‘Who else was there,’ asked Davey, ‘the Dougdales?’
‘Oh, yes. Isn’t the Lecturer stchoopid?’
Davey laughed. ‘And lecherous?’ he said.
‘No, I must say not actually lecherous, not with me.’
‘Well, of course, he couldn’t be with Sonia there, he wouldn’t dare. He’s been her young man for years, you know.’
‘Don’t tell me!’ I said, fascinated. That was the heaven of Davey, he knew everything about everybody, quite unlike my aunts, who, though they had no special objection to our knowing gossip, now that we were grown-up, had always forgotten it themselves, being totally uninterested in the doings of people outside their own family. ‘Davey! How could she?’
‘Well, Boy is very good-looking,’ said Davey, ‘I should say rather, how could he? But as a matter of fact, I think it’s a love affair of pure convenience, it suits them both perfectly. Boy knows the Gotha by heart and all that kind of thing, he’s like a wonderful extra butler, and Sonia on her side gives him an interest in life. I quite see it.’
One comfort, I thought, such elderly folk couldn’t do anything, but again I kept it to myself because I knew that nothing makes people crosser than being considered too old for love, and Davey and the Lecturer were exactly the same age, they had been at school together. Lady Montdore, of course, was even older.
‘Let’s hear about Polly,’ said Aunt Emily, ‘and then I really must insist on you going out of doors before tea. Is she a real beauty, just as we were always being told, by Sonia, that she would be?’
‘Of course she is,’ said Davey, ‘doesn’t Sonia always get her own way?’
‘So beautiful you can’t imagine,’ I said. ‘And so nice, the nicest person I ever met.’
‘Fanny is such a hero-worshipper,’ said Aunt Emily, amused.
‘I expect it’s true though, anyway, about the beauty,’ said Davey, ‘because, quite apart from Sonia always getting what she wants, Hamptons do have such marvellous looks, and after all, the old girl herself is very handsome. In fact, I see that she would improve the strain by giving a little solidity – Montdore looks too much like a collie dog.’
‘And who is this wonderful girl to marry?’ said Aunt Emily. ‘That will be the next problem for Sonia. I can’t see who will ever be good enough for her.’
‘Merely a question of strawberry leaves,’ said Davey, ‘as I imagine she’s probably too big for the Prince of Wales, he likes such tiny little women. You know, I can’t help thinking that now Montdore is getting older he must feel it dreadfully that he can’t leave Hampton to her. I had a long talk about it the other day with Boy in the London Library. Of course, Polly will be very rich – enormously rich, because he can leave her everything else – but they all love Hampton so much, I think it’s very sad for them.’
‘Can he leave Polly the pictures at Montdore House? Surely they must be entailed on the heir?’ said Aunt Emily.
‘There are wonderful pictures at Hampton,’ I butted in. ‘A Raphael and a Caravaggio in my bedroom alone.’
They both laughed at me, hurting my feelings rather.
‘Oh, my darling child, country-house bedroom pictures! But the ones in London are a world-famous collection, and I believe they can all go to Polly. The young man from Nova Scotia simply gets Hampton and everything in it, but that is an Aladdin’s Cave, you know, the furniture, the silver, the library – treasures beyond value. Boy was saying they really ought to get him over and show him something of civilization before he becomes too transatlantic.’
‘I forget how old he is,’ said Aunt Emily.
‘I know,’ I said, ‘he’s six years older than me, about twenty-four now. And he’s called Cedric, like Lord Fauntleroy. Linda and I used to look him up when we were little to see if he would do for us.’
‘You would, how typical,’ said Aunt Emily. ‘But I should have thought he might really do for Polly – settle everything.’
‘It would be too much unlike life,’ said Davey. ‘Oh, bother, talking to Fanny has made me forget my three o’clock pill.’
‘Take it now,’ said Aunt Emily, ‘and then go out please, both of you.’
From this time on I saw a great deal of Polly. I went to Alconleigh, as I did every year, for some hunting, and from there I often went over to spend a night or two at Hampton. There were no more big house parties, but a continual flow of people, and in fact the Montdores and Polly never seemed to have a meal by themselves. Boy Dougdale came over nearly every day from his own house at Silkin, which was only about ten miles away. He quite often went home to dress for dinner and came back again to spend the evening, since Lady Patricia it seemed was not at all well, and liked to go to bed early.
Boy never seemed to me quite like a real human being and I think this is because he was always
