I knew all about Klugg, how hideous and drunken and brutal and German and unlettered he was, so that Cedric never could explain why he put up with his vagaries for a single moment, but the baron was a new figure to me. Cedric was evasive, however. He was better than anybody I have ever known at not answering questions if he did not want to.
‘Just another friend. The first night I was in Paris I went to the Opera, and I don’t mind telling you, my darling, that all eyes were upon me, in my box, the poor artistes might just as well not have been on the stage at all. Well, one of the eyes belonged to the baron.’
‘Two of the eyes, you mean,’ I said.
‘No dear, one. He wears a patch to make himself look sinister and fascinating. Nobody knows how much I hate barons, I feel exactly like King John whenever I think of them.’
‘But Cedric, I don’t understand. How could he take your furniture away?’
‘How could he? How, indeed? Alas, he has, and that is that. My Savonnerie, my Sèvres, my sanguines, all my treasures gone and I confess I am very low about it, because, although they cannot compare in quality with what I see every day round me at Hampton, one does so love one’s own things which one has bought and chosen oneself. I must say the Boulle at Hampton is the best I have ever seen – even at Chèvres we had no Boulle like that. Sensational. Have you been over since we began to clean the bronzes? Oh, you must come. I have taught my friend Archie how to unscrew the bits, scrub them with ammonia, and pour boiling water on them from a kettle so that they dry at once with no moisture left to turn them green. He does it all all day, and when he has finished it glitters like the cave of Aladdin.’
This Archie was a nice, handsome boy, a lorry-driver, whom Cedric had found with his lorry broken down near the gates of Hampton.
‘For your ear alone, my darling, it was a stroke of thunder when I saw him. What one does so love about love is the time before they find out what One is like.’
‘And it’s also very nice,’ I said, disloyally, ‘before One finds out what they are like.’
Archie had now left his lorry for ever, and gone to live at Hampton to do odd jobs. Lady Montdore was enthusiastic about him.
‘So willing,’ she would say, ‘so clever of Cedric to think of having him. Cedric always does such original things.’
Cedric went on, ‘But I suppose you would think it more hideous than ever, Fanny. I know that you like a room to sparkle with freshness, whereas I like it to glitter with richness. That is where we differ at present, but you’ll change. Your taste is really good, and it is bound to mature one day.’
It was true that my taste at this time, like that of the other young people I knew who cared about their houses, favoured pickled or painted furniture with a great deal of white, and upholstery in pale cheerful colours. French furniture with its finely chiselled ormolu (what Cedric called bronzes), its severe lines and perfect proportions was far above my head in those days, while Louis XIV needlework, of which there was a great amount at Hampton, seemed dark and stuffy. I frankly preferred a cheerful chintz.
Cedric’s word with Mrs Heathery had excellent results, and even Lady Montdore showed no signs of despising the tea which arrived at the same time as she did. In any case, now that she was happy again, she was much more good-natured about the attempts of the humble, such as myself, to regale her.
Her appearance still gave me quite a jump, though by now I really should have been getting accustomed to her flashing smile, her supple movements, and the pale blue curls, a little sparse upon the head, not unattractively so, but like a baby’s curls. Today she was hatless, and wore a tartan ribbon to keep her hair in place. She was dressed in a plain but beautifully made grey coat and skirt, and as she came into the room, which was full of sun, she took her coat off with a curious, swift, double-jointed movement, revealing a piqué blouse and a positively girlish waist-line. It was warm spring weather just then, and I knew that she and Cedric did a lot of sunbathing in a summer-house specially designed by him, as a result of which her skin had gone rather a horrid yellow, and looked as if it had to be soaked in oil to prevent it from falling into a thousand tiny cracks. Her nails were varnished dark red, and this was an improvement, since formerly they had been furrowed and not always quite clean. The old-fashioned hoops of enormous diamonds set in gold which used so stiffly to encircle her stiff fingers were replaced by square-cut diamonds in clusters of cabochon emeralds and rubies, her diamond earrings too had been reset, in the shape of cockle shells, and more large diamonds sparkled in a fashionable pair of clips at her throat. The whole thing was stunning.
But although her aspect was so much changed, her personality remained the same, and the flashing (brush) smile was followed by the well-known up-and-down look.
‘Is that your baby making that horrid noise, Fanny?’
‘Yes. He never cries as a rule but his teeth are upsetting him.’
‘Poor thing,’ said Cedric, ‘couldn’t he go to the dentist?’
‘Well, I’ve got your birthday present, Cedric. It can’t be a surprise though, because it’s all over the floor of the motor. They seemed to think, at Parker’s, that you would like it – a book called Ackerman’s Suppository or something.’
‘Not Ackerman’s Suppository – not really!’ said Cedric, clasping his hands under his chin in a very characteristic gesture. ‘How kind you are to me – how
