The Season Page 4
Lady Devenish sighed with some satisfaction, as well she might. Despite Lloyd George’s being shot at by maddened suffragettes, despite all the predictions of the newspapers, upper class girls would always need to be married, and there would therefore, she was sure, always be a need for a Season, and hence a need for Lady Devenish and her niceties.
‘So, now we are all together and all intent on improvement, n’est-ce pas? You will grow to appreciate during your fortnight with me that all the people we talk about are known to each other. We are very tightly knit. The patrician class in England has been meeting each other during the social Season for hundreds of years. The custom has come down through the centuries, enabling members of the aristocracy, old and new, to get to know each other, in really rather a magical way, in the ballroom, or on the racecourse, safely and beautifully.’
Lady Devenish paused.
‘In fact, now I come to think of it, you could say that the aristocracy is surrounded by a magic circle. It cannot be seen, but it is there. It surrounds its members with the light of its magic. Sometimes the magic circle includes new people, and sometimes it rejects old ones, people who go too far, but by and large the circle remains around the same families and the same names, giving stability to the countryside and a sense of continuity to the nation.’
All during Lady Devenish’s speech Edith, Phyllis and Sarah were surreptitiously examining each other. None of them was in the least bit interested in the magic circle that Lady Devenish was so fervently advocating, and of course there were good reasons for this.
First of all Edith and Phyllis both came from aristocratic backgrounds, and there is no-one less interested in their heritage, or more desirous of throwing it over, than a young person from a patrician background. And Sarah was already far too aware of not being a member of the magic circle, and so naturally any mention of it filled her with a sort of dull fear. For Sarah to hear Lady Devenish talk was like knowing about beautiful music that everyone else could hear, but she could not because it was being played in the next room.
‘You are very, very up to the minute, are you not?’ Edith announced, staring at Sarah’s blouse with its tiny suggestion of a vee at the top. Just enough to suggest fashion without being too daring, Mrs Hartley Lambert had thought.
‘Yes, I know,’ Sarah agreed, suddenly feeling even more awkward under the intent gaze of her two fellow pupils. ‘Mama took me to Paris first, you know. We Americans do so love Paris.’
‘Paris, my dear!’
Phyllis raised her eyes to heaven and made a little movement with her hand as if it was a fan. ‘Paris for one’s clothes, how too, too, don’tcher know? And to think that we poor little English gels have only Chester, or Bath, or London for our clothes, whereas you were taken to Paris!’
‘I do admit,’ Sarah agreed, reddening, ‘that I must look a little too fashionable. That is not right in England before you are married, is it?’
‘It is not right in Ireland either,’ Edith told her, tartly, and she turned and bossed her eyes at Phyllis.
‘I have tried to tell mama, but you know how it is with mamas. They do not really want to listen to their daughters, do they?’
‘Our mothers would not buy us clothes like yours if they were commanded by the King himself,’ Phyllis told the now thoroughly discomfited Sarah. ‘They would not want us to stand out, do you see? It is not done in England, to stand out. Just not done.’
‘Yes, but even so we shall all be able to be friends, do you not think?’ Sarah asked them a little ingenuously. ‘I mean, you will not be put off me by my darling mama’s taste, will you?’
‘Of course not.’ Phyllis looked so innocent that Sarah knew her to be lying, and Edith looked of a sudden so disinterested that Sarah realised at once that any thought of friendship was going to be an impossibility.
‘It is silly for girls such as ourselves, I always think, to be rivals. After all, Society, going to balls, attending Ascot, is not life, is it?’ Sarah continued, knowing all the time, her heart sinking, that she was sounding more and more silly and desperate, and worse, lacking in any kind of pride.
‘Gracious, of course not. We will all be such friends, just you wait and see.’
Phyllis and Edith looked at each other, and then at Sarah, and laughed. Sarah’s heart sank to an even greater depth as she realised that, although she too was laughing, they were laughing not with her but at her, so much so that her first day at the Lodge with Lady Devenish was one that Sarah would always remember with horror for the rest of her life. Indeed if she was ill, or out of sorts, she would only have to think back to that particular time for any passing discomfort to fade in significance in comparison.
Edith was the ringleader, of course. She had mischievous green eyes and dark hair, and although she had an elegant figure she walked everywhere, as Lady Devenish remarked at once, as if she was kicking aside an over-long hunting skirt.
Edith had only to look at Phyllis while Sarah was practising laughing to scales played by Lady Devenish for them both to start laughing too, but it was not the kind of pretty or elegant laughter which Lady Devenish was aiming to teach them all. Theirs was the suppressed giggling of the schoolroom, yet when Sarah, red-faced and uncertain, on hearing the noise they were making, turned from the piano, it was only to discover that they had faces as solemn as if they had just listened to an organ recital in church.
Sarah sensed that although Edith was roundly Irish in her tones, and already giving Lady Devenish twin fits, it was Phyllis of whom she should be most afraid. She was decidedly what was known in American as a ‘goer’. She did not know her limitations either. She would pull a face to make Edith laugh at just the moment when Lady Devenish turned from sinking into an amazing and difficult Court courtesy and so her guide and mentor would catch sight of her mocking expression, although she always carried on as if she had not, of course.
None of them shared bedrooms or even bathrooms, for the Lodge was many-bedroomed and had endless corridors down which could be found yet more washrooms, and yet every time Sarah passed one of their doors they would be together, laughing and talking.
Sarah longed to join in, but if she made some remark, or began a conversation, they would either turn their backs or pretend not to hear that she had spoken. It was shameless and it was wretched-making, but Sarah knew herself to be made of as stern a stuff as they, and so she determined to brazen it out. She would out-laugh, out-sing, out-dance and out-ride both of them. It was the only possible way to escape her increasingly desperate situation.
Lady Devenish did not of course supervise the riding lessons, except at a distance. They were conducted by an old ex-cavalry officer, who dearly loved to begin every lesson with ‘my dear young ladies in horse’, while Lady Devenish, merely chaperoning them, would dart in and out of the school every now and then supervising the manner in which they should mount and dismount, receive assistance from a gentleman, tuck their riding skirts, and set their hats and whips.
Sarah often thought during that fortnight that it would all have been lovely had the other two been prepared to be friends, but they were not, and so, after the first few days, when she realised that they were determined to ostracise her, Sarah became equally determined to ignore them. She was not prepared to crawl to them for their friendship, far from it. In fact, she now realised that she was quite determined to outwit them at their own game.
And so it transpired that as Edith wobbled down into her Court courtesy, Sarah would catch Lady Devenish’s eye and sigh, and shrug her shoulders, very slightly, and Lady Devenish, perhaps guessing what was up, would also sigh and make Edith try again, which she would do, with equally poor results.
Phyllis on the other hand was undoubtedly musical. There was no point in trying to upset her piano playing or her ability to laugh in tune with Lady Devenish’s scales, for musically Phyllis reigned supreme. This was only as it should be, for, as Lady Devenish later told Sarah, Phyllis being (on her mother’s side) a Tradescant,
it would be a miracle had she been tone deaf.
‘The Tradescants used to give whole operas in the gardens of their house in summer and in the great barn in winter, but of course Phyllis is not wholly Tradescant. She is half de Nugent, and although Lord Childhays, her father, is no longer with us, I fear that she has inherited a great deal of the de Nugent hauteur. It is very difficult for her. Two such fascinating parents, and yet she herself is not, and not likely to be, a peerless example of English maidenhood.’
‘But surely that is why she is with you, Lady Devenish? Why we are all with you?’
‘Oh yes, indeed, Miss Hartley Lambert, but I cannot do anything about her familial characteristics. Her poor mother, Lady Childhays, did warn me, of course, when she came here to talk to me, as did Miss O’Connor’s mother. Both were of the opinion that they had produced daughters who were bound to bring disgrace on their families in some way or another during the Season. They had few hopes of them, I am afraid. Whereas your own mother is all too proud of you.’
Sarah and Lady Devenish were seated by the fire. It was not particularly late in the evening, but the other two girls had gone to bed early, as they did most evenings, to laugh at the day’s doings, and most especially, Sarah felt sure, at herself and Lady Devenish, whom they had already nicknamed ‘Lady Devilish’.
‘I feel so ashamed for their mothers, and yet I must struggle on. Did you notice, Miss Hartley Lambert, how Edith whistled today as she was mounting her hack, and Phyllis kept winking and smiling at the stables lads like some common little hoyden? I mean, after nearly a week here, still whistling as if she was a stable boy, and not a young lady about to make her court appearance before her king. And you know the King! And Queen Mary! They are sticklers. Utter, utter sticklers. Not that the darling late king was not a stickler too, in his own little way, but he liked to enjoy himself in between, and King George does not like to enjoy himself so much. As is often the case with a second son, King George is not at all the same as his father. More serious, wouldn’t you say?’
Sarah did not know the King, but she did not like to say so, so she said instead, ‘Would you say then, Lady Devenish, that His Majesty is very exacting?’
‘Exacting? His Majesty is famed for noticing the wrong placing of just a medal. To be reprimanded by His Majesty is to be courting social disaster, always. One reprimand and a young lady can find herself without any prospects whatsoever of a good match. It is far worse than even being seen without one’s maid, or some such. By the way, your maid is very well trained, my dear. I do compliment you. It is very difficult in England to find a maid as well trained as yours.’
‘Corkie? How kind of you to say so, Lady Devenish. She started off as my nursemaid, and now she is my maid. She is as devoted as anyone would wish, perhaps more so,’ Sarah confessed, smiling. ‘Dear Corkie, I could not do without her if I tried, not for an instant.’
‘I tell you what may help you unquestionably, if my maid were to instruct your maid, it would assist you in every way, Miss Hartley Lambert. You would be surprised how often a good maid with a sound knowledge can haul you out of potential trouble. Many is the time when Buckler has remembered what I had long ago forgotten, or might have forgotten. In the morning, I will tell her to pay particular attention to your Corkie. That at least I can do. What I cannot do is to change the attitudes of Miss O’Connor and Miss de Nugent towards you, Miss Hartley Lambert. It is, alas, just not possible.’
‘Will your Buckler help the other maids too?’
‘If the gels do not ask me personally, I am afraid not. That is how it is with certain people. And so if they wonder why they are struggling, or being buffeted too hard by circumstances during the Season, they will only have themselves to thank.’
Sarah held out her hand impulsively, and placed it on Lady Devenish’s arm.
‘Please, allow Buckler to instruct their maids too. Imagine if they have not the right gloves, or if their maid left their fans behind as the carriages were leaving for Court. There are a thousand ways that this could happen, and a thousand ways they might be found wanting.’
Lady Devenish nodded briskly.
‘Very well.’ She stopped by the door as Sarah curtsied to her. ‘You are a very nice girl, Miss Hartley Lambert. I have high hopes for you. You are generous and kind, and thoughtful of others. You deserve a great deal. You certainly do not deserve less than I intend you should get.’ She paused. ‘There is no question that we must work together on the other two. My mind has been made up by your generosity of spirit as much as anything else. After all,’ she went on, thinking back to the past, ‘Lady Emily, the mother of Miss O’Connor, was just such a handful as she is.’ She closed the door suddenly and came back into the room. ‘She once, if you please, slid down the banisters of this house.’
‘I cannot believe this …’
‘She did, she slid down the banisters, and it was some time before she stopped whistling and talking Irish too, I do remember that. Well, well, there is hope yet. We finally became the very best of friends and today you could not find a greater lady, for all that she is Irish.’
‘I cannot believe what you have just told me.’
‘It happens to be true. Petticoats flying, down the banisters she slid – the servants, you can imagine! But, aside from that, I have a notion that we may conquer these two. What we shall do is unite, Miss Hartley Lambert. We shall unite together against them. And that will be at least a step towards making order out of some kind of chaos.’
Sarah nodded, smiling. ‘I shall do whatever you wish, Lady Devenish, you have my word on it.’
Lady Devenish opened the door again, and then stopped. ‘Oh dear.’
Sarah looked across at her questioningly.
‘Yes, my dear, oh dear. Either the maids were listening to our conversation, or they were.’
It seemed that it had been Edith and Phyllis listening in on their conversation, for the following morning they appeared at their first lesson in the drawing room with grimly determined expressions, as if they had decided to be a team and really concentrate on Lady Devenish’s lessons rather than lark about as they had been previously intent on doing.
‘Very well, now that we are gathered here, in our little circle, I will ask you all to imagine that I am the King and Queen. This is your last chance to rehearse before me, and I will not tolerate anything less than perfection. We have, after all, rehearsed and rehearsed, with really rather varying results, I am sorry to say, so now imagine please that you are being brought in behind your presenters to make your obeisance to Their Majesties. One, two, three.’
Lady Devenish clapped her hands together lightly and nodded at Edith to begin. She never usually opened her class in such a cold manner, but perhaps there was now, on her part, an intention to shock the two recalcitrant young ladies in her charge into some kind of immediate discipline.
Edith, blushing furiously, for she had paid not the slightest heed to her previous lessons, stepped forward and, to the sound of the regular clapping of Lady Devenish’s hands, advanced towards her.
‘One, two, three, one, two, three. And down we go, Miss O’Connor, right down, right down – and up, one, two, three, we come, and back we go.’
Edith trod back, her hand held out with her imaginary fan and train, but she did not step away from Her Imaginary Majesty to the sound of Lady Devenish’s hand beating out the time, she stepped back to the sound of a long and tuneful peal of Lady Devenish’s genuine and uninvited laughter.
‘Oh dear, oh dear, Miss O’Connor, what amusement you are going to provide for everyone at the Court. So amusing. You will become famous overnight, however temporary your fame – for believe me fame based on scandal is extraordinarily fleeting, although the persons involved rarely see it as that.’
Edith, now roundly red, and feeling that even her toes might be blushing, looked questioningly towards the King’s representative.
‘What amusement in particular am I providing, Lady Devenish?’
‘You have your dress caught up, Miss O’Connor. Your underpinnings are showing.’
Edith turned and looked behind, and even though she knew that this was only make-believe she found that she was almost fainting under the embarrassment of her own belief in the possibility of such a moment.
‘I have no such thing!’ She turned back to Lady Devenish, the expression on her face changing to fury.
‘Oh but you have, Miss O’Connor, for have I not been telling you all week that you are to mind your train and the back of your dress? And have you not been ignoring me all these days? And have I not known that you were ignoring me? And am I not now enjoying your discomfiture as much as you have been enjoying mine? You, Miss O’Connor, are a dolt. And because you are a dolt, you have just joined the ranks of the most famous failures at Court. Congratulations. Now – Miss de Nugent, step forward please.’
Smiling, composed, and thoroughly at ease with the situation Lady Devenish clapped her hands once more, and quite smartly too.
At this Phyllis stepped forward, trying not to show that she was just a little cowed by Edith’s experience. To the sound of the brisk clapping of Lady Devenish’s hands she began her routine. One, two, three, one, two, three, and down into the full Court courtesy, and slowly up, and back, one, two, three, one, two, three. She had listened so little, practised so little, that she wobbled down and seconds later wobbled up again.
Again Lady Devenish burst into peals of laughter, laughter that was, if anything, more hearty than before, at which Phyllis promptly stamped her foot.