The Penguin Complete Novels of Nancy Mitford

by Nancy Mitford

  ‘Good heavens,’ said Jasper, when the power of speech returned to him.

  ‘Do you think it beautiful?’ said Eugenia. ‘I do. I think it is the most beautiful house in the world, but then, of course, I have seen few others.’

  ‘I have never, in any country, seen one to beat it,’ said Poppy.

  They began to walk slowly towards it.

  ‘Under the Social Unionist régime,’ said Jasper, ‘your Captain should make a law that all really beautiful houses must be preserved and occupied. It is much the most horrible feature of this age that so many are being destroyed, allowed to stand derelict, or, worst of all, handed over to the proletariat and turned into postcard counters and ice-cream booths. That is too ignoble. Beautiful houses ought to be a setting for beautiful women, their lovers, and perhaps a few frail, but exquisite little children.’

  Eugenia looked at him reprovingly. ‘Under our régime,’ she said, ‘women will not have lovers. They will have husbands and great quantities of healthy Aryan children. I think you forget the teachings of our Captain, Union Jackshirt Aspect.’

  Poppy St Julien said, ‘I don’t know a thing about politics, but I’m sure Hitler must be a wonderful man. Hasn’t he forbidden German women to work in offices and told them they never need worry about anything again, except arranging the flowers? How they must love him.’

  ‘They do,’ said Eugenia. ‘Heil Hitler! Cousin Poppy St Julien, you must be enrolled as a Union Jackshirt at once. It costs ninepence a month, the Union Jack shirt is five shillings, and sixpence for the little emblem. Here we are.’

  Vivian Jackson and the Reichshund followed them up the twisted marble staircase, but when they had reached the top a word from Eugenia made them turn round and trot down it again. ‘Stay there,’ she said, over her shoulder, and ushered Poppy and Jasper into a huge domed room, so blue that it might have been a pool in some Mediterranean lagoon, and they fishes swimming in it.

  Across its azure immensity sat Lady Chalford waiting to dispense tea out of a golden tea-pot of exquisite design. She looked rather like Whistler’s portrait of his mother.

  6

  If Lady Chalford was like a relic from a forgotten age, a museum-piece of great antiquity, it was not because her years were heavy so much as that her speech, her dress, and her outlook, had remained unaltered since before the War. Nineteen fourteen had marked the evening of her days when she should have been yet in her prime.

  The world calamity, however, had little or nothing to do with this decline, having been far eclipsed in her eyes by the disastrous marriage made by her only son; while to her, his death in 1920 from wounds received the day before the Armistice, was a lesser disaster than the fact of his divorce. It made no difference in the eyes of his parents that Lord Malmains had divorced his wife; her shame was his, and theirs, and furthermore the heiress to their lands and titles had the tainted blood of an adulteress in her veins. No such thing had ever happened before in the Malmains family, throughout history no shadow of disgrace had ever fallen upon the proud ambitious heads whose likenesses now stared down from pink brocade walls in Lord Chalford’s portrait gallery.

  Since the disaster Lady Chalford had never set foot outside her park gates. Lord Chalford, protected by an armour of total deafness, had, until recently laid low by a stroke, performed his duties as a legislator most punctiliously, but when in London he had always stayed at his club, the almost unearthly beauties of Malmains Palace, in Cheyne Walk, having now been hidden from all human eyes, except those of the caretaker, for sixteen long years.

  Eugenia had been handed over to her grandparents at the age of three, after her father’s death. They could never forgive her for what her mother had been, and regarded the poor child with suspicion, which became tempered, however, as she grew older with a sort of sorrowful affection. Luckily, her appearance made things easier for them, Malmains women were all large blonde goddesses, and her looks bore no relation to those of their sinful daughter-in-law. Now that she had reached the age of seventeen she presented a problem with which poor Lady Chalford wrestled miserably. What was to be done with her? Of no use to give her a London season, how should any respectable mother invite, any decent young man propose, to the Child of Scandal. (Lady Chalford, it will be observed, was a trifle pessimistic in her estimate of modern London Society’s attitude towards heiresses.) And yet Eugenia must marry, Chalford House and the barony of Malmains which she would in due course inherit from her grandfather must have an heir.

  Haunted night and day by these problems, Lady Chalford had been constrained to question Eugenia with regard to the two young strangers whom she had so indiscreetly spoken to on the village green. Had they been suitable friends for the child they would surely have waited to be presented before addressing a young lady, yet, might it be that they had been brought by the hand of a far-seeing Providence to Chalford? She was disposed to consider that such had been the case when she learnt that one of them was Mr Jasper Aspect, grandson, she reassured herself with Debrett, yes, sure enough, grandson of her old friend, Driburgh, and child of that enchantingly pretty little Lady Venetia. Her delight knew no bounds, at last somebody of her own kind, somebody whom she could consult on equal terms, was at hand. Her thoughts sprang happily forward, even should he wish to marry Eugenia the match would be a perfectly suitable one, the Aspects although far from rich, were an old family of unimpeachable antecedents.

  Lady Chalford’s pleasure at seeing Jasper was greatly, however, surpassed by that which she felt when she realized Poppy’s identity. Here was a member of her own family, a married woman and a woman of the world at that; Poppy would certainly be able to advise her what were the best measures to take for her granddaughter’s future happiness. She would be able now to talk without the reservations which would have been imposed upon her if she were discussing the case with a gentleman. For the first few moments indeed she did not at all realize the good fortune which had befallen her. She was immensely annoyed with Eugenia for bringing two visitors when only one had been expected. There were a cup and plate too few, another chair must be drawn up. Eugenia’s reluctance to invite Marjorie and Noel now became comprehensible, Lady Chalford would fuss herself almost ill over such an incident. When at last they were settled, however, she declared herself overjoyed to see Poppy.

  ‘Agatha’s granddaughter,’ she cried, embracing her. ‘When I was ten years old Agatha and I were inseparable. I remember so well that we both had plum-coloured merino dresses with beautiful brass buttons, the size of pennies, down the front of the bodices. When my poor great-uncle died Mamma cut the brass buttons off mine, I was very much displeased by this, having hoped for a proper mourning such as grown-up people had, and besides, I was fond of those buttons – the dress was never much without them. At nineteen Aggie was a most beautiful girl. We went to the same drawing-room and everyone was talking of her beauty. I never shall forget her as a bride. Everybody loved her. Poor Driburgh was so madly in love with her that we feared he should kill himself when she married your dear grandfather. And at twenty-two she was dead. I remember that I heard the news a week after I became engaged myself, and it seemed to take away all my happiness. I think now that she was perhaps fortunate to die so young and still so happy. I am very glad that you have come to see me, my dear child.’

  Poppy was moved by this tribute to her grandmother, who, up to now had seemed a most shadowy figure.

  ‘Also I am very much pleased to meet you, Mr Aspect. How is poor dear Driburgh?’

  ‘I believe he is perfectly happy,’ said Jasper. ‘My mother goes to see him fairly often.’

  ‘Of course Peersmont is a wonderful place,’ said Lady Chalford, referring to that lunatic asylum, which, as its name denotes, is kept exclusively for the use of insane peers. ‘I often think to myself where should we be without it? To know that our loved ones, in their great trouble, are so perfectly cared for, that indeed is much. You know, I suppose, that
it is not at all far from here, in fact I think you ought to visit your dear grandfather. I will be happy to send you over in one of my motor cars if you should wish to do so.’

  Jasper thanked her and said he would be glad to avail himself of her kindness. He then began to ask many questions about Chalford House, but was obliged to be content with the vaguest of information, Lady Chalford evidently noticed its beauties no more than the air she breathed.

  After tea, however, she said that as Jasper appeared to be so much interested in it, Eugenia might show him the other rooms and the pictures, so long as they were suitably chaperoned by Nanny.

  ‘I wish to have a little talk with dear Poppy,’ she said, and presently she conducted Mrs St Julien upstairs to a small boudoir decorated in the Edwardian manner. It was pink and white, like a sugar cake, with white lace over pink satin in panels on the walls. There were two exquisitely comfortable chaise-longues upholstered in white brocade edged with pink silk rosebuds, several small pink satin armchairs, each with a blue muslin beribboned cushion, and a quantity of occasional tables covered with albums, photographs of ladies with tremendous eyebrows in straw boaters, and bric-à-brac of every description. Poppy thought she had never seen anything so pretty and so feminine in her life.

  During the little talk that followed, Lady Chalford poured out all her misgivings over the future of Eugenia into Poppy’s sympathetic ear. ‘You see how it is,’ she said, ‘dear Poppy. Now what should you advise me to do with the poor child?’

  ‘Personally I should be inclined to take her out in London,’ said Poppy. ‘Everything is so changed there, since the War, and people are by no means as strict as they were.’

  ‘My dear, that may well be the case in certain circles,’ said Lady Chalford stiffly. ‘Among my own friends, however, and those people with whom I should wish my granddaughter to visit, I am convinced that she would never be received. And even if, out of charity or friendship for me, people did invite her to their houses, it would still be most painful to me. What pleasure could I derive, for instance, from taking the child of a divorced woman to Court? The scandal nearly killed both my husband and myself at the time; with Eugenia making a début in London we must continually be reminded of it. To begin with, neither of us has set foot inside Malmains Palace since the last day of that terrible trial. And then consider what anxiety I should feel in chaperoning her. Eugenia is the child of a bad, wicked woman, never forget that. No, I assure you that it would be impossible for me to take her out in London. My only wish is that she may marry as soon as may be. But whom? This Mr Aspect, now, what should you say are his intentions?’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure he thinks of her as a child,’ said Poppy. ‘She is so young, isn’t she, and young for her age at that. I shouldn’t marry her off just yet, Lady Chalford. I think that would be a mistake if I may say so. Why don’t you entertain for her down here? Give a garden party, for instance, and perhaps a ball later on, in the autumn. There must be some nice young people in the neighbourhood?’

  Lady Chalford considered for a little while and then said: ‘This seems to me, dear Poppy, a most excellent plan. I will mention it to my husband this evening, and if he agrees we will give a garden party for the child next month. Now you must promise that you will stay down here and help me, little Poppy. I have not entertained for many years, and we shall want it to be gay. Darling Aggie had the greatest talent for organizing picnics and such things; I vividly remember one enchanting expedition she arranged to a wishing-well, when I wished that I might marry that handsome Mr Howard (I was very young then). But I told my wish to Effie Cholmondely, so of course it never could come true. And then there were always the theatricals at Christmas time. How would it be if we combined something of that sort with our garden party? A pageant, for example – I am told they are tremendously popular nowadays? Then all you young people could take part in it.’

  ‘I think that’s a splendid idea,’ said Poppy.

  ‘Very well then, we’ll see what can be arranged. By the way, where is your husband, my dear?’

  Poppy considered it on the whole discreet to say that her husband was delayed in London on business, but that she was expecting him to join her at the Jolly Roger in a few days’ time.

  ‘My friend, Marjorie Merrith, is there and her maid,’ she went on, feeling secure in the assumption that Lady Chalford was no reader of the illustrated daily Press.

  ‘Ah! yes,’ said Lady Chalford, ‘bring her to see me some time. Poor dear Puggie (her father) was a great friend of my darling Malmains. But, dearest child, is it not rather adventurous for you two young women to be staying quite alone in a country inn? Of course I know the Jolly Roger is a very respectable sort of place, but even so, I feel that it is hardly suitable. Would you not both prefer to move in here until your husband arrives?’

  Poppy however, deciding in her own mind that freedom was preferable to comfort, made excuses which Lady Chalford accepted graciously enough. Soon after this Jasper and Eugenia appeared, having finished their tour of the house.

  ‘I think we should be going now,’ Poppy said.

  When they had left Lady Chalford made her way to her husband’s bedroom, and shouting down his ear-trumpet informed him that Poppy was a dear child with wonderfully red lips who reminded her vividly of darling Aggie. ‘I only fear,’ she added, ‘that she may be rather unconventional in some of her habits. She evidently walked home quite alone with young Mr Aspect. I wonder whether I ought to encourage Eugenia in this friendship.’ Lord Chalford made no comment. He lay, as always, on his back, staring at the beautiful plaster ceiling high above his bed. Lady Chalford invariably consulted him before taking any decision.

  ‘Perhaps really,’ she went on, ‘I ought not to invite her here again, perhaps I should give up all idea of this garden party and pageant.’

  She sighed, knowing quite well that to do so would be beyond her power. Now that it had once made its appearance that young gay face must often be seen at Chalford House. It had brought a happiness into her life which she had not known for sixteen years, the happiness of talking freely, cosily, and at length to another woman.

  Eugenia walked back to the Jolly Roger with her friends. Her animals came too.

  Poppy said: ‘I think your grandmother is a perfect angel.’

  ‘She is,’ said Eugenia, ‘I’m fond of the poor old female myself, but I can never forget that she has treated me really very badly. She wouldn’t let me go to school, you see, and the result is that I hardly know any Greek at all. I did manage to learn Latin, with the clergyman at Rackenbridge but only after making the most fearful fuss. She never wanted me to.’

  ‘I doubt whether you would have learnt much Greek at school, judging by the perfect illiteracy of the schoolgirls I have met,’ said Jasper.

  ‘Then I wanted to go and study National Socialism in Germany, but she stopped me doing that too. She is a great trial to me, the poor old female.’

  Poppy told them about the projected garden party, and Lady Chalford’s idea of having a pageant at the same time, upon which Eugenia flew into a state of excitement.

  ‘Don’t you see,’ she cried, ‘that this is a most wonderful opportunity for having a grand Social Unionist rally. All the comrades (the Union Jackshirt Comrades, I mean) for miles round, can act in the pageant and help us in every way; they’d love it. Then we will make the people pay to come in and like that will earn a lot of money for the funds.’

  ‘That wasn’t quite your grandmother’s idea, you know,’ said Poppy doubtfully.

  ‘No, of course not, but there’s no reason why T.P.O.F. should ever find out, she’s very easy to deceive in such ways. I say, the Comrades will be pleased. Union Jackshirt Aspect, I shall count on your support in this matter.’

  ‘You shall have it,’ said Jasper.

  In the garden of the Jolly Roger they found Noel, who, accompanied by Mrs Lace, was gloomily awaiting their arrival. Noel would h
ave preferred to keep his find to himself for a little longer, but Mrs Lace, having wheedled out of him the true identities of Miss Smith and Miss Jones, absolutely insisted upon meeting them. Lady Marjorie, however, was still reposing on her bed.

  The introductions having been effected Mrs Lace became extremely gushing towards Poppy, and waved her hips at Jasper in a most inviting fashion, much to poor Noel’s apprehension. Eugenia she evidently regarded as a mere child, beneath her notice. Jasper took an immediate dislike to her, and rudely went on discussing the pageant with Poppy as though they were alone together.

  ‘A pageant?’ cried Mrs Lace, when after listening eagerly to them for a few minutes she had gathered what they were talking about. ‘In Chalford Park? But this is unheard of. Nobody in the neighbourhood has seen Chalford House since the div – for years and years,’ she emended, looking at Eugenia.

  ‘I have never seen it although I live so near. How too exciting. You must be sure and give me a good part in the pageant,’ she added archly, ‘because I studied acting in Paris, you know, under the great Bernhardt.’

  ‘The great Bottom,’ said Jasper, in a loud aside to Poppy.

  The others felt that he had gone too far, and Poppy, who was a kind little person, quickly said that of course Mrs Lace must have the chief part.

  ‘You must let me help you with the clothes too,’ Mrs Lace went on, looking at Jasper from beneath her eyelashes, ‘my nanny and I between us could easily run them up on the sewing-machine, and at Rackenbridge there is a dressmaker who is quite competent. We might get her to help us cheap if it’s for charity. I am sure Mr Aspect would design some beautiful dresses for us.’

  ‘What on earth do you suppose I am?’ asked Jasper, highly indignant. ‘A pansy dress designer, eh?’ Jasper felt that in thus discouraging Mrs Lace he was, as far as Noel was concerned, singing for his supper; he did not perhaps yet quite realize that she was the kind of woman who thrives on kicks and blows.