3 Great Historical Novels (84 page)

It was ten the next morning before her Ladyship was handed Mrs O'Brien's card. The butler had seen no need to hurry. He was a small bald man with a mild squint in gentle brown eyes, and half the size of his wife. ‘But Mr Neville, why did this take a day to come to me?'

‘I did not think your Ladyship would particularly care to receive it. She looked like trade to me, your Ladyship. Certainly she did not know how to behave. Calling cards are received and delivered in the mornings only.'

‘You must learn, Mr Neville, that times are changing. The most significant in our society can often seem the most shabby. They are so busy making money they have no time for style. It is a pity but it is the case. Fetch me Grace.'

‘Grace,' said her Ladyship, when the latter appeared, ‘why did Minnie O'Brien not appear on my list? She seems by far the most suitable contender.'

‘I did not see her as at all suitable for the Hedleigh family, ma'am. According to the concierge at Brown's, Mrs O'Brien and her daughter Minnie were due in on the
Oceanic
– and it does seem the girl's single, has trust money and is heir to the father's fortune. But he's an Irish meat baron; nothing but a jumped-up butcher, and the girl has a reputation. She's soiled goods, ma'am, and doesn't try to hide it. She won't do.'

‘And Mr Arthur is not soiled goods?' asked Isobel.

‘It's different for men, ma'am. The lady of the estate needs to be above reproach. Women need to set an example. I'm not putting myself up as an angel, but they say Minnie O'Brien lived for a time with a married man. It's like dogs or horses, the way I've heard his Lordship say. Once a bitch has got out, she never breeds true.'

‘As a matter of interest how did this news get to you, Grace?'

‘The concierge at Brown's got it from the
Oceanic
's purser, who got it from the chef of the new Silversmith hotel in Chicago, who was a passenger, and he got it from an art dealer in New York – I can't exactly remember the details but news travels fast. I didn't think a cattle family, ma'am, would be what you wanted. Aren't they only one step up from gangsters? Hang their enemies from meat-hooks in their abattoirs?'

‘Low gossip, this is, and rumour, Grace, and you are not to spread it beyond these walls. Speak to the Brown's concierge – and explain to him that this is a calumny, both pernicious and false. The girl is spotless, and everyone must know it. There'll be a good tip for him next time I come by for tea.'

And no tip for me for telling lies, thought Grace. She was still hurt and angry. Where was the acknowledgement of the ingenuity, time, effort and skill required of her to come up with the list? She had even ‘been nice' to Mr Eddie to get hold of it, though it was true she might well have done that anyway, and now her advice was simply ignored, swept away. You just couldn't trust the gentry. They would treat you as one of themselves when it suited them, and treat you like muck when it didn't.

Grace was feeling generally discontented. She was fond enough of the young Viscount and wished him well, but if he was going to marry for money, let him at least marry a girl fit to carry on the Hedleigh name. Well, she would see to it that he did.

So that was how it was that less than a week later Arthur and Minnie were seated next to one another at a dinner party in Pagani's in Great Portland Street, a restaurant favoured by American visitors, a place where Tessa was recognized and felt at home. The Countess had booked a private room but Tessa would have rather they'd sat in public to see and be seen, so that she could recount back home which famous world musicians and artists she had encountered. They compromised on an alcove where they could see but not easily be seen.

‘My, oh my, I must say, I must say,' she kept repeating. ‘Little Tessa sitting in London at Pagani's! If my friends could see me now!'

Mrs O'Brien, as Robert and Isobel agreed, when comparing notes later that night, was both outlandish and oddly attractive. She spoke too loudly as Americans were given to doing, and was alarmingly overdressed, more as though for a ball than a restaurant. Diamond necklaces were not for dinner, nor for too large an expanse of décolletage not in first youth. A clip, or ear-rings would have been right. She actually thanked the waiter when he brought the beetroot soup rather than pretended he didn't exist, which was the English way. Yet, both agreed, she was good-natured enough, while she
didn't know quite how to conduct herself, who from the land of log cabins and cowboys ever did?

The girl had made a better impression: pretty enough, if a little quiet, although the mother made up for both of them, and aesthetically acceptable, wearing a triple string of pearls, and a simple uncorseted blue dress with modest neckline, which clearly came from one of the new, very fashionable and expensive French
couture
houses. What Arthur thought of her it was impossible to say. He'd yawned once or twice, but perhaps he was tired, though from what Isobel could not imagine, and had seemed distracted.

There were a mere eight in the party: his Lordship and herself, Tessa and Minnie, Arthur, the widowed Austrian Ambassador, Francis, and his niece and nephew – Janika, nineteen, beetle-browed, stout and serious and the
eighteen-year
-old Jan – from next door, had joined them. Jan had the looks and style of a young god, broad-shouldered, bright-eyed and with a thatch of blond hair and clean-cut features, and very little to say. His Lordship took the head of the table. Isobel feared it would not be an easy occasion: ‘eating out' was still something of a novelty, and rather exciting, a trusting to the fates of ambience, company, food and comfort. But as it was, everything went smoothly enough. Any awkward silences were quickly filled by Tessa, and they were far enough from the other tables not to draw too much attention when she whooped with excitement or dismay. Isobel found she was enjoying herself. So apparently was her husband: his presence was required but hardly his serious attention.

Asked politely about the journey over Tessa O'Brien talked at length, and volubly about the crossing in the
Oceanic
. No, she said, the O'Briens had not enjoyed the trip one bit: the boat was vastly overpraised. It had been built for speed rather
than for comfort, and rattled. There being no deck for a healthy promenade in the salt air, one was obliged to walk about
inside
the ship. There had been nothing to do but eat and use the library. It was a very grand library with a glass dome on top, true, but left room for only two chimneys when all the other Blue Riband contenders had three or four.

‘Wouldn't you agree, child? A dreadful trip. No need to be bashful. Speak up!' her mother demanded.

‘The library was very well-stocked,' said Minnie, ‘which makes a change for a sea voyage.' Her voice came at half the volume of her mother's, but was clear, pleasant and distinct, and only gently accented, unlike the mother's. ‘But apart from the saloon there were no portholes on board, only electric bulbs where portholes would usually be, four thousand of them, I believe, all dimming when the generators ascended a large wave, brightening when it descended the other side. Since we were mid-Atlantic there were quite a lot of waves. Reading was not easy, but I managed.'

‘That boat was designed by the finest architect in Europe and you are very lucky that your father has made enough money for you to travel on it,' said her mother.

‘I am sure that is true, Mother,' Minnie said, patiently. ‘But perhaps ships are meant to have builders not architects. It juddered all the darned way from New York to Southampton.'

‘Do not use that language, girl,' said her mother. ‘And it was
Oceanic
's maiden voyage. Small things can go wrong first time out, then they know what bits of the machinery they've got to tune up. They'll sort out the generators in no time.'

‘The Admiralty paid to reinforce the bulkheads with iron plating,' observed Arthur, with a rare show of interest in what anyone was saying, ‘so it could be used by the Navy should a war break out. That would account for the juddering.'

‘Not of course that anyone expects war,' said his Lordship, rather hastily. But then he was sitting next to the Austrian Ambassador. Germany and Austria-Hungary were thick as two thieves when it came to naval matters.

‘If it was good enough for J. Pierpont Morgan I'm sure it was good enough for us O'Briens, Minnie,' said Tessa.

His Lordship ordered dinner for everyone, as was his habit, consulting no one about their preferences. For generations Hedleighs had been told to eat up what was on their plate and not argue. It had worked well enough for him, why not for others? Discussing food was not in good taste in any case, and why would he want his guests wasting their time doing so? He ordered
hors d'oeuvre variés, potage borscht, filets de sole Pagani, tournedos aux truffes, haricots verts sautés, pommes croquettes, perdreaux voisin and salade,
followed by
soufflé au Curaçao.

Tessa, accustomed to choice as she was, almost cut up a little rough, insisted on being told what
borscht
was and finding out it was a beetroot soup said she didn't fancy it, and asked for soup of tomato instead. She asked the waiter what
perdreaux voisin and salade
was when it was at home, and when he hurried off to ask the maître d'hôtel, Tessa said, ‘See, he's only pretending to be French. Minnie excels in French. You know what it means, don't you, Minnie!'

To which Minnie, with a hint of a smile, innocently replied, ‘It's just a salad of lost neighbours, Mother,' which made Arthur look at her twice and smile back, which annoyed Tessa, who nudged Minnie and hissed, ‘I told you not to get too smart, Minnie. I can't see what you think is funny about it.'

Isobel formed the opinion that Tessa was as anxious for Minnie to get together with Arthur as she herself was to get Arthur together with Minnie. It created a bond between them
of, if not quite friendship, at least of common interest. The woman did not know how to behave, true, but would soon enough be back in Chicago, where no doubt she flourished, and Isobel wished her well.

The Austrian Ambassador, Isobel realized rather too late, as he let slip the occasional reference to Jan's athletic skill and elaborate royal connections on his mother's side – the poor woman was deceased – had the same ambitions for his young relative as she did for hers. A rich wife.

But there was no danger, as it happened: Minnie was indulgent to Jan but saw him as a boastful boy. She got on famously with Janika, and they talked happily enough about the charms of the
Art Nouveau
– all around them in Pagani's – and how and why fine examples were so sadly lacking in the O'Briens' native land. She and Arthur exchanged but few words – Isobel hoped Arthur could remember to talk about something other than automobiles, shooting birds, his tailor or the weather, but feared he would not. He did not easily reveal himself to young women. Rosina had mocked him too often into silence when he was small.

Rosina had declined to join them: she had to attend a reading of Havelock Ellis' new volume of essays on sex psychology and secondary sexual characteristics in males.

‘Have to?' her mother had enquired.

‘I could get out of it,' Rosina had said, grudgingly, but when she added that she hated dining out with her father because he always ordered for everyone and would try to make her eat meat, and there would be a row, Isobel had conceded it might be better if she stayed away.

‘Besides, Mama,' said Rosina, ‘it's going to be so embarrassing. It's just all so obvious. Minnie O'Brien! Even if she did marry Arthur what makes you think her father will part with a cent?'
‘Your father and he will no doubt come to a gentlemanly agreement.'

‘Gentlemanly?' shrieked Rosina. ‘Do you know about Billy O'Brien? Do you know about the stockyards? They're a disgrace to modern civilization. He treats his workers like so much machinery. If they wear out he throws them away. They were better off in the cotton fields.'

‘Your father and Mr O'Brien,' said Isobel, ‘will come to an agreement because without a penny there will not be a wedding. She will be anxious to be married. The girl's not as young as she used to be.'

‘Nor any better than she ought to be,' Rosina said and giggled. ‘According to Grace. Second-hand goods, Mother. You're selling Arthur to buy soiled goods?'

‘I am happy to tell everyone you have a landscape painting class,' was all her mother said to that. ‘I don't want our guests subjected to a diatribe.'

Robert, the business of ordering briskly done, took little more interest in the women and children, and was now talking with Francis von Demy about naval exercises in the Pacific. He had to be prudent, since Austria and Germany tended to think and act as one, and it was common knowledge that the Prince did not get on with his cousin the Kaiser. The former had been overheard saying to the Count at last year's big Christmas ball at the d'Astis', ‘Never trust a cripple. They hold too great a grudge against the world to wish the best for it.' The Prince knew how to put his worldly wisdom elegantly and concisely, which was why Robert thought, he managed to stay popular, in spite of scandal after scandal.

The Kaiser had a withered arm, a source of distress to his grandmother the Queen. The Prince's passing comment on his cousin had come back to Her Majesty and been the source
of yet another royal row. The Prince was often considered an excellent diplomat: it was just when Kaiser Bill was concerned his guard had been known to slip.

Robert's first impression of Minnie had been favourable, just as first sight of a mare or a bitch could tell a countryman as much as he needed to know. As a mother to the future Dilberne heir she was acceptable. Glossy coat, even teeth, regular features and a soft voice which made the American accent almost quite bearable. She looked genial and docile enough. She might even have an intellect, though he did not think that was what his son currently looked for in a woman. Compared to the Austrian girl, whom Isobel had brought along presumably in the interests of comparison, there was no contest. A pity for the Ambassador's family that though the boy had got looks, the daughter had not: plain girls were hard to marry off.

And then his Lordship concentrated on his dinner – he already rather regretted choosing the truffles; they tasted, if you could taste them at all, of something mildly rotten – and trying to extract such information from von Demy about the naval bases as the latter was willing to divulge. The diplomatic game being played in Europe and in the colonies, as the major powers vied for long-term influence and control in the world, was so much more interesting than Fisheries, where he feared he was destined. Remarkable how quickly one's area of interest changed when one's gold mine was sabotaged by enemy irregulars. On the other hand if he got Fisheries and a regular income the irritating problem of money would go away.

After those at the table had consumed the
hors d'oeuvre
, the sole, the
tournedos
, and the partridge, time came for the
soufflé Curaçao
. A hush descended upon the restaurant and even the waiters paused, trays poised above their heads for a
second, as in a stop-motion film. Dame Nelly Melba, fresh from the Opera House and that evening's triumph in
La
Traviata
, was entering Pagani's sumptuous arched lobby, unbooked and requiring an after-show supper with friends. Space was made for her party, chairs found, menus produced, the kitchens kept open: no trouble was too great. Her dress was elaborate, frilly, and emerald green, trimmed with fur. She bore herself theatrically, but with majesty.

‘She'd not be a beauty back home,' said Tessa in far too loud a voice. ‘What's all the great hoo-hah? Look at the size of her nose!'

‘Do hush up, Mother,' said Minnie, gently, and Tessa did. ‘You know you tell me yourself to mind how quiet everyone is over here.'

She's a nice girl, thought Isobel, not spiteful or condemning when others would be. Minnie would do very well for Arthur; she might be a little too clever for him but one can't have everything.

‘Minnie can sing better than Melba,' Tessa was saying, ‘she's been to all the finest teachers in Chicago. Not so loud of course but with far less crackling.'

No, upon enquiry, it turned out Tessa had not heard Melba live but on a phonograph. Therefore the ‘crackling'. Everyone looked at her strangely. But then a little later Tessa came out with ‘We're a Donegal family, sure, lots of labouring cousins back in the bogs of the old country, but Billy's cut them out of the will, the lot's going to Minnie,' which was obviously aimed at the Dilbernes, and not the Austrian party. Young Jan clearly had a bad head for wine – probably unused to it – and was looking flustered and altogether ineligible, the carved young lips floppy rather than strong, the eyes bleary not alert, and in general seeming not so much youthful as unformed.
Arthur, on the other hand, was looking very well, strong and Byronic, his mother thought, mature and more than eligible. The high white collar of the shirt framed his face, the white set off his high colour, and his curly hair sprang with such energy from his head no barber could ever reduce it to ordinariness. The flavour of the aristocrat clung to him – a mildly petulant air softened by habitual courteousness, a heightened sensuousness kept coolly under control – yes, if Minnie was a catch for her wealth, so was Arthur for his birth and breeding. His silence, for he was hardly talkative tonight and his mother wondered why, could, she hoped, be mistaken for gravitas and strength of will.