The Granville Sisters (8 page)

Liza and Juliet had entered into a secret unspoken pact, and when Alastair collected her in his old Daimler, she was in high spirits.

‘N
anny, is it true Juliet’s getting engaged?’ Charlotte asked, as she got ready for bed. It was mid-September and the Granville family had returned to London earlier that day.

‘Who’s been listening to tittle-tattle?’ Nanny snapped, smoothing the front of her starched apron.

Amanda, sitting in the bath, turned the cake of soap round and round in her hands. ‘Mummy thinks she will,’ she said stoutly. ‘Look at all the letters she’s been getting from Alastair. He’s been writing to her every day.’

‘People write to each other about the weather and that sort of thing,’ Louise said knowledgeably. ‘It doesn’t mean anything.’

‘But Mummy thinks Alastair’s letters mean a
lot
,’ said Charlotte darkly.

Amanda made a face. ‘Who wants to know about the weather? Nanny, if Juliet gets married, she can have babies, can’t she?’

‘There’s no question of her getting married,’ Nanny said severely. ‘For one thing, she’s much too young.’

‘How will she get babies?’ Charlotte asked, tugging her white cotton nightdress over her head.

‘It’s simple,’ Louise retorted, sponging her face. ‘While she’s in the church, getting married, God plants a seed inside her and when she comes out of the church she can have a baby.’

Charlotte’s eyes widened in wonder. ‘Is that what is called a miracle?’

‘It’s more like a lot of nonsense to me,’ countered Nanny, whose broad shoulders, Charlotte observed, were shaking for some reason. ‘Now come along. Out of the bath.’ You’ve still got to clean your teeth.’

Juliet was seeing Alastair tonight for the first time in six weeks, and she had a strong feeling he was going to propose.

Throughout her stay at Hartley, she’d been bombarded by letters, little presents, poems and flowers, which she found flattering but exhausting. At least tonight she’d know where she stood; by tomorrow … who knows? She might actually be engaged to be married.

Meanwhile she needed a new dress for the occasion. Both she and Rosie had been invited to this big ball at Claridge’s, and she wanted something pale blue to wear, because Alastair had said it was his favourite colour. Bond Street was the place to go, so she slipped out of the house, not wanting Rosie to know what she was doing or she’d want a new dress too.

These days, Rosie felt like a wilting flower, fading into the background, while Juliet blossomed and grew more prominent. She was going through her wardrobe, wondering what to wear tonight, with her self-confidence at a low ebb, and her weight loss causing all her dresses to hang off her unbecomingly.

There was only one man on the horizon these days, who thought she was the most perfect creature on earth, but did she really want a man who resembled a devoted bloodhound trailing around after her? Charles Padmore, or to give him his title, Lord Padmore, but ‘only a baron, not an earl’, according to Liza.

He was quite sweet, if weak, Rosie reflected, but when his mother had invited her to stay with them at Coldberry, in Cumbria, it had been rather a shock. Coldberry turned out to be not just a crumbling castle, but a derelict ruin with a dungeon, the main building having collapsed around 1919.

Nevertheless … Rosie selected a silvery-green dress that she knew Charles liked, and decided to ask Mummy if she could borrow some jewellery.

To have someone who cared, Rosie decided, was better than having no one at all; especially as Juliet had
someone
.

Juliet, having bought herself an exquisite chiffon dress that matched her eyes and clung to her body like a second skin, was walking briskly home, when a familiar figure of a young man waved at her and, risking life and limb, sprinted across the road, to say hello. It was Edward Courtney.

‘Juliet!’ he exclaimed, grinning engagingly at her. ‘How are you?’ He raised his Homburg hat. ‘It’s yonks since I’ve seen you; I’ve been in America. How was your summer?’

Her eyes danced mischievously. ‘Over, thank God. We returned to London yesterday.’

‘You certainly look well, but then you always do, sweetie.’

He leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek. ‘When am I going to see you again?’

‘Are you going to the Buckinghams’ tonight?’

‘Sure thing! Let’s have a dance. So what’s happening in your life? Proposals by the dozen, no doubt?’

She laughed. Edward was such fun to be with, and she wished he were more eligible. ‘Well …’ She cocked her head to one side. ‘Between you and me, Alastair Slaidburn is hot on the trail.’

‘Alastair Slaidburn?’ Edward raised his eyebrows in surprise. Then his brow furrowed. ‘I introduced you, didn’t I?’ He hesitated for a moment before continuing, ‘Lovely chap, but do be careful. He’s got no money, you know. His reputation as a fortune-hunter has overshadowed every deb season for as long as I can remember.’ Then he laughed. ‘But you’re far too shrewd to be taken in by someone like that, aren’t you, sweetie? Listen, I must dash; got to meet my mother at Gunter’s, but I’ll see you tonight? Don’t forget to save a dance for me, will you?’

Juliet walked slowly back to Green Street, feeling sick.

How could Alastair have no money? He owned Ashbourne Court for a start, and thousands of acres of surrounding land.

Edward must have got it wrong.

Once home, she rushed up to her mother’s sitting room, where Liza was writing letters.

‘Oh,
no
! That can’t be right,’ Liza exclaimed, when Juliet told her what she’d heard.

‘Edward wouldn’t lie about a thing like that.’

‘But maybe he’s sweet on you himself, and is trying to put you off Alastair?’

Juliet removed her hat and shook out her hair. ‘No. Edward and I are just great friends. What am I going to do now?’

Liz reached for her phone. ‘I’m going to ring Daddy. He has contacts everywhere who will know if it’s true. The Slaidburns certainly used to be rich. I can’t understand it.’

Juliet made a late entrance at the Buckinghams’ dance, where the ballroom was banked by pyramids of white flowers, the band was blasting out ‘Let’s do It (Let’s Fall in Love)’ and the party was already in full swing.

She spotted Alastair at once, sitting with a group of friends. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him jump up as soon as he saw her, so, pretending she hadn’t noticed him, she walked casually in the opposite direction, thankful she knew nearly everyone at the party.

As usual, she was immediately surrounded, her willowy figure enveloped by dinner-jacketed swains.

‘Darling!’ exclaimed Colin Armstrong.

‘Darling,’ she replied, clinging coquettishly to his arm. ‘God, it’s been a long summer without seeing you.’

‘It’s been
forever
without seeing
you
,’ he retorted, giving her a swift kiss on the side of her neck.

‘Where shall we go tonight?’ she whispered provocatively. ‘Are there any good parties we can crash?’

‘What a girl you are!’ he laughed, slipping his arm around her waist.

She cuddled into his side, whilst reaching out to greet a sandy-haired young man she knew, called Andrew Stevens. He grasped her hand with its long scarlet nails, and stroked her arm, as her wrist glittered with diamonds.

‘It’s been an
age
,’ he burbled, happily.

‘An
absolute
age, sweetie,’ she replied, gazing into his eyes. She had succeeded in gathering a circle of her best men friends around her, as if she was a magnet in a box of pins.

And all the time she was aware of Alastair, circling the group like a prowling shark, his expression angry as she continued to ignore him.

‘Juliet!’ he called out loudly.

She looked up at Colin from under her blackened eyelashes. ‘Oh, listen! They’re playing my favourite tune. I simply have to dance … Come along …’ She grasped his hand, and then he whisked her away across the polished floor. A moment later she was snuggled in his arms, her eyes closed and a blissful smile on her face.

‘What’s going on with Juliet?’ Charles Padmore asked Rosie, as they sat together, having a drink and watching the dancing.

She was beginning to find his constant presence strangely comforting and reassuring. As Alastair had so obviously switched his affections from her to Juliet, it was a salve to her hurt pride to have
someone
interested in her.

‘You know Juliet,’ she said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. ‘I expect she’s just trying to make Alastair Slaidburn jealous; bring him to the boil, that sort of thing.’

Charles frowned disapprovingly. ‘I can’t believe you’re sisters. I’ve never met two people who are so unalike.’

Rosie beamed, taking this as a great compliment. She squeezed his hand and gave him a look of gratitude, thinking him quite dashing.

‘I think perhaps I’m more like Mummy.’

‘So, does Juliet take after your father, then?’

‘I don’t know who she takes after,’ she said drily. The way her sister was cavorting around the dance floor with such supreme confidence made her wince. Juliet was behaving in a fast fashion, and if she went on like this, she’d get a bad name. Rosie bit her bottom lip, feeling jealous because she knew she’d never get a bad name or anything else, because she wasn’t exciting enough.

‘Rosie, would you like to dance?’

She was on her feet before he’d finished speaking, and to counteract her too obvious eagerness, she then said languidly, ‘Yes, why not.’

She could feel his bony knees knocking against her legs and wondered if he would feel bony all over, without his clothes. The thought made her feel queasy and at the same time excited.

Embarrassed by her own thoughts, she averted her eyes as they danced.

‘
Juliet!
’ Alastair spoke despairingly. He’d managed to corner her as she re-emerged from the powder room. His face was flushed and red. He gripped her wrist fiercely. ‘What’s the matter with you? Why do you keep avoiding me? Where’s the corsage of orchids I sent you? Why aren’t you wearing it?’

Juliet stood quite still, her small features like carved marble, her pale blue, cat-like eyes cold and watchful.

Alastair started haranguing her vehemently again, his voice loud and hysterical. ‘Why have you been ignoring me ever since you got here?’

She tried to quench her own rising temper. ‘I do have other friends, you know. And the flowers didn’t go with this dress.’

‘What do you mean, you’ve got other friends?’ His eyes glittered strangely. A group was forming around them now, of people who loved nothing more than watching others quarrel.

Alastair continued, his voice rising. ‘We
all
have friends! What about
us
? You and me, goddammit! Why have you been cutting me dead? Dancing with everyone else? Why won’t you answer me
now
?’ Sweat gleamed on his face, his body was rigid with rage.

Something started to unravel in Juliet’s brain. ‘I’ve been enjoying myself,’ she said icily.

‘Yes, with every Tom, Dick and Harry.’ His grip tightened, hurting her.

‘Alastair …!’

He stood over her, almost menacingly. ‘We were meant for each other. You know that. What’s wrong? I was going to ask you to marry me tonight.’

There was an electrified silence. People shuffled closer.

Juliet’s temper rose. ‘Well, I don’t want to marry you, so will you please let go of me …?’ she retorted shrilly.

‘But you said you loved me!’ He dropped her wrist abruptly and ran his hands through his hair in frenzied anguish. ‘You
told
me … You said you felt the same …’

She’d regained her poise, and her anger was calculated now, fine-edged and savage. ‘I didn’t know then you were a well-known fortune-hunter and that you’re on the brink of bankruptcy. I actually thought you loved me for myself. Silly me! Now that I know it was my family’s money you were after, I want nothing more to do with you.’

Then she turned and walked away along the corridor and vanished from sight.

‘Poor old chap! Did you see his face?’ Colin Armstrong whispered to Archie Hipwood, as they made their way to the bar, in need of strong drinks.

Colin nodded, shaken. ‘He was actually crying. He must be devastated.’

‘I feel very sorry for him, but it was a bit silly of him to think Juliet would actually marry him, as he’s penniless, wasn’t it?’

Colin sipped his drink, and lit a cigarette. ‘I blame his cousin, Lady Heysham. I hear she told him that there are lots of girls from very rich families who would marry him for his title.’

Archie looked doubtful. ‘Lots of
American
girls, perhaps, or industrialists’ daughters, but one look at Juliet should have told him she’d never marry someone who was poor.’

Edward Courtney strolled up to them, looking worried. ‘I feel awful, you know. I warned Juliet earlier today that Alastair was broke, because I had a feeling she didn’t realize it.’

‘Probably just as well you told her,’ Archie said reassuringly, ‘but I’m surprised she didn’t know. Two lots of death duties have clobbered him. A shame, really. Basically, he’s a decent chap, desperate to save his estates.’

‘He’s always been very neurotic, though,’ Colin pointed out. ‘I mean, the way he was going on! Rather bad form, all that hysteria.’

‘I tell you one thing,’ Edward mused, drawing deeply on his cigarette.

‘What’s that, old fellah?’

‘I’d hate to get on the wrong side of Juliet Granville.’

The three men gulped their whiskies and puffed away and thought about the responsibility of having a strong wife who would expect them to provide a lavish style of living.

‘I’m not getting—’ began Edward.

‘Neither am I,’ said Colin with feeling.

‘Nor me. Let’s have another drink,’ Archie added.

‘Is it true?’ Rosie hissed. She’d cornered Juliet in the cloakroom and she was looking deeply shocked. Having missed the altercation because she and Charles were dancing, she’d heard, to her mortification, rumours of what had happened.

‘Is what true?’ Juliet asked loftily, as she collected her furs from the attendant.