The Dream House (18 page)

Raven was staring morosely into his port, but at this he looked up and winked at his sister. Agnes felt a sense of panic as she listened to her father’s words.

‘Miss Wintour is a sweet girl of some three and twenty,’ Melton went on. ‘She’s been educated by an excellent governess and her father has brought her up in exemplary fashion with the help of his elder unmarried sister. She was launched into society in her nineteenth year, but sadly, soon afterwards, she became ill with a strange malady that sapped all her energy and has hence lived a sheltered existence for the last two or three years. Thankfully, the doctors have now pronounced her completely healed.

‘I visited her a number of times in her convalescence and she has proved a very sweet and attentive companion. She has been very interested in my business, in our home here and in you both, in books and, I am flattered to say, anything else an old buffer like myself has to say—‘

‘Oh Father, you’re not an old buffer,’ broke in Agnes. ‘You’re only forty-four. And you haven’t got any grey hair, not like Diana’s father . . .’ She trailed to a halt and stared at her hands, clenched in her lap. She was dreading what her father had to say, but gabbling would only put off the awful moment. She looked up at him, his neat black hair, his dear sensitive face, and was struck suddenly by how handsome and charming he was. Perhaps, she thought with a shock, he hadn’t been short of admirers in the years of his widowhood, despite his health. He was studying her, understanding clear in his sad dark eyes.

He reached out and patted her arm and said gently, ‘Thank you, Agnes. Your support matters to me so much, my dear. Well. This is what I have to tell you both. I am delighted to say that Miss Wintour – Vanessa – has agreed to marry me.’

There was a silence. Outside, a nightingale began to sing. They sat and listened to the liquid song, not daring to meet one another’s eyes. Agnes felt her world tilt on its axis.

Raven spoke first, but his tone was sneering. ‘Well, I say, that is some news. Congratulations, Father.’

‘Yes,’ stuttered Agnes. ‘Congratulations.’ Then she burst into tears.

‘Darling,’ said her father, reaching out for her. ‘Come on, don’t cry. Vanessa’s so sweet, you will love her. I feel so lucky. A beautiful wife and a beautiful daughter.’ He laughed, then looked solemn once more. ‘We’ve had so much trouble, haven’t we? I can hardly believe that she loves me – you know, a man twice her age. But she does.’

Agnes only cried harder than ever. Gerald threw his napkin on the table and edged his way over to put his arms around her, resting his cheek against hers. ‘My little girl,’ he cried. ‘What is the matter? I’d never do anything to hurt you.’

How unprepared she’d been for the force of the emotion that rushed in. ‘Mama . . . You’ve forgotten Mama,’ were the only words she could say between the sobs. How fresh still, after thirteen years, was her loss.

Raven stared at her, his expression wild.

‘I’ll never forget your mama,’ whispered Gerald into her ear, stroking her hair. ‘I’ve missed your mother every moment of every day. Why do you think I went away to the war but to get away from the memory of her?’

‘This makes me
sick
!’ burst out Raven. ‘You left
us
. Don’t think I don’t remember. And now you’ve got
her
, you won’t want us here any more.’ And he ran from the room, the door slamming shut behind him.

‘Wait! Raven! Come back!’ shouted Gerald, limping over and opening the door, Agnes close behind him. What they saw was Raven hauling the front door open, to reveal the startled figure of Miss Selcott standing on the step. ‘Come in, come in,’ cried Raven, bowing extravagantly, and Miss Selcott edged past him warily. ‘Join the party. We’re just congratulating my dear Papa.’ And with that he walked out into the dark.

‘Congratulating?’ Miss Selcott said as she peeled off her gloves, looking from Agnes’s tear-streaked face to Gerald Melton’s anxious one.

‘My father is getting married again,’ Agnes murmured, then swayed, feeling faint. Mr Melton reached out to steady her.

The governess quickly recovered her own composure, carried on removing her gloves and nodded to her employer.

‘Congratulations, sir,’ was all she said. Meanwhile, Agnes made her way upstairs, feeling that she would never get over this shock.

The old lady’s story had drifted to a halt. She sat now, her eyes closed.

Kate, who had remained silent throughout this narrative, apart from the odd whispered question, now asked, ‘And what was Vanessa like?’

‘I’ll have to tell you another time!’ Agnes said. ‘I’m tired now. Wish they’d bring me some tea.’

‘Oh my God, look at the time,’ cried Kate. ‘I’ll never be forgiven if I’m late for my own birthday tea. Daisy’s made the cake. Thanks so much for these . . .’ She fingered the necklace. ‘And thank you,’ she bent and gently kissed Agnes’s cheek, ‘for telling me so much. I do want to hear more.’

‘Next time,’ Agnes promised tiredly, and fumbled on the bedside table for the bell to summon the nurse.

The following weekend, Kate took Daisy and Sam to meet Agnes.

When she’d aired the idea with Simon he’d been unsure. Would the children be frightened by the hospital, the other patients?

Unexpectedly, Joyce had been of the firm opinion that it was good for children to go, and so, armed with a packet of sweets as bribery for good behaviour, Kate took them both. She asked Simon to come, too, but he said he would rather stay at home for a bit of peace and quiet. And, to tell the truth, she was secretly glad. Sometime, when Agnes was back in her own home, it would be nice to introduce Simon to her. He would be on edge in a hospital.

In the event, the children behaved beautifully. Agnes asked them about school and what they liked doing best. Sam was allowed to be pushed about in the wheelchair by Daisy.

‘They’re darlings,’ Agnes told her the next time Kate came. ‘Do they get on well?’

‘Most of the time,’ said Kate. ‘There’s the usual fights and I suppose they have different interests, but they have the same sense of humour and Daisy can be really sweet the way she looks after Sam sometimes.’

‘After I was eighteen I never saw my brother again,’ said Agnes suddenly, as if stabbed by an old remembered pain.

‘What happened? Did he die?’ Kate asked tentatively.

Agnes shook her head. ‘Not till nineteen sixty,’ she said. ‘But after what happened, Father never spoke to him again. Raven never even came to Father’s funeral. And I couldn’t forgive him for that.’

Kate wasn’t sure what her elderly cousin meant by ‘after what happened’. She simply asked, ‘You were telling me about Vanessa. Were they married in Seddington church?’

‘No,’ said Agnes. ‘Her family arranged the wedding, so it was in London. I don’t remember ever seeing Father so happy as he was that day . . .’

Autumn, 1927

Gerald Melton and Vanessa Wintour were married one Friday in October in the baroque church of St James’s Piccadilly. The groom’s side of the church was pitifully empty – just Raven, Agnes, their Aunt Florence and her husband, Lister and a few of Gerald’s London business connections, including his friend William Armstrong, whom Agnes knew and who shared her interest in collecting. Vanessa’s side of the family, however, seemed to have taken the divine instruction to ‘go forth and multiply’ too far. Although Vanessa herself was an only child, her parents had both come from huge families, and their sisters, and the brothers who had survived the war, had all in their turn given birth to many children, and they all filled most of the left-hand rows of pews.

Vanessa had never looked prettier to Agnes’s mind. She was possessed of a wispy fragility that was accentuated by fine wavy blonde hair, a pink and white complexion and light blue eyes. Agnes could see how her father had been so quickly captivated. There was something about Vanessa that begged you to look after her.

For Mr Melton was now a different man, younger-looking, light of spirit. If Vanessa was in the room, his eyes would hardly leave her face. If she was absent, he would talk about her. ‘Of course, Vanessa will have her own ideas about the decorations,’ he would say when a discussion arose about the peeling William Morris wallpaper in the drawing room. Or, ‘Vanessa thinks we should entertain our neighbours here more often. We must see if Mrs Duncan might not be persuaded to, ah, spread her wings a little in the matter of menus.’

Vanessa seemed so sweet-natured, too. She had come down to Seddington on several occasions over the summer, once with her aunt, another time with her father, and she had taken great pains to befriend Agnes.

‘It’s ridiculous, of course, that I will be your stepmother. You must be my sister, my darling sister. I’ve always wanted one, you know. It’s been so lonely since Mama died and I got so ill.’

They were lazing together on the swing seat in the morning sunshine, Vanessa lying with her head in Agnes’s lap, one trailing foot gently rocking them to and fro.

Agnes ran her fingers through Vanessa’s blonde bob and smiled. ‘I always wanted a sister, too, though I know I’m lucky having Raven. I’ve got my friend Diana, of course, but it’s not the same.’ Diana was, in fact, none too pleased at Vanessa’s arrival on the scene. She no longer had the Meltons to herself, and she privately agreed with her mother that Vanessa was ‘too pretty for her own good’.

Vanessa reached up to hug Agnes. ‘Oh, we shall be such friends, you and I. We shall have such fun!’

And Agnes felt as though her heart would burst with happiness.

‘Don’t ever
ever
think I would try and take the place of your mother,’ Vanessa continued. And Agnes believed her. Vanessa seemed in awe of the sacred memory of Evangeline, without being cast down by the figure of her sanctified predecessor. And having Vanessa in no way disturbed the girl’s memories of her mother – it
was
rather like having a delightful elder sister. At the same time, she realized that her own position in the household was changing. She would have to give way to Vanessa now, who as the future Mrs Melton was to be the new mistress, but Agnes minded less than she had thought she might.

Vanesssa was enchanted with Seddington House – ‘It’s so much bigger than our cottage in Petworth’ – and wanted to meet all the neighbours. So the Fortescues at Fortescue Hall, the Waverleys at The Gables and the Forsters at Halesworth Grange obliged, curious to meet this exotic butterfly who had finally melted the widower’s frozen heart. Vanessa was the centre of attention at these gatherings. She would profess how delighted she was by everything, would charm the old men and flatter the women, play with the children and pet the animals.

Not everyone succumbed to Vanessa’s spell. The Rector’s wife was naturally suspicious of physical beauty, and there was no doubt that Vanessa’s occasional impatience with the simple customs of the household rubbed Mrs Duncan up the wrong way. ‘She’s artful, that one,’ Agnes overheard Mrs Duncan saying to Lister one day. ‘I caught her in the library. She didn’t see me. Going through Mr Melton’s private bureau, she was. Looking at his papers.’ Agnes puzzled over this, but concluded that Vanessa must have had her father’s permission to look for something.

The staff were also bothered by rumours of change in the household. Miss Selcott was still in residence and directing Agnes’s reading, but she announced that she would be leaving shortly after the wedding, taking lodgings with the Rector’s family and tutoring children from local families. After all, Agnes was now a young woman and there was much discussion about her future. Whatever was in store for her, she wouldn’t need a governess.

In September, the housemaid Ethel, and Alf, her sweetheart, were married in the village church and Mr Melton paid for a bountiful reception for them at the new village hall. As a married woman, Ethel’s services were no longer required at Seddington House and so a farm labourer’s daughter, Ruby, was brought in to be trained up as her replacement. There was talk that she would also be expected to attend the new Mrs Melton.

The most important person Vanessa was failing to charm was Raven.