The Land of Summer (18 page)

Mrs Graham smoothed down her black dress. She hoped that she did not feel immoderately proud of her connections, but she did feel she had good reason to feel mildly euphoric. This was what experience brought, a knowledge of human beings and how to use it to its best effect.

Within a short space of time Emmaline and Mrs Graham had compiled a list of people they hoped would make up a suitable party to celebrate the master of Park House’s forthcoming birthday. All that now had to be done was to make sure that everyone concerned was aware of the need to maintain the all-important secrecy, and to pray that Julius Aubrey, esquire, was not going to be away from home that evening, either on business or on undisclosed pleasure, for, as they both knew, his habit of appearing and disappearing at will could well destroy everything.

Emmaline and Mrs Graham had been keeping an eye on the time for what seemed to both of them to have been hours and hours. At last they heard Julius’s key in the lock, and stared at each other in wordless relief before Emmaline fled up the stairs to change into her best evening gown.

Wilkinson greeted Julius in his usual way, but even to his nervous eyes Mr Aubrey appeared to be taking for ever to climb the stairs to his dressing room, where, as was his custom, he would
change
into evening dress. As soon as the butler heard the dressing-room door closing, he gave the signal and the rest of the servants surged up from below stairs. Vases of flowers were put out in the drawing room and dining room, wines were decanted, and every other last-minute touch that could be made was made.

Oh, the hurrying and the scurrying that had to be effected as the guests, having left their carriages further down the street, crept into the drawing room, and Wilkinson closed the door after them. Emmaline too hurried down the stairs, her heart seeming to be literally in her mouth as she did so, dreading that Julius would either decline to come down to dinner, or decide on a whim, and without reference to her or anyone else, to go out for the evening. Happily she reached the drawing room and was able to close the double doors behind her without being either called back by her husband, or warned by Wilkinson that he was about to leave the house again.

The line of happy faces that stood about the room was so warming that Emmaline instantly forgot all about her lack of social confidence and went from one person to another introducing herself, and shaking hands, and altogether giving such a wonderfully warm and merry display that everyone present, having speculated before they met her as to her character, and the reasons behind her hasty and secret marriage, decided that Julius’s choice of wife was absolutely perfect.

‘What is this?’ Julius wondered in unconcealed
astonishment
when he opened the drawing-room door that fateful evening, thinking only to find Emmaline waiting for him with a glass of sherry before dining and instead being greeted with a sea of welcoming faces, everyone clapping lightly with gloved hands, and murmuring, ‘Happy birthday, dear Julius.’ Emmaline immediately hurried forward to welcome him, the clamour of the rest of the guests erupting happily around them. ‘What is this?’ Julius repeated. ‘This is a surprise, a great surprise – an extraordinary surprise.’

‘Happy birthday, Julius,’ Emmaline repeated, coming to stand by his side and reaching up to kiss him on the cheek. For a second it seemed to her that he had paled with the sudden shock of seeing all the faces around him.

‘Happy birthday, Julius,’ his guests chorused, circling round their host. ‘And many congratulations.’

‘As I just said to my wife,’ Julius replied, with a nod of courtesy to the assembled company, ‘this
is
a surprise. A complete and utter surprise.’

Since everyone took this as an expression of delight and satisfaction, general conversation was happily resumed, well fortified now by a steady supply of champagne served by Wilkinson, George and Alan, all of whom looked delighted as they realised that the first part of the evening had gone without a hitch. As Wilkinson remarked later, ‘… and miracle of miracles, Mr Aubrey actually fetched up at the right moment, when all
the
time we was all certain that the party would be sure to go ahead without him.’

‘Do look, Julius,’ Emmaline said, gently steering her husband by one arm to a table set in one corner, which was laden with birthday gifts. ‘Look how many presents you have been given. Including …’ Emmaline looked carefully at the pile of beautifully wrapped gifts, and, finding what she was looking for, handed her present to Julius. ‘Including one from me,’ she finished.

‘Emma, you are too kind, truly you are,’ Julius muttered to her, opening the gift, tearing at the pretty paper with nervous hands. ‘You shouldn’t have asked all these people to wish me joy of the day. I don’t deserve it.’

‘Perhaps not, Julius,’ Emmaline said with a calm smile, ‘but then perhaps you might enjoy it. Or at least try to find it in yourself to do so, since everyone else is here for your pleasure.’

Julius glanced at her, surprised by the strength of her tone.

‘A book of poems,’ he remarked, having finished his unwrapping. ‘Longfellow. But I think I might already have this one, might I not, Emma?’

‘I don’t think you do, Julius,’ Emmaline said. ‘I took the precaution of checking your shelves while you were away. Now come along and talk to your guests – there are many people here who knew your father and would like to make your acquaintance.’

Perhaps due to his wife’s calm demeanour, Julius seemed all of a sudden to be more than
willing
to relax and enjoy himself, moving with growing ease from group to group, talking, listening, laughing. Emmaline watched with increasing pleasure as the enjoyment mounted in the drawing room until, after checking with Mrs Graham that everything was ready, she gave instructions for her guests to be summoned to table.

After the ladies had retired, the gentlemen remained at table to drink the vintage cognac on offer and smoke the fine cigars, leaving Emmaline to attend to the needs of her female guests, none of whom she had ever met socially, although a few of them were known to her by sight.

‘My dear Mrs Aubrey,’ one tall, handsome older woman said to her, coming to sit by her on the small sofa on the landing as they waited for the rest of the ladies to finish their toilet. ‘We have not had the pleasure of meeting either you or your husband until tonight, although of course his father was well known to all of us. I did call on you shortly after your marriage and leave my card, but it seems that you might not have received it?’

‘I must apologise for that,’ Emmaline said quickly. ‘There was a quite unnecessary confusion as to where the calling cards should be placed, and as a consequence quite a few became mislaid. It was a consequence of my only having been newly arrived in Bamford.’

‘Perfectly understandable in the first flush of marriage, my dear, let alone arriving in a new
neighbourhood
. In case you haven’t yet put names to faces, I am Marguerite Bateson, Sir Henry Bateson’s wife. We live in Sutton George, a few miles beyond the town. Perhaps you will be kind enough to come to one of my At Homes? I shall have my maid call and leave a card.’

‘Thank you,’ Emmaline replied. ‘I would be more than happy to accept such an invitation.’

‘Good. Now tell me what part of America you are from. Henry and I intend to visit your country next year, not extensively, there will not be the time, just New York, and then a visit to some relatives in Pittsburgh which I understand is in Pennsylvania.’

‘I was born and raised further north, in Massachusetts, in a small town outside Greenfield, about a hundred miles from Boston.’

‘Ah, Boston.’ Marguerite smiled, tapping Emmaline on her knee with her closed fan. ‘Where you held that naughty old tea party.’

Emmaline smiled. ‘A pity you will not be visiting Boston,’ she said. ‘It’s a fine city, with a great deal to see.’

‘I am quite sure I would appreciate it greatly,’ Marguerite agreed. ‘But not dear Henry. If I took Henry there I am sure I would have trouble restraining him from burning the place down. It was all the fault of George the Third, of course, but nevertheless Henry is very imperialistic, far too much so in my opinion.’

Emmaline smiled politely once again, and then, seeing that all the ladies were now ready,
she
led the way back into the drawing room to wait for the gentlemen to join them, which they did almost immediately. All parties, it seemed, had been both well dined and well wined, the gentlemen especially, if the colour of their heightened complexions was anything to go by.

‘If I may say, Emma, indeed I must tell you,’ Julius said to her as he came to stand by her side, ‘you are looking really very pretty this evening, very pretty indeed. The prettiest young woman in the room, I would say.’

‘Thank you, Julius,’ Emmaline replied, trying not to sound surprised.

Julius nodded appreciatively as Emmaline fanned herself gently. ‘That colour, truly, that colour, well, it certainly suits you.’

Emmaline now allowed herself to look more than pleased, for she had been careful to choose both the colour and the style of the gown with Julius very much in mind, hoping that the warmth of the deep red silk would show off her pale skin, and that the cut of the top of the dress, with its ruched edges, would flatter and accentuate her breasts. Once or twice during the evening, when she was sure he did not know she was looking his way, she had thought she had caught him staring at her, as if he had not quite noticed her femininity before, or perhaps because for once there were other men present who seemed really very happy to appreciate both her looks and her young rounded shape. Whatever the reason, Julius was quite definitely more aware of her
than
he had been since they first danced together in America.

‘Yes, Emma, you are looking ravishing, if I may say so.’

‘Thank you, Julius,’ Emmaline said again. ‘I am sorry to interrupt you, but I have to announce the entertainment.’

‘Yes, of course.’

He bowed, and Emmaline moved away from him, nodding a signal to Wilkinson to call for quiet.

‘If I may have your attention for a minute, ladies and gentlemen?’ Emmaline requested once the conversation had died down. ‘It being my husband Julius’s birthday, as you are all aware, I have arranged a small entertainment in his honour – and of course for your pleasure as well. First of all Mr Arthur Chesterman is going to sing for us, accompanied by Miss Elizabeth Caldecott at the pianoforte, his first song being “Who is Sylvia?” by Franz Schubert.’

Mr Arthur Chesterman, a noted local amateur tenor, and the pianist, an earnest young woman who was the singer’s usual accompanist, took their places at Julius’s fine Blüthner grand and sang Schubert’s already world-famous
Lieder
, followed by Mendelssohn’s ‘On Wings of Song’, both rendered to perfection and much to the delight of the company. Two of the guests, Mr Alfred Booth and his fiancée Miss Constance Stokes, then sang a medley of songs from Gilbert and Sullivan’s
HMS Pinafore
accompanied this
time
by Emmaline herself at the piano, and finally Mr Arthur Chesterman returned to conclude the recital with a fine rendition of Schubert’s ‘Wandering’.

After she had thanked the singers and the bespectacled Miss Caldecott for their wonderful efforts, Emmaline, looking not just pretty but quite beautiful, filled as she was with the warmth of the evening that she had created for her husband, then addressed her guests.

‘The entertainment is not quite at an end,’ she told them. ‘If I may crave your indulgence for just a few moments more, I would like to give my dear husband, Julius, a special present on his birthday.’

She smiled across at Julius, for once feeling confident of what she was about to do, while the audience, their attention having been gained, waited with great interest to see what was coming next.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, as you are no doubt aware, I am new to England, but have been at great pains to try to adapt to your charming ways, as I have to those of my husband. With this in mind I have recently learned of Julius’s great love of poetry, which is something I think I share with him, although in no way do I see myself as any kind of equal, I hasten to add!’ This earned Emmaline some appreciative laughter from her guests. ‘I was going to recite some Robert Browning, who I know is a particular favourite of my husband’s, but although I have learned to
admire
Mr Browning’s great verse, I could not find anything in his works that was appropriate to this occasion. So instead I have chosen a poem written by his wife, Elizabeth Barrett Browning. It is entitled “If Thou Must Love Me”.’

At this moment Miss Caldecott, having seated herself once more at the piano, as previously arranged, played a charming little introduction she herself had composed for the occasion. As the chords died away, Emmaline began to recite.

‘
If thou must love me, let it be for naught

Except for love’s sake only. Do not say
,

“I love her for her smile, her look, her way

Of speaking gently, for a trick of thought

That falls in well with mine, and certes brought

A sense of pleasant ease on such a day”
,

For these things in themselves, Belovèd, may

Be changed, or change for thee, and love, so wrought
,

May be unwrought so. Neither love me for

Thine own dear pity’s wiping my cheeks dry:

A creature might forget to weep, who bore

Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby!

But love me for love’s sake, that evermore

Thou mayst love on, through love’s eternity
.’

As Emmaline finished the recitation she realised that so involved had she been, so intense had been her wish to convey the right emotion, that she had closed her eyes. Now she opened them and saw her audience applauding her with genuine enthusiasm, the gentlemen in particular.
She
bowed several times in response, feeling as happy as she had ever felt, and it was only as the applause died away that she noticed that there was one pair of hands that had not been applauding. Julius’s chair was empty, and as she took this in she realised that the people who had been seated either side of him were looking not just embarrassed for her, but mortified.