat at the moment, isn't he? He looks like a balloon.'
'How long have they been married?'
He shook his head. 'Four, five years, I suppose.'
'Do they have any children?'
He made a wry shape with his mouth. 'Two girls. Poor old Henry. Setchell's got him drinking port and eating cheese and Christ knows what.'
'Why?'
'To get a boy, of course. To get the bloody boy.'
'What happens if they don't have one?'
Charles frowned. 'There are no brothers. I think some bloke in South Africa gets the title although I'm not sure if he or the girls get the swag. Anyway, they're both quite young. They'll bash on for a while longer, I should think.'
'It could get rather expensive.'
'It certainly could. You never know how long to keep going. Look at the Clanwilliams. Six girls before they called it a day and it's worse nowadays.'
'Why?'
'Why do you think? Even the girls have to go to decent schools.'
They danced in silence for a while with Charles occasionally nodding to various acquaintances on the floor. Edith gratefully recognised two girls from her deb season and flashed brilliant smiles at them. Taking in the identity of her partner, they waved back, allowing her to feel less invisible. By the time they returned to the table, she was beginning to feel that she was really having quite a jolly time.
Henry and Jane had not moved and as they approached, Jane jumped up and seized Charles's hand. 'It's time you danced with me. Henry hates dancing. Come on.' She led Charles back to the floor, leaving Edith alone with her porcine husband.
He smiled vaguely. 'She always says that. I don't really hate dancing at all. Would you like to give it a go?'
Edith shook her head. 'Not unless you're dying to, if you don't mind. I'm exhausted.' The thought of being pressed into that pillow of blubber made her shudder.
He nodded philosophically. Being turned down was obviously not a new experience. 'Do you know Charlie well?'
'No. We just met in the country and then again at Ascot and here I am.'
'Where in the country? Who with?' He perked up a bit at the chance of some more Name Exchange.
'With the Eastons. In Sussex. David and Isabel. Do you know them?' She knew very well he would not. She was right.
