Menfreya in the Morning (18 page)

I was too happy to speak in those first moments. Then I said rather quietly: “I suppose it’s what we must expect … the music and the chatter.”

“Actually I avoid such affairs whenever possible.**

Victoria Holt

121

“I shall too, but ill! be easier for you than for me. Is there any news of Gwennan?”

“None,” he said. “I have to apologize, don’t I? I was angry, and I thought it might have been avoided if you had told us about the affair; but of course I understand that she took you into her confidence, and you’re the last one who would betray that.”

“I’m glad you understand.”

“You met this fellow, didn’t you? Oh God, what a noise! Shall we try and find a quieter spot?”

He took my hand and pulled my arm through his; several eyes followed us as we found our way to an alcove slightly secluded by palms.

“That’s better.”

“Far from the madding crowd,** I murmured, my spirits beginning to rise.

“But not far enough. This actor, what was he like?”

“I only saw hin^ on the stage and quite briefly behind the scenes.”

“But how did he strike you, Harriet?”

“It’s hard to say. He was so much an actor that he always seemed to be playing a part—offstage as well as on.”

“I don’t know what will become of her.”

“She’s very resourceful.”

“She hasn’t written to you and asked you not to tell us?” He smiled. “But then if she had, you wouldn’t tell, would

Y=011?”

“No. But I can tell you this: She hasn’t written to me.**

“I wonder whether that’s a good or bad sign.”

“It could be either.”

VYou don’t deceive me, Harriet. If Gwennan had anything to boast about she would have written to you. Didn’t she always?”

“Yes. But she might be afraid you would get on to her trafl and try to bring her back.”

“We couldn’t… if she were married. If you do hear, will you tell me … providing, of course, you aren’t bound to secrecy?”

“Of course I will, Bevil.**

“Well, that’s that. Now tell me about yourself. You’re staying at your aunt’s, I gathered, when I called on your stepmother the other day.”

“Yes, and I shall be glad when all this is over! I hate tbflle affairs.”

122

Menfreya in the Morning

Victoria Holt

123

“So do I.”

“You were under no compulsion to come.”

“Wrong again, Harriet. I was under the great compulsion of wanting to see you. You know that you are the most intelligent and amusing young lady of my acquaintance, don’t you?”

“I know that you have the art of paying compliments.”

He leaned towards me and kissed my nose. I thought: There was never happiness such as this. Why could I have thought I didn’t want to come to Lady Mellingfort’s ball?

We talked of Menfreya, and as I sat with Bevil in that alcove, I could hear the swish of the waves and see the machicolated walls and the old clock in the tower; I could see myself riding with Bevil through the woods and lanes. I felt intoxicated by happiness.

Later when we went in to supper together, to my dismay we were joined by my Aunt Clarissa and Sylvia, whom I was malicious enough to note was without an escort.

“Mr. Menfrey! How delighted I am. My daughter Sylvia.”

I felt a twinge of fear as he looked at her in that warm, caressing way he and his father looked at all women.

Sylvia said: “I’m delighted too, Mr. Menfrey. I’ve heard so much about you-“

“Then there is delight all round. Harriet could talk of nothing else but her charming cousins all the evening!”

I caught my breath, but he was smiling at me. He had summed up the situation,

Lady Mellingfort had thought it would be amusing for her guests to help themselves at the buffet supper; and Bevil suggested that he should bring our supper to the table.

“Take Sylvia along with you. She will help you. Go along. Sylvia my dear.”

I watched them go off together and I hated my aunt She was hating me too.

“Really,” she said under her breath. “People are talking!”

“You’d hardly expect otherwise. This is not a monastic order where silence is expected.”

“Harriet! Listen to me.”

“I am listening, Aunt.”

“Your conduct has been disgraceful!”

“In what way?”

“Secreting yourself away with that man.**

“Secreting ourselves? Oh, Aunt, there was nothing secretive. We could be seen quite distinctly through the palms . .. and we were.”

*That’s what I mean. It simply is not done. You are under my care and I am most displeased. You monopolized Mr. Menfrey. Did it not occur to you that other people might have wanted to speak to him?”

“He has a very small fortune, Aunt. Of course, there’s the title which hell have one day, I suppose … but a country estate . * . and a comparatively small one. Not to be compared with earls and barons or even the Honorable Mr. Crellan.”

“Will you be silent! Well, at least he and Sylvia seem to be getting along well together.”

They did. My brooding eyes had watched them laughing as they selected from the delicacies at the buffet table, assisted by Lady Mellingfort’s powdered flunkeys.

“Oh, here they come. Mr. Menfrey, what delicious things you have brought us! Pray sit here. And Sylvia, my dear, you sit there.”

Bevil had drawn his chair a little closer to mine. “I trust,” he said, smiling at me, “this will be to your taste.” He was charming to my aunt, and towards Sylvia he displayed that mildly flirtatious attitude which he seemed unable to avoid. The evening was not exactly spoilt, but I had descended a long way from the Elysian heights.

Nor did I have a chance of regaining them, and all too soon we had said our farewells, Bevil had accepted an invitation to call at my aunt’s house, and our carriage was taking us along Park Lane. We were all silent.

In my bedroom I threw my gown over a chair and got into bed, where between waking and sleeping I imagined I was at Menfreya looking out to sea and then rowing over to the island where Bevil was waiting for me, or riding through the woods, laughing, talking; then galloping to escape from Aunt Clarissa and Sylvia, who were in pursuit. It was pleasant dreaming with only the faintest shadow of doubt and distrust —a true reflection of what had happened to me at Lady Mellingfort’s ball.

The next day my aunt suggested that it would be seemly for me to visit my stepmother, and I quite willingly obeyed. I was surprised at this little gesture of thoughtfulness until I learned that Bevil had called while I was out—as presumably had been arranged without my knowledge—and had taken wine and biscuits in the drawing room.

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Menfreya in the Morning

When I returned and discovered what had happened I felt murderous.

“He paid such attention to Sylvia!” cried Phyllis. “I thought you were trying to flirt with him,” put in Sylvia. “Well be is rather amusing, and in any case he would keep talking to me.”

I could not bear to listen to their conversation; but the triumph was mine when the next day—just before we were leaving for another of the season’s parties—one of the maids brought in the flowers.

They were in a charming box—two orchids—most tastefully displayed.

“Give it to me,” squealed Phyllis. “Oh, I do wonder who sent it”

My aunt came bustling in. “Flowers! Not at an unusuaL Don’t get so excited. Youll find this is quite a practice when a man wants to show he is interested.”

Sylvia was scowling at her sister and trying to take the box from her. “How do you know they’re for you?”

**Mr. Sorrel was so attentive at Lady Mellingfort’s and he hinted that he hoped we’d meet again, so I’m not surprised .. .**

“Oh, so they’re not for you?”

Sylvia was laughing at the card, which she had snatched out of the box.

“For you?” asked her mother.

But Phyllis tried to take the card from Sylvia and it dropped to the floor close to me and looking down at it I saw the writing on it *T11 be looking for you tonight, Harriet B.M.”

“It can’t be true,” said my aunt

I picked up the box. My name was written on it very clearly. I took out the orchids and held them against my dress.

My aunt had snatched the card and was reading it

“B.M.!” she cried.

“Specimens from the British Museum, you’re thinking? But I’m sure they were sent to me by Bevil Menfrey.”

I took the orchids to my room. I would take pains over my toilette and choose the dress which best matched the orchids.

This was a pale green and as I tried the orchids against it I knew it looked charming.

Victoria Holt

125

It was not easy to hide my elation, and my cousins and aunt were well aware of it

“It doesn’t do, Harriet,” said my aunt gently, “to attach too much importance to a gift of flowers.”

**I am sure it does not, Aunt,” I answered demurely.

“That friend of yours, Gwennan, she was a wild creature. It was quite shocking the way she ran away on the eve of her wedding. They must have been ashamed of her.”

“Perhaps they all make a habit of running away after promising marriage,” suggested Sylvia.

“They’re a wild family, I have always heard, and their prospects are not dazzling. I heard on very good authority that there are debts. They’ve got some crumbling old estate in the wilds of Cornwall, and I doubt we should know them but for the fact that your father, Harriet, was the Member there. And he took the seat because the previous Member had resigned on account of a scandal. That was your friend’s father. I think one would have to be very careful with a family like that.”

“Oh, you should be,” I said mischievously. “You shouldn’t ask any member of it to call for morning wine and biscuits when I’m out”

The exotic scent of the orchids was in my nostrils, intoxicating me. I did not care what they said, what they thought

I believed the night was going to be wonderful because I should see Bevil.

I was right It was. He spent the evening with me as he had before. We danced scarcely at all. Knowing how conscious I was of my infirmity, be suggested we talk instead. This we did, though not seriously, but I felt myself sparkling or I imagined I was. Perhaps happiness, like potent wine, makes you believe that of yourself. But Bevil laughed a great deal and at least gave the impression of enjoying my company, for he did not stray from my side the whole evening and he told me he was delighted to see me wearing the orchids.

Best of all I knew that we were watched, that speculations were being made about us.

Can it be possible that right at the beginning of the season Harriet Delvaney, who has nothing—but nothing at all to recommend her since her father married that actress—is going to be the first of the fillies to reach a winning post?

It was triumph.

126

Menfreya in the Morning

Victoria Holt

127

We were conspicuous, Bevil and I, for we were always together, and it was only natural that the society papers should notice us.

Aunt Clarissa pointed it out to me; she was half-impressed, half-envious. It seemed to her incredible that I, with no better fortune than her girls nowadays, and not a quarter of their beauty, should be the first to be mentioned.

I had come down to breakfast to find my aunt and cousins already at the table.

“Look at that,” said Aunt Clarissa.

“Oh, an account of Tuesday’s ball.”

“Read what it says.”

“Mr. Bevil Menfrey, Member of Parliament for a division of Cornwall, is seen to be constantly in the company of Miss Harriet Delvaney. Miss Delvaney is the daughter of the late Sir Edward Delvaney, who was Member for the division which Mr. Menfrey now represents. It will be remembered that Sir Edward died some eighteen months ago, shortly after his marriage. Is the enjoyment these two charming young people find in each other’s company due to politics … or .. .r

I laughed aloud.

“So we have been noticed.”

“I only hope,” said Sylvia, “that he is not amusing himself.”

“I am sure he is. He’s not the man to endure boredom.”

“You pretend to be so naive.”

“I, my dear coz?”

“Really, Harriet, you are very flippant,” chided my aunt. “This could be a very serious matter.”

I did not answer. It was a serious matter. The most serious in the world.

A few days later Bevil called at my aunt’s house.

By good fortune or by design he chose a time when my aunt and cousins were paying calls. I was in my own room and was startled and delighted when the maid appeared to tell me that he was in the drawing room.

“Asking for you, Miss Harriett,” she said, with a little grimace. The manners of my aunt and cousins did not endear them to those who worked for them; and consequently the servants here were delighted with my social success in putting their noses out of joint—of which of course they

had heard, since I had no doubt this was freely discussed belowstairs.

I wished that I was not in my plain lavender gingham and wondered whether I had time to change; I looked into my mirror and saw that my hair was untidy as usual. I looked very different from the young lady who had taken such pains to appear at her best at social entertainments.

I said: “Tell Mr. Menfrey that I will be with him in a few minutes.”

As soon as the door closed, I threw off my gingham and put on the gray faille dress with a separate bodice and skirt. While I struggled with the hooks I was conscious of the seconds ticking away, but when I had fastened the last one I noticed again the untidiness of my hair and paused to comb it It had taken a little more than five minutes to make the transformation. I have often thought of those five minutes as some of the most significant of my life.

I hurried down to the library to find Bevil standing with bis back to the fireplace. He took both my hands in his and for a few seconds stood there smiling at me.

“What great good fortune to find you in … alone.”

“My aunt and cousins should not be long,” I answered demurely. “Unless they should be unduly delayed.”

“Ladies,” he said, “have a habit of being unduly delayed.” His eyes were laughing at me, and I was aware that he knew I had stopped to change my dress.