Lettice & Victoria (12 page)

Chapter 11

A
rchie, from his bed, was gentle. Victoria, exhausted after a long drive, sat beside him as he promised to talk to Lettice on the telephone. ‘Far better that I should tell her myself that you have visited me – or have I spoken to her already? We won’t think about it again. Poor Lettice. Beneath it all she has a kind heart though not, I think, a very warm one.’

‘You forget things on purpose.’

‘But of course.’

‘Could you explain her for me again? Like you did after Roland’s exhibition. As far as I’m concerned she’s foul.’

‘Shall I try? I did warn you not to expect me at my best either physically or intellectually.’

‘I’m selfish. Let’s leave it until you’re better.’

‘As you say. Try to remember one thing though. You have had a terrible time and you expect others to have courage equal to your own. You make no allowance for an important and
unavoidable
fact. That of age. There are differences between the
problems of the young and the problems of the not so young. Now. Tell me about Christmas. Was it perfectly frightful?’

‘Fairly bad.’

‘Did you admire the Christmas dress?’

They laughed until Archie coughed.

Harold appeared at the foot of the bed and told them that it was late.

Tears splashed as she drove home. It took her six hours.

She went to the farmhouse in the morning to thank Belinda for her help and to reclaim Maudie. Belinda told her of their disagreeable evening at The Old Keep and advised, ‘Jack says you must ignore her. Her jealous outbreaks are too pathetic to be taken seriously. Terror of being left out consumes her. I know how it can feel but I react differently. At first I get cross, but then I sort of fizzle out.’

‘I’ll try,’ Victoria said, ‘but it’s going to be uphill work.’

The day before, Lettice had told Victoria that there was not a hope for the New Year. ‘He’s not even well enough for
visitors
. Apart from Harold.’

Jack and Belinda had been expected to dine with Lettice and Roland on New Year’s Eve – an unusual concession when outside visitors were staying in the house. Lettice rang Belinda.

‘I’ve completely lost heart about the New Year. It seems cruel to celebrate without Archie. Come and have a cosy
evening
here – just ourselves – before then.

They went and Lettice made several points.

‘We’ve never thanked you both properly for all you have done for Victoria and the babe. I’ve been almost guilty of
burying the subject for fear that it might be proving too much for you both. She’s such a strange girl.’

‘We love having her and to feel that the stables are being used.’

‘Do you find her – what shall I say – a little unfathomable?’

‘No. Not at all. She’s wonderful.’

‘It’s known to be a difficult relationship – mother and
daughter
-in-law. You wait till your Arthur gets married! Of course it’s twice as difficult for me without the irreplaceable link.’

Thinking of his dead son and of the two Bobbies, Roland spoke, ‘It’s not as though she’d taken our granddaughter away.’

Decorations were left over from Christmas.

Lettice, peeping through a table arrangement of crisp dried flowers, asked, ‘Where has she gone? I tried to ring her several times today and drew a complete blank. Do you know, either of you, where she might be?’

Arthur’s old nurse was staying at Jack and Belinda’s
farmhouse
and had, once again, taken charge of Maudie for the day while Victoria drove to the sick bed.

The daffodil trilled. ‘That will be Harold. He always rings at this time with news of Archie.’

It was Archie himself.

‘At last,’ he said. ‘At last, like Edward the Eighth, I can say a few words for myself. But only just.’ He broke off and coughed. ‘I’m sorry. What a perfectly frightful noise. I simply can’t help it.’

‘Don’t try to stop. Cough it up. I mean to say – have your cough. I’ll wait as long as you like.’

‘That’s better. And I’m better. At least I think I am. I was cheered by my visitor today. What a wonderful girl Victoria is!’

Lettice, near prostration, moaned, ‘How good of you. You shouldn’t have let her in. Somebody should protect you.’

‘Protect me from enjoying myself?’

‘From visitors.’

‘Oh surely not. She’s the first I’ve had apart from Harold. I needed distraction and simply suggested she should come.’

Lettice struggled along and repeatedly reminded him of her invitation for his recuperation.

‘It is very kind,’ he answered. ‘I shall have to see. Can I let you know? I will tell you as soon as I possibly can.’

Seated, Lettice peered at Belinda through the flower arrangement. ‘Did you know where she had gone? Who’s
looking
after Maudie? Why didn’t you say?’

‘I was going to when the telephone went.’

Two days later a letter came for Victoria from Archie.

‘I cannot tell you how much good you did me. Aren’t you
wonderful
! I had almost forgotten how wonderful you were! Almost but not quite. The evening of the day that you came I was told that I could go back to the lodgings where I now am. I love the scarf and am immensely touched that you should have made it for me. I admire your skill. I get up early before breakfast and put it on with my dressing gown and walk about my bedroom and sitting room wearing it, as I am doing now – apart from walking. Your constant sympathy is keeping me alive – but only just. I have been given some pills to send me to sleep – not permanently of course. Against all principles I have decided to take them. The nights
have been perfectly horrid. Lettice is being relentless about my convalescence; reminding me constantly of the value of
friendship
. It looks as if I am to be transported to The Old Keep,
willy-nilly
, in a week or so. Can I rely on seeing you there daily?’

A week later, they were transported, willy-nilly, in a hired car to The Old Keep.

Archie was sent, immediately, to his room and, as he looked about, wondered if he was in his right mind. He called for Harold – wanting a second opinion. A fire glowed in a small hearth. That was not all. By his bed, on a Regency whatnot, he thought he saw a bottle of whisky, a reel of white cotton –
needle
piercing it at right angles – a torch, matches, biscuits and other objects that his mind could not absorb.

Harold smiled. ‘Isn’t Lettice wonderful. Musical sheets have even been set out at the pianola.’

Lettice approached. ‘Can I come in – just to see if needs are answered.’ There was an electric kettle under her arm.

‘Needs I never knew of. Aren’t you marvellous.’

‘I suddenly thought of a kettle.’

‘I could have muddled through without one. What does Harold say?’

‘Surely yes. Surely you could. You always do.’

‘Aren’t bachelors bliss! Everybody needs an electric kettle. What if you want to refill your hotty in the middle of the night?’

‘My what?’

‘Hotty. Hot-water bottle. We always call them hotties. A family expression.’

‘Very well. I shall accept your offer and refill my hotty.’

At Belinda’s stables Victoria blinked and swallowed as she pictured Archie so near – settling in.

Rushing it, Lettice had said, ‘Not a mouse shall cross the threshold until I give the all-clear.’

Harold retired early in the evening and Archie drank three quarters of the contents of the whisky bottle – helping down a sleeping pill.

The next day, Lettice told Harold that the country air was already doing Archie good. ‘Midday and he’s still asleep.’

At lunchtime he emerged and said he was feeling the benefit.

‘The fare is going to be simple. Vital after illness. No
concessions
to gracious living.’

‘Is your daughter-in-law going to visit us?’

Squint-eyed, Lettice replied, ‘No exceptions for a day or two.’ Cautious when Archie didn’t reply she, with every nerve aflame, said, ‘But why not ring her up?’

‘Later on. Is this boiled fish?’

‘As the doctor himself would have ordered.’

That night Archie found that the bottle, one third full of whisky, had been replaced by a full one. Drinking more than he had done the night before, his pill slipped down easily.

A day or two went by. Harold walked in the woods and Archie barely surfaced.

With Archie close by but kept at bay, Victoria, gripped with misery, took her tears to Belinda. Dabbing at them with the red spotted rag, she asked what to do.

‘Nothing, of course.’ Victoria smiled. Belinda said, ‘You may think me very harsh but there is nothing you can do.’

‘Can’t I send a note?’

‘He’ll know why you don’t – if you don’t.’

‘He’d ignore that.’

‘Not entirely. Only to avoid trouble. Certainly to the extent of not contacting you while he’s staying with Lettice.’

Then, taking pity, Belinda said, ‘But I’ll ring her. Just to enquire. I’ll leave you out of it.’

Victoria was furiously angry. Archie should have warned or protected her. Perhaps she had been unimaginative but he had given encouragement and had never advised her to exercise restraint.

Before dialling, Belinda warned, ‘Don’t hope for much.’

Lettice, racing to answer, told Archie, ‘I wish I’d had it
disconnected
while you were here.’

‘Not on my account, I hope. However, since you didn’t, I won’t fuss.’

Lettice lost his words as she answered Belinda’s call. ‘How kind. I meant to ring you but all my energies have been taken up with nursing.’ Then, silencing Archie, ‘Virtue is getting her reward. Roses are beginning to blossom on his cheeks again.’

It was true that Archie’s colour was unnaturally high. He felt extremely ill and planned to discuss the matter with Harold at the earliest opportunity.

In the fully furnished bedroom, he sat down near the
window
and convulsed into coughing.

‘It’s no good. A doctor must be called.’ White with worry, Harold went to Lettice. ‘Is there a doctor? A good one? Archie is unwell.’

‘Why didn’t he say?’

‘He did. A minute ago. Can you call one, please?’

A feeble jangle came from the cowbell in Archie’s room. Harold mounted the stairs, taking them in threes. During the seconds that had passed since clasping the bell, Archie had fallen asleep. The pianola vibrated in rhythm with his snores.

Harold sat beside him until a car drew up.

The doctor, unfamiliar with his patient, insisted that Archie be returned to hospital. ‘It could be pleurisy,’ he said. ‘Also, this is a little awkward. Does he drink to excess?’

Harold hustled him out. Rain had been pouring down since daybreak and the roads were wet.

Archie, horizontal, and Harold, upright, spent what seemed like hours in the ambulance.

Victoria, in the wet, pushed Maudie’s pram along the farm track towards a wider road. She jumped at the noise of a hooter. Lettice’s car advanced. Stopping, she wound the
window
down and popped a plumed head through the gap.

‘I was en route for the stables. Pining for a chat.’

Victoria had to walk back with Maudie. It would only take ten minutes. They would meet up at the stables.

‘What a fiasco,’ Lettice wailed when they were reunited. ‘Archie has been borne away in an ambulance.’

As had often happened to Lettice’s victims, Victoria found, quite suddenly, that she had lost the will to struggle.

‘The doctor rang me after they’d left and suggested that Archie was drunk. I have trained Lily to see that there’s always a whisky bottle by the spare-room bed but only today did I
discover that she had been replacing Archie’s each morning.’ Lettice began to sob and, as she sobbed, she threw herself about on the sofa.

Victoria, dry-eyed, handed her Archie’s filthy handkerchief saying, quietly, ‘You can keep it. Keep it as long as you like.’

Chapter 1

I
t was a few weeks later and Archie, apart from the ill effects of sporadic drinking bouts, was in excellent health.

‘Harold. Isn’t it time we asked Victoria here once again?’

‘If you say so.’

‘You were very full of her praises.’

‘Indeed.’

‘Do you have to be so heavy?’

‘No. No. By all means. Let her come.’

‘Lettice has subsided and I’d enjoy it.’

Archie wrote. ‘A lot of fluid has passed through my lungs since we spoke. I am now rather well and wish to entertain you here. So does Harold.’

Victoria had been feeling low and accepted at once. A packet had come for her accompanied by a note from Mungo. ‘One thinks one mentioned that one wanted you to have a little keepsake. Something that belonged to Laurence. One has
pondered
a lot on the question and has stumbled on something
appropriate. This watercolour that you so skilfully created. One admits that it is a wrench for one to part with it but feel that it should, by right, be yours. One’s sorry that one had to remove the frame. Perhaps one day, if you are ever in these parts, you might like to collect it.’

What had happened to Laurence’s stepdaughter, the Comtessa Primrose? Had she been cut out of his will?

Archie and Harold prepared for Victoria’s visit. ‘Harold. What are we to do about this?’ He slid a summons from a renowned and neighbouring hostess, Perdita Chanter, over the table. ‘In view of the situation we should either propose taking Victoria with us or we should decline to go. Which do you advise?’

‘That depends.’

‘What on?’

‘On you. On how you behave.’

Archie chuckled, ‘We shall take her.’

Leaving Maudie with Arthur’s old nurse, Victoria travelled on a series of trains to Cambridge.

Archie wrote to Perdita Chanter. ‘You have heard me speak of Victoria Holliday. The widow of Roland and Lettice
Holliday
’s son, Edgar. She will be spending the weekend here and I write to ask if we can bring her with us to your luncheon party.’

On opening the letter, Perdita Chanter pressed a button on one of three telephones and dialled the number of the painter, Robert Stratton.

‘Tell me everything you know about Victoria Holliday.’

‘She used to live with Laurence. Laurence Bland in Italy. I met her there once or twice. Very talented painter, I thought.’

‘Go on.’

‘I was disappointed when she married that dreary Edgar.’

‘She’s Archie’s new friend. He’s bringing her here and I want some background. For heaven’s sake, go on.’

‘Well. She used to be frightfully pretty. Buxom. On the plump side.’

‘Not huge bosoms?’

‘They were a fair size.’

‘That’s terribly funny. Archie’s always hated bosoms. He’s got a thing about them.’

Robert had to hurry.

Later, in Victoria’s presence, Archie demanded of Harold, ‘I wonder what Victoria will make of Perdita.’

‘I don’t know. I couldn’t say.’

‘Women. She doesn’t like women.’ He was talking of Perdita.

‘How foul,’ Victoria pouted and cracked her knuckles as Archie winced.

‘I would be surprised if this time she doesn’t make an exception.’

Victoria was nervous in the front of the Daimler. Archie never made use of the driving mirror and her fears increased as the hostess, on their arrival, stared at the front of her jacket before saying a word.

The room was full of people; mostly men. Perdita wore her hair in a bun; out of joint with the rest of her elegant appearance. A skilled social technician, she whirled Victoria towards the runt of the group; a mossy youth sent by a firm of London auctioneers to put a price on Perdita’s possessions. Smoking,
Perdita drawled to Archie, ‘I hope the merry widow can hold her own.’

Victoria could barely hold her glass.

She was placed between the assessor and a prosperous young man; the very one that Lettice had provided for Alice after Roland’s exhibition. The assessor told her how
stimulating
it was to work amongst beautiful things.

‘One or two mouth-watering possessions here.’ He lowered his voice.

Perdita, celebrated for having reintroduced general
conversation
after the war, craned across her neighbour and addressed Victoria as though to disembowel her.

‘Archie tells me that Henry, next to you, knows your
parents
-in-law somehow or other.’

Victoria turned to him and introduced the topic.

‘Not really,’ he said, ‘but your mother-in-law does keep
ringing
me up and asking me to things. I was invited to a dinner she gave not long ago at the Ritz after some exhibition. She’s relentless. I hope that I don’t sound rude.’

Archie, on Perdita’s left and fairly far from Victoria, said, ‘Aren’t you wonderful. You’ve started her off.’

‘Now we shall have to see if she knows when to stop. I hope to God she doesn’t bang on about those ghastly Hollidays throughout lunch.’

Archie arranged an expression of timidity as he heaped a white and curly pinnacle onto his plate. Perdita said, ‘Ordered for the occasion. It’s called Widow’s Peak.’

‘Is that supposed to be a joke?’

Perdita said that it was time for general conversation.

‘Now. I know we’re all wondering which coward wrote that ambiguous review about Roy’s book in the
TLS
.’

On the way back to Cambridge Archie said, ‘Poor Perdita. She’s a bit of a goose but a very human one, if such a thing is possible.’

To Victoria, ‘Harold thinks I should marry her.’

‘Why?’

‘He likes her. She’s always been very good about including him in her invitations although he never utters and contributes nothing.’

Harold had been mistaken. Archie was capable, after all, of saying things bad enough to make Victoria hate him. She, concerned for Harold’s feelings, turned and put her hand over the back of her seat, letting it rest by the knob of the pull-out picnic table behind her. Harold took it in his and they travelled on in silence and in some danger.

Harold went to his room.

Dining with Victoria, Archie questioned, ‘Did I notice a birdlike hand claw yours when we were in the car?’

‘You were certainly in a position to notice what was going on behind you.’

‘Are you criticising my driving?’

‘No. Just remarking.’

‘Very well. You haven’t answered my question.’

‘Then. Yes.’

‘But this is wonderful. It’s so frightfully good for him. I don’t see him holding Lettice’s hand – or Perdita’s.’

‘Perhaps you wouldn’t talk as you did in front of them. Poor Harold. You made him sound delinquent – saying it was good of Perdita to include him.’

‘Are you upbraiding me?’

‘Mildly.’

Later on he said, ‘I think I despise you.’

Wistful for the spotted handkerchief and wishing she hadn’t given it to Lettice, Victoria asked, ‘What for? How dare you? What for?’

‘For taking it all to heart.’

Only half in jest, she shouted, ‘Humbug. Twisted,
flint-hearted
hypocrite. Tormented misogynist. Pedant, quack and sham.’ She was a bit drunk.

‘I would go and fetch you a drink but I don’t want to miss anything that you might say in my absence.’

They were interrupted by a shrill ring from the telephone.

‘Perdita here. I was fascinated to meet the Holliday widow. I can see the whole thing.’

‘What thing are you referring to?’

‘Your thing about her. She’s frightfully attractive and what a frontispiece! Now. Seriously. I want you to help raise money for me to save the nation. There’s a strong note of feminine hysteria in our funds office and I’ve given your name as
somebody
who’ll help.’

‘I’m terribly busy at the moment. I’ll ring you back.’

Perdita lay down and called out, ‘Do fetch me a toddy, Nanny. God I wish people would stop changing horses mid-stream.’

Harold crept into Archie’s bed that night and told him that
he was in love with Victoria but intended to allow his feelings to remain unexpressed, if possible, for ever.

Archie, applauding each decision, for he regarded both as such, said, ‘This is all perfectly wonderful.’

He had noticed that Perdita was a little captivated by
Victoria
and probably planned to take her up.