‘How d’you know such wonderful English?’
‘My mother was. Still it is rather wonderful, isn’t it? I can recite the whole of the Excursion, but not now. So eight o’clock then.’
‘I’ll be quite ready,’ said Grace.
The Frenchman ran downstairs and out of the house, and she saw him from the window running towards St James’s Park. Then she went up to her room, pulled a lot of clothes from various drawers and cupboards, laid them on her bed, and hovered about wondering what on earth she should wear. Nothing seemed somehow quite suitable.
Nanny came in. ‘Good gracious! The room looks like a jumble sale.’
‘Run me a bath, darling. I’m going out to dinner with that Frenchman.’
‘Are you, dear? And what’s his name?’
‘Bother. I never asked him.’
‘Oh well,’ said Nanny, ‘one French name is very much like another, I dare say.’
2
His name was Charles-Edouard de Valhubert. About a month later he said to Grace, ‘Perhaps I will marry you.’
Grace, in love as never before, tried to keep her head and not to look as if about to faint with happiness.
‘Will you?’ she said. ‘Why?’
‘In ten days I go back to the Middle East. The war will begin soon, anything may happen, and I need a son.’
‘How practical you are.’
‘Yes. I am French. Mais après le mariage – mince de – nettoyage, – La belle-mère! – on s’assied dessus!’ he sang. He was forever singing little snatches of songs like that. ‘But you won’t have a belle-mère, unfortunately, since she died, poor dear, many years ago.’
‘I must remind you,’ said Grace, ‘that I am engaged to somebody else.’
‘I must remind you that your behaviour lately has not been the behaviour of a faithful fiancée.’
‘A little flirtation means nothing at all. I am engaged, and that’s that.’
‘Engaged. But not married and not in love.’
‘Fond.’
‘Indeed?’
‘You really did see Hughie in Cairo?’
‘I saw him plain. He said, “Going to London are you? Do look up Grace.” Not very clever of him. So I looked up. He is very dull.’
‘Very handsome.’
‘Yes. So perhaps on Wednesday?’
‘Wednesday what?’
‘The marriage? I will now go and call on your father – where can I find him?’
‘At this time of day he’ll be at the House.’
‘How little did I ever think I should end up as the son-in-law of the Allingham Commission. How strange is one’s fate. Then I’ll come back and take you out to dinner.’
The next day Sir Conrad Allingham went to see Mrs O’Donovan, a widow with whom he had had for many years a loving friendship. Sir Conrad preferred actually making love, a pastime to which he devoted a good deal of energy, with those whose profession it is, finding it embarrassing, never really able to let himself go, with women whom he met in other circumstances. But he liked the company of woman to an extent rare among Englishmen, and often went to chat for an hour or so with Mrs O’Donovan in her light sunny little house which looked over Chelsea Hospital. She was always at home, always glad to receive a visitor, and had a large following among the more intellectual of the right-wing politicians. Her regard for Sir Conrad was special; she spoke of him as ‘my Conrad’ and was out to other callers when he came to see her. It was said that he never took a step without asking her advice first.
He said, without preamble, ‘Have you seen Charles-Edouard de Valhubert?’
‘Priscilla’s son?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is he in London?’
‘He’s been in London several weeks, courting Grace so it seems.’
‘Conrad! How extraordinary! What’s he like?’
‘Really, you know, irresistible. Came to see me at the House yesterday – wants to marry her. I knew nothing – but nothing. I thought Grace was buried in that First Aid Post, and, of course, I’ve been busy myself. Rather too bad of her really – here I am presented with this fait accompli.’
‘Well, but what about Hughie?’
‘What indeed? Mind you, my sympathies with Hughie are limited – he ought to have married her before he went away.’
‘Poor Hughie, he was longing to. He thought it wouldn’t be fair.’
‘What rubbish though. He leaves a position utterly undefended, he can’t be surprised if it falls into – well, Allied hands. I never cared for him, as you know, quite half-baked and tells no jokes. However, she didn’t ask my advice when she became engaged to him, nor did she ask it before breaking the engagement (if, indeed, she has remembered to do so). Clearly it doesn’t matter what I think. So much for Hughie. He has made his exit all right.’
‘I can see that you’re pleased, really.’
‘Yes and no. Valhubert is quite a chap I will say, tall, attractive (very much like his father to look at, much better dressed). He is clearly great fun. But I don’t like the idea of Grace marrying a Frog, to tell the truth.’
‘Conrad! With your love for the French?’ Mrs O’Donovan loved the French too. She had once spent several months in Paris as a child; it had touched her imagination in some way, and she had hankered to live there ever since. This love was one of the strongest links between her and Sir Conrad. They both belonged to the category of English person, not rare among the cultivated classes, and not the least respectable of their race, who can find almost literally nothing to criticize where the French are concerned.
‘Only because of Grace’s special character,’ he said. ‘Try and picture her mooning about in Paris society. She would be a lamb among wolves; it makes me shudder to think of it.’
‘I’m not sure – after all she’s a beauty, and that means a great deal more in France than it does here.’
‘Yes, with the men. I’m thinking of the women. They’ll make short work of our poor Grace, always in the clouds.’
‘Perhaps her clouds will protect her.’
‘In a
