Sophie's Halloo (13 page)

Now that Lady Farnham’s own drapes were removed, Sophie could get a look at Tony’s mother for the first time. She had the same almost green-blue eyes as Tony’s, with something about the shape of the nose and cheekbones that was similar, too. But her hair was turned grey and was, after being so long under covers, a bit askew. And in her face there was a strange sense, it occurred to Sophie, of a child who had aged too quickly and been magically restored to youth.

Lady Farnham herded them into the house, and before long they were having tea in a charming room which looked out over the flower garden. It was too early in the year for the perennials to be in bloom, but the beds were bursting with the brighter colors of daffodils, tulips and hyacinths. Lady Corby complimented Tony’s mother upon the view.

“Oh, do you like it?” said Tony’s mother, clasping her hands together happily. “I designed it myself. I always wanted a room where I could sit and feel that I was really outdoors. And later in the year, when it is not so chilly, I can open these doors and let the breeze with the scent of the flowers sweep right in. It is heavenly.”

As she spoke, Sophie could almost feel the cool summer breeze scented with roses. She closed her eyes for a second to imagine it and, when she opened them, realized that Tony’s were upon her. He was grinning, obviously quite aware of what she had been experiencing, and she had to restrain herself from laughing upon being found out.

“You must be careful, Mama,” he said wickedly. “Or you will put our guests to sleep. No, do not blush,” he said as Lady Corby started as if from a trance and Sophie began to protest. “You must understand that my mother has worked this spell before, and it is not at all uncommon for one to fall asleep in this room.”

Lady Farnham laughed. “Impudent boy,” she said. “But indeed, he is right, with the only exception being that I have nothing to do with it. It is the room. I frequently take little unplanned naps in it myself. I do love it so.” 

She looked at her son gratefully, and Sophie suddenly realized that Tony must have provided this house for her. If, as they had both said, the Farnham estates had been in serious straits when Sir Geoffrey died, it stood to reason that Tony must have had to provide for his mother.

The tea soon revived them all, and Lady Corby begged to be shown the rest of the house. Lady Farnham was quite happy to oblige, and a tour commenced. But it did not pass as rapidly as they had expected, for every room held further evidence of Lady Farnham’s enthusiasms, from butterfly collections to the manufacture of miniature furniture. Indeed, one whole room was filled with beautiful doll’s houses, completely carpeted, curtained and furnished.

“Oh, they’re lovely,” cried Sophie. “What do you do with them?”

“I give them to friends’ grandchildren,” said Lady Farnham airily, “having none of my own, of course. Tony has promised me to have scores someday, so I have saved my best examples for them.” She threw him a look of playful reproof before continuing. “You see, I love to decorate houses, but it would be much too expensive to keep decorating my own, so I use bits of scraps to make these toy ones.”

“What is this?” asked Lady Corby, pointing to something in one of the doll’s houses. She was as fascinated by the houses as Sophie was.

“Oh, that?” said Lady Farnham proudly. “That is a model of Count Rumford’s stove. I often heard him speak at the Royal Institute and always fancied a little stove for one of my houses. Perhaps you would care to go with me to one of the lectures. Sir Humphrey Davy speaks there occasionally and, my dear, I cannot tell you what fun it is to watch one of his little experiments!”

They chatted on until Sophie’s mother realized that they must be heading back to Town. Their reluctance to leave was matched by Lady Farnham’s dismay to see them go.

“Oh, I shall hate to lose you,” she said. “I ought to have thought of it earlier and perhaps you could have come with me.”

“To where, Mama?” said Tony.

“Why to be magnetized, dearest,” she said, seriously sorry for her omission.

To both Sophie’s and Lady Corby’s surprise, Tony hooted with laughter. “Magnetized? What, again, Mother? I thought you had done with magnetizing when the effect of those metallic tractors was found to have been produced by the imagination.”

Lady Farnham did not seem in the least offended. She answered blithely. “Oh, Tony. Did you think I would be such a silly goose as to fall for that trick again? Shame on you. That was so long ago. No, this magnetism is more in the nature of an animal magnetism, not the mineral sort. It is quite new. A friend of mine in Town has invited a doctor from France to come show it to us. And you need not worry that I shall waste a penny on it.”

“How is it supposed to work?” asked her son in pure amusement.

“Why, I don’t know precisely,” she admitted. “Something to do with fluids emanating from the body which can be sent forth in currents at the will of the magnetizer. It is supposed to induce a state of somnambulism, and one is supposed to release oneself to a belief in its curative powers. He promises it can cure rheumatism and gout and—oh, I forget—all sorts of things.”

Tony’s eyebrows rose in playful scepticism, and Lady Farnham tapped his chest reprovingly before presenting her cheek to be kissed. “Oh, go on, silly boy. I know it’s all a hoax. But just think what fun,” she said to Lady Corby and Sophie as they parted, “to be stared at by a French doctor who’s doing his best to put one into a trance!”

Sophie laughed and Lady Corby was surprised to find that she was heartily wishing she could go to be magnetized, too.

Later, after setting them down again in Berkeley Square, Tony sat awhile in his carriage, thinking. He reflected happily that he had spent the whole of the afternoon in Sophie’s company without seeing her yawn once, and he was quite certain that her thoughts had not drifted during the visit. The awakening he had wished for seemed to have come to pass, and he only hoped that her alertness had something to do with himself.

Sophia, Tony thought. She is wise. And clever and funny, as well. He suspected she had a mind that was as eager to enjoy life as his own was, and he wondered how she would like to enjoy it with him.

CHAPTER NINE

The happiness that Sophie and her mother had experienced during their visit to Lady Farnham’s stayed with them for days and even managed to survive Sir John’s bad temper on the subject. But another, grander treat was in store for them.

As Tony had promised, Sophie soon received a note inviting her and Lady Corby to an afternoon salon, but to their great surprise, the paper bore the heading of Holland House. Sophie had not thought to wonder from whom among Tony’s many friends the invitation would come, but she was thrown into a fluster by the thought of attending one of the most celebrated salons of the day. The message was written in a friendly style, but the final words caused Sophie’s heart to sink within her, for they commanded her in no uncertain terms to bring some of her poetry with her.

“Do you think we should accept?” Sophie asked her mother fearfully as they read the note together in the parlour. It was morning, and Sir John had gone to his club early and missed the post.

Lady Farnham looked strangely pensive and replied in an absent tone of voice, “Oh, I think so, yes. One would not like to refuse such a gracious invitation. Holland House!” she exclaimed almost in a whisper.  “I never expected this.”

Sophie had little cause to wonder at her mother’s reaction, for, except for her father’s hunting companions, they had never moved in such an elevated circle. It was not Lord Holland’s title which was intimidating, for both Sir John and Lady Corby were well-connected and counted a number of peers among their cousins and in-laws. It was the extraordinary position held by the Hollands in society. If all one said about it was true, Holland House was habitually visited by the greatest minds in all England, even Europe.

A note from Tony informed them of his intention to take them in his carriage, and Sophie bravely searched through her poems to select the best specimens among them. She tried to look at them objectively without regard to their subject, as she supposed an accomplished poet might do, but she hoped that Lady Holland’s command had been written merely out of politeness and that she would not remember to ask to hear them.

The morning of their proposed outing, the Corbys sat down to breakfast together before Sir John left for his club. He was in a cheerful mood that day, having just the night before run into an old comrade from the Pytchley hunt. The two had spent the evening reliving past runs, and Sir John had been particularly amused by a real “tickler” which his friend, fresh from the field, had experienced this season. He had been repeating it in full detail for the benefit of his wife and daughter during the meal.

“So Burnley was leading the field just then,” he related, “having got a nick by a turn, when what should Puggy do but lead the hounds into a sheep pen. There was no passing through it, for the gate was shut fast and there was not enough room to jump into it or out of it. The dogs were confused by the sheep scent, of course, and kept milling around the pen where the whipper-in could not get to them, until the huntsman, by a wild chance, spotted old Pug breaking cover again and tally-hoed the hounds. As soon as they left the pen at his urging, they hit off the scent, and Burnley was on their tails. But his horse hit a toe on an anthill and plunged him into a hedge so deeply that it took two men to extract him!” Sir John chuckled gleefully at his friend’s discomfort, and Lady Corby smiled at his obvious pleasure.

Sophie’s smile was rather absent for her nervousness had increased overnight. It was not the trip to Holland House which had her in a flutter, but the thought that she might be called on to show Lady Holland her poetry. And she had been wondering how best to punish Tony for divulging her secret pastime to such an important critic.

“A charming story, dear,” her mother was saying. “You must give my regards to Lord Burnley and ask him to dine with us soon. Shall you be seeing him today?”

“Yes, by Gad! Look at the hour!” exclaimed Sir John. “I promised to meet him at Tattersall’s. He’s interested in a bay gelding there, just above sixteen hands, which he hopes will carry him, and he wants my opinion. He rides fourteen stone, you know. Must take every chance he gets to find one that can support him.”

“By all means, John, you must hurry,” said Lady Corby with sincere encouragement. “He must not lose such an opportunity.”

Sir John wiped the last crumbs from his lips and rose from the table. “And how shall you two occupy yourselves today?” he asked indifferently.

Sophie, her mind already fixed on the subject, was about to blurt out their plans for the day when her mother cut in abruptly. “We are going to call on some friends this afternoon, and I plan to put a new trim on one of Sophie’s dresses this morning,” she said calmly, ignoring her daughter’s stare. Sophie was wondering why her mother should already be speaking of the Hollands as friends and how she could mention the proposed outing in the same breath as her needlework. But Sir John was halfway out the door before his question was answered, and there was no point in pursuing it.

“Enjoy yourselves,” he called as the door closed behind him. The slight interest he had shown in their activities did not offend the two ladies, for the fact that he had shown any at all was a fair barometer of his own degree of happiness at the moment.

Lady Corby, with a strangely scrupulous honesty, did occupy her morning as she had said she would, and with Sophie’s help the dress was trimmed by noon. Tony arrived, and the three set out as before, but this time in the direction of Kensington. The weather was again propitious, which had the result of making Sophie think that her fears had been for nothing. And before she could entertain them again, they had left the turnpike road and were on a curving drive which cut through Lord Holland’s trees. At the gate house, Tony did nothing more than wave to a guard with a familiar gesture before negotiating the remaining yards of the circular drive to the house.

One view of Holland House and Sophie could understand the attraction it held for both the Fox family who occupied it and its visitors from all over the world. Its style was a mixture of both classic and Gothic, reality and fantasy. The south side, which they now approached, was in the shape of a perfectly symmetrical “U,” but was at the same time adorned with a magnificent Gothic arcade the entire length of the ground floor and a balcony on the first floor. The main portal was located dead centre in an imposing bay structure, flanked with rows of Gothic windows and surmounted by a dome. Twin towers topped the northern corners of the central wing. All this Sophie saw quickly as they drove past, but the whole of the fabulous structure was more than her mind could absorb in one brief glance.

Once inside, they were taken upstairs and greeted by a stout, strong man with a large head and thick, round spectacles. His legs were thick and his accent Scotch, but Tony greeted him with sincere respect and introduced him to the ladies as Mr. Allen. The gentleman welcomed them with the air of a trusted member of the family, without pretension but with great goodwill, and conversed with them congenially for a moment. He carried about with him a sort of diary which he explained was one of Lady Holland’s “Dinner Books” into which he would add their names as her ladyship’s guests. Sophie was curious to see that Tony seemed to accept Mr. Allen as a manner of host, and she would have thought him Lord Holland’s personal secretary if it had not been for the extreme respect Tony seemed to accord him.

Mr. Allen explained that the guests were gathering in the Sir Joshua Room, and he directed them through the Gilt Room where, surrounded by the magnificence of an ornate ceiling, marble busts on pillars and rectangular wall compartments with the fleur de lis argent of the original owner, a rather small table had been set for ten. With the certainty of habit, Tony led them to the  next room where a much larger crowd was standing in various groups, each lively with conversation.