Debutantes (11 page)

‘Why on earth did the Duchess ask you to a house party? She’s never met you before, has she?’

‘Charm, my dear Daisy, just charm. I can’t help it, you know. It oozes out of me.’

‘You sound so conceited when you say things like that,’ said Daisy.

Justin laughed. ‘To be honest with you,’ he said, ‘she’s probably short of men for her house party. All those mamas find it quite hard to get enough young men to stay when it’s a question of house parties in London. Different in the country when hunting is thrown in and some decent horses are provided for riding. Anyway, Daisy, advise me. What will I do after the house party if I’m not snapped up by then? Must I starve?’

‘You’re quite good-looking,’ said Daisy earnestly. She hoped that she wasn’t blushing and added hastily, ‘I mean from the point of view of a film-maker. Perhaps you should speculate your last fifty pounds in going to Hollywood. You could always hang around giving free advice to film stars about their contracts and perhaps one of them would get you a small part in a film. It would be like Douglas Fairbanks – he started in very small roles and now look at him!’

‘And what about you?’ he asked kindly. ‘I suppose you are looking forward to a season in a couple of years’ time – every girl’s dream, isn’t it?’

‘Certainly not,’ said Daisy indignantly. ‘My dream is to set up a film studio in London and have my films bought by all of those cinemas – even Hollywood, perhaps. Now go and ask Violet for the next dance – that’s why you were invited. I’m going down to the kitchen to talk to Mrs Beaton about snacks – that supper wasn’t very substantial.’

To Daisy’s annoyance, Justin swept the Duchess a playful bow and took her hand for the next dance rather than Violet, who was now short of a partner.

Oh well, thought Daisy as she went out of the end door of the ballroom and down the back stairs, I’ve done my best. Violet can’t go around being so haughty if she wants to attract men.

Daisy tiptoed past the housekeeper’s room and went into the kitchen – she wanted to know more about the mysterious Elaine and it was much easier to get information from Mrs Beaton than from Mrs Pearson.

‘Dear, dear Beaty, I’m so hungry. I was so busy upstairs being polite to everybody at supper that I didn’t think to take enough for myself.’

Mrs Beaton was taking a tray of bakes out of the oven. They were golden brown and smelled delicious.

‘Now my lady, don’t burn your fingers. These are hot!’

‘Hazelnut bakes! Beaty, you’re a genius. Everyone will love these. I’m glad we collected so many nuts this autumn.’

‘I thought that they might be good up in the ballroom. Those boys are always hungry. Where’s Maud? Maud, put these on to that wicker tray and take them up. Put a napkin under them, girl. And put your cap straight! I don’t know! Girls nowadays! Nora, you get that blackberry and crab apple punch ready. No alcohol, his lordship said, my lady,’ Mrs Beaton lowered her voice, ‘but I put a little brandy in it. Spices it up, you know.’

‘I suppose in the old days when Lady Elaine was making her debut there were great feasts prepared,’ said Daisy as Maud and Nora took their trays and departed up to the ballroom.

There was a silence. Daisy munched thoughtfully into the crunchy hazelnut bake and averted her eyes. Mrs Beaton loved a gossip and she hoped she would be unable to resist temptation.

‘Funny to think that I’ve never even met her,’ she added nonchalantly. ‘Anyway, tell me about the feasts.’

‘Great feasts!’ echoed Mrs Beaton, sounding relieved. ‘Of course there was plenty of help in the kitchen then – not like nowadays with those ignorant girls from the village.’

‘Yes, that’s what I meant,’ said Daisy rapidly. ‘I suppose it was all very stylish and very expensive. Mmm, this is so tasty. How clever you are. What made you think of putting hazelnuts into bakes? The jazz band boys will love these.’ She paused for a moment and then said casually, ‘Funny the way that Elaine disappeared, wasn’t it? Why does she never come to visit?’

‘Well, it’s a long way, isn’t it?’ said Mrs Beaton.

Daisy registered that Mrs Beaton was agreeing about the length of the journey. So, Sir Guy was right about Elaine going to India and presumably she was still out there. But why no letters? There was only one answer to that.

‘What was the row about then?’ she asked, biting into yet another hazelnut bake. She wouldn’t be able to dance if she ate any more but she was determined to find out the truth about this mysterious Elaine.

‘Well, you know what Lady Elizabeth is like,’ said Mrs Beaton confidentially. ‘And of course the old Earl, your grandfather, he had a terrible temper. Now, my lady, you’d better be getting back upstairs. You enjoy yourself, now, and send Nora or Maud down if you need anything more to eat or drink. Lovely to see a bit of company in the house and you all dressed up so beautifully. That’s the way it should be all the time.’

‘Pity Father lost his money in those diamond mines,’ said Daisy with sigh. ‘Still, we’ve got the most wonderful cook in the world so we’re a lucky family.’

‘Go on with you! None of your flannel now,’ said Mrs Beaton with high good humour as Daisy blew her a kiss from the door.

The rhythmic beat of the tango was making the old timbers creak as Daisy went back up the servants’ staircase again. She opened the door into the ballroom and stood for a moment.

The whole of the jazz band was playing. The Earl and Sir Guy were sitting on one of the windowsills chatting together. Great-Aunt Lizzie, stiff as a ramrod, was standing behind the draped sofa. Rose was on the sofa with the Duchess, showing her precious scrapbook about the royal family.

There was only one couple dancing.

There in the middle of the ballroom were two figures doing an energetic tango. One of them was her beautiful sister, Violet. And the other was Justin.

Daisy remembered Sir Guy’s advice. Lots of thoughts had gone through her head when she came into the ballroom and saw Violet and Justin together, chiefly surprise that Violet had stopped glaring at Justin long enough to dance with him. However, all those thoughts were submerged by the urgent necessity to get the expression on Violet’s face on to film – she knew she could build a story around it. Instantly she went to the corner of the room and grabbed her camera. She lifted it to her eyes and began filming.

It was perfect. ‘
Oh, how I love him!
’ was the title that sprang to her mind. Rose would, of course, think of a better one, but this fitted the expression on Violet’s face. Her enormous purple-blue eyes were fixed on the dark eyes of her partner. No wonder everyone clapped when the dance finished. Justin and Violet moved together as if they had practised with each other for weeks. As if they had been in love with each other for an eternity. No one would have believed that an hour ago they had been ignoring each other. Daisy supposed they must both have been trying to impress the Duchess. So they
could
act!

As an afterthought she moved the camera in the Duchess’s direction and saw with amusement how Her Grace preened herself slightly, fixing an artificial smile on her face. Still, her diamonds were wonderful and they would glint beautifully in the black and white film so Daisy allowed the camera to roll while Justin approached the sofa and said blandly, ‘Next big thing in Hollywood, this young lady, Your Grace. I have it on impeccable authority. Sir Guy Beresford thinks that Daisy will be famous one of these days.’

Daisy lowered the camera, feeling embarrassed, but there was a calculating look on the Duchess’s face.

‘Daisy, dear, I wonder whether you would come to a little house party that I am having – as a guest, of course, but it would be so wonderful if you would film the occasion. Such a lovely record. I loathe and abominate those people who give the Press free access, but a few posed photographs – now, that’s a different matter. As I said to Catherine, these people have to earn their living, but as to having them in the house . . .’ The Duchess gave an exaggerated shiver and then turned back to practicalities. ‘But I’m sure that you would enjoy doing something like that, Daisy, dear. It would be a great experience for you. I would provide you with all that you need. What do you think, Sir Guy?’

‘I’ll get one of my workers to bring over whatever Daisy needs to develop the film, Your Grace,’ said Sir Guy gravely. ‘Of course, you’ll have to have Rose along too. She does all the title cards – she’s essential. A lovely turn of phrase, and very artistic too. I’m thinking of employing her myself. She’s as good as that fellow who works for Paramount – what’s his name? Alfred Hitchcock, I think.’

‘Of course we must have dear Rose,’ said the Duchess graciously. She looked around. ‘Michael, you simply must lend me your four lovely daughters for a few days. They can bring their maid and be quite comfortable together. I hope they will enjoy the company of other young folk. What do you say, Lady Elizabeth?’

Daisy held her breath. Great-Aunt Lizzie would be thrilled for Violet to be invited to the house party and she might be happy for Daisy and Poppy to accompany her, but twelve-year-old Rose! A house party!

There was a long moment. Michael Derrington looked at his wife’s aunt and then at his daughters’ faces. He took one step backwards as though to distance himself from the decision. Great-Aunt Lizzie smiled graciously, her wrinkled old face creasing and her hooded eyes glinting.

‘What a lovely idea,’ she exclaimed. ‘Thank Her Grace, girls.’

‘I just can’t believe it.’ It was the third time Violet had said that and Daisy was getting tired of it.

‘Well, you’d better believe it,’ she said, ‘because we have less than two weeks to go and we all have to have the right sort of clothes for a house party.’

‘
Poverty-Stricken Girls Rifle Through Old Trunks
,’ said Rose.

‘Exactly,’ said Daisy. ‘There’s plenty of stuff in Elaine’s trunk. We just need to get to work on it.’

‘All four of us going has complicated everything,’ complained Violet. She looked around at her younger sisters, and added, ‘Don’t think I’m being selfish, but it would have been best if I had been the only one asked. Things would have been much simpler then. Perhaps Father could have found some money for my clothes, but he’ll never agree to buying clothes for us all.’ A note of grievance crept into her voice.

‘You will need your sisters by your side,’ said Rose wisely. ‘We don’t want you to make a mess of everything.’

‘Let’s go up and have a look at the trunk,’ said Daisy hastily, seeing a flush of temper stain the cheek of her leading lady.

‘I must go. Baz is coming over this morning,’ said Poppy. She had little interest in clothes and was not that keen on going to the Duchess’s house party. If Daisy had not told her that her refusal would spoil Violet’s chances she would have declined the invitation.

Rose was in seventh heaven at the idea of taking part in a house party. Her scrapbooks were full of cuttings from ancient issues of
Tatler
and other society magazines and she had thoroughly enoyed her chat with the Duchess the evening before. Her Grace had stories to tell about most of the slightly faded figures on the dance floor at the Queen Charlotte’s Ball, posing for debutante photographs, on horseback or watching horse racing at Epsom.

‘Whatever we can’t get from the trunk,’ said Daisy, ‘I’ll be able to buy with the money Sir Guy gave me. Don’t worry, Violet. We’ll manage.’

‘What about this lady’s maid idea?’ asked Poppy in a muffled voice as she pulled on an extra jumper before setting off through the woods to Morgan’s cottage. It was a baggy old fishing pullover, something Poppy had begged from her father who had bought it in Scotland twenty years earlier, but its rich brown suited her and it was extremely warm. ‘Great-Aunt Lizzie didn’t say anything, did she?’ she said as her head emerged. ‘I say, do you think she is going to hire a maid for us?’

‘No need,’ said Rose. ‘We take Maud.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ cried Violet. ‘Maud’s only a scullery maid.’

‘She may be as well born as you or I,’ said Rose mysteriously.

‘What on earth are you talking about?’ Violet was in a het-up, nervy state of mind. Daisy felt a little sorry for her. Violet had her future mapped out so clearly in her mind and things kept going wrong for her.

‘I think Maud would work out quite well,’ she said aloud, watching Poppy impatiently braid her hair into a loose untidy plait that hung down her back. ‘She did our hair really nicely for Violet’s party and, dressed up properly, who’s to tell that she’s not really a lady’s maid? It will be useful to have her, Violet,’ she said in a warning tone of voice. ‘We don’t want the Duchess to think you are too poor to have a maid, do we? Father could never spare the money to engage a proper lady’s maid. They would cost about fifty pounds a year at least. What do you think, Poppy?’