Final Curtain (7 page)

It had grown dark in the hall, and Troy's first impression of Miss Sonia Orrincourt was of a whitish apparition that fluttered down the stairs from the far side of the gallery. Her progress was accompanied by a number of chirruping noises. As she reached the hall and crossed it, Troy saw that she wore a garment which even in the second act of a musical extravaganza would still have been remarkable. Troy supposed it was a negligée.

‘Well, for heaven's sake,' squeaked Miss Orrincourt, ‘look who's here! Ceddie!' She held out both her hands and Cedric took them.

‘You look too marvellous, Sonia,' he cried. ‘Where did it come from?'

‘Darling, it's a million years old. Oh, pardon me,' said Miss Orrincourt, inclining towards Troy, ‘I didn't see—'

Millamant stonily introduced her. Fenella and Paul, having moved away from the sofa, Miss Orrincourt sank into it. She extended her arms and wriggled her fingers. ‘Quick! Quick! Quick!' she cried babyishly. ‘Sonia wants a d'ink.'

Her hair was almost white. It fell in a fringe across her forehead and in a silk curtain to her shoulders, and reminded Troy vaguely of the inside of an aquarium. Her eyes were as round as saucers, with curving black lashes. When she smiled, her short upper lip flattened, the corners of her mouth turned down, and the shadow of grooves-to-come ran away to her chin. Her skin was white and thick like the petals of a camellia. She was a startling young woman to look at, and she made Troy feel exceedingly dumb. ‘But she'd probably be pretty good to paint in the nude,' she reflected. ‘I wonder if she's ever been a model. She looks like it.'

Miss Orrincourt and Cedric were conducting an extraordinarily unreal little conversation. Fenella and Paul had moved away, and Troy was left with Millamant Ancred, who began to talk about the difficulties of housekeeping. As she talked, she stitched at an enormous piece of embroidery, which hypnotized Troy by its monstrous colour scheme and tortuous design. Intricate worms and scrolls strangled each other in Millamant's fancy work. No area was left undecorated, no motive was uninterrupted. At times she would pause and eye it with complacency. Her voice was monotonous.

‘I suppose I'm lucky,' she said. ‘I've got a cook and five maids and Barker, but they're all very old, and have been collected from different branches of the family. My sister-in-law, Pauline, Mrs Claude Ancred, you know, gave up her own house in the evacuation time and has recently joined us with two of her maids. Desdemona did the same thing, and she makes Ancreton her headquarters now. She brought her old Nanny. Barker and the others have always been with us. But even with the West Wing turned into a school it's difficult. In the old days of course,' said Millamant with a certain air of complacency, ‘there was a swarm.'

‘Do they get on together?' Troy asked vaguely. She was watching Cedric and Miss Orrincourt. Evidently he had decided to adopt ingratiating tactics, and a lively but completely synthetic flirtation had developed. They whispered together.

‘Oh, no,' Millamant was saying. ‘They fight.' And most unexpectedly she added: ‘Like master like man, they say, don't they?' Troy looked at her. She was smiling broadly and blankly. It is a characteristic of these people, Troy reflected, that they constantly make remarks to which there is no answer.

Pauline Ancred came in and joined her son and Fenella. She did this with a certain air of determination, and the smile she gave Fenella was a dismissal. ‘Darling,' she said to Paul, ‘I've been looking for you.' Fenella at once moved away. Pauline, using a gesture that was Congrevian in its accomplishment, raised a pair of lorgnettes and stared through them at Miss Orrincourt, who now reclined at full length on the sofa. Cedric was perched on the arm at her feet.

‘I'll get you a chair, Mother,' said Paul hastily.

‘Thank you, dear,' she said, exchanging a glance with her sister-in-law. ‘I should like to sit down. No,
please
, Mrs Alleyn, don't move. So sweet of you. Thank you, Paul.'

‘Noddy and I,' said Miss Orrincourt brightly, ‘have been having such fun. We've been looking at some of that old jewellery.' She stretched her arms above her head and yawned delicately

‘Noddy?' Troy wondered. ‘But who is Noddy?' Miss Orrincourt's remark was followed by a rather deadly little pause. ‘He's all burnt up about having his picture taken,' Miss Orrincourt added. ‘Isn't it killing?'

Pauline Ancred, with a dignified shifting of her torso, brought her sister-in-law into her field of vision. ‘Have you seen Papa this afternoon, Millamant?' she asked, not quite cordially, but with an air of joining forces against a common enemy.

‘I went up as usual at four o'clock,' Millamant rejoined, ‘to see if there was anything I could do for him.' She glanced at Miss Orrincourt. ‘He was engaged, however.'

‘T'uh!' said Pauline lightly, and she began to revolve her thumbs one around the other. Millamant gave the merest sketch of a significant laugh and turned to Troy.

‘We don't quite know,' she said cheerfully, ‘if Thomas explained about my father-in-law's portrait. He wishes to be painted in his own little theatre here. The backcloth has been hung and Paul knows about the lights. Papa would like to begin at eleven tomorrow morning, and if he is feeling up to it he will sit for an hour every morning and afternoon.'

‘I thought,' said Miss Orrincourt, ‘it would be ever so thrilling if Noddy was on a horse in the picture.'

‘Sir Henry,' said Millamant, without looking at her, ‘will, of course, have decided on the pose.'

‘But Aunt Milly,' said Paul, very red in the face, ‘Mrs Alleyn might like—I mean—don't you think—'

‘Yes, Aunt Milly,' said Fenella.

‘Yes, indeed, Milly,' said Cedric. ‘I
so
agree. Please,
please
Milly and Aunt Pauline, and please Sonia, angel,
do
consider that Mrs Alleyn is the one to—oh, my goodness,' Cedric implored them, ‘pray do consider.'

‘I shall be very interested,' said Troy, ‘to hear about Sir Henry's plans.'

‘That,' said Pauline, ‘will be very nice. I forgot to tell you, Millamant, that I heard from Dessy. She's coming for The Birthday.'

‘I'm glad you let me know,' said Millamant, looking rather put out.

‘And so's Mummy, Aunt Milly,' said Fenella. ‘I forgot to say.'

‘Well,' said Millamant, with a short laugh, ‘I
am
learning about things, aren't I?'

‘Jenetta coming? Fancy!' said Pauline. ‘It must be two years since Jenetta was at Ancreton. I hope she'll be able to put up with our rough and ready ways.'

‘Considering she's been living in a two-roomed flat,' Fenella began rather hotly and checked herself. ‘She asked me to say she hoped it wouldn't be too many.'

‘I'll move out of
Bernhardt
into
Bracegirdle
,' Pauline offered. ‘Of course.'

‘You'll do nothing of the sort, Pauline,' said Millamant. ‘
Bracegirdle
is piercingly cold, the ceiling leaks, and there are rats. Desdemona complained bitterly about the rats last time she was here. I asked Barker to lay poison for them, but he's lost the poison. Until he finds it,
Bracegirdle
is uninhabitable.'

‘Mummy could share
Duse
with me,' said Fenella quickly. ‘We'd love it and it'd save fires.'

‘Oh, we couldn't dream of
that
,' said Pauline and Millamant together.

‘Mrs Alleyn,' said Fenella loudly, ‘I'm going up to change. Would you like to see your room?'

‘Thank you,' said Troy, trying not to sound too eager. ‘Thank you, I would.'

Having climbed the stairs and walked with a completely silent Fenella down an interminable picture gallery and two long passages, followed by a break-neck ascent up a winding stair, Troy found herself at a door upon which hung a wooden plaque bearing the word ‘
Siddons
.' Fenella opened the door, and Troy was pleasantly welcomed by the reflection of leaping flames on white painted walls. White damask curtains with small garlands, a sheepskin rug, a low bed, and there, above a Victorian wash-stand, sure enough, hung Mrs Siddons. Troy's painting gear was stacked in a corner.

‘What a nice room,' said Troy.

‘I'm glad you like it,' said Fenella in a suppressed voice. Troy saw with astonishment that she was in a rage.

‘I apologize,' said Fenella shakily, ‘for my beastly family.'

‘Hallo,' said Troy, ‘what's all this?'

‘As if they weren't damned lucky to get you! As if they wouldn't still be damned lucky if you decided to paint Grandpa standing on his head with garlic growing out of the soles of his boots. It's
such cheek
. Even that frightful twirp Cedric was ashamed.'

‘Good Lord!' said Troy ‘That's nothing unusual. You've no conception how funny people can be about portraits.'

‘I hate them! And you heard how catty they were about Mummy coming. I do think old women are
foul
. And that bitch Sonia lying there lapping it all up. How they can, in front of her! Paul and I were so ashamed.'

Fenella stamped, dropped on her knees in front of the fire and burst into tears. ‘I'm sorry,' she stammered. ‘I'm worse than they are, but I'm so sick of it all. I wish I hadn't come to Ancreton. I loathe Ancreton. If you only knew what it's like.'

‘Look here,' Troy said gently, ‘are you sure you want to talk to me like this?'

‘I know it's frightful, but I can't help it. How would you feel if
your
grandfather brought a loathsome blonde into the house? How would you feel?'

Troy had a momentary vision of her grandfather, now deceased. He had been an austere and somewhat finicky don.

‘Everybody's laughing at him,' Fenella sobbed. ‘And I used to like him so much. Now he's just
silly
. A silly amorous old man. He behaves like that himself and then when I—when I went to—it doesn't matter. I'm terribly sorry. It's awful, boring you like this.'

Troy sat on a low chair by the fire and looked thoughtfully at Fenella. The child really is upset, she thought, and realized that already she had begun to question the authenticity of the Ancreds' emotions. She said: ‘You needn't think it's awful, and you're not boring me. Only don't say things you'll feel inclined to kick yourself for when you've got under way again.'

‘All right.' Fenella got to her feet. She had the fortunate knack, Troy noticed, of looking charming when she cried. She now tossed her head, bit her lips, and gained mastery of herself. ‘She'll make a good actress,' Troy thought, and instantly checked herself. ‘Because,' she thought, ‘the child manages to be so prettily distressed, why should I jump to the conclusion that she's not as distressed as she seems? I'm not sympathetic enough.' She touched Fenella's arm, and although it was quite foreign to her habit, returned the squeeze Fenella instantly gave to her hand.

‘Come,' said Troy, ‘I thought you said this afternoon that your generation of Ancreds was as hard as nails.'

‘Well, we try,' Fenella said. ‘It's only because you're so nice that I let go. I won't again.'

‘Help!' Troy thought, and said aloud: ‘I'm not much use really, I'm afraid. My husband says I shy away from emotion like a nervous mare. But let off steam if you want to.'

Fenella said soberly: ‘This'll do for a bit, I expect. You're an angel. Dinner's at half-past eight. You'll hear a warning gong.' She turned at the door. ‘All the same,' she said, ‘there's something pretty ghastly going on at Ancreton just now. You'll see.'

With an inherited instinct for a good exit line, Fenella stepped backwards and gracefully closed the door.

I
N HER AGITATION FENELLA
had neglected to give Troy the usual hostesses' tips on internal topography. Troy wondered if the nearest bathroom was at the top of another tower or at the end of some interminable corridor. Impossible to tug the embroidered bell-pull and cause one of those aged maids to climb the stairs! She decided to give up her bath in favour of Mrs Siddons, the wash-stand and a Victorian can of warm water which had been left beside it.