Chapter Fifty
CHAPTER
FIFTY
‘Violet!’ Jenny shrieked as she flung open the front door at Stoneyhayes. ‘At last! I thought you might not make it!’
Violet hugged Jenny. ‘And I thought I’d never get away! I’m so sorry. Sorting everything out in London, leaving Miss Wynter, seemed to take forever.’ She sighed. ‘I’ve said so many goodbyes recently. It’s lovely to say hello!’ She gave Jenny another hug. ‘Remind me where Daddy is?’
‘Staying with an old friend from university. I thought it would be better if we could have the house to ourselves.’
‘Not his best man?’
Jenny shook his head. ‘There’s a reason, but I can’t remember what it is.’
Violet nodded. ‘And Mrs Driver?’
‘She’s at home, putting the finishing touches on to her granddaughters’ bridesmaids’ dresses. She offered to come but I said we could manage and that she had plenty to do at home. Are you hungry? What would you like to drink?’
Jenny ushered her old friend into the drawing room. There was a roaring fire and a table laid with plates of food. ‘Mrs Driver wouldn’t go home unless I let her do this, although we’ll never get through it.’
‘All my favourites!’ said Violet. ‘Proper Welsh rarebit, sausage rolls which Mrs Driver made herself. And sandwiches? Egg mayonnaise. Gosh, I hope you like these things as well, Jenny.’
‘We’ve got mushroom and bacon vol-au-vents – for tomorrow as well as today. As you know, Mrs Driver and all her WI chums have organised the buffet. We’ve got the flower guild on decorating the church. They’ve raided the garden for greenery and it looks wonderful. I think they thought that now it’s Lord Marchfont and not plain Mr Stone we might have had a posh florist from London, but of course we wanted the flower guild to do it and keep it all as local as possible. Champagne?’
‘Oh, isn’t this perfect!’ said Violet when they both had full glasses and full plates and were sitting cosily in front of the fire.
‘It is. And it’s perfect for getting you to tell me absolutely everything that’s been going on. You haven’t said a word about yourself recently – it’s all been about the wedding – but I would like to know.’
Violet’s heart sank a little bit at the prospect. ‘Do I have to?’
‘Have a bit more champagne and another sausage roll, and you’ll want to tell me.’
Violet discovered this was true. She let it all out, how she had rejected Henry because she thought he had another woman and how he’d obviously taken it personally and hadn’t been other than charming and platonic ever since. And how she hadn’t heard a word from him since he went to write his book in the Far North.
‘There’s probably a perfectly reasonable explanation,’ said Jenny.
‘You mean he broke his last pencil and the village shop couldn’t sell him a postcard?’ Violet had been through all the reasonable explanations in her head, and knew there wasn’t one.
In exchange Jenny explained in detail why she’d felt obliged to run away from her feelings for Aubrey, and how he’d also felt it would be too hard for Violet if her father married her best friend.
‘You told me all this – more or less – in your letter,’ said Violet.
Jenny shook her head. ‘I want to see how you react in person. It’s easy to sound as if you’re happy on the telephone.’
‘I hope you’re convinced now!’ Violet put down her champagne glass.
‘We want you to know that you’re not losing either of us – your father or your chum,’ Jenny persisted. ‘And anything we can do to help, we will.’
‘I think I fancy your little cottage,’ said Violet. ‘I think I could make myself a happy home there.’
‘Won’t you miss London though?’
‘I’ve loved living in London, I really have. But it’s so full of memories of Henry. I think it’s better that I start again.’
Jenny nodded. ‘I do understand. It’s why I had to rush off to France.’ There was a pause as they both remembered what an awful mistake that had been. ‘Now! We’ve got meringues and eclairs for pudding. I’ll get them.’
Violet and Jenny were peacefully alone the following morning until the front-door bell jangled and three determined women arrived to get the bride ready.
‘I only really need Violet to help me get dressed,’ said Jenny as the local hairdresser, followed by the woman who had made the dress and her sister, filed into the bedroom.
‘I’m not having your hair falling down your back under your veil,’ said the hairdresser. ‘Everyone knows I do your hair and I’d never live it down if it didn’t look right.’
‘And everyone knows I made your dress. I’m not having you going down the aisle with the hem caught up wrong,’ said the dressmaker.
‘I’m here to check on them,’ said the dressmaker’s sister. ‘I can help you with your make-up if you want.’
Violet and Jenny exchanged glances, silently agreeing that protest was futile.
‘I’ll go and get dressed too,’ said Violet.
‘There’s plenty of time if you want me to put rollers in your hair,’ said the hairdresser. ‘I’m sure you’d look better with some curls.’
Violet experienced a moment of horror at the thought of her modern London hairstyle being turned into a shampoo and set. ‘I’ll be fine without, but thank you so much for offering.’
All morning the doorbell rang and people arrived with bouquets, buttonholes, presents and trays of food. Violet couldn’t get near Jenny, but they’d had such a good time together the previous evening, she didn’t mind. She put on the dress she had bought with Felicity.
It was very fitted with a stand-up collar and reached her calf which felt like a novelty. Worn with her new boots, she felt very daring. The coat that went with it also had a military feel, with frogging all the way down the front and epaulettes. Gingerly, she tried on the large hat that went with the outfit, aware that her hair might look very flat when she took it off. But when she looked in the mirror she was pleased. Her waist looked tiny and she felt stylish and, for once, fashionable. She had put on a bit more make-up than usual, bringing her eye-liner up at the corners, which made her feel quite exotic. She took the hat off again and went downstairs.
The house was full of spring flowers, arrangements on every free surface. The fragrance was wonderful. The double doors between the drawing room and the dining room were open so there’d be plenty of room for everyone at the reception.
In the dining room a long trestle table was laid out with hams, cold roast beef, salmon, salads, huge pork pies, sausage rolls piled high, scotch eggs, little pies and warm rolls that had been baked that morning. In fact, she decided, there was everything a country wedding should have. Violet knew some of the guests would find the choices unsophisticated and rustic but she silently applauded her father and Jenny’s desire to please the locals, the people they lived among every day, rather than grander types whom they saw only rarely.
She had gone back upstairs to Jenny’s room to put on more lipstick when she looked out of the window to see an elegant Bentley pull up outside.
‘The car’s here!’ she said to Jenny. ‘Are you prepared to lose your freedom forever?’
‘If not now, when?’ said Jenny, laughing. ‘But what about you?’
‘I must put my coat and hat on,’ said Violet, ‘but let’s get you done first.’
‘A hat? You’ll flatten your hair!’ objected Jenny as the dressmaker came in to put on a long swansdown cape over her dress and make final adjustments.
‘It’s a wedding! I have to wear a hat!’ Violet rushed to her bedroom to put it on. She liked her hat. It looked very Russian and went with her long dress and coat. Her knee-high boots completed the look. Felicity had wanted her to have a muff but Violet said it would be a nuisance and just wore gloves.
She went back to Jenny’s room.
‘Violet! You look amazing! I’ve never seen you wear anything like that before! Very Dr Zhivago !’ said Jenny. ‘Is it real fur?’
Violet shook her head. ‘Really good fake. And I had Felicity to help me choose it.’ She paused. ‘And you look the loveliest bride ever.’
‘I’ve avoided pure white,’ said Jenny, ‘as I’m not that young or indeed pure, but I wanted a proper wedding dress.’
Made of thick silk the colour of clotted cream, the dress was in two parts. A long simple column with a stand up colour went with a short jacket over the top. Jenny had a pill box hat with a veil coming from the top.
‘You look so elegant!’ said Violet. ‘You have done a brilliant job,’ she said to the dressmaker. ‘Will you be cold in church?’ she asked Jenny. It was mid-April, but still chilly.
‘I’ll keep my cape on until I arrive at the altar,’ Jenny said.
‘I’ll be there to take it from you when you arrive,’ said the dressmaker. ‘Just make sure you don’t leave for the church until I have.’
Violet and Jenny waited until they heard the dressmaker’s little Mini leave. Then they went downstairs and got into the car.
‘Are you nervous?’ asked Violet.
‘No. Very excited though. I just hope I can make Aubrey as happy as he’s already made me.’
Violet suddenly couldn’t speak and so squeezed her friend’s hand instead.
As well as copious flowers and greenery, the church was full of candles which added warmth and so Jenny happily took off her cape and handed it to the waiting dressmaker. ‘It would be a shame if people couldn’t see how lovely you look,’ the dressmaker whispered.
Then the organ started to play and Violet and Jenny set off.
‘Handel’s Trumpet Tune, if you’re wondering,’ whispered Jenny, who seemed to sense Violet’s sudden attack of nerves.
‘It’s lovely.’
‘We mustn’t rush,’ said Jenny and took Violet’s arm.
Violet was aware there were whispers about her being Jenny’s companion. People thought it was eccentric and some probably disapproved. But she kept her back straight and after a slightly wobbly smile they proceeded. Just as they reached Aubrey and the best man, who was a jolly chap called Jim, a latecomer could be heard arriving at the back of the church.
Violet stood proudly next to Jenny until the moment it was time to hand her into the care of her father. She smiled at both, but needed her hanky the moment she was safely in the pew. Her next job would be witnessing Jenny and her father’s signatures.
Before she knew it, the bride and groom were coming back down the aisle to Widor’s Toccata in F major and everyone spilled out into the churchyard for the photographs.
Violet was chatting to Jim, the best man, longing to get back to the house before the guests, when Jim’s wife joined them. Too late, Violet remembered that she didn’t like his wife quite so much. She was very bossy. ‘That is a lovely coat and hat, dear. I bet it cost you a pretty penny. But how odd of Jenny to choose a woman to give her away!’
Violet smiled, struggling to remember Jim’s wife’s name. Beryl, that was it. She had a son by a previous marriage who was considered a genius by his mother. As if she’d conjured him up, a lanky young man joined their group. He was wearing a tweed jacket and cap with his formal trousers.
‘Sorry I was late, Mater. The old jalopy was playing up.’
‘Osbert,’ said Beryl, a little flustered. ‘Do you remember Violet? You used to be such chums when you were children.’
Violet smiled and took the offered hand. It was damp. ‘Hello, Osbert.’
‘Osbert, I’m sure Violet would appreciate a lift back to Stoneyhayes,’ went on Beryl. ‘She’ll want to get there before the guests arrive. So much to do when there’s a wedding.’ She gave them both an arch look. ‘Maybe one day you’ll find that out for yourselves.’
As Violet did want to get back soon, she allowed her arm to be taken by Osbert as he led her out of the churchyard and down the road to where his car was parked.
‘It’s a Morgan,’ he said. ‘A sporty little thing. Like her owner, ha?’
Violet smiled and lowered herself into the open-topped sports car. It wasn’t a long journey. It would be fine.
If she overlooked Osbert’s hand on her knee, and thanks to the thick wool fabric of her coat, she was able to, the journey was indeed fine. Violet got out of the car as quickly as she could and hurried towards the house, shouting thanks over her shoulder. She gave herself a little shake when she arrived, to get rid of the ghastly feel of him.
In between helping the members of the local WI who had been inveigled into handing round plates of canapés, and directing people to the dining room for bigger amounts of food, and the library which was being used for the presents, Violet found herself fielding a thousand questions.
‘I couldn’t be more delighted about my father marrying Jenny. It won’t be strange at all! They are very well suited …
‘No, I haven’t got any plans at the moment. I may well go back to London. I enjoy it there very much. I had two interesting jobs …
‘No, I have no plans to get married in the near future. There’s no young man on the horizon!’ She had a merry laugh perfected quite quickly.
But she was caught unprepared when she was adding another large, wrapped box to the pile of presents to open and Beryl came in with Osbert.
‘There you are, you naughty girl!’ said Osbert. ‘Hiding from me, were you?’
‘I’m sure Violet wasn’t hiding, Ozzie dear. She has a lot to do acting as hostess for her father.’ Just as Violet began to feel grateful to Beryl, she went on. ‘You’re very lucky he’s still single, Violet. He’s been let down by several unsuitable girls in the past and although you must be at least thirty, you could still make him a passable wife!’
Violet regarded Osbert and saw instantly that he’d managed to get drunk since they’d arrived at the reception. He was leering at her.
‘I’m going to leave you two to get to know each other better. Oh look,’ Beryl said, distracted by a canteen of cutlery on display and managing to block Violet’s way. ‘Who gave Jenny that? It’s not even silver!’
Osbert went to see what his mother was looking at. ‘She’s quite pretty,’ he said in a too-loud stage whisper. ‘But she’s very stuck up.’
‘Really?’ said Beryl at the same volume. ‘Just because her father’s a lord doesn’t mean she’s any better than you are.’
Violet took a breath to respond to this but before she could, Beryl hurried out, obviously giving her son space to make his move. He came towards her, clearly intending to back her up against the wall.
Violet was about to raise her knee and give Osbert a painful reminder of his manners when Henry arrived in the doorway. He had obviously heard everything that had been said and was furious.
‘I’ll have you know, young man, that not only is Violet way, way out of your league, she also happens to be spoken for. And in the future I suggest you learn some manners when dealing with women. Do not press your advances on them unless you are absolutely sure they are welcome! Coming, darling? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’ He offered his arm and Violet took it, glad to be whisked out of the room.
‘Thank you so much for rescuing me,’ she said when they were safely away. ‘I didn’t know you were here.’
‘I’ve only just got here from the church. In the nick of time, as it turns out. A second later and you’d have been carried off by that – oaf!’
Violet laughed, suddenly feeling light-headed. ‘I wouldn’t have been carried off, but he’d have been in a fair bit of agony by now.’
‘Do you know anywhere we could be private for a few minutes?’
Violet led him to a game larder, currently used for storing a large selection of puddings, many of them covered in cream. ‘No one will come in here for a while. What do you want to be private for?’
‘So I can do this,’ he said, and took her into his arms and kissed her. Violet kissed him back with passion, revelling in the feeling of his arms around her. Holding him as tightly as he held her. They were breathless when they broke apart.
‘I suppose I should have asked if you minded if I kissed you,’ he said. ‘Otherwise I’m no better than – who is he?’
‘Osbert.’ She paused; then she smiled up at him. ‘And it was all right.’
He seemed offended. ‘All right? Is that all you can say?’
Violet laughed, feeling slightly hysterical. ‘I meant it was all right for you to kiss me.’ She bit her lip. ‘Of course, another try and it might be better than all right.’
She rather regretted teasing him as she found herself squashed up against a trifle and her dress was covered in cream.
‘Oh, Violet, I’ve missed you so much! I’ve been beside myself.’
She paused in her efforts to rescue the trifle and the back of her dress.
‘Is everything all right with your book? Did you not get the job you wanted so much?’
‘Yes. No. I did. And it’s not my job I’m worried about, it’s you. Why didn’t you answer my letter?’
‘What letter? I didn’t get any letter.’
Henry looked aghast. ‘Which number house did you live in at Cheyne Walk?’
Violet told him.
‘Damn!’ he said. ‘I’ve never been sure. I sent it two doors down.’
If Violet had been happy before, she was ecstatic now. Jenny had been right: there was a perfectly reasonable explanation why she hadn’t heard from him. She realised her breathing had become rather fast.
‘Are you all right?’ Henry asked.
‘I’ll be fine when I’ve made this trifle look edible. Thank goodness I’ve found a spoon.’
‘You’re not taking this seriously. I dashed over from Oxford at the last minute, arrived late at the church and then … Oh, I had all sorts of sensible plans. I was going to talk to your father—’
‘About what? It’s his wedding day!’
‘About how much I love you?’
‘I don’t think it’s my father who needs to know that.’
Henry laughed. ‘I love you so much I might burst unless you say you love me too.’
‘Please don’t burst in here, all over the puddings. We’ve done enough damage.’
‘I’ve loved you ever since I met you at Christmas. But I kept getting it wrong, or you did. I want to take you out. I want to woo you, to win you over, so you feel the same about me as I feel about you.’
Something enormous seemed to turn over in Violet’s stomach. ‘What was your plan?’
Aware that he was being teased, Henry took Violet in his arms again. Violet never wanted the kiss to stop.
It did stop though. ‘Is there any chance – would you consider – I know I’ve been so distracted …’ Henry, usually so good with words, was obviously struggling to find the right ones.
Violet took charge. ‘Yes I would consider whatever it is you want me to consider.’
‘That’s such a relief! I’ve discovered there’s no joy to be had in anything without you with me. There’s just no point to life. Now I think we should find Aubrey.’
‘Why?’ said Violet. ‘I’m not sorry to leave this very chilly room but I don’t see what my father has to do with anything?’
‘I need to ask him for his permission to marry you, in case when I ask you, he’s not to hand.’
Violet was about to protest but remembered that her father and Jenny had more or less asked her if it was all right if they got married.
She smiled up at Henry. ‘Let’s find him.’
He took hold of her hand and they set off. Halfway down the corridor he stopped. ‘Did I tell you I love you?’
‘I think so,’ said Violet.
‘Do you think you might consider marrying me ever?’
‘I think I’ve made that clear …’
‘You can do what you like with your life. You might like to study while we’re in Oxford. Or have babies. Or be my invaluable assistant. Or I could be yours. The world will be ours to do with what we want.’
‘Oh, Henry!’ she said. ‘Sometimes you talk far too much.’ She opened the nearest door, which happened to be a coat cupboard. ‘Just kiss me instead.’