“I wouldn’t like a place like India at all,” Mrs. Wexler said with a shudder. “All that dirt and disease and cows running around the streets. No, sirree.”
“Damn fine place, India,” the colonel said. “You should see the maharajas’ palaces, and the tiger shoots, and the lake in Kashmir. Damn fine place.”
“Are you home on leave or back for good?” Lady Hawse-Gorzley asked.
“Long leave. We take one every five years. We used to have a house in this part of the world, but not any longer, unfortunately. Circumstances being what they are. Not at all sure that we’ll come back to England to settle when I leave the army. Life is just so pleasant for the memsahib in India, isn’t it, old girl?”
“Apart from the heat and the diseases, I must say life in India is very easy. Our servants are devoted. There are always parties and dances. No, I think I’d find it rather dull in England. I did when we were last home four years ago, especially as Reggie was gone most of the time—weren’t you, my dear?”
“Dashed inconvenient, I called it. Only here for a few months and I got summoned to—”
“Oh, I believe that must be the dowager countess now.” Lady Hawse-Gorzley sprang to her feet. “Please excuse me while I go to greet her. We’ll be serving tea shortly and you’ll have a chance to try our Devonshire cream.”
She motioned to me to follow her as an ancient Rolls-Royce drew up and a very distinguished-looking lady was helped from the backseat. She was dressed in a long sable coat with matching fur hat. She held an ebony and silver cane and she lifted a lorgnette to survey the scene as another woman, a mousy little creature, scurried around to lead her to the front door.
Lady Hawse-Gorzley came forward to greet her, arms open.
“Countess Albury—what a delight. Welcome to Gorzley Hall and the compliments of the season to you.”
“How do you do,” the countess said stiffly, holding out a black-gloved hand before she could be touched.
“Have you been traveling long?”
“Not too bad. Drove from London yesterday. Spent the night at the Francis in Bath. One of my favorite cities. Always loved shopping for antiques on Milsom Street. Not anymore, of course. Nowhere to put them.”
“Come inside, do,” Lady Hawse-Gorzley said.
“I fully intend to,” the countess sniffed. “Certainly don’t expect to stand out here in the cold all week.”
Lady Hawse-Gorzley gave an embarrassed little titter and tried to help the dowager countess up the steps. The latter fought her off. “I am not quite decrepit yet, you know. People have tried to put me away in mothballs, but I won’t let them.”
She made it up the steps unaided.
“I’m sure you’d like to go to your room to freshen up before you join our other guests for tea,” Lady Hawse- Gorzley said.
“Freshen up? Is that some horrible transatlantic slang? If you mean for a rest, a wash, a change of clothes, then please say so. People always said what they meant in my day. There was no ‘freshening up’ and ‘needing to relax’ when I was a girl.” She glanced up the long sweep of stairs. “Given the condition of my right knee, I think I will forgo the ‘freshening up,’ if you would please show my companion where we are to sleep and have someone escort me to a salon or wherever one sits in the afternoon.”
“There’s a lovely big fire in the drawing room,” Lady Hawse-Gorzley said. “Maybe Lady Georgiana will find you a comfortable chair.”
The lorgnette was turned onto me. “Georgiana? Not Bertie Rannoch’s daughter! Yes, I see the family likeness.” She put a hand on my arm for me to lead her. “I knew your grandmother and of course your terrifying great-grandmama, Queen Victoria. I nearly toppled over when I was presented to her, I was so nervous. Your grandmother was a shy woman, I remember—well, she would be, wouldn’t she, not daring to say a word in her mother’s presence. But we became quite close after she married Rannoch and I married Albury. I remember your father as a boy. Sweet-natured child. Always loved company and was always so lonely. It was a shame they couldn’t provide him with brothers and sisters. He would have thrived in a big household.”
“Like me,” I said. “My brother was so much older than me that it was like being an only child.”
“At least your grandmother produced a son and heir before she died,” the countess said. “I wasn’t able to do that, I’m ashamed to say. In consequence the estate has gone to a no-good nephew and I was unceremoniously expelled.” She paused, staring out at the snowy scene through the window. “Well, I was offered the gatehouse, but his lower-class wife made it quite clear that she wanted nothing to do with me. So I’m living in a small place in Kensington these days. Most of my friends either share my reduced circumstances or are dead. And I had a hankering for the old days—the grand old Christmases of my youth.”
I gave her an encouraging smile. “I’m sure you’ll have a lovely time.”
She leaned closer. “What about the other guests? Anyone I’d know?”
“I don’t think so,” I said tactfully. “But I think you’ll find them pleasant enough.”
“That’s the problem,” she said. “There aren’t many people I know left alive. Outstayed my welcome on this earth, I fear.”
“You are very welcome here anyway,” I said.
She patted my hand. “A kind girl, I can see. Your father was kind, wasn’t he?”
“I hardly knew him,” I said. “He spent most of his time on the Continent.”
“I remember now. There was some kind of scandal, wasn’t there? His wife ran off and left him. Not that that kind of thing causes a scandal anymore. People are always doing it. Look at the Prince of Wales. One hears he’s trailing around after some American woman who is married to someone else. I don’t know what the world is coming to.” She turned to look behind her. “Don’t just stand there, Humphreys. Go and find out where I’m to be sleeping and put my things away.” She looked back at me. “She’s a poor specimen. No backbone. But she’s loyal. Been with me five years now.”
We arrived in the drawing room and Lady Hawse-Gorzley made the introductions. The other guests were suitably overawed by the dowager countess, except for the Rathbones. When they found out she had been to India, they entered into a lively session of name-dropping and one-upmanship with the countess.
“And Simla? How did you like Simla? Our of our favorite places, but of course we adore Ooty. Did you ever meet the Maharaja of Udaipur? Such opulence.”
“Yes, he was comfortably off, shall one say, but nothing to compare with dear old Pixie of Hyderabad. And did you ever go to Government House when dear Tommy was viceroy? Now, those were parties.”
The countess was winning the name-dropping handily when tea was announced. Low tables were produced, and a trolley was wheeled in, laden with all the items I particularly adore: warm scones with cream and strawberry jam as well as smoked salmon sandwiches, eclairs, brandy snaps, mince pies, slices of rich fruitcake and a Victoria sponge. Everyone’s mood lightened enormously. The Wexlers and the Upthorpes exchanged boasts about how much they spent on their motorcars and their wives’ furs. The Rathbones and the countess agreed that the good old days had gone and would never return. Even Junior Wexler had to agree that the scones and cream were “swell” and ate an impressive number. I was enjoying my own scones when Lady Hawse-Gorzley suddenly looked up at the doorway. “Why, the boys are here and I didn’t see them arrive,” she said. She got to her feet. “Monty, darling. How lovely to see you. So you made it safely, then.”
“No, Mother, we’re lying dead in a ditch,” Monty said, giving a grin to his sister. “Of course we made it safely. We’re here, aren’t we?” He was tall and slim and looked absurdly young.
“And Badger. You are most welcome.” Lady Hawse-Gorzley held out her hand to a red-haired, freckled young man. “Come on in.”
“Thanks, Lady H-G,” the freckle-faced lad nicknamed Badger replied, giving her a hearty handshake. “Looking forward to it awfully. Frightfully decent of you to invite me.”
“May I introduce my son, Montague, and his friend Archibald, usually known as Badger,” Lady Hawse-Gorzley said to the company. Then she looked around. “Didn’t your cousin come down with you on the train? He said he was going to.”
“He came in with us,” Monty said. “Ah, here he is now.”
And Darcy stepped into the room.
Chapter 13
He hadn’t seen me. Before he could cross the room Bunty rushed at him. “Cousin Darcy. How absolutely lovely to see you again. It’s been ages and ages. Haven’t I grown up a lot since you saw us last?”
