How long she sat there she didn’t know, but there were no further sounds or rustlings coming from the other cubicles now. When she heard the tap on the door and a voice say, ‘Come out, child, there’s no one here,’ she rose slowly and pushed back the bolt. Then she was blinking rapidly in an endeavour to hold back the tears as she stared into the round and concerned face of this woman whom she thought of as old, but who had actually not yet reached fifty.
‘It’s all right; they’re all gone.’ A smile now widened the powdered face. ‘They’ve learnt their lesson I think. Anyway, you sobered Betty Connor up. She couldn’t believe the sound of her own voice. How did you do that?’
Nancy Ann gulped and said, ‘I’m…I’m quite good at mimicry.’
‘You are that. You are that. Now, come along. Stop blinking those long lashes of yours. No tears. You’ve won your first battle. Vicarage or no vicarage they’ll not misjudge you, or him, in the future. If they didn’t understand why he’s doing it, they will now.’
‘Doing what? Who?’
Lady Golding screwed up her face now, then said, ‘Oh, dear me.’ And she repeated, ‘Oh, dear me,’ before she added, ‘Come along, they’ll be starting the dance again.’
‘Wait a moment.’ Nancy Ann put her hand tentatively on the older woman’s arm. ‘Could you explain?’
‘No, I can’t. No, I can’t, my dear. I’ve done all the explaining and meddling that I’m going to do for this evening.’
‘I…I would like to go home, Lady Golding.’
‘You are doing no such thing.’ The voice had changed. ‘You are going into that ballroom with your head as high as it was a few minutes ago, and you are going to dance, and I don’t think you’ll be short of partners.’
A dance wasn’t in progress as she entered the ballroom: the band was tuning up and people were standing in groups talking.
Following Lady Golding, she made her way to her seat where Peter was waiting. He had been talking to a lady, one of the few who had smiled at her kindly during the first part of the evening, and it was with an apprehensive look and a shaking of the head that he greeted his sister. However, the lady stretched out her hand and patted Nancy Ann’s arm, saying in an undertone, ‘That was the best bit of entertainment I’ve had in a long while. She needed that, she’s been asking for it. I only wished I’d had the courage to do it myself.’ Then turning to Lady Golding, she said, ‘What do you think, Pat?’
‘The same as you, Flo. The same as you.’
‘Ah, there they go.’ The band had struck up with a polka. ‘And here comes the master of the house.’ The lady turned and left them, smiling and nodding her head.
As Nancy Ann went to seat herself, Dennison reached her and, thrusting out his arm towards her, said, ‘No, you don’t. No more sitting down for you,’ and without ceremony he whirled her towards the middle of the floor and they were lost amongst the other dancers.
‘Did you enjoy your meal?’ he asked.
‘Yes, yes, it was lovely.’ She looked into his face. It was flushed and his eyes were very bright, his lips looked red and he smiled all the while. He’s drunk a lot of wine, she thought.
‘You know something?’
‘I know very little.’ And that was true, she thought; there was much explanation needed as to why she was here tonight.
‘I think you are wonderful…a wonderful dancer.’
‘It is because you are so good yourself, you make me dance.’
‘I would like always to make you dance, and dance, and dance.’
Someone dunched into them, and there was much laughter and excusing; then they were off again …
What Lady Golding had said turned out to be true: she wasn’t at a loss for partners. But no-one danced as smoothly as Mr Harpcore. Some held her too tightly, some she felt she herself had to guide.
And then came another interval during which there were more refreshments.
The woman whom she had imitated was quite drunk now and she was still drinking wine and talking loudly, and for the first time during the evening Nancy Ann found herself unprotected by either her host, Lady Golding, or Peter, for her last partner had paid his respects and left her settled near a door. The maids were handing round the refreshments, but all she herself wanted was some fresh air, or to get into a room that wasn’t full of people, and one that hadn’t a roaring fire in the grate.
Quietly, she sidled out of the door, crossed the anteroom, then made her way down a passage which she imagined would lead her into the main hall. It was a long passage, with a number of doors. One was open and she saw that it led into a library, and she sighed with relief as she said to herself: Nobody will think of coming into a library tonight, at least none of those guests, for most of them are much the worse for wine.
There was a fire in this room too, but it was low in the grate. She walked to the far end, where there was a desk, behind which hung two enormous curtains. To one side was a tall Chinese screen. She looked around it and saw a small chaise longue upholstered in red velvet. As she thankfully sank onto it, she told herself she’d like to lie down on it, but she mustn’t. Anyway, it was too small. She laid her head back and let out a long slow sigh. It was wonderful, to get away from the heat and the bustle, and the noise, because the music had ceased to be music for it could hardly be heard above the chatter.
How many people were here tonight, or this morning, or whatever time it was? Sixty, she would say. She had tried to count them at dinner, but the maids and waiting men had got in the way. What a lot of servants it took to run a house like this. It was another world. Oh, she could just go to sleep here.
The next second she was sitting bolt upright when she heard the door open, then close, and a recognised voice saying, ‘Well, you should have explained.’ Then came Mr Harpcore’s voice answering, ‘There’s nothing to explain so far.’
‘You mean, she has no inkling?’
‘No, not really, Pat.’
‘Oh, my God!’ There was a pause; then Lady Golding’s voice came again, saying, ‘There have I been all night making a bloody fool of myself. I thought she must have had some inkling and I was trying to be helpful; I imagined this was a sort of breaking-in do.’
‘Breaking-in do be damned!’
‘Well, what else did you mean it to be?’
‘Oh, I don’t know, Pat. Quite candidly, I don’t know where the hell I am. I only know I can’t go on in the old way.’
‘You’ve been a long time thinking about changing.’
‘No, I haven’t been a long time, only there were difficulties.’
‘Yes, indeed there were difficulties, and will be in the future. Does Rene know?’
‘No.’
‘Well, I don’t envy you the scene that lies ahead of you. Anyway, you should have put me in the picture. I only came tonight because you seemed to want me here specially.’
‘I did want you specially here.’
‘But what for?’
‘Oh.’ He paused. ‘Well, to give a little balance to…’
‘Oh, Denny, what have you got yourself into! For years I’ve told you you should settle down. There was Angela Dearing. I thought…Well, what happened there?’
‘Nothing; it might seem irrational, but I didn’t want a wife who had been worked over by at least two of my friends.’
‘Irrational! That is the word. Oh, you men! Well, we’d better be moving into the fray again. But the quicker you bring this into the open the better, I should say, because everyone seems to have an inkling of what is going on except the one concerned.’
The door opened and closed again. She put her head on one side. What could she make of that conversation? Did it concern her? No, no. Why should it? Yet, what about those women in the toilet scoffing…Was he? No, no; that was impossible, absolutely impossible. But was it? She recalled the earlier instance when it had occurred to her the reason why her mother had allowed her to accept the invitation to come here. But thinking about it now, she pooh-poo
hed the very idea that her mother would have such a thought in her head: her mother was a good woman, a very good woman, a God-fearing woman, and she knew that no matter how nice and kind Mr Harpcore was, he was not what you would call a good man. She guessed that her father didn’t consider him a good man. So her thoughts had been nothing but wild imaginings.
… Oh, she was tired. She wished she was home. Had she to go back into that ballroom? It was lovely to be quiet. But would anyone ever be able to be quiet in this house with so much coming and going? You practically bumped into servants at every step. Of course, they were all on duty tonight; in the usual way they would be spread all over the house, she supposed. She closed her eyes and had a mental picture of the ladies in the powder room staring at her as she mimicked the lady at the dressing table. Tomorrow she would make them all laugh at home by taking off some of the guests. And she would make the girls in the kitchen laugh their heads off. She’d barge in and pretend she was Lady Golding: she would stick her finger in her ear, then sniff, and nip the end of her nose between her finger and thumb, and take her tongue round her teeth and push her top lip out, and she would say, ‘Oh, my God, man!’ in that tone of voice…Eeh, no, she mustn’t say that, using God’s name frivolously. It was blasphemy. But hadn’t Lady Golding sworn? And Mr Harpcore too? When she came to think about it, most of these people present here tonight weren’t far removed from the McLoughlins. No, no; they weren’t. And on this last thought she leaned her head against the back of the little couch and closed her eyes.
‘My God! Where can she have got to?’ Peter was sweating visibly, and for the countless time he was asking the question of Dennison, and he, with a hand on his brow, turned to Lady Golding, saying, ‘You are sure, Pat, that no-one said anything to her to upset her?’
‘No, I’ve told you, man. She was dancing with Gabriel Chester when I left the room, and when I went back she wasn’t there.’
Dennison now turned to his valet who was standing a little way behind him and said, ‘You’ve searched the upper rooms, Staith?’
‘Yes, sir. And the men have been up in the attics.’
Dennison gritted his teeth and walked away from the group to the far end of the hall where the housekeeper, Mrs Amelia Conway, was standing, and he almost barked at her, ‘You’re sure her cape’s in the cloakroom?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Fetch it here.’
The housekeeper was about to pass the order to the first housemaid who was standing in a group with other maids, but thought better of it, and hurried away. She returned within a minute and held the cloak out to him.
He took it from her, then walked back towards Peter, saying, ‘She wouldn’t have gone without her cloak, not in that flimsy dress; she’d get her death out there, it’s below freezing.’
‘Well, if she’s not in the house, she must have gone out.’ Lady Golding let out a deep sigh. ‘She’s a young girl, she would run and she’s likely reached home by now. Something must have happened after I left the ballroom. That’s the best explanation I can give you.’ She now turned to Peter, saying, ‘And I think if you’re wise, young man, you’ll ride back there and find out if she’s done just that.’
‘I can’t see her doing it, not dressed as she was. However, I’ll go.’ Then turning to Dennison, Peter asked, ‘May I take the coach, sir?’
‘Of course, of course, anything, only hurry. Get Mr Hazel’s coat.’ He waved to the first footman now, and the man, forgetting the dignity of his position, almost sprinted across the hall. And Dennison shouted to another liveried man, ‘Take Mr Hazel to the stable, the coach will be ready. Move, man!’
Without further words, Peter followed the scurrying servant out of the room. Dennison turned to where Lady Golding was sitting on a high, black, carved hall chair, and, his voice holding concern, he said, ‘You’re tired.’
‘Yes, I’m tired, Denny, but I’ll wait until he comes back. In the meantime, though, I’ll go into the drawing room and put my feet up.’
‘Yes, yes, do that.’ He hurried forward and opened the door for her, then said, ‘Is there anything I can get you?’
‘I think I would like a hot coffee with a little brandy.’
Having given a servant this order, he saw her to the couch, and when she was seated, he said, ‘For it to end like this. But I’ll tell you this much, Pat, if she has been upset by anyone and I find out who it is, they’ll answer to me.’
He went from the room now, and as he entered the hall the grandfather clock boomed three. It was more than half an hour since the last guest had departed, but it had been around two o’clock when Peter had first asked him where his sister was. And he had replied, ‘I thought she was with you. I have been looking for her.’ And he had laughed and said, ‘She’s likely wandered upstairs and lost herself. She won’t be the first one to have done that.’ But after the last carriage, with the exception of Lady Golding’s, had rolled away down the drive and Nancy Ann had still not appeared, then the search had begun in earnest, and with each passing moment there had grown in him the fear, not that something dreadful had happened to her, but that she had run out into the night away from him because of something she had overheard. And it came to him that once again he was to lose someone that he loved.
Since losing his brother, he had never had any real feeling of love for anyone. He’d had the experience of three mistresses, but that wasn’t love. However, since he had first set eyes on that child the day he had carried her back to the vicarage, she’d had an effect upon him. But now she was no longer a child, she was a blossoming woman and he wanted her and needed her more than he imagined he would ever want or need anyone in his life again.
Tim had been taken from him through scandal; and the aftermath of that was somewhere in this house still. And now he felt the scandal of his own past life had killed this second love.
He walked slowly along the corridor and into the library. The fire was dead but he sat down on a chair to the side of it. This was his favourite room. It was in this room he had spent wondrous days with his young brother during the holidays. Although there had been five years between them, they had talked as equals.
He had leant forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands dangling between them when he lifted his head with a jerk and peered down the long length of the room to the far corner where the Chinese screen stood. Slowly he rose to his feet. Again he heard the rustle, and then a slight cough.
He was standing now at the foot of the small couch staring wide-eyed down on the curled up sleeping figure. She was lying on her side, her knees up, one arm above her head. Her face was dim in the shadow of the screen.
There now arose in him a great gurgle of laughter that was almost hysterical. He wanted to throw his own arms wide, toss his head back and let out a bellow. It was impossible to stop his next reaction: he was on his knees by the side of the couch, his arms were about her, his cheek touching hers and his voice muttering, ‘Oh, Nancy Ann. Nancy Ann.’
When her eyes opened wide and he saw the look in them he pulled himself upright, saying, ‘Please, my dear, my dear, don’t be afraid. We’ve been looking all over for you. We… we thought you were lost.’
Seeing the look still on her face, he withdrew further from her and, standing up and aiming to keep the emotion from his voice, he said, ‘Do you know what time it is?’
She pulled herself upright while pushing her dress over her ankles; then slowly swinging her feet to the floor, she blinked up at him, saying, ‘I…I must have fallen asleep.’
‘Yes, my dear, and…and you’ve given us all a scare.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, no-one could find you. We had searched the house from attic to cellar. Your brother has taken the coach back to the vicarage thinking you might have run out into the night. We…we surmised that someone must have upset you.’
She pulled herself to her feet now, saying quietly, ‘Peter has gone back? Oh, my parents will be upset!’
‘Don’t worry.�
�� He put his hand out and placed it on her shoulder. ‘He will be back within a matter of minutes.’ Suddenly he turned from her and put his hand to his head, and this action elicited from her an immediate query. Her voice full of concern, she said, ‘What is it? Are you ill?’
He did not answer straight away. When he did, it was a mutter: ‘Just reaction at finding you alive and well. Oh, my dear!’ He turned to her again and now drew her from behind the screen and down the room and to the leather couch that was facing the dead fire, and he said, ‘Sit down for a moment.’
She sat down, saying now, ‘Oh, I am sorry I have caused an upset, but it was the heat, and…and I ate too much and had wine. I’m…I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be sorry, my dear Nancy Ann.’ He had hold of both her hands now. ‘I’m going to ask you something and I want you to give me just a plain straight answer. Do you like me?’
She blinked rapidly before she answered, ‘Yes, yes, I like you.’
‘Nothing more?’
She considered for a moment, then said, ‘I…I hardly know you, do I? Except through your kindness to Mama.’
‘No; that’s true. But do you think you could ever come to…well, more than like me?’
She turned her gaze away from his, and she began to shiver inside. ‘I…I have never thought of you in that way,’ she said and slowly withdrew her hands from his.
‘Well, would you consider thinking of me in that way from now on?’
She looked straight at him now, and after a moment she said softly, ‘Truthfully, I don’t know. And there is Mama and Papa to consider.’
‘Yes, yes, of course, I understand, but would you consider it too precipitate of me if I were to speak to your father sometime soon? I…I don’t want to rush you. We…we could be friends and get to know each other more.’
She looked towards the dead ashes; then softly she said, ‘Am I not too young for you?’
As her face was turned from him, he could bite tight down on his lower lip; ‘No, my dear, the question is, am I too old for you? Do you consider me old?’
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