Hannah was a model of composure, innocence writ large across her face. For an instant it seemed she caught my eye, and I thought the glimmer of a smile crossed her lips. I could not help it, I smiled back, fearfully, only stopping when Myra glanced sideways in the dark and gave my arm a pinch.
Hannah, glowing, joined hands with Emmeline and David and the three stretched out across the stage and took a bow. As they did, a glob of jam-smeared cream dropped from Emmeline’s nose and landed with a sizzle on a nearby limelight.
‘Just so,’ came a high fluty voice from the audience, Lady Clementine. ‘A fellow I know knew a fellow with leprosy, out in India. His nose dropped off just like that in his shaving dish.’
It was too much for Mr Frederick. His eyes met Hannah’s and he began to laugh. Such a laugh as I had never heard: infectious by virtue of its sheer sincerity. One by one, others joined him; though Lady Violet, I noticed, was not amongst them.
I couldn’t help my own laughter, spontaneous ripples of relief, until Myra hissed into my ear, ‘That’s enough, miss. You can come and help me with supper.’
I would miss the rest of the recital, but I had seen all I wanted to. As we left the room and made our way down the corridor, I was aware of the applause dying, the recital rolling on. And I felt infused by a strange energy.
By the time we had carried Mrs Townsend’s supper and the trays of coffee to the drawing room, given the armchair cushions a preparatory plump, the recital had ended and the guests had started to arrive, arm in arm in order of rank. First came Lady Violet and Major James, then Lord Ashbury and Lady Clementine, then Mr Frederick with Jemima and Fanny. The Hartford children, I guessed, were still upstairs.
As they took their places, Myra arranged the coffee tray so Lady Violet could pour. While her guests chatted lightly around her, Lady Violet leaned toward Mr Frederick’s armchair and said, through a thin smile, ‘You indulge those children, Frederick.’
Mr Frederick’s lips tightened. The criticism, I could tell, was not a new one.
Eyes on the coffee she was pouring, Lady Violet said, ‘You may find their antics amusing now, but the day will come when you’ll rue your leniency. You’ve let them grow wild. Hannah, especially. There’s nothing spoils a young lady’s loveliness so much as impertinence of intellect.’
Her invective delivered, Lady Violet straightened, arranged her expression into one of cordial amiability, and passed a coffee to Lady Clementine.
Conversation had turned, as it so often did those days, to the strife in Europe and the likelihood of Great Britain going to war.
‘There’ll be war. There always is,’ Lady Clementine said, matter-of- factly, taking the proffered coffee and wedging her buttocks deep into Lady Violet’s favourite armchair. Her pitch rose. ‘And we’ll all suffer. Men, women and children. The Germans aren’t civilised like us. They’ll pillage our countryside, murder our little ones in their beds and enslave good English women that we might propagate little Huns for them. You mark my words for I’m very rarely wrong. We’ll be at war before the summer’s out.’
‘Surely you exaggerate, Clementine,’ Lady Violet said. ‘The war-if it comes-couldn’t be as bad as all that. These are modern times, after all.’
‘That’s right,’ Lord Ashbury said. ‘It’ll be twentieth-century warfare; a whole new game. Not to mention there’s not a Hun could lift a torch to an Englishman.’
‘It might be improper to say,’ Fanny said, perching herself at one end of the chaise longue, curls shaking excitedly, ‘but I rather hope the war
Lady Clementine quivered her heavy eyelids. ‘Regrettably. A foolish girl with provincial manners.’ She leaned toward Lady Violet. ‘Raised in Dublin, you know. Irish Catholic, no less.’
I peeked at Myra, offering sugar cubes, and noticed her back stiffen. She caught my glance and shot me a hot scowl.
‘Well,’ Fanny continued, ‘Margery’s holidaying with family by the seaside and she said when she met her mother at the station, the trains were absolutely packed with reservists rushing back to their headquarters. It’s ever so exciting.’
‘Fanny darling,’ Lady Violet said, looking up from the coffee pot, ‘I do think it’s rather in poor taste to wish a war merely for excitement. Wouldn’t you agree, James dear?’
The Major, standing by the unlit fire, straightened himself. ‘While I don’t agree with Fanny’s motivation, I must say I share her sentiment. I for one hope we do go to war. The whole continent’s got itself into a
A general cheer went up around the room and Jemima clasped the Major’s arm, gazed up adoringly, button eyes aglow.
Old Lord Ashbury puffed his pipe excitedly. ‘A bit of sport,’ he proclaimed, leaning back against his chair. ‘Nothing like a war to sort the men from the boys.’
Mr Frederick shifted in his seat, took the coffee that Lady Violet offered and set about loading tobacco into his pipe.
‘What about you, Frederick,’ Fanny said coyly. ‘What will you do if war comes? You won’t stop making motor cars, will you? It would be such a shame if there were no more lovely motor cars just because of a silly war. I shouldn’t like to go back to using a carriage.’
Mr Frederick, embarrassed by Fanny’s flirtation, plucked a stray piece of tobacco from his trouser leg. ‘I shouldn’t worry. Motor cars are the way of the future.’ He tamped his pipe and murmured to himself, ‘God forbid a war should inconvenience senseless ladies with little to do.’
At that moment the door opened and Hannah, Emmeline and David spilled into the room, faces still lit with exhilaration. The girls had changed from their costumes and were back in matching white dresses with sailor collars.
‘Jolly good show,’ Lord Ashbury said. ‘Couldn’t hear a word of it, but jolly good show.’
‘Well done, children,’ Lady Violet said. ‘Though perhaps you’ll let Grandmamma help with the selection next year?’
‘And you, Pa?’ said Hannah eagerly. ‘Did you enjoy the play?’
Mr Frederick avoided his mother’s gaze. ‘We’ll discuss the more creative parts later, eh?’
‘And what about you, David,’ trilled Fanny above the others. ‘We were just talking of the war. Will you be joining up if Britain enters? I think you’d make a dashing officer.’
David took a coffee from Lady Violet and sat down. ‘I hadn’t thought about it.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘I suppose I will. They say it’s a fellow’s one chance for a grand adventure.’ He eyed Hannah with a twinkle in his eye, perceiving the opportunity for a tease. ‘Strictly for lads I’m afraid, Hannah.’
Fanny shrieked with laughter, causing Lady Clementine’s eyelids to quiver. ‘Oh David, how silly. Hannah wouldn’t want to go to war. How ridiculous.’
‘I certainly should,’ Hannah said fiercely.
‘But my dear,’ Lady Violet said, flummoxed, ‘you wouldn’t have any clothes to fight in.’
‘She could wear jodhpurs and riding boots,’ Fanny said.
‘Or a costume,’ Emmeline said. ‘Like the one she wore in the play. Though maybe not the hat.’
Mr Frederick caught his mother’s censorious look and cleared his throat.
