It must have been rather sad for Lady Montdore (though with her talent for ignoring disagreeable subjects she probably never even realized the fact) that friendship with royal personages only ever began for her when their days of glory were finished. Tsarskoe-Selo, Schönbrunn, the Quirinal, Kotrocheny Palace, Miramar, Laecken and the island of Corfu had never known her, unless among an enormous crowd in the state apartments. If she went to a foreign capital with her husband she would, of course, be invited to official receptions, while foreign rulers who came to London would attend her big parties, but it was all very formal. Crowned heads may not have had the sense to keep their crowns but they were evidently not too stupid to realize that give Lady Montdore an inch and she would take an ell. As soon as they were exiled, however, they began to see her charm, and another kingdom gone always meant a few more royal habitués at Montdore House; when they were completely down-and-out and had got through whatever money they had managed to salt away, she was allowed to act as lady-in-waiting and go with them to Woollands.
Polly handed her a cup of tea and told her my news. The happy afterglow from her royal outing immediately faded, and she became intensely disagreeable.
‘Engaged?’ she said. ‘Well, I suppose that’s very nice. Alfred what did you say? Who is he? What is that name?’
‘He’s a don, at Oxford.’
‘Oh, dear, how extraordinary. You don’t want to go and live at Oxford, surely? I should think he had better go into politics and buy a place – I suppose he hasn’t got one by the way? No, or he wouldn’t be a don, not an English don at least, in Spain of course, it’s quite different – dons are somebody there, I believe. Let’s think – yes, why shouldn’t your father give you a place as a wedding present? You’re the only child he’s ever likely to have. I’ll write to him at once – where is he now?’
I said vaguely that I believed in Jamaica, but did not know his address.
‘Really, what a family! I’ll find out from the Colonial Office and write by bag, that will be safest. Then this Mr Thing can settle down and write books. It always gives a man status if he writes a book, Fanny, I advise you to start him off on that immediately.’
‘I’m afraid I haven’t much influence with him,’ I said uneasily.
‘Oh, well, develop it dear, quick. No use marrying a man you can’t influence. Just look what I’ve done for Montdore, always seen that he takes an interest, made him accept things (jobs, I mean) and kept him up to the mark, never let him slide back. A wife must always be on the look-out, men are so lazy by nature, for example, Montdore is forever trying to have a little nap in the afternoon, but I won’t hear of it, once you begin that, I tell him, you are old, and people who are old find themselves losing interest, dropping out of things and then they might as well be dead. Montdore’s only got me to thank if he’s not in the same condition as most of his contemporaries, creeping about the Marlborough Club like dying flies and hardly able to drag themselves as far as the House of Lords. I make Montdore walk down there every day. Now, Fanny dear, the more I think of it, the more it seems to me quite ridiculous for you to go marrying a don, what does Emily say?’
‘She’s awfully pleased.’
‘Emily and Sadie are hopeless. You must ask my advice about this sort of thing, I’m very glad indeed you came round, we must think how we can get you out of it. Could you ring him up now and say you’ve changed your mind, I believe it would be kindest in the long run to do it that way.’
‘Oh, no, I can’t.’
‘Why not, dear? It isn’t in the paper yet.’
‘It will be tomorrow.’
‘That’s where I can be so helpful. I’ll send for Geoffrey Dawson now and have it stopped.’
I was quite terrified. ‘Please –’ I said, ‘oh, please not!’
Polly came to my rescue. ‘But she wants to marry him, Mummy, she’s in love, and look at her pretty ring!’
Lady Montdore looked, and was confirmed in her opposition. ‘That’s not a ruby,’ she said, as if I had been pretending it was. ‘And as for love I should have thought the example of your mother would have taught you something – where has love landed her? Some ghastly white hunter. Love indeed – whoever invented love ought to be shot.’
‘Dons aren’t a bit the same as white hunters,’ said Polly. ‘You know how fond Daddy is of them.’
‘Oh, I dare say they’re all right for dinner, if you like that sort of thing. Montdore does have them over sometimes, I know, but that’s no reason why they should go marrying people. So unsuitable, megalomania, I call it. So many people have that, nowadays. No, Fanny, I’m very much distressed.’
‘Oh, please don’t be,’ I said.
‘However, if you say it’s settled, I suppose there’s no more I can do, except to try and help you make a success of it. Montdore can ask the Chief Whip if there’s something for you to nurse, that will be best.’
It was on the tip of my tongue to say that what I hoped to be nursing before long would be sent by God and not the Chief Whip, but I restrained myself, nor did I dare to tell her that Alfred was not a Tory.
The conversation now turned upon the subject of my trousseau, about which Lady
