Chapter Ten
In the echoing, sulphur-scented terminus they were briefly reunited with the servants, the children and the luggage before separating again, Giles and Kitty with Afton and Hatto into the carriage sent by Aunt Caroline, and the children, their entourage and the luggage into a large ‘growler’ cab.
There were still plenty of horses on London’s streets, but horse-drawn buses were dwindling in number, and there seemed many more private motor-cars than the year before.
Kitty, enjoying the smooth ride behind the pair of chestnuts and the elegant sound of their hoofs on the road, was glad Aunt Caroline had not succumbed to fashion.
Grandmère, Richard, Rachel and Alice were already at the house in Berkeley Square when they arrived, so there was catching-up to be done.
In the first pause in the conversation, Aunt Caroline said, ‘Mr Cowling was here yesterday with his friend Mr Morris, the cartoonist. What an interesting man he is! So much to say on so many subjects! We began with sun spots and comets and somehow by the end we were talking about hats and Ellen Terry. He knows her personally. He seems to know absolutely everyone.’ She stopped, puzzled.
‘I can’t remember why I was telling you this. ’
‘Mr Cowling?’ Richard prompted.
‘Oh, yes! He said that poor Nina is suffering very much in this warm weather, because of her condition. And of course she is missing the whole Season.’
‘It will be worth it when she has a darling baby of her own,’ Kitty said.
‘You’re just in time to catch Ellen Terry in the new production of that Shaw play,’ said Aunt Caroline. ‘I remember now, that’s why Mr Cowling was here. He is getting up a party to see…What is it called, Richard? I can never remember.’
‘Captain Brassbound’s Conversion,’ Richard supplied.
‘Such a strange title. And I believe the content is rather heated,’ she added doubtfully. ‘I know Shaw is a genius, but I must confess I do not always understand what he is talking about.’
‘Never mind,’ Richard comforted her. ‘If you doze off, I shall give you a précis afterwards. In fact, if the subject comes up in company, just nod and say, “Oh, Terry was brilliant!” and everyone will agree and think you very wise.’
‘Kitty, you will be coming to the fête champêtre, won’t you?’ Rachel urged. ‘Everyone says it will be the event of the Season.’
‘I don’t know. What is it? Have I been invited?’
‘Oh, yes, dear,’ said Aunt Caroline. ‘We’re all going.
I got invitations for you and Giles as soon as I knew you were coming up.
There was no difficulty – I came out with Marjorie Worsley-Denning.
She was Lord Danbury’s second daughter, you know.
She married Cecil Worsley-Denning, who was a friend of my dear Sir James, so we’ve always been close.
So lucky that the weather looks set fine.
One takes such a risk, planning outdoor parties in England. ’
‘But what is it?’ Kitty asked again.
‘It is a way for as many people as possible to be uncomfortable at the same time,’ Grandmère said.
Rachel said reproachfully, ‘Oh, Granny, it will be fun!’
‘Don’t call me Granny,’ said Grandmère. ‘And do not use that dreadful word “fun”. It exists only in English, and is used to disguise much that is vulgar and unnecessary.’
‘Trop sévère, ma chère!’ Richard said, laughing. ‘You did not refuse your invitation, I notice.’
She looked lofty. ‘Il faut faire quelque chose, enfin.’
Rachel took over Kitty’s enlightenment. ‘It’s an outdoor party with music and entertainments and all sorts of lovely things, and everyone will be there. Someone said there will be fireworks at the end, so you see?’
‘Yes, I do see,’ Kitty agreed. ‘It sounds delightful.’
‘As long as one is not required to sit on the ground,’ Aunt Caroline said anxiously. ‘That sort of picnic is only suitable for very young people. But I’m sure Marjorie has too much elegance.’
‘Shall we be treated to a Tableau of Manet’s Le Déjeuner sur l’herbe?’ said Richard, with a laughing glance at his grandmother, who pursed her lips and shook her head at him.
Alice was so pleased to have art discussed (Rachel and their aunt talked mainly of clothes) that she forgot to be cautious. ‘Oh, but the woman in that painting is naked,’ she objected.
‘Is that the sort of thing you are studying at the school?’ Giles asked. ‘I’m not sure our mother would approve.’
‘There’s so much nudity in art one can hardly avoid it,’ Alice said. ‘It’s just a puzzle why the woman is nude and the men are fully dressed. When it was first shown the critics disapproved and said she must be a prostitute—’
‘Alice, dear!’ Aunt Caroline protested.
Alice addressed the rest of the sentence to her. ‘But Mr Wentworth thinks it was a joke on Manet’s part, to tease the critics.’
‘Does he, indeed?’ said Richard. ‘And what do you think?’
‘Don’t encourage her, Richard,’ said Aunt Caroline.
‘I don’t know enough to have an opinion,’ Alice said.
‘This Wentworth is a very thorough teacher, it seems,’ said Richard.
‘I’m very lucky to be taught by him,’ Alice said meekly.
Richard agreed. ‘It must be rather like being taught by Constable or Gainsborough in their time.’
‘But such a waste, really,’ Aunt Caroline said. ‘Once Alice marries it will all be forgotten.’
‘Of course it will, Aunt,’ Richard said, forestalling Alice with a look. ‘But il faut faire quelque chose, after all, until that happy day.’
‘You are a very wicked boy,’ Grandmère murmured, for his ears only.
* * *
The Worsley-Dennings were an old family. Denning House had once been their rural seat, before the relentless expansion of London in the previous century had overtaken the village of Hampstead. Now instead of being in the county of Middlesex it found itself in London postal district NW.
The house was Georgian with mid-Victorian additions, but that was hardly relevant to the fête champêtre, which took place entirely in the spacious pleasure grounds, all that was left of the original country estate, but still large enough to be designated a park.
The Worsley-Dennings, through a series of shrewd marriages, were very wealthy, and had spent lavishly, not only to secure but to deserve the title ‘event of the season’.
There were temporary pavilions and Greek temples dotted about among the trees, various ensembles creating continuous music, strolling jugglers, tumblers and other entertainers, displays of Greek dancing, an archery allée, and on the lake, a number of rowing boats.
There was a lavish provision of food and drink and, to Aunt Caroline’s relief, no necessity to sit on a rug on the ground: there were elegant wrought-iron tables and chairs set up in attractive groups, and an army of servants to wait on them.
In the centre of the park a floor had been built where there would be dancing under coloured lanterns, and the evening would end with fireworks over the lake.
For the younger set, one of the delights of the occasion was the freedom the arrangements conferred. Tight chaperonage was impossible with people scattered over such a large area.
Rachel, in a rose pink, self-striped silk dress and jacket – not new, but cleverly altered – and a hat lavish with artificial roses, was quickly claimed, to her satisfaction, by Jervis Farocean.
They walked about and sampled the delights and greeted friends, and then he suggested taking out a boat on the lake.
They had been newly varnished, and were supplied with gold-tasselled green velvet cushions against which, Rachel was aware, her rose-pink would look most attractive.
The only danger was of water-drops on the silk if Jervis should prove a clumsy oarsman.
But Jervis handled the oars expertly. There was an island in the centre of the lake, and when they got round to the other side of it he rested on his oars and they drifted almost motionless.
Rachel had wondered if there might be a stolen kiss, but one or two other couples had done the same, so they were not entirely alone.
That he could row, she had added to his other qualities.
She hadn’t seen him ride, but he had talked about hunting and she was sure someone who danced as well as he did would also ride well.
As the eldest son, he would be going into his father’s business when he married and would eventually inherit it, so he would be wealthy.
His father, she had learned, was only a knight, so he would not come into the title, but it was not out of the question that he might earn one for himself.
And he was handsome and amusing. Sometimes she wondered if he wasn’t rather light, something of a rattle, but she pushed those thoughts aside. Nobody was perfect.
Eventually a desire for food and drink sent them back to the landing place.
A servant held the boat against the jetty while Jervis jumped out and held out his hand to help her.
Gathering her skirts in one hand, she took his hand with her other.
As she stepped up onto dry land, he gave her a little tug, just enough to unbalance her slightly, giving him the excuse to catch hold of her waist with his other hand and pull her against him, as if steadying her.
She might have been annoyed at being made to look awkward, had it not been so skilfully done and had not the intention been made clear when he used the little flurry of movement to kiss her on the lips.
How audacious, to kiss her in public in such a way that no-one would notice!
Eyes sparkling, she turned her head to see Angus Tullamore staring at her from a few feet away. He must have been passing and had stopped; on his arm was the same female – Miss Canning, wasn’t it? – whom he had escorted at the Falmouths’ ball.
For a moment shock followed by hurt passed through his eyes, before his face shut down. ‘Lady Rachel,’ he said in a flat tone.