It was more of a blow than a surprise to learn that we were to lose Philip. We had always known that he was due for a move and that he had only been left at Paris long enough to see us comfortably into the Embassy before becoming Counsellor somewhere else. When he came to tell me his news I said, ‘Talk about a Pull to the East – I feel as if I were living in the last act of The Three Sisters. All we get back from Moscow is Hector Dexter, a very poor exchange for you and Northey.’
‘How d’you mean, me and Northey?’
‘I naturally suppose you’ll be taking her. You’re not going to leave her here with a broken heart, Philip – don’t tell me that?’
‘Oh, dearest Fanny, do I really want the whole of the Praesidium milling round my dacha? Not to speak of faithful wolves and sweet Siberian crows in one’s bedroom?’
‘As soon as she’s married, with a baby, all that will stop, I’ve seen it so often. How is your love for Grace?’
‘Very hopeless, what with one thing and another. My own fault for telling Mees about St Expédite. Every time I go to St Roch, there she is keenly putting up candles. It’s quite ridiculous – the saint doesn’t know which way to turn, as Mees said herself, last time we met there.’
‘Chuck the whole thing and marry her.’
‘What a matchmaker you are.’
‘It’s time the poor duck was settled. Besides, think how lonely you’d be in Moscow, without any of us.’
‘Good for trade,’ said Philip, ‘promotion, important post and so forth, but I can’t say I greatly look forward to it. I would certainly find it much jollier if I had Mees there. But what would you do without her yourself?’
‘It won’t be the same, but I can have sister Jean now. The Chelsea setter has already found another girl with more money and a larger tiara, and Jean is looking for a job.’
‘Oh dear – how I hate taking irrevocable decisions!’
‘Go on, Philip. No time like the present. She’s in her office – go and propose to her this very minute.’
‘All right. So long as you realize that it’s entirely your responsibility.’ He kissed me on both cheeks and went off.
I was now seized by misgivings. Left to himself, would not Philip have havered and wavered and in the end gone away without coming to a decision? I had induced him to propose, deliberately ignoring the wise reflections of Alfred, although I knew that there was a great deal of truth in them. On the face of it, Philip had the makings of an excellent husband. Attractive, kind, clever, gay, and amusing, never boring, he was also very rich. Nevertheless something was missing, some sort of intensity or ardent flame which, had it existed, might well have won over Grace, or, in the old Oxford days, me myself. Furthermore, he had been in love with us as he was not with Northey. She had fallen in love at first sight, so she loved an image which she had invented and which might easily be rubbed away in daily wear and tear. On the other hand, I told myself, there are no rules for successful marriage. Northey and Philip seemed rather suited, she so lively, he so orthodox; her superabundant vitality, the maternal instinct she lavished on creatures, would turn into their proper channel when she had babies; she was accustomed, now, to Embassy life.
Another factor, I must say, weighed with me. Mockbar had, of late, taken Northey as the heroine of his page. It was no secret now to the readers of the Daily Post that the Marquis de Valhubert, who had escorted the world’s most beautiful women, was her ‘friend’. His British-born wife was expecting her fifth child in March; Mockbar gave the impression that, after this happy event, Valhubert would announce his engagement to Northey.
‘Really, darling,’ Grace said, ‘I shall have to find out what sort of thing the bridegroom’s wife is expected to wear at a wedding.’
‘Poor soul,’ was Northey’s reflection, ‘he has found out the truth about the riots and he is minding. Hard put to it to mollify Lord Grumpy, just as the children are getting to the age of a glass of wine with their food, you know. However, there’s hot news today. M. Cruas is engaged to Phyllis McFee!’
I wondered why these characters were suddenly being liquidated. M. Cruas may have been based on fact; Phyllis McFee was certainly a figment of Northey’s imagination; both played a useful part in what Philip called ‘the carry-on’. During the last week or two they had been unusually busy – hardly a day without one or other being invoked. It seemed rash of her to make such a clean sweep; I felt a little uneasy. ‘Is it wise to get rid of them both at a blow?’ I asked.
‘Much as I shall miss the beloveds, I have their happiness to consider. Each for each is what we teach. They are buggering off on a long, long honeymoon in Asia Minor.’
Everything considered, was it not my duty to Louisa to get this wayward creature married if I could?
Northey stood in the doorway. Her eyes were like blue brilliants; she radiated happiness. She stood quite still and said, ‘It’s me, Fanny! I’m engaged!’
‘Darling – yes, I know. I can’t tell you how delighted I am!’
‘You know?’
‘Philip told me.’
‘But I’ve only just told him.’
I saw that I had been tactless, of course she would not like the idea of Philip having discussed the matter beforehand.
‘He was looking everywhere
