Midsummer's Eve (67 page)

“Please don’t endow me with saintly qualities. You will certainly be disappointed if you do.”

“Well, I never greatly cared for saints, but angels are another matter. This is wonderful. We shall make plans. An early wedding, don’t you think? You’ll have to meet the family. I’ve met yours so that’s something. We’ll go down soon. They’ll want to arrange things, I suppose. Let them. We’ll just think of ourselves. Contemplate it, my darling. We shall be together for ever and ever.”

“For as long as we both shall live. I love that phrase. There’s something so comforting about it.”

“It was rather miraculous, wasn’t it … coming across you at the ball. Though our paths would have crossed some time or other considering we were both in the same season.”

“And before I thought there was something rather unpleasant about these seasons. You know what I mean. Girls being paraded like that.”

He nodded. “But people have to be brought together, I suppose, and I shall never quarrel with any system that brought me my Angelet.”

“Nor I with one which gave me you.”

“I love you, Angelet.”

“I was waiting to hear you say that.”

“Did you really want me to state the obvious?”

“I couldn’t believe it until I heard it.”

“Now will
you
state what I
hope
is obvious?”

“I love you, Gervaise.”

“Then that is settled.”

“How strange that you should have come to Cador.”

“It was clearly fate.”

“But then we did not see each other for all those years.”

“That was because you hadn’t the sense to be older when we met. You had to grow up and when the time was ripe and Fate said, ‘Bring in the lovers …’ and there we were at the Bellington ball.”

“So you believe in fate.”

“I think we make our own.”

“Have you ever been in love before?”

He was silent.

“Confess,” I demanded.

“Must I?”

“Indeed you must. I must know the worst.”

“Well, when I was six years old I was in love with a little girl of eight. We used to go to dancing classes and she bullied me shamefully. My devotion was true and I was faithful to her for six weeks in spite of the brutal manner in which she treated me. She used to pinch my ears.”

“I mean seriously in love.”

“Never. Until now. And you?”

I hesitated.

“At one time I was very fond of Jonnie. And there was someone else.”

“Oh?”

“He was some sort of relation. He came down to Cador for a while to see if estate management would suit him as a career. His name was Benedict.”

“He sounds like a saint or a pope or at least a monk. Weren’t they the ones who made that delicious liqueur? Tell me more of your Benedict.”

“He seemed very handsome and magnificent. I was about ten. I suppose one’s judgment is not to be relied on at that age.”

“You sound as though this hero had feet of clay.”

“Oh no … no. I was ill and he went away and I never saw him again.”

“Then I can curb my jealousy regarding him. Were there others?”

I shook my head emphatically. He smiled at me and I thought: I am happy … happier than I ever thought I should be since …

We sat for a while on the seat watching the little boats on the water, discreetly holding hands.

“Shall we go back and tell them?” he asked.

“Yes,” I replied. “I feel I want to tell everybody.”

“So do I.”

As we came out of the gardens a woman approached us. She was carrying a tray of violets.

“A bunch of vi’lets for the lady,” she said wheedlingly. “Come on, young gentleman … I’ve got children at home and I’ve got to get rid of these ’ere before I go ’ome to them. Can’t go back to little ’uns with nothing in me pocket, can I?”

Gervaise selected the biggest bunch. They were wilting slightly and I was very sorry for the woman who had this basket full of violets, past their first freshness, to sell before she went home to her family.

Gervaise gave the violets to me. He noticed my pity for the woman and I was sure he shared it. He put his hands in his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins. He put them on the woman’s tray. She stared at them.

“Well, sir … well, me lord …” she began. “ ’Ere you are. You bought the blooming lot.”

“Keep them. Sell them.”

“Gawd bless yer.”

“This is our lucky day,” he said.

“Well, bless you sir, if it ain’t mine, too.”

He put his arm through mine. I smelt the violets. They seemed very beautiful to me.

“That was a lot of money you gave her.”

“I had to. I was sorry for her.”

“Because of all those children?”

“Because she’s not us. I am sorry for every man in London who is not engaged to marry Angelet.”

“You say the most delightful things.”

“They will become more delightful as the years pass.”

“I do hope so. Do you believe her story about going home to all those children?”

“No.”

“You didn’t?”

“I expect it is what they call sales patter.”

“But you must have believed her … just for a moment. You gave her all that money.”

“I daresay she needs it more than I do.”

“Gervaise, I believed in those children.”

“You would, my dearest. You are good and pure and unsullied by the wicked ways of the world. To be honest, I don’t care whether it was the truth or not. She’ll be glad of the money. And I want everyone to be happy. Haven’t you ever felt like that?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Now,” I said.

And we laughed as we walked back to the house.

They were all delighted with the news.

“I guessed it would happen sooner or later,” said my mother.

“Are you sure you love him?” asked my father.

“Rolf!” cried my mother. “It is clear that she does.”

“He wants us to go to Derbyshire to meet his family,” I told them.

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” said my mother.

“I do hope you are all going to like each other.”

“If the rest of the family are anything like him, we most certainly shall.”

It was arranged that he should take us to his home at the end of the following week. He was writing to his parents to tell them the news.

“I do hope they will be pleased,” I said to Gervaise.

“They’ll be delighted,” he replied. “For the last three years they’ve been saying I should marry and settle down. They think that will steady me.”

“Are you unsteady then?”

“Very much so. I hope you are prepared to take on the steadying process.”

Thinking of the visit, I was a little apprehensive. Everything had gone so smoothly so far. Could it continue to do so?

At the end of the week I went to the Park for a walk with Morwenna and Grace. Grace was talking about my trousseau and she thought it would be a good idea if we looked round while we were in London.

“I could make some of your less important clothes,” she said. “I’d love to. I’d come and stay at Cador for a time … if you’d have me.”

“You know we are always glad to have you.”

“I was not sure. The servants view me with some bewilderment because they don’t know where to place me. Below stairs or above stairs. Married into the family … but not quite worthy of it.”

“Oh, no one takes any notice of that sort of nonsense,” I said.

“They do.”

“Well, if they do, just ignore it.”

“I know. It doesn’t bother me really. Amuses me rather.”

We were seated on a bench. A man had passed by as we were talking. I fancied he paused for a while and looked at us rather intently. He went on for a few steps and then stopped, and turning he came purposefully towards us.

He was looking straight at Grace. “Good morning, Miss Burns. How nice to see you again,” he said.

Grace sat very still and then said slowly and very distinctly: “I think you have made a mistake.”

“Oh? It
is
Miss Burns, isn’t it? Miss Wilhelmina Burns?”

“N-no. There is no one of that name here.”

“I could have sworn …”

He kept his eyes on her face. He looked very puzzled.

“No,” said Grace firmly.

I said: “This lady is Mrs. Grace Hume.”

He took a few paces back, smiled and bowed. He said: “Madam, you have a double. I do beg your pardon. If you could see Miss Burns you would understand the mistake.”

“It is all right,” said Grace. “We understand.”

He stared at her for a few seconds as though marveling. Then he turned and slowly walked away.

“I suppose we all have our doubles,” said Morwenna. “After all, when you consider we all have two eyes, a nose and a mouth … you’d think a lot of us would look alike.”

“He seemed very insistent,” I commented. “It was almost as though he didn’t believe we were telling the truth and you really were that Miss Wilhelmina … what was it?”

“Burns,” said Morwenna. “Yes, he really did seem as though nothing would convince him that you weren’t.”

Grace said quickly: “Well, as you say, Morwenna, we must all have a double somewhere.”

My mother received a letter from Lady Mandeville saying that she and Sir Horace would be delighted if she, my father and Miss Angelet Hanson would pay them a visit. She thought that if they could possibly stay for two weeks that would give them all a chance to know each other which, in the circumstances, would be desirable.

My mother replied that we were all delighted to accept Lady Mandeville’s kind invitation to Mandeville Court.

I confessed to Gervaise that I suffered a few nervous qualms at the prospect. They were bound to be hypercritical of their prospective daughter-in-law. It was customary in these cases.

“Oh, but they could not fail to be enchanted,” he assured me. “They will say, ‘How on earth did our son manage to secure such a prize?’ ”

“I do not think that is the usual way in which parents regard newcomers to the family.”

“Ordinary rules do not apply to us, surely?”

“Why not?”

“Because no other parent has ever been presented with such a vision of delight.”

“You are absurd.”

“Generally, maybe. But on this occasion I am completely sound and one hundred per cent logical.”

“It is comforting to know that you see me in such a light. I fancy your parents will have a clearer and more penetrating vision.”

“Seriously, Angelet, there is nothing to worry about. They haven’t all that much of a high opinion of me. I am not the apple of the parental eyes, nor the hope of the family. They don’t expect me to marry royalty. All they want is for me to ‘settle down.’ ”

“You’re a great comfort to me, Gervaise.”

“It’s what I intend to be … in one of your favorite phrases, until death do us part.”

We were to leave for Derbyshire at the end of the week, and the days were spent in preparation for the visit. My mother, Grace and I had discussions as to what clothes we would need. “Something for the country,” said Grace, which I had not brought with me. We went to Jay’s in Regent Street; and for the rest I had my evening clothes and riding habit.

“You fuss too much,” said Gervaise. “We shall not be entertaining royalty while you are there.”

It was the day before we were to leave. I was doing some last minute packing when Morwenna came into the room we shared.

She said: “Grace has just come. We’re going for a walk in the Park. I thought you had finished your packing.”

“I have really.”

“Why don’t you come with us?”

“I’d like to.”

“Come on. Get your cloak. I shall miss you very much, Angelet, when you go.”

“It’s only for two weeks.”

“It is wonderful … you and Gervaise. You are so happy together and he is delightful. What I like about him is that although he is so amusing and sometimes cynical … he is so kind.”

“Yes,” I said. “That is what I like about him.”

“You are so lucky,” she said wistfully.

“I know. I wish …” I did not finish but she knew I was about to say that I wished she could find someone like Gervaise. It was what she needed. Poor Morwenna. She had so convinced herself that no one could care for her, that she became awkward and self-effacing in company. She would have loved to make a grand marriage … not so much for herself, but to please her parents.

“Come on,” she said. “We’re keeping Grace waiting.”

We went down together.

“Angelet has decided to come with us,” said Morwenna.

“Oh, I thought you would have too much to do,” said Grace.

“It’s practically done. I’m all ready for the fray, and I thought I’d like a walk in the Park.”

We were talking about the trip to Derbyshire and the coming parties which Morwenna would be attending without me—a prospect she did not relish—when a small boy, barefooted, ragged and unkempt, dashed up and almost knocked Morwenna over. She gave a little cry and put a hand to her side.

“My purse!” she cried. “He’s taken it from the pocket of my cloak.”

We were too stunned to do anything. For a few seconds we stood staring after the boy who was running with Morwenna’s purse in his hands.

And then … a man appeared. He emerged suddenly from a clump of bushes near the path. He was about two yards ahead of the boy. The boy swerved, but he was too late and not sufficiently agile. The man had him in his grip.

He shook him and took the purse from him. Then he suddenly released the boy and gave him a push. The boy scampered off and the man, holding Morwenna’s purse, came walking towards us.

He took off his hat and bowed. “I saw what happened. I’m afraid I let him go. Poor creature, he looked half starved.”

He handed the purse to Morwenna. “Yours, I believe.”

“Oh, thank you,” she said.

There was something familiar about the man. I had seen him before but for the moment could not think where. Then suddenly it came to me. He was the man who had approached us some little time ago because he thought Grace was someone else.

“Why, I do believe …” he said, smiling at Grace. “Yes, of course, you are the lady who bears such a strong resemblance to a lady of my acquaintance.”

Grace smiled. “I remember you,” she said. “We saw you almost at this spot. It is a favorite walk of ours.”