Fragile Blossoms (18 page)

The equerry bowed. ‘Mr Luke Roberts?’

‘Aye, that’s me.’

‘Good day to you, sir, and to you, Madam, and you, sir. I am Hugh Beresford Fitzwilliam equerry to the Court of St James. As I’m sure you are by now aware Mrs Dryden is to receive a visitor. The visitor and friends are here to celebrate the opening of the...’ the equerry read from the piece of paper, ‘...the Needed and Necessary Tea-Shop.’

Luke picked up his hat. ‘And you’d prefer us to leave.’

‘No sir, not at all! On the contrary we would prefer you to stay.’

‘That’s if you want to,’ Julianna interjected.

‘We want what you want,’ said Luke.

‘Then please stay!’

‘And us staying?’ Luke kept talking, his heart thumping in his chest and his throat dry amazed at his cheek. ‘Does it meet with the visitor’s approval?’

The equerry bowed. ‘I thank you for your courtesy. Mrs Dryden’s wishes were communicated to the right quarter and thought only right and proper. First come, first served, I believe, is the general opinion. And so, not wishing to disturb your company I am pleased to offer His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales’ cordial greetings and to beg you to continue to take your tea.’

‘Well I’ll be buggered,’ said Joe.

‘Yes,’ said Luke. ‘And me too.’

The rest of the afternoon went by in a blur, Luke’s guts in a constant knot, not so much for himself but for Julianna. Gown rustling and hands steady she seemed calm enough but having studied her face Luke knew when she was happy and when she sad. Matty meeting the Prince of Wales was her moment of joy, the little lad bowing, and Kaiser, the dog, extending a paw, a Union Jack kerchief tied about his neck. The Prince was then heard to adjudge Matty ‘a jolly little chap’ and the tea-party a ‘delightful interlude’. As for the rest of the company if their smiles and the amount of running up and down by the maids is to go by then they too found it delightful.

The person who did enjoy the day was Nan. Eyes bright as raisins she sat observing all. Once she even let out a squeak of laughter which was quickly smothered. There was such delight in that sound Luke knew memories were being stored away beneath her feathered hat and that for the rest of her life occasion would be found for Nannette Roberts to say, ‘ this reminds of the time I took tea with His Royal Highness, the Prince of Wales.’

Three-thirty the Royal Party is on the move. Luke and the others hovered. ‘I suppose we mun stay until he goes,’ hissed Joe.

‘Aye, we must wait it out.’

‘I can’t get over it,’ whispered Joe. ‘I really can’t. You wait til I tell the missis. She’ll be talkin’ about this from now until Doomsday.’

‘And why not,’ said Nan smoothing her frock. ‘You can be sure I’ll make plenty of it. Sippin’ tea with Royalty is somethin’ to talk about. Ooh the church wives that now wish they were in my place! Hah! They’ll be spittin’ feathers!’

‘Aye, up!’ Joe nudged Luke. ‘He’s leavin’.’

There was a general movement to the door, hands were shaken and kisses exchanged. Prince Albert reminded Luke of the German doctor, Adelman, the same build and whiskers. Until viewed through the eyes of Majesty he is as every other man but when he stands all stand with him, he moves and is transformed into Light, Halley’s Comet entrained by lesser comets.

Elegant and affable he acknowledged Nan’s curtsey and nodded to Luke and Joe. ‘He likes our dear madam,’ said Joe. ‘Look at him smilin’ fit to bust!’

‘Yes and kissin’ her hand,’ said Nan.

Luke was silent. No need for comment. You’d be blind not to see what was going on. Lady Carrington may have all kinds of charm and the tea-party a delightful interlude but a cup of tea and a bun didn’t bring this man to the door. He came to see the
Faun Surprised
.

It was Freddie Carrington who told Luke of the paintings. The Carringtons were booked to stay until Sunday. Sunday evening Milady dined out which left the Honourable Frederick alone, a wine glass in his hand and a Black Dog curled at his feet. Black Dog, two words that so aptly describe the way a soul howls when trapped in a pit paws bloodied from trying to get out.

The Black Dog is known to Luke. Since Jacky’s death a creature like that often mouths his ankles. It’s one of the reasons he won’t keep a dog, he howls enough for two. Sunday evening and the Public Bar empty Luke had talked to Freddie. He asked what had happened to pull him down. ‘My Pa happened,’ was the answer, ‘my Pa and the despair that comes when trying to set one’s feelings down on canvas.’ Freddie then said in his opinion only God and Leonardo Di Vinci could paint a decent picture. He said he, Freddie, is so on fire with love for the world any brush he picks up turns to ash. ‘Evie burns in the similar way but as ice and so is able to set things down. You should see what she did with the woman you love, captured her cold and clear.’

Luke had heard of the Art Festival at Sandringham. The first day was by invitation only the second geared more toward lesser mortals. The Central Marquee, Freddie said, was where the
Fauns
were housed. Luke spent an age gazing at the paintings but couldn’t take to them. They were beautiful. The colours were extraordinary, the barley-sugar gold of Julia’s hair and the rose tint of her lips, but the image portrayed was of a character in a fairy story. The Julianna he knows is flesh and blood. She burns her wrist baking cakes and loses patience with plant-stealers. She has a heart and feelings. The deity on those canvasses is as far removed from this world as the Unicorn on which she sits. Eve Carrington’s Julianna glitters like the china on the shelves in her kitchen. A man wouldn’t dare to kiss those lips and mould her to his body for fear she might crack.

What, Luke wondered, did the Prince of Wales see when kissing her hand. His kiss was courtly yet deliberate. Luke knew it and eyes widening so did she. Information was exchanged and a gilt-edged Royal invitation offered. One other person understood the kiss. Eve Carrington saw it and smiled, her smile directed across the room to Luke her eyebrows arched as though to say, ‘what did you expect. He is a man as well as a Prince. ’

That kiss split the front parlour in half, a yard wide trench opened up, the Roberts and old Joe on one side, and Prince Albert and his friends on the other. In that moment Luke knew he was an outsider. The beautiful woman in the grey silk gown standing among the chinking of cups meant nothing to Luke Roberts because Luke Roberts wasn’t there. He was a fly on the wall.

The Royal party left.

‘Well that was splendid!’ Hugh Fitzwilliam bowed a box of macaroons and a lavender bag dangling from his finger, a gift for Her Royal Highness, the Princess of Wales. ‘May I, Mrs Dryden, on behalf of His Highness extend his congratulations?’

‘Thank you, Sir Hugh.’

Evie adjusted her lace stole. ‘Well done, Ju-ju. You managed awfully well.’

‘Everyone did well,’ said Julianna acknowledging the maids.

‘Indeed they did. I must say Mrs Mac has come on. I understand most of the day’s delicious pastries were of her concocting.’

‘Maud is an excellent cook.’

‘You call her Maud?’

‘I do.’

‘And why not,
noblesse oblige
and all that! I admit to having misplaced the woman. I had her wearing the wrong apron.’ Evelyn nodded to the window where a crowd had amassed. ‘The hordes are gathering.’

‘So I see.’

‘Let ‘em wait! When we’re gone have your girls lock the door. Don’t let the blighters in! Keep the place closed for a week and from then all bookings to be taken by telephone and only by phone. You understand?’

‘Yes.

‘Make ‘em sweat! They do not deserve you or your ladies.’

‘Thank you, Evelyn, for being here.’

‘Not at all! It’s the least I could do.’

‘I am grateful.’

‘That’s alright. Your introduction to Society is only beginning. It’s best you hold onto your gratitude until later. We are entertaining His Highness soon at the London house. I hope you will attend.’

‘I’ll try.’

‘No Julianna!’ Evie’s eyes were steel. ‘There’ll be no trying. You are required to be there. You are already asked for.’

‘Oh I see.’

‘Good. It’s best you do see.’
Evelyn took Julia’s arm and walked with her to the door. All smiles she paused at the table in the nook. ‘I think your people might go now. They’ve been waiting long enough.’

Julianna took Nan’s hand. ‘Thank you so much for coming all of you. I really don’t know what I would‘ve done were you not here.’

‘You’d have managed. You didn’t need us, Anna.’

‘Oh I did and I do! You’ll never know how much.’

Nan adjusted her hat. ‘This time tomorrow when news of this gets around you won’t need anybody. Isn’t that right, Milady?’

‘Mrs Dryden did make a success of the day but one always needs friends and never more so than when scaling the heights. True friends, Mrs Roberts, are irreplaceable. I know I wouldn’t part with your friendship no matter how lofty the call. You too Mr Carmody! How well you served your lady today. I would wish for gentlemen servers half as loyal.’

Joe was starry-eyed. ‘Thank you ma’m.’

Blue eyes brilliant Evie turned to Luke. ‘And what can one say about you, sir, the fife and drum behind all such chivalry? I confess to being quite envious of Julianna, and along with other ladies of our party here today can’t help but wonder how one might steal your devotion away.’

‘I was glad to be of use.’

‘Glad to be of use?’

‘Yes.’

Evie smiled. ‘A good friend indeed, and in keeping with friendship, and broadening the same, perhaps you and your mother might consider dropping in on my brother and me next time you’re in town. Please know that I, and Freddie, who so enjoyed your company of late, would be pleased to see you.’

What kind of a wondrous beast is a fly on the wall if it sees all and hears all and yet remains unmoved? Luke was aware of Evelyn’s hand on his arm, small yet so strong, a hand that pulls the trigger on a twelve bore. He knew all were watching inside the tea-shop and out. He was aware of eyes staring and his mother’s lips tightening. He knew old Joe felt awkward and though proud and pleased wished himself any place but here. Without knowing he could tell the man on his left, handsome Sir Hugh Fitzwilliam with the medals on his chests, liked Julianna but preferred a man in his arms. Luke was aware of planets and stars revolving. Such a vivid and multi-layered moment the room and people in it might well have been a painting at the Art Festival, a montage, paint layered upon paint, colour upon colour, linen tablecloths and sunlight striking a crystal dish, a wasp inside eating jam.

Omnipresent he knew all and yet could only comprehend Julianna, how pale she was and how she stared a frown behind her eyes. A moment hung above them, a gesture, a bend in the river or deflection of purpose and everything would change. ‘Speak to me, Anna,’ his prayer was mute. ‘I don’t care what you say. Talk to me of Matty, how his speech is improved under the care of a drunken piano player, and how he always adds Mister Wolf to his prayers to Gentle Jesus. Tell of Owen, your studious husband, the pale man who cherished you as an Egyptian artefact rather than a woman of flesh and blood. Talk to me of your worries. Say how you fret about the wall, and of the dead woman who still abides in Greenfields, and the breaking of china. Ask me to help you! Ask me to put a lock on the damned laundry door because some arse is spying on your beauty! Talk to me, heart-of-hearts! Say something! Don’t let go of me in silence or like that balloon presently floating by the window I’ll float away never to be seen again.’

For a moment her gaze held his and then she turned away.

It wasn’t much of a turning away but it was enough to swat the fly. From then on Eve Carrington’s voice was all he heard.

‘I believe you’ve recently developed an interest in art, Mr Roberts.’

‘I am interested but know nothing about it.’

‘Perhaps if you’d visit Russell Square one day next week it shall be mine and my brother’s pleasure to assist you in that knowledge?’

‘Good of you to say so.’

‘So will you come? I think you might be amused.’

‘I’ll come.’

‘Next Thursday?’

‘Next Thursday.’

‘Excellent!’ With a flick Evelyn opened up a parasol her beautiful face half in shade and half in light. ‘So that shall be our plan. A trip round the galleries and back home in time for tea. Do you think you can manage that, Luke?’

‘I don’t see why not. Like most men I’m open to learning.’

Seven o clock the phone rang. Julia was watering the window boxes. It was Callie Masson. ‘Pop up and have a nightcap with me will you?’

‘I’m awfully tired.’

‘I dare say you are. But humour me. I’ll send Crosby down to light you.’

‘Don’t bother. There’s a full moon. I can see my way.’

Callie was in the small salon her foot bandaged and up on a stool. ‘Don’t ask!’ she said at Julia’s enquiring glance. ‘It seems the people at Holkham are of Scots descent and not happy unless throwing one another about.’

‘You didn’t get to Berkshire then?’

‘I was laid up.’

‘And you didn’t enjoy the ball.’

‘Actually I did. Apart from my ankle it was a riot. What about you? I understand you’ve had a bit of a riot yourself?’

Julia stretched easing tension in her shoulders. ‘It was a surprising day.’

‘Not least a visit from the Prince of Wales?’

‘That too.’

‘That too?’ Callie’s eyebrows shot skyward. ‘You’ve had a bigger surprise than the heir to the throne in your front parlour?!’

‘As I said a day of surprises.’

‘Tell me about it.’

Julia kept details to a minimum. There was much she couldn’t talk about especially Luke Roberts’ projected trips to London; she couldn’t give the words space on her tongue. Weary, she concluding the day’s events with Evie’s advice of a week’s break before reopening the tea-shop.

‘A good idea.’ Callie nodded. ‘It will make people hungry for more than chocolate parfait, which of course they will be once the Sunday newspapers get hold of this.’

‘The newspapers?’

‘Yes, the newspapers. Come tomorrow your little
tete-a-tete
with HRH will be headline news.’