CHAPTER TEN
POPPY was determined the next day not to allow the thought of the evening ahead of her to spoil her walk with Romilly, but in spite of her good intentions she was dreadfully apprehensive. The idea of dining with the Duke and Duchess of Hampshire was frightening enough without the added discomfort of their having been to South Africa. She asked Florence about them when she was called in the morning and Florence’s comments on them did nothing to reassure her. Florence told her that they were a very grand family indeed and still lived in pre-war style.
Poppy wondered whether she could possibly get out of going. Wasn’t it very foolish to risk getting found out at the eleventh hour like this? But how could she get out of it? Could she pretend to be ill? Could she say that her father when he had rung up had expressed a wish for her to be back on Sunday night? No, if that were the case she ought to have mentioned it sooner. Perhaps an idea would come to her before the day was out, or something would turn up to save her ... She must try as far as possible not to think of it or it would ruin her day.
“Aren’t we lucky?” Romilly said to her at breakfast. “Another wonderful day.”
“But the weather’s going to break,” Lord Hanbridge put in. “The glass is going down.”
“As long as it doesn’t break before this evening we shan’t mind ... By the way, who wants to come with us on our walk?”
It seemed that nobody wanted to come. Philippa said that they must be mad to walk on such a hot day. It was arranged that Philippa and Dennis should come and fetch them at Arundel in the car; in that way they could go farther because they would not have to walk back.
“I’ll ring you up when we get there,” Romilly said. “Don’t come before you hear from me because we may find ourselves somewhere quite different. We don’t like to be tied, do we?” This to Poppy who was thrilled by his use of the word we.
They set out about ten—Romilly with a bag slung across his shoulder containing sandwiches and drinks. Poppy was wearing the pale green linen dress with the white piping which she had worn on the occasion of their first walk, and her new shoes and socks, and a cardigan.
“I’m glad you’re wearing that dress,” he said as they started out.
“You asked me to.”
“But I didn’t expect you to comply ... How do the shoes feel?”
“Fine.”
“They look very nice.”
His mood of the night before, coming back in the car, had quite disappeared and he seemed to be in the best possible spirits. “Don’t start off at such a pace,” he said. “You’ll never be able to keep it up. The great thing about not getting tired on a long walk is to take it easy from the beginning. Conserve your energy.”
Immediately she slackened her pace. They were climbing up the wooded hill at the back of the house which led up on to the Downs.
Some time during the course of this walk she wanted to say something to him for herself. She wanted to leave him some message from the real Poppy so that when it was found out that she was an impostor—as it must inevitably be found out sooner or later—he would remember her words and realize that they had come from her own heart. But it was not at all easy to think of just what to say. The message would have to be trenchant enough for him to remember afterwards and yet not so worded as to give him any suspicion at the moment. What could she say? Her mind was busy with this problem as they climbed—so much so that he said at last, “You are very silent.”
“I am conserving my energy,” she replied quickly.
“Quite right, and I’m glad you’re not a chatterbox, but it doesn’t mean to say that you can’t occasionally make a remark!”
“As a matter of fact I was thinking out a problem,” she said.
“Can I be of any help?”
“I’m afraid not,” and then because she did not want to appear snubbing she added, “I’m sure your advice would be awfully good on anything.”
“Why don’t you try me then?”
“Because this is something where no advice is possible.”
“It’s about your love life, I suppose,” he said lightly.
“It’s more to do with my honor,” she answered.
“I don’t think you could ever be dishonorable.”
“I don’t know ... There are occasions when we might all have to be.”
“I can’t imagine one,” he said.
“Oh, I can. Don’t you remember what we were talking about the other day? How we might have to do something to save someone else from disgrace—a sister for instance?”
“Still harping on that? But you haven’t got a sister.”
“Romilly,” she began with sudden determination, “if you had deceived someone what would you say to them when you were found out?”
“What a very cryptic question. I don’t think I understand it.”
“I know, I have put it badly. It’s a little difficult. In what words could one best make an apology?”
“It depends what one has done, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, I suppose it does.”
“You talk about deceiving someone. Do you mean deceiving a husband or wife—or a fiancé?”
She knew which way his mind was turning. He believed that she was trying to confess that she had been unfaithful to Lew in her heart with Arthur. Well, she would rather have him think that than suspect the truth.
“Well, supposing it was that?”
“I should confess.”
“At the risk of ruining both your lives?”
“Erika, what is all this about? It’s too vague. I gather you want help, but how can I possibly help you if you don’t tell me what really is on your mind?”
“I want to say to someone, ‘I am sorry from the bottom of my heart. It will never, never happen again’ ... But I can’t say it because to say it would mean to confess everything.”
“I think I know what you are trying to say. Shall I put it into words for you?”
“Please do.”
“You want to say to your Lew, ‘I am sorry for the way I have behaved with Arthur Bingle. It doesn’t mean to say I love you any less. It really meant nothing, and it will never happen again.’ But you feel it is unnecessary to say that because you will probably never be found out. On the other hand, if he should get to hear of your behaviour...”
She did not contradict him but she repeated again those words she had said before, “I am sorry from the bottom of my heart ... Romilly, I am sorry from the bottom of my heart. It will never, never happen again.”
“I should forget about it if I were you,” he said. “If you are really sorry that’s all that matters, and it seems extremely unlikely that there is anyone here to carry tales about you. Forget about it, that’s my advice.”
“But will you remember?”
“No, of course not.”
“But will you please remember that I am sorry?”
“I’ll forget the whole thing.”
“No, I don’t want you to. I want you to remember always that I am sorry. I truly mean that. I don’t want you to think too badly of me.”
“But why if you are so sorry,” he suddenly burst out, “do you want to see him again? Why did you ask him so anxiously to ring you up in London?”
“Oh, that meant nothing. I don’t suppose he’ll ring up, and I shan’t be in London long anyway.”
“I confess I don’t quite understand you,” he said. “If you had asked me to ring you up in that tone of voice I should certainly have thought you meant it.”
“I expect I’m thoughtless,” she said.
“Yes, perhaps that’s it. But you don’t seem thoughtless in other ways. You’re not inconsiderate.”
Now that she had got her message through to him—and she was pretty sure that he would remember it when the time came—she was anxious to change the subject. “That’s enough about me,” she said. “Now let’s talk about something interesting.”
“Such as what?” he asked.
“Such a
s you.”
“I would sooner talk about you.”
“Oh, no, a man’s life is always so much more interesting than a girl’s.”
They had reached the top by now, and already she was so warm that she had taken off her cardigan. He offered to tarry it for her but she insisted on tying it round her waist. The air was so gloriously invigorating up here that she felt she could walk for ever over this springy, sheep-cropped turf. She took great breaths into her lungs and threw out her arms in a sudden access of joy at being alive—at being young and healthy, at walking up here in this wonderful country with Romilly beside her as her companion.
“Goodness, we have been lucky with our weather,” she exclaimed.
“It’s not going to last, I’m afraid,” he said, looking up at the sky. “The clouds are gathering ahead, but I think it will be kind to us until we get to Arundel.”
“A little rain won’t hurt us,” she said, laughing.
“We should perhaps have brought a mackintosh.”
“What, one between us! That wouldn’t have been much good! And it would have been such a bore to carry.”
“As long as you don’t mind getting wet.”
“Of course I don’t. I’m not made of sugar.”
‘ “Sugar and spice and all things nice, that’s what little girls are made of!’ ” They both laughed.
For the rest of the walk they remained in this light, gay mood. Everything seemed to amuse them. They were buoyed up by this intoxication of the air and the beauty of their surroundings. Conversation between them was as light and quick as a volley at ping-pong.
They sat down in the shade of a grove of trees to have their picnic.
“Thank goodness we have brought something to drink with us,” Poppy said. “I have never had such a thirst.”
“Yes, I’ve been caught out before without anything to drink,” he replied, “and it’s hell. It’s worth carrying the bottles.”
“You poor thing, you’ve had all that weight. I didn’t realize. You should have let me carry something.”
“Think how light I shall feel when we go on again.”
“A thirst is the most wonderful thing,” she declared. “I so seldom feel thirsty.”
“So long as you can satisfy it,” he put in.
When they had finished their meal they rolled over on the grass and lay side by side while he smoked a cigarette. “Have you never smoked?” he asked.
“Never.”
“Here, have a puff of mine and see if you like it.”
He handed it to her and she took a puff and almost choked as she swallowed some smoke. “Oh, it’s horrible. I can’t think what pleasure people get out of it.” She handed it back to him, very conscious of the intimacy thus established between them. Her lips had been where his had been.
“You’ve made the end wet,” he complained. “All beginners do that.”
“Then throw it away and have another.”
“Throw away twopence. Not on your life.”
“I’ll give you twopence. I can’t bear to think I’ve spoilt it for you.”
“You haven’t. You’ve improved it ... Let’s bury our debris and then go on, shall we? Do you feel ready to go on? Do you feel rested?”
“Yes, I feel as if were only just starting out.”
“I must say you’re a good person to go for a walk with.”
But by the time they got to Arundel she was feeling very weary. Her legs felt stiff at the joints as if they had been screwed in too tight at the top. The clouds had gathered thickly and the first drops of rain began to fall as they descended into the town. There was the rumble of thunder in the distance.
“We couldn’t have timed it better, could we?” he said.
“No, we have been lucky.”
“Did you enjoy it or are you too tired?”
“No, I enjoyed it—more than I can ever tell you. I shall always, always remember it.”
“I’m glad,” he said. “I can’t tell you how much I've enjoyed it too ... We’ll go to the hotel and ring up Dennis from there."
A little chill crept over Poppy as they sat waiting for Dennis to come and fetch them, and she was glad of her cardigan. But it was not only a physical chill. Her day with Romilly was over and now there was the ordeal of the evening in front of her ... And after that? After that it should have been release—a wonderful release—but for the moment she could only see it as a terrible blank. What about the luxurious five days’ holiday she had promised herself? She didn’t need a holiday; she didn’t want it; she would rather have returned to work. Everything was going to seem so dreadfully flat. She could not imagine how she was going to get through five whole days all by herself with absolutely nothing to do.
She could think of no way of getting out of the evening, so she went, albeit in such a state of nerves and apprehension that she could hardly control the pitch of her voice.
“What do I call the Duke and Duchess?” she asked Lady Hanbridge on the way there.
“Just Duke and Duchess ... Don’t be nervous, my dear. Look on it as an amusing experience. It is something of an experience to go there even for us! It’s a survival of a bit of old England ... We’ll look after you, don’t worry,” and she patted Poppy’s hand comfortingly. “I’m sure you’ll be glad afterwards that you went.”
Afterwards maybe, but not now.
Liss Park turned out to be a huge, gloomy Tudor mansion built round a courtyard, rather in the style of Hampton Court but without its beauty. From the moment they arrived Poppy realized that it was everything that Hanbridge might have been but had so blessedly failed to be. The door was opened to them by an old butler of immense dignity, and there was a footman in attendance to help them with their wraps. The butler with slow and measured tread then led them to the long gallery and solemnly announced them.
The group at one end of the gallery who rose to meet them consisted of the Duke and Duchess, Lord Liss and his wife who had been staying there for Goodwood, and a daughter, Lady Caroline, and her fiancé. The Duke and Lord Liss were in green velvet smoking jackets and the Duchess wore a tea-gown and enough jewels for a Court ball. They were all extremely gracious but with that kind of stiff, condescending graciousness which fails to put strangers at their ease. The footman came round pompously with drinks on a fray, and Poppy had to refuse one for the simple reason that she knew she would not be able to lift a glass off the tray with one hand. She had never in her life before felt so acutely uncomfortable.
Conversation was stilted and it was a relief when the butler announced in stentorian tones, “Dinner is served, Your Grace.”
Lady Hanbridge was put on the Duke’s right and Poppy on his left. On her other side was Lady Caroline’s fiancé for whom she had a fellow feeling because he seemed almost as nervous as herself. “Poor man,” she thought, “he’s got to put up with this atmosphere for the rest of his life.” Fortunately she was able to talk to him first because the Duke was talking to Lady Hanbridge.
“What a lovely house this is,” she began.
“Don’t you know it?” There was a slight tone of contempt in his voice which she did not care for.
“No. I’ve heard of it, of course ... Are these all family portraits on the walls?”
“Naturally.”
She liked him less and' less and felt less and less sorry for him as the difficult dialogue went on. She looked across the table. Nicole was sitting next to Lord Liss and having a much better time than herself. Romilly was opposite talking to Lady Caroline. If only she could have sat without speaking, just watching him, she would have been content.
The awful moment came when as if by some common impulse, though really by a deliberate action on the part of the Duchess, everyone at the table turned to speak to his or her other neighbour, and Poppy found herself having to talk to the Duke. He did not make her feel any less comfortable by saying at once, “I’m afraid you’ve got my bad ear. Talk clearly but don’t shout at me ... Let’s see what we’v
e got to eat.” There was a menu in front of him and he looked at it and then turned it round so that Poppy could see it. To her horror she saw what seemed like an endless number of courses. Actually all the vegetables had been written in separately so the dinner was not really as long as it appeared, but it was quite long enough, and even though they were served from both ends of the table, it was nearly an hour and a half before the ladies left the dining-room.
She need not have worried, as it happened, about South Africa. The Duke had quite forgotten, even if he had ever known it, that she was supposed to have come from there, and she said nothing to remind him of it; but she did not forget Arthur’s advice about asking questions. Although she asked him nothing about South Africa she plied him with questions on every other subject she could think of, and at last by some lucky chance got him on to old silver on which he happened to be something of an expert.
When the moment came for the table to turn again she could congratulate herself that she had got through the first part of her ordeal quite creditably. And then the only pleasant thing of the whole evening happened: she caught Romilly’s eye across the table and he gave her a smile which made her heart sing. It was an encouraging smile, almost a conspiratorial smile. It seemed to say to her, “Isn’t this awful? Do you remember how happy we were today on our picnic? What I wouldn’t give to be back on the Downs with you now.”
It was after dinner, as a matter of fact, while the men were still in the dining-room, that she experienced her worst moment. “Come and sit beside me,” the Duchess said to her, “and let us talk about your beautiful country. My husband and I were there last year for three months.”
“Oh, do tell me your impressions of it?” Poppy asked quickly. Arthur’s advice was coming in most handy.
The Duchess opened up her gros-point embroidery and threaded her needle with a strand of yellow wool as she talked. By continuing to ask questions Poppy succeeded in hiding her own ignorance most successfully until the blessed moment came when she was rescued by Lady Hanbridge, and the conversation became more general.
Once You Have Found Him Page 12