Chapter 1 #2
“Come on, darling, before you drop.” Lucy linked her arm through Daisy’s and practically dragged her into the house.
“Sally is jealous,” she hissed, “because this time I’m the bride who gets all the attention, and I’m getting a bigger show than she did.
Heaven knows I could do without it! If I’d realized what a big family wedding entails, I’d have made Binkie elope to Gretna. ”
The hall was cavernous, lit high above by windows in the octagonal base of the clock tower.
Between the surrounding marble pillars lurked portraits by Van Dyck, Lely and Raeburn.
Daisy and Lucy picked their way across the chequerboard marble floor between stacks of trestle tables and folding chairs.
“Good gracious, how many people are coming?”
“Six hundred to the breakfast, most of them relatives. My great-grandfather had thirteen children, all dead but three, but there’s their children and children’s children. Then there’s Mummy’s side of
the family. And Binkie’s mother’s guest list was almost as long as ours. Grandfather’s paying for the lot, the lamb, not expecting Daddy to cough up out of his own pocket.”
“That’s jolly generous.”
“Oh, he has pots of money. In spite of—or perhaps because of—all those children, my great-grandfather popped off before ruinous death duties came in.”
“Helpful of him!”
“Very. Mind you, Grandfather has plenty of expenses what with all the people battening on him. Not only those living here. Great-uncle Montagu gets enough income from the estate to live on. And Grandfather gives Uncle Henry and Daddy allowances, and Rupert too, because he’s the eldest son of the eldest son.
Girls are supposed to stay at home until they marry. ”
“Don’t I know it!” Daisy had been expected to reside with her mother or the cousin who inherited Fairacres when her father and brother died.
Like Lucy, she had chosen to earn her own living, in her case with writing, and they had shared digs.
“It was fun, but I have to confess I did get fearfully tired of living on eggs and sardines and mousetrap cheese.”
“It’s no fun without you, darling. But no more of that from now on.
Binkie gets an allowance from his father, and he’s doing surprisingly well in the City.
You’re all right with stairs, aren’t you, darling?
” Lucy asked as they reached the splendidly carved oak staircase, saved from the demolition of the ancient house which once stood on this spot.
“Grandmama told Jennifer to put you in the room next to mine. First floor, not too much climbing.”
“I’m perfectly well, now that the beastly morning sickness is over. But thanks all the same.”
“Lucy!” Lady Fotheringay came out of the dining room to their right. A short, plump, grey-haired lady, she was aflutter with gauzy draperies in a variety of pastel shades. “Lucy, such a shame … Oh,
it’s Daisy Dalrymple isn’t it? How lovely to see you again, my dear. But you’re married now, aren’t you. Perhaps I ought to call you Mrs. Fletcher?”
“Daisy will do very well, Lady Fotheringay.”
“What was it you wanted to tell me, Aunt Maud?” Lucy demanded with barely concealed impatience.
“Oh yes. Your uncle is very much afraid he won’t have any pineapples ripe by Saturday.”
“I’m sure there’s plenty of other fruit, cherries and such, or you can send to London. Excuse us, please, Aunt. Daisy needs to rest before tea.”
Daisy glanced back with a smile of apology as Lucy bustled her up the stairs.
Lady Fotheringay appeared undismayed by her niece’s rudeness, but Daisy protested, “Lucy, you’re being quite as poisonous as any of your relatives can possibly be.
I won’t be turned into an invalid just so that you can avoid them. ”
“Sorry, darling! I’ll grovel to Aunt Maud, I promise, but not to Sally, who was foul to you first.”
“She was rather. Pineapples—Your uncle’s still mad for his conservatories, I take it?”
“Yes. Uncle Aubrey’s a dear old bird but mad is the word, quite potty, in fact. I told you he has a weak heart? Sometimes I wonder if his brain isn’t getting enough blood. At least he sticks to his plants and doesn’t fuss at me. Oh Lord, now here comes Grandmama!”
The Countess of Haverhill was a tall, upright old lady dressed in the black her generation considered suitable for the elderly.
“Welcome back to Haverhill, Mrs. Fletcher,” she said.
“I trust you will be a calming influence on Lucy. Nerves were expected of a bride in my day, but I thought you modern young people were supposed to be above such weaknesses.”
“I dare say it takes everyone differently, Lady Haverhill.”
“No doubt.” She looked beyond Daisy and frowned slightly. “What is it, Jennifer?”
“Mrs. Oliver wants Lucy to try on her going-away costume, Lady Haverhill.” A woman came hurrying down the upper staircase, by no means so grand as the lower.
Her slightly shabby clothes could have been Sally Fotheringay’s cast-offs, and very likely were.
A niece of Lady Fotheringay, she had married a penniless war refugee from somewhere in Europe.
“Again?” Lucy heaved a big sigh. “In the sewing room? Tell Mummy I’ll be along as soon as I’ve settled Daisy, will you, Jennifer?”
“Hello, Jennifer,” said Daisy.
“Hello, Daisy. Shall I show you your room while Lucy goes to her mother?”
Lucy opened her mouth to object, caught her grandmother’s eye, sighed again, and acquiesced.
“I hope to see you at tea, Mrs. Fletcher,” said Lady Haverhill, “if you feel up to coming down.”
“I’ll be there, never fear.” Daisy walked with Jennifer along the carpeted gallery and turned left into the west wing.
“I expect you’re surprised that we’re still living here,” Jennifer said with a touch of belligerence.
“Not surprised, exactly, though I do remember some talk last time I was here about you and Johan returning to … Luxemburg, is it?”
“That’s right, only my husband likes to be called John now. He went back for a visit and found everything quite devastated after the German occupation. He’s decided to become a British subject, as much for Emily’s sake as anything.”
“Oh yes, your baby. How is she?” Nowadays Daisy was genuinely interested in babies.
Jennifer’s rather plain face lit up. “She’s just beginning to talk comprehensibly. Would you like to come and see her?”
“After tea, perhaps?”
“Anytime. Lady Haverhill’s been terribly good about letting one of the housemaids play nursemaid for Emily sometimes, but of course I mostly look after her myself.”
“That must keep you busy.”
“It does, but I lend a hand with the housekeeping as well. The housekeeper’s nearly as old as Lord Haverhill and won’t be pensioned off.
And John is acting as Lord Haverhill’s secretary and cataloguing the library, so we are not living on charity, whatever Sally says.
Here’s Lucy’s room, and this is yours next door.
There’s a bathroom in between, all the hot water you want, and the lav is just across the passage there. ”
“Thank heaven the first Earl of Haverhill didn’t insist on mediaeval plumbing to match the exterior!” said Daisy.
As the bride, Lucy had one of the better of the thirty or forty guest chambers, so Daisy’s room was also spacious and comfortably furnished.
There was a small writing table with paper, envelopes and an inkstand.
A couple of easy-chairs stood by the window, which looked over parkland to the lake and the folly on the low hill beyond.
Daisy’s bags had been sent up by the chauffeur, and a maid had already started unpacking.
Jennifer Walsdorf seemed disposed to stay and chat. Daisy didn’t know her well but rather admired her for having the nerve to marry a foreigner in spite of family disapproval. They sat in the chairs by the window. Daisy asked who else had already arrived for the wedding.
“Lucy’s parents. I expect you know them?”
“Yes. I used to call them Uncle Oliver and Aunt Vickie, but I expect that’s inappropriate now I’m married. Who else?”
“Lady Eva Devenish, Lord Haverhill’s sister. She often comes down for the weekend, so she’s just stayed on. I can’t wait to see her hat for the wedding.”
“Yes, there’s something to be said for those vast Edwardian hats she still goes in for.”
“Her son, Sir James, is here too, with Lady Devenish and Angela.”
“Angela?”
“Their unmarried daughter. Her brother, Teddy, is coming later. Their married sister—one of them—will be here tonight, I think,
with husband and children. That’s Veronica and Peter Bancroft. They sometimes come for the weekend when Lady Eva’s here, and Emily likes their little girl. She’s crazy about Dickie Fotheringay, too—Sally’s little boy, who’s already here. You know Sally, don’t you? Colonel Rupert’s wife?”
“I just met her. Rupert’s not here yet?”
“No, he’s on manoeuvres, if the Household Cavalry do anything so prosaic. Most of the men are coming down later. Uncle Montagu’s here, though, and Lucy’s brother Timothy, the clergyman, and family. He’s going to perform the ceremony.”
“Yes, Lucy told me she’d asked him.”
“Then there’s a variety of cousins—you don’t want me to go into all the cousins and their spouses and children, do you?
There will be over twenty for dinner tonight, and more swarms turning up throughout the week.
I have a hard time keeping them straight, though most of them visit here quite often. You’ll never manage it in four days.”
“No, you’re right, I shan’t try. Just thinking about them exhausts me. I think I’ll put my feet up for a while.”
“You ought to have a footstool.”
“Oh, that’s all right, the bed will do.”
“I’ll send a footman up with a footstool later. Is there anything else I can get you?”
“No thanks, Jennifer. I’ll see you later. Tea’s in the Long Gallery, as usual?”
“Or out on the terrace if it stays warm. Quarter to five. Is there anything else I can get you now?”
The maid had finished unpacking and departed. Daisy took off her skirt and jacket and blouse and lay down on the bed in her petticoat. Next thing she knew, Lucy was shaking her shoulder.
“Darling, if you want tea—which I’m sure you do or I wouldn’t wake you—you’d better get dressed.”
“Gosh, is it that late already? I’ll be right down.”