Chapter Six
Mrs Painswick’s At Homes were rather more interesting than the general run.
She liked to include a little bit of Politics, a little bit of Army, a little bit of Art, and even, daringly, a little bit of Business in the usual Society mix.
Richard accepted an invitation to the first one after Easter – the first of the Season proper – out of interest in meeting the new chancellor of the exchequer, H.
H. Asquith, who lived in a big house in Cavendish Square.
Asquith had been invited with his second wife, Margot, who was known to be unconventional, rather mannishly intelligent, in her husband’s confidence, and a great talker.
Richard hoped that, if he could not get anything out of Asquith about the new government’s intentions, he might be able to winkle it out of her.
Mrs Painswick’s drawing-rooms were crowded when he arrived, and before he could work his way into the group surrounding the chancellor, he spotted, to his surprise, Miss Rowsham standing at a little distance, talking to Jervis Farocean. He waited until Farocean moved away, then joined her.
‘How do you do, Miss Rowsham?’ he said. ‘I hope I didn’t drive Mr Farocean away. You seemed to be having a fascinating conversation with him.’
‘If you were watching at all, you would know that he was the one talking, not me. My role was confined to listening,’ she said.
‘But not with displeasure? I believe he is generally thought to be charming.’ She didn’t answer. ‘I seem to see that young man everywhere, these days. London is full of him.’
‘He’s looking for a wife,’ Miss Rowsham said and, when Richard raised his eyebrows, added firmly, ‘Oh, not me. He’s after a large dowry. I have too little money to interest him.’
‘You are very frank about it!’
‘Do not feel uneasy on my behalf. I have no interest of that sort in Mr Farocean, I assure you.’
Richard remembered suddenly their last meeting, and felt awkward at how it had ended. He had never made any attempt to follow it up. ‘I was sorry that the rain prevented our walk together a few weeks ago,’ he said, as though he had been thinking of it constantly.
‘It was longer ago than a few weeks,’ she said. ‘I’m not surprised that it had slipped your mind until just now.’
Oh, she was quick! ‘Ah. I’m afraid business keeps me so occupied, I rather lose track of time,’ he said, as smoothly as possible.
‘Of course you do,’ she said. ‘Business is bound to keep the man of business busy. That’s where the word comes from.’
He had forgotten how conversing with her kept you on your toes.
But her tone through it all was pleasant, not combative, so he was enjoying himself.
‘It’s generous of you to be so understanding,’ he said.
‘Elevated society tends to despise people of business. It regards captains of industry as coarse and dull compared with, say, artists.’
‘Business is no different from art, though,’ said Miss Rowsham. ‘They perform the same function.’
‘How so? Commerce is not usually considered to be creative,’ he said.
‘A painter creates a painting that someone buys for money. A businessman creates goods that someone buys for money. Both add to the sum of human happiness – the businessman perhaps more so, because he creates jobs for people who need them. The artist works in selfish solitude. A little trade in paint and canvas is nothing compared with all the work created by factories and shops.’
He was struck by the argument. ‘You think the creation of jobs is a good in itself?’
‘Certainly. How else are people to feed themselves?’
‘I haven’t been used to thinking in those terms, but you are right. However, to return to the main point, can you really compare a great painting, which will last for ever, with the jug of milk on the tea-table, which will be consumed and gone by tomorrow?’
‘Look around you,’ she said, with a small gesture. ‘Mrs Painswick has paintings on her wall that no-one is looking at, but everyone has milk in their tea.’
He laughed. ‘Oh, Miss Rowsham, you are an original!’
She smiled at him, a touch ruefully. ‘Females are not meant to be original. They’re meant to be decorative.’
He was about to accuse her of fishing for compliments when they were interrupted by Mrs Painswick, accompanied by a man in uniform.
‘Miss Rowsham, I don’t think you have met Colonel Williams, have you?
Colonel, Miss Rowsham. Richard, I must steal you away.
I do want to introduce you to Mrs Asquith – I know she will enjoy talking to you. ’
It was the thing he had come to the gathering for, but he felt a small pang at being forced to leave Miss Rowsham.
‘Rachel, dear,’ said Aunt Caroline, ‘I must talk to you. Do come away from the window.’
She had been watching the last of their visitors leave the house. The wind was blustery, and he had been holding on to his hat. At the corner he had looked back and up, as though he knew she would be at the window, though he couldn’t have seen her from that angle, and now had turned out of sight.
With nothing more of interest down there, she didn’t mind leaving her post to sit opposite her aunt by the fire.
She settled her skirt around her, aware she looked very well in the pale green silk afternoon dress, with the wide, swathed belt emphasising her small waist, full sleeves to the elbow and crossed bands of dark green velvet on the bodice.
Not everyone could wear green, especially when they were as fair as she was.
She folded her hands in her lap, remembering how Jervis’s eyes had told her she looked very pretty indeed.
Aunt Caroline seemed preoccupied about something. She said, ‘Rachel, dear, you know that I love having you stay with me.’
‘Thank you, Auntie.’
‘But I do feel a degree of responsibility towards you. Your mother – well, I suppose she left you in my charge, in a way.’
A faint tickle of alarm stirred in Rachel’s mind. Was she about to be sent away? ‘You take wonderful care of me, Auntie,’ she said. ‘And I’m sure Mama doesn’t want the bother of having me, now she’s married, and with a new baby too.’
‘Not such a new baby – he’s eight months old.
The nursery maids will be taking care of him.
I don’t suppose Maud has much to do with him now,’ Caroline said, distracted, then pulled her attention back to the subject.
‘The point I’m trying to make, Rachel dear, is that I can’t help noticing that we hear nothing at all from Angus Tullamore.
He hasn’t visited the house, and as far as I remember we haven’t seen him since February at the hospital ball.
Is something wrong, dear?’ She fixed Rachel with an anxious look.
‘You seem to be dancing a great deal with young Mr Farocean lately. I was surprised when he called today—’
‘It is your usual visiting day,’ Rachel interrupted quickly.
‘Yes, dear, but he’s not really a family connection, and a young man visiting alone in that way gives a certain impression.
It’s bound to cause comment. I know Lady Vane was giving him very curious looks.
I wonder if your attentions to Mr Farocean might make poor Mr Tullamore – well – uneasy?
Not, of course, that I’m suggesting there is anything at all wrong in your friendship with Mr Farocean, but at the same time, an engaged girl, while she might allow herself a little more freedom, must not be seen to be encouraging the attentions of an unattached young man. ’
Rachel sighed inwardly, and realised that the explanation had been delayed as long as it possibly could be, or even a bit longer. ‘I’m not really engaged to Angus,’ she said.
Caroline frowned. ‘I know there wasn’t a formal notice in the newspapers, but your mother gave her permission, and there was no doubt about it. He was invited to the ball at Christmas as your fiancé.’
‘But something happened at the ball,’ Rachel said uncomfortably.
‘You quarrelled? Oh, little tiffs between lovers are soon mended. You mustn’t take them seriously.’
‘We didn’t quarrel exactly.’ Rachel realised she would have to tell her aunt the truth, but it had better be the version most flattering to Angus.
To express anger and resentment would be to burn her boats, and she was a girl who liked as many arrows in her quiver as possible.
‘He said he realised it was unfair of him to tie me down when he wasn’t in a position to marry me.
He released me from the engagement so that I could be a free agent until I came of age.
He said he would propose to me again in August, if I hadn’t formed another attachment by then. ’
Aunt Caroline looked baffled. ‘That is the oddest thing I have ever heard! He released you? It isn’t for him to release you or not release you. Are you engaged or are you not? That is the question.’
‘I suppose, in a sense, I am not. Just at present. So, you see, I am free to dance with Mr Farocean as much as I please.’
‘But why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘I felt – awkward about it.’
‘Awkward? I should think you might! You are going about as an engaged girl, while not being engaged at all! And I have to say that if you are not engaged, you are behaving a great deal too freely. It gives quite the wrong impression. For instance, does Mr Farocean know you are not engaged?’
‘I don’t think he ever knew I was.’
‘Then his attentions to you are bordering on the particular. Oh dear, this is all most confusing! I shall have to chaperone you much more closely from now on. But then people will wonder…You have put me in a very difficult position, Rachel, and I’m not at all pleased.
I really think I must write to your mother about this. ’
‘Oh, please don’t!’