The House of Vandekar (25 page)

‘Not too bad,' she said.

‘What about your mother?' That was the target he had been aimed at, and he was already mentally setting his lance for the charge. Poor little Fern, neglected and pushed aside by this cow of a woman. He boiled with protectiveness.

‘Oh, she doesn't care enough about me to bother,' Fern said bitterly. ‘My father was upset. But he was better by last night. Come on, we'll be late.'

The first sight of Ashton didn't affect him as Fern had expected. He leaned out of the car window and exclaimed in admiration. ‘What a beautiful place! Jesus, what an architectural gem!'

‘It's enormous,' Fern had said, ‘so cold and huge, not a bit like a home.' His reaction surprised her. A worm of disappointment stirred inside.

He was an instant enthusiast, that was the trouble. If he liked something, he could find no fault. Equally, if he hated something or someone, there was no good to be found. ‘It's the Irish,' he had said. ‘Black and white – no greys for us.'

‘I never thought it'd be like this,' he went on. He had blue eyes and they were bright with pleasure. He loved beauty in all its forms. That passion transcended envy or class consciousness.

He stood for a moment looking around him, and Fern had to tug his arm to remind him to follow her into the house. He had made a concession by dressing in corduroys and a sweater, instead of the jeans which were a uniform for all his friends, but that was all. He walked up the steps and through into the hall, where the butler met them, and Fern hurried him inside saying, ‘That's all right, Simpson, my parents are expecting us.'

And then the door of the library opened and Alice came towards them. She saw a tall, thin young man, with unruly brown hair and a pale, fine-boned Irish face, standing with his arm round Fern.

Brien Kiernan saw one of the most beautiful women he'd ever imagined walking forward with her hand stretched out to greet him and a warm smile on her lips.

‘Mummy, this is Brian. My mother.'

The cold, uncaring old cow, the American snob who'd discarded her daughter from the moment she was born. The lance came up and pointed at Alice's heart.

‘I'm so glad to meet you. We've been looking forward to it. Do come in and have a drink. My husband is just coming in from the garden.'

It was the opposite of everything he had expected. There was no formality in spite of the grandeur. No hostility nor, more intolerable still, any hint of condescension. Fern's father was not the cuddly teddy bear of her description, Brian noted, but then he hardly would be especially to another man who'd carried off his daughter. The favoured brother was a drip, with his too good manners making small talk, but not unpleasant. What turned everything he had imagined upside down was Alice Vandekar. Formidable, yes, he'd been ready for that, and the glint in his eye warned her than he was ready to do battle on behalf of Fern if she threw down the gauntlet. Beautiful – that couldn't be argued about – but no dressmaker's dummy, preening herself and inviting admiration. She was as straight-talking as a man, quick-witted and witty – he found himself laughing before he realized it. And she exerted a curious magnetism that kept him watching her and listening to her from the moment they met. The only challenge she tossed at his feet was not to like her. Nothing was said about the impending marriage.

Fern had a feeling that the purpose of his visit would be lost if she didn't pull him back from talking to Alice. Hugo had said little; he watched Brian, and Fern saw him making mental notes. I don't care, she thought, I don't care what he thinks. I love Brian, he's wonderful. I'm going to marry him.

They were all being so natural and friendly, that was the trouble. She had prepared Brian for battle, half hoping to see him lash out in her defence if anything critical was said. But it wasn't happening that way. She felt overshadowed, her role supplanted.

Alice turned to her with a smile. ‘Well, Fern, I expect Brian and your father want to have a word in private, so let's leave them, shall we? Come on, Richard.'

She had swept them out of the dining room and into her sitting room before Fern could protest. Brian stood up, hesitated, and then sat down again. The door closed on him and Hugo.

‘You don't like him, do you?' Fern said.

Alice looked up. ‘As a matter of fact I do. Are you trying to say I wasn't nice to him?'

Fern shrugged. ‘That doesn't mean anything. I've seen you be nice to people you can't stand the sight of.'

‘Not this time,' Alice answered. ‘I think he's very unusual. You're right about the intelligence – he's bright and he took the whole thing in his stride. That says a lot for him. It can't have been easy.'

‘I wonder what they're saying,' Richard interposed. He had been very careful not to be flippant or give offence. Fern's boyfriend wasn't anything like the bearded freak he'd expected, but he was chippy and ill at ease. Mum had been marvellous, he thought fondly. She'd really won him round. It occurred to him that Fern wasn't pleased about it. He couldn't for the life of him see why not.

‘I wouldn't worry,' Alice said. ‘He's not going to ask Brian about his prospects.' She lit a cigarette and finished her coffee.

A penniless art teacher, scraping a living. Not enough money to buy the girl a ring. Alice understood now why there was no engagement. She rather admired that kind of pride. He could have been a fortune hunter; he was good-looking in a hungry kind of way, with a fiery romanticism about him that would sweep someone like Fern off her feet. Alice stubbed out the cigarette.

Except that she didn't believe it was true. I know about fortune hunters, she thought, and Fern was suspicious when she saw a brief smile come and go. I was one myself … He wasn't marrying Fern for money. For other reasons, maybe, and God knew what they were, but not for that.

‘They're taking a long time,' Alice said suddenly. ‘I hope it's all right and your father isn't being too difficult. I think I'll go and see.'

‘I'll go,' Fern insisted. She jumped up, slopping coffee into her saucer. She paused at the door and turned back to her mother. There was a sense of drama about her that irritated Alice.

‘Nothing's going to stop us,' Fern said. ‘Not you, or even Daddy. We've made up our minds!' She shut the door so hard it almost slammed.

‘What's the matter with her?' Richard asked. ‘Anyone'd think you and Dad had chucked him out of the house.'

‘Perhaps that's what she hoped would happen.' Alice's voice was very cold. ‘Personally, if that boy wants to marry Fern, I won't stand in the way. I know she'd like me to, but I won't. And your father won't either in the end. He's too good a judge of character. He'll see that Brian is better than some chinless wonder who might have been around. From first impressions, I'd say she was lucky.'

She said the same to Lily when she was changing for dinner. Fern had driven Brian up to London. Hugo had shaken hands and kissed Fern. With Brian he was polite but stony, and it was Alice who sent the boy away with a warm handshake and an invitation to come again soon and stay next time.

‘Did Sir Hugo give permission then?' Lily asked.

‘Oh, Lily, don't sound so Victorian – nobody gives permission to a girl of twenty-one! He made some points about them being young and the boy not having a proper job, but that's all he'd tell me. He's too upset to talk about it. It's better not to nag. He's hurt, that's the trouble. She behaved in such a stupid, tactless way … I'll wear that green kaftan – it's just the three of us tonight.'

‘It'll be the first wedding from here,' Lily mused. Pity it had to be that sly boots getting all the glory …

Alice said, ‘I don't see either of them wanting a big social wedding, so don't start making plans. It'll be in London, I expect, and very quiet.' She stretched. ‘I'm tired tonight. It was quite a strain, I don't mind telling you.'

‘I imagine it was,' was Lily's answer. ‘Still, you'll be able to relax tonight. It's so nice having Master Richard home.'

‘It's his last term,' Alice said. ‘God, Lily, how the time flies. He's nearly seventeen, and it doesn't seem a minute since he was toddling round this room!'

‘Little devil he was,' Lily said fondly, ‘getting into everything and poking around among your bottles and jars. I never could be cross with him though.'

‘I know,' Alice said. ‘Nor could I.'

‘Well, he'll get married one day,' Lily said over her shoulder, hanging Alice's discarded dress over her arm. She didn't trust the young maid with pressing expensive fabrics. She liked to do that herself.

‘Marry?' Alice stared up in surprise. ‘He's just a baby, Lily. He won't marry for years.'

Later that evening Richard looked up from his book and said suddenly, ‘Mum, I forgot. I met that girl Diana Brayley playing tennis the other day. She looked just the same.'

‘Just the same as what?' Alice was watching a play on television. Hugo was dozing. ‘The same as when we used to play together. You were pally with the parents at one time, weren't you? She was always coming over here.'

‘Oh, yes, of course. I know who you mean. We tried quite hard with them, but he was rather a horrid man, I thought, and your father couldn't stand him, so we just dropped out. Their daughter can't be more than a child. What's she doing? Is she still at school?'

‘She's in Switzerland,' Richard answered. ‘She couldn't play tennis to save her life. She's jolly pretty though.'

‘She always was,' Alice said, not paying too much attention. It was an interesting play. She looked across at her son and smiled. Again she had no sense of premonition.

‘This wouldn't be happening,' Hugo said, ‘if you hadn't given them every encouragement.'

He was tying his tie in front of the glass as he spoke. He saw Alice's reflection behind him. She was wearing a dark blue dress and a wide-brimmed hat that cast her face in shadow. The big diamond circle blazed in one lapel. She said, ‘Nothing was going to stop Fern. All I've done is try to keep the family together. You and she were always so close, why didn't she listen to you?'

‘Because she's besotted with this man, that's why. And she knew she had your backing.'

‘That's never made any difference before,' Alice retorted. ‘Normally it made her go the opposite way.'

‘It had a rarity value perhaps.' He turned away from the glass and slipped a white carnation into his buttonhole. He had an acid tongue, sharpened by the cut and stab of parliamentary debate. It was an unpleasant attribute that was making him many enemies. It couldn't hurt Alice any more. She responded with brutal frankness when he went too far.

‘It's not Brian you object to,' she said. ‘It's any man taking her away from you. Whoever it was, you'd find something to pick on, and it's lucky you can say he's poor and from a different background. It makes it more convincing. But you don't fool me, Hugo. Daddy's girl has grown up. Now we'd better go or we'll be late.'

It was a registry office marriage. One surprising development had been Brian Kiernan's parents refusal to come to the wedding. ‘They're Catholic Irish,' Brian explained. ‘It's not a marriage to them. I'm sorry, but they won't come. Maybe later they'll change their minds.'

He was upset, in spite of putting a good face on it – Alice could see that.

Fern didn't seem to notice. ‘It'll be a bit late by then,' she declared. ‘It's just mumbo-jumbo anyway.'

There were twenty guests at a reception in Hugo's flat. Alice had made the arrangements, deliberately keeping them simple. Hugo maintained a stony disapproval, refusing to discuss anything. And he was blaming Alice because it hurt less than blaming Fern.

In the car on the way to Marylebone, with Richard sitting in front, he said, ‘It won't last, I'm sure of that. She'll come to her senses and he'll have to be paid off. That's what will happen.'

Alice ignored him. She understood his disappointment, his frustration at Fern's choice. A son-in-law from a working-class background, a precarious profession and no inherited money. It must be a father's nightmare if the father was like Hugo. And a mother's even more so. Except that she could view Brian Kiernan dispassionately. Easy to do, when you weren't emotionally involved with your own daughter. Even relieved that she would be making a life of her own. Alice could judge without prejudice, though Hugo and Richard couldn't. They were in complete accord about the unsuitability of Fern's husband. Alice didn't agree with either of their views. Hugo saw a self-important upstart, a racial and religious second-rater, beguiling his daughter with sex. Richard dismissed him as a chippy bore with a lot of pretensions about art and beauty that were codswallop from start to finish. Much as she loved him, that broad dismissal of a mind more cultivated than his own annoyed Alice.

Brian Kiernan was the exception to the rules her husband and her son judged other men by. There was no humbug in him. Pride, but not arrogance. A sense of spirituality which searched for fulfilment in his own creative gifts. Devoid of envy, almost unselfconscious, he was completely natural. With humour and spirit and a capacity to talk that made a conversation sparkle. And, of course, he liked her. She knew that. Fern's efforts to prejudice him had suffered a series of setbacks every time he and Alice met. Little by little the barriers came down, though he was still defensive about Fern. After three months, two weekends spent at Ashton and one private lunch with Alice in London where she tried to explain Hugo's objections without hurting him, Brian had begun to turn to her as his only ally, which was not at all what Fern wanted him to feel.

Her insistence on a hole-and-corner marriage had hurt Hugo, not Alice. She couldn't trip Alice up, however hard she tried. Everything she stipulated was agreed to: no smart hotel for the reception, only two or three close relatives, and their friends from college. Alice said yes, yes, yes, and refused to be goaded into a protest that Fern could turn into a row. The best wedding present I could give her, Alice thought, is the opportunity to go to Brian in tears and say, ‘I told you so. I told you what she was like.' I haven't and I'm not going to.