Debutantes (22 page)

‘How do you find out things like that, Vi?’ Poppy looked up from her letter to Baz. ‘Do you go around asking every man where he comes in the family?
Excuse me, could you just tell me whether your brothers are older or younger than you –
or
, Oh joy! Hallelujah! Have you no brothers at all?
’ Poppy said the last words in a squeaky, high-pitched tone of voice, and then returned to her letter. Violet cast her a look of annoyance.

‘You’re too young to understand,’ she said irritably. ‘Do you want to have a look, Daisy?’

‘Yes,’ said Daisy. Even to herself her voice sounded uninterested. Nevertheless, she got up and went across and stared at the names on the tiny booklet. She noticed that Justin’s name was down a few times, but this eldest son, this David, had far more dances allocated to him. She tried to take an interest – after all, this was what it was all about. If Violet could marry the eldest son of a well-off earl, then surely the money problems of the Derrington family would be at an end.

‘And David has asked me to be his partner at dinner,’ said Violet triumphantly. ‘Wait until you see Catherine’s face! She’s been trying to make up to him all day. She thinks he’s very good-looking.’

Daisy took a deep breath and tried to make her voice sound light-hearted. ‘Keep a few spaces empty, Vi,’ she advised. ‘You haven’t heard the news, have you? Prince George is coming to the ball tonight.’

‘Prince George!’ screamed Rose. ‘Oh, the dream of my life! The answer to a maiden’s prayer!’

The colour drained completely from Violet’s face.

‘Prince George,’ she said in a whisper.

‘But not the Prince of Wales.’ Daisy tried to make her voice sound jokey. She was slightly alarmed by Violet’s reaction. All this was so intensely important to her elder sister.

‘Oh, I wish I had a brand-new dress!’ The words came out on a thread of a whisper.

Daisy shook her own thoughts to the back of her head. This was an emergency. Violet was intensely emotional; she had to be reassured and calmed.

‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘Keep thinking that the dress you are wearing came from Worth of Paris.’

‘Seventeen years ago!’ Something between a sob and a laugh came from Violet.

‘But the great thing is that it’s going to be different from everyone else’s dress,’ urged Daisy. After a minute she felt reassured. The colour had begun to seep back into Violet’s cheeks and her eyes were determined.

‘You looked fantastic the night of your birthday dance and you’ll look even more fantastic tonight. Let’s ring for Maud and you can have the first bath, and then you’ll have plenty of time to get ready and have your hair done and everything. Poppy, put a stamp on that letter – remember what Great-Aunt Lizzie said about never asking your hostess for a stamp. She gave me some – they are in my handbag. Are you going to wear your high heels or your pumps, Vi?’

The question of the mysterious Elaine would have to wait; tonight was going to be crucial for Violet and she would need all the help she could get.

‘Sit next to me at table, Daisy?’ Justin took her arm casually when the four sisters came into the drawing room. He did not look at Violet so Daisy guessed that he knew she was already booked as a dinner partner by this David the Heir, as Rose had named him.

The atmosphere in the drawing room was burning with anticipation. Pre-dinner drinks – fruit squashes and a few cocktails and other alcoholic drinks – were being served by Robert, under the stern eye of the butler. Daisy saw him smile and shake his head in a paternal fashion when Poppy pointed to a bottle with something of an interesting dark green shade in it.

‘Matches my dress,’ she pleaded, but he still shook his head and offered her a glass of lemonade. He had his instructions, obviously, that the ‘schoolroom party’, as the Duchess named them, should not be allowed alcohol.

Poppy was looking magnificent. She was wearing a gown of emerald green silk that made her amber eyes glow with a greenish light. The dress had been beautifully made. It was very simple, cut on the bias with no trimmings, but the asymmetric hem and the shimmer of the silk as Poppy walked made her look like a model straight from Paris. Maud had left the red hair flowing around her shoulders and just confined by a band of emerald green (made from the sash of the dress as it was originally) across her forehead. Daisy had noticed heads turning and eyes settling on Poppy with huge interest when they came in. Violet had made a new dress for herself as well, but Daisy had persuaded her to wear her dragonfly dress.

Violet was a huge success, Daisy thought as she watched the men – except Justin, of course – cluster around her. Daisy looked at her partner with a half-smile. Justin was very proud, she thought. He would not plead with Violet or try to coax himself back into her favour. As soon as she rebuffed him, he walked away in the opposite direction.

‘Orange juice, please, Justin – oh, and get one for Rose also, would you?’ He had asked her what she wanted to drink. When he came back she entertained him with an account of her morning and of the remarks made by the young film-makers about her film and she pretended not to notice as his eyes strayed towards Violet. ‘They didn’t like the ending to my film, Justin. I said that I would redo it. I’m going to have to think. I hate changing things but they convinced me that they were right.’

‘I’ll think about it,’ said Justin absent-mindedly. ‘Have you got your dance programme, Daisy? May I write my name in it for a few dances?’

‘I didn’t get one; I don’t think that they were given to “the schoolroom party”, but—’

‘Oh, nonsense! I’ll go and fetch you one from the ballroom.’ Justin jutted out his chin determinedly and turned towards the door.

‘Bring three,’ said Daisy. She didn’t fancy being left there standing on her own, looking as though she had been deserted, but on the other hand if she stayed where she was she could watch Violet over the rim of her glass.

‘What do you think?’ Poppy had joined her and was nodding her head in the direction of Violet.

‘I’m not sure,’ said Daisy, taking care to turn her back on her eldest sister. Violet would be furious at the notion that they were looking at her and whispering about her.

‘She’s annoying Catherine,’ said Poppy. And then when Daisy looked at her in surprise she said, ‘Well, at least that’s what Paula says and she should know what her sister is thinking.’

Daisy glanced over towards Catherine. It would be hard to read much from that rather expressionless face, she thought. However, it was true Paula would know her own sister.

‘Oh, Marjorie and I are the greatest friends,’ Catherine was saying in the rather breathless voice that she always used. ‘We used to share a dancing teacher; do you remember, Marjorie? And she started us off practising the proper curtsy to the King when we were five years old.’

‘I could do it in my sleep,’ said Marjorie. ‘Look, everyone!’

And she sank down into a graceful curtsy, saying, ‘The secret is to lock your left knee behind your right knee and then you don’t wobble or – horrors! – tumble over.’

‘What happens if you tumble over, Marjorie?’ called out David.

‘You are banished into outer darkness for the rest of your natural lifetime,’ said Marjorie with a note of mock horror in her voice.

Catherine gave a smile and said softly, ‘Oh, but we all learn how to behave in front of royalty as soon as we can walk, so that never happens.’ And Daisy saw her eyes rest on Violet.

‘Let’s see you curtsy, David,’ said Violet, picking up the challenge, and David got a huge round of applause as he awkwardly, stiffly, and with an exaggerated wobble sank down in front of Violet, bowing his head to Violet and saying, ‘Yes, Your Majesty.’

The sparkle came back into Violet’s eyes and she went on talking eagerly, perhaps rather too loudly, teasing David about his lack of grace and sentencing him to six months’ attendance at dance classes.

‘Here you are,’ said Justin, appearing at Daisy’s side with the three dance programmes. His eyes went to Violet and then back to her. ‘One for each of you. I’ll go and give this one to Rose and rescue that footman from her. As far as I could hear as I went through she’s endeavouring to get him to teach her how to mix cocktails. She is telling him that she’s an author and that she needs the information for a novel. The poor man keeps looking over at the butler for help.’

‘Oh, Justin, a dance! Oh, dear, dear, dearest Justin, I never knew that you cared. Oh my poor heart. It is going pit-a-pat.’ Rose was by their side, holding her little booklet where Justin had scribbled his name opposite the fifth dance. ‘Oh, I must go and show my friend the Duchess. She will be so pleased to know that I am not going to be a wallflower all night. The shame would have killed me.’

And then she was off. She and the Duchess were great friends as they shared an enormous interest in the intricacies of relationships between members of the British royal family and their European cousins.

‘That was nice of you,’ said Daisy to Justin after Rose had left them.

‘Not in the least,’ he said indifferently. ‘At least I’ll have fun while dancing with her; most of the girls here are such affected bores.’

And once again his eyes went to Violet, who was laughing at one of David’s jokes.

‘Dinner is served, Your Grace,’ announced the butler.

‘I know what you should do for an ending to your film,’ said Justin when they reached the fish course. He took a sip of his wine and then turned to the Duchess. ‘You must know, Your Grace, that Daisy has made a movie and it is about to be snapped up by a leading film producer.’ Justin’s voice was trained to reach to the back of a law court and everyone stopped talking and looked at him and then at Daisy.

‘Well, we must drink to the success of that,’ said the Duchess graciously. ‘Robert, champagne for everyone and then we’ll drink a toast! What a shame that the Duke is not here. He would be so interested. He is forecasting that if the present trend goes on everyone will eventually have a private cinema in their house.’

To Daisy’s embarrassment, once everyone, even Rose, had a glass of champagne, Justin himself called for the toast. Violet’s eyes narrowed slightly as she looked across the table at them but Justin ignored her and proceeded to give a quick and dramatic summary of the film.

‘The only thing is that Daisy has to find a new ending. It ended rather sadly with this noble and self-sacrificing chauffeur being dragged off to prison, but Hollywood would like a happier ending. And I’ve just thought of one.’ Justin smiled wickedly across at Violet, though he pretended to address Daisy, and said, ‘What if the hero is now released from custody – he comes back, meets the heroine, she falls into his arms, they exchange a passionate kiss and then they ride into the sunset, leaving the tragic figure of the chauffeur gazing after them. What do you think, everyone?’

‘Lovely,’ said the Duchess, applauding delicately with her bejewelled hands. ‘How clever you are, dear Justin.’

‘If ever I need a lawyer, old boy, I shall come to find you,’ said an elderly cousin of the Duchess, eyeing Justin with approval. ‘Clever young fella – gave me some great advice about that troublesome affair of . . .’ His voice sank to a whisper into the Duchess’s ear and she nodded vigorous approval.

‘Cross your fingers for me, Daisy.’ Justin kept his voice to a low mutter. ‘That fellow has big interests in the city. I put him wise to a few things last night. If he said the word he could get me a job. Must see if I can have another chat with him.’

Won’t be good enough for Violet, thought Daisy as she nodded and wished him luck. She wants a brilliant marriage, not just enough to live on. Her thoughts turned to the letter, and the mysterious baby that had been born to its writer. ‘Justin,’ she said, ‘tell me about the law regarding birth certificates. Does everyone have to have one? And does it always have to have a date of birth on it? And are they all kept at Somerset House?’

‘Every birth in Britain,’ said Justin with his mouth full of lobster. He chewed, swallowed and continued. ‘It’s the law that every birth must be registered with the date of birth given on it. Time is important, you know. Friends of mine at Harrow, twins, were the eldest sons of their father, an earl. Mark was born at six thirty in the morning and Adam at eight o’clock. So Mark was the heir – and Adam, poor devil, like myself, was just a younger son. They were identical twins too. Used have a lot of fun at school with that! But to go back to the heir business, apparently as soon as Mark was born, a silver bracelet was locked on to his wrist and never taken off until he was about three years old just in case some nursemaid swapped the babies.’

‘How horrible,’ said Daisy. ‘Poor little baby – bet he tried to bite it off as soon as he got teeth.’

‘Not so poor,’ said Justin. ‘He’s got everything now. Just has to sit there. Adam, only an hour and a half younger, has come down from Oxford and now he has to find something to do – get a job, or else marry a rich heiress, like me,’ he finished rather bitterly, looking across at Violet who was giving David a taste of her choice of dessert from her own fork.

‘What about people like me and my sisters who were born in India? Do they have birth certificates?’ asked Daisy hurriedly.

That interested Justin and he turned the thought over in his mind.

‘I’m not sure about ordinary people,’ he said eventually, but I would say that because your father was in the army it would go by British law – yes, I remember now. All the Indian Army records are kept at Somerset House. Why do you want to know? I suppose you’re wondering who was born first, you or Poppy.’