Reilly burst into a smile, a real one, and the largest I’d ever seen from her. “Oh, miss!” She covered her mouth with both hands. “Would you really?”
“The job’s his if he wants it. I’m afraid he’ll have to move nearer to the factory.”
“He’ll do it,” she promised immediately. “There’s not much for ’em where they are now. Thank you so much, miss!”
“Don’t thank me just yet,” I warned her. “Let’s see if all of this is a success first.” After all, the man may have no aptitude for the job. The company may yet founder. But at least he’d have work for a little while.
The dinner gong rang and I headed out. I was halfway down the hallway when Laura appeared, strung her arm through mine, and drew me into her room.
“Here you are, you little sneak,” she said good-naturedly, pointing to the bench at the foot of her bed. I gingerly moved a sweaty pair of exercise shorts and a sleeveless vest aside before taking a seat. “Now,” said Laura, crossing her arms and leaning against a dressing table scattered with hairpins, “you are going to tell me just what’s going on.” She dug underneath a pile of magazines and rumpled handkerchiefs on the bedside table until she found a cigarette case. “Why did you bring Freddie here?” she asked, taking out a cigarette, tamping it down, and lighting it. “It wasn’t to give me something to do. You two have been holed up for days now. What’s happening?”
“It wasn’t for you,” I readily confessed. “It was for him and me. My father bought a stake in Freddie’s company, and now it’s in danger of going under. I brought Freddie out here so you could sober him up, and he and I could save the company.”
“Why on earth didn’t you just say that to begin with?”
“I don’t know.” The subterfuge did seem a little stupid now. “Maybe I was afraid you’d think I was just using you.”
“You are. But that’s what talents and skills and connections are for. To be used.”
“True. But people can get funny about mixing business with friendship. And they especially don’t seem to like it when women are doing business.”
“Oh pooh!” She flapped her hands and dropped onto the bench beside me. “Have you forgotten that I’m a woman in business myself? It’s only sensible, really: we can’t always rely on men to support us.” She sat up a little straighter. “A friend of mine, Megsy Rillington—her husband lost nearly everything in the Crash and then shot himself. Left her holding the bag completely. Poor dear had to sell everything, right down to her little girl’s china tea set. It was dreadful watching Mona Lewis cart that off for her little brat.” She rolled her eyes. “Right after that, I started taking those fitness courses, so at least I’d have something to fall back on if it ever came to that. So of course I wouldn’t disapprove. Good for you, I say! Tell me, what plans have you two cooked up?”
“We’re hoping to convince the owner of that airplane factory where David’s having his plane made to order tires from us.”
“How thrilling,” she observed drily. “You really think Freddie’s up to it?”
“I don’t know,” I sighed. “He’ll have to be.”
“He’s not. We’ll need to get his confidence up.” She patted me on the knee. “Fear not, darling, we’ll start work on him tomorrow. But now we ought to go down. Jeremy’s here tonight, you know.”
I didn’t know, and the news made me tingle all over. I’d missed him. It felt like a long time since I’d seen him last, even though it had only been a few days.
We went down together, and found the others just coming in from the terrace.
“Have we missed cocktails?” I asked Jeremy, with a bright smile. “I was hoping you’d make me one of your famous gimlets.”
“Sorry to have to disappoint you,” he responded in a cooler tone than I was used to.
“I’ll make you something,” Freddie cheerfully volunteered. “You deserve it after the week we’ve had!”
Jeremy shot me a questioning look, and his mouth tightened a little.
“It’s all right, Freddie, I don’t want to hold everyone up,” I said, feeling strangely annoyed at the feeling that Jeremy thought I owed him an explanation. “Let’s just go through.”
“Right-o. Onward!” Freddie crowed, taking my hand and leading me into the dining room. He plunked down beside me. Jeremy raised an eyebrow and sat next to Laura, at the opposite end of the table.
Freddie was ebullient, clearly feeling as happy as I’d been at our successes, and I have to admit, I got a bit caught up in his jolly mood. The two of us joked and teased like siblings even as I sensed Jeremy’s mood darkening a bit. I seemed to feel every glance he sent my way. They stung and pierced like thorns.
After dinner, we all returned to the drawing room, where I left Freddie and Joyce sorting through gramophone records and joined David at the piano. He was tapping random keys with one finger, provoking the dissonant sound of boredom.
“Do you mind?” I asked, gesturing to the instrument.
“Please do,” he invited, sitting back and smiling warmly.
“Joyce tells me you have a new airplane, David,” I said as I began playing “Rhapsody in Blue.” “You must be so excited! Is it nearly finished?”
His face brightened. “Yes, nearly. She’ll be ready to fly in the next few weeks!”
“Really? How wonderful! Could we go and see it, do you think?”
He looked surprised. “I didn’t know you were interested in airplanes.”
“Of course I am!” I gushed. “They’re wonderful. And the people who fly them are so brave!”
I heard a snort behind me and turned. Jeremy was seated on a nearby sofa, his back to me. He had a book open in front of him, but was clearly listening to David and me. I chose to ignore him for now.
“Do you know who else loves planes? Freddie. Freddie! Come here for a moment,” I called.
“What? Oh, right-o!” He handed the records off to Joyce and bounded over. “What’s the news? What’s the word? Love your playing, by the way,” he told me. “Really puts a spring in the step, eh?”
“Freddie, David and I were just talking about his new airplane.” I turned to David with a conspiratorial smile. “Freddie was telling me the other day how much he loves planes and wants to learn how to fly. Isn’t that right, Freddie?”
He looked alarmed at the prospect but quickly covered it. “Oh—oh yes! Clever little things, planes! How they stay up in the air, without even flapping their wings!”
“David and I were just discussing paying a visit to the factory where the plane’s being made,” I told Freddie. “And of course you must come along.”
“Oh yes, Freddie, you must,” Laura seconded, sidling up to him with a cup of coffee. “And you should meet the owner too. I’m sure you’ll have loads to talk about, manufacturer to manufacturer. You two can talk all about the challenges of business.” Laura dropped her voice slightly. “Did you know, David, that Freddie recently showed Porter himself the door?”
David frowned, glancing between the three of us. “That’s not how I heard it.”
“Well, of course not,” Laura said. “Porter wouldn’t very well admit to having been given his walking papers, especially after behaving so disgracefully. But the man was an absolute heel, David. He insisted that Freddie’s company cut corners for him. But, of course, Freddie simply wouldn’t make a shoddy product, so in the end, Porter had to go elsewhere. And good for you, Freddie, I say!”
“Yes, good for you!” David said, nodding vigorously. “That man—” He dropped his voice, checking to make sure Joyce was nowhere near. “He thinks he can get away with anything and buy his way out of anything. Well done, showing him otherwise!”
“Thank you! Thank you!” said Freddie, almost seeming to believe this story was true. “What a weasel! A regular John D, wouldn’t you say?”
“If you say so,” David chuckled. “I know I’ve plenty of my own stories to tell.”
“Then do tell, do tell! I am here to li
sten.”
I abandoned the song and slid off the piano bench so Freddie could take my spot. Jeremy had left the book and the sofa and was now standing by the fireplace, tapping the mantelpiece while giving me a look that sent a chill down my spine. I gradually picked up the Morse code he was tapping. What’s your game? I strolled over to him, looked him straight in the eye, and said loudly, “Why, Jeremy, I’d love to see the first editions in the library. How nice of you to suggest it.”
I looped my arm through his and steered him out of the room and into the library. He once again took up a spot by the cold hearth.
“We are not going to be like David and Joyce, letting things fester,” I told him as I closed the door behind us. “We’ll have this out right now.” I crossed my arms. “Something you’d like to say? You’ve been freezing me all night. Another few minutes and they could chisel cubes off me for the cocktails.”
“There is something I’d like to say, but I almost feel as if I need an appointment,” he answered, twisting his ring.
“What does that mean?” I tightened my arms across my chest and frowned.
“Just that you’ve seemed very unavailable ever since Freddie showed up.” He spat Freddie’s name as if it tasted bitter.
“You aren’t jealous?” I scoffed.
“Perhaps I am. I’ve liked having you to myself.”
“Well, that’s too bad. You don’t own me. You have to be a good boy and share!”
“You don’t make Freddie share!”
“Oh, honestly, Jeremy! You can’t possibly think that Freddie and I have something going on, can you?” I actually laughed, but he was not amused.
“I didn’t, until you sent me off on a fool’s errand. And while I was gone, you summoned him here and lied about him being a project for Laura.”
“A fool’s errand?”
Now it was his turn to scoff. “Really, Astra. Finding a job for your maid’s brother? I should have known that was ridiculous. Who cares that much about finding employment for the relative of their servant? I should have seen through it, but I didn’t because all I saw was an opportunity to please you, and now this is my reward!” He was pale with anger, and I found myself wanting to back away from him. But I held my ground.
“After I stuck my neck out for you!” he continued. When everyone was saying such vile things about you, I told them no, you’d never. Not with Freddie, of course not! I’ve never had any reason to think your character was anything but impeccable. I knew they were laughing at me behind my back, saying I’d been taken in by some adventuress, but I ignored it, because I thought I knew you better than they did. But now, have you made a fool of me, Astra Davies?”
“Why on earth would you think that?”
“Why shouldn’t I? You’re doing the same with David in there.” He gestured in the direction of the drawing room. “So I’ll ask again: Have you made a fool of me?”
A rage had been steadily building as he spoke. It started in my belly, which clenched and churned and sent up something that boiled and surged and made my whole body feel fiery.
“Oh, you poor thing!” I hissed. “With your wounded pride! Just like all the others, so eager to assume the worst of me. And why? Because Freddie’s here and I’m trying to help him make something of himself, and make something of myself?
“And you, you talk about a reward,” I sputtered. “Your reward! Just what were you expecting, Lord Dunreaven? For me to fawn all over you? Worship at your feet because you did one good deed? Or did you expect payment of some other kind, since you clearly, like the others, think I’m that sort of woman?”
He blinked, taken aback. “I would never—”
“Wouldn’t you? Why? Because you’re such a gentleman?” I spat. “Perhaps you don’t care enough about other people to help them simply because they need it, but it seems you and I differ there. No, I don’t know Reilly’s brother, but I do know he’s in dire straits.” I spread my arms, indicating the room, with its leather furnishings and thick carpets and expensive paintings. “Is it so outrageous that I should look around and see that we all have so much, when so many others have so little, and to want to do something? I can do precious little in this world, but I could do this one thing! Help this one man! And so I asked if you knew anyone because that’s how these things are done. I didn’t ask you to go and beg on my behalf—you did that all on your own. And you didn’t even manage to get the man a job. I did! That’s right—I did! So I don’t know what sort of reward you were expecting, because in my experience, failure never warranted anything more than a pat on the head and a ‘good try, better luck next time!’”
He wasn’t twisting his ring anymore. He was just staring at me, shocked. I was a little shocked too, but I wasn’t quite done yet.
“As I told you before, Freddie and I are in business together. We’ve been working. I need to work because my parents left me almost nothing. Freddie’s business is the only thing standing between me and utter penury, and we both know he can’t manage things alone, so I have to do it. I know talk of business and money is common and disgusting to the great and titled of this land, and if that’s how you feel, then you can just go back to your palace and stew about it!”
Now I was done. I spun and marched out, slamming the door behind me.
* * *
Upstairs, I dipped my entire face in a sink of cold water before turning myself over to Reilly.
“Could you come brush my hair please, Reilly?” I asked once I was dressed for bed. I needed soothing. My face still felt hot. My heart was hammering away like a bird throwing itself against the bars of its cage. Reilly sat me down, picked up my silver hairbrush, and drew it through my hair. Slow strokes, just like my mother used to do.
“You have such beautiful hair,” Mother had commented the very last time she ever did it. “When I was young, a woman’s hair was thought to be her crowning glory. We never would have thought of cutting it all off. Well, except for Diana Cooper, but she was always an odd duck.”
“I can’t blame her,” I said. “Long hair takes ages to wash and dry and comb. It doesn’t seem worth it.”
“Oh, you young people,” Mother had sighed, setting down the brush and coming to rest on the bench beside me. She was pale and tired looking, and I had felt guilty about goading her. “You’re all in such a hurry.”
Perhaps we were. But then, we had to be. No race was ever really won by a tortoise, was it? The world moved fast, and we all had to scramble to keep up, or be lost in the slipstream.
What would Mother make of me now? Diving into business and shouting at a lord? Manipulating friends and scrabbling to get ahead? Would she be proud? Mortified?
I missed her so much just then. I felt it, a hard physical pain in my chest and behind my eyes, which smarted. I wanted to lay my head in her lap and have her stroke my hair while I cried and complained about how unjust things were and how unfair Jeremy was being. She’d have advice right when I sorely needed it. Mothers always do, if you have the sense to ask. She’d be able to tell me if this was all right to fight with someone like that, to feel such rage. Would that go away? When? Tomorrow? Next week? Next year? Would he go away and never come back? Did I want him to come back?
I thought about it, now that the rage had ebbed. I was still angry, but the thought of Jeremy disappearing made me feel cold—and lonely. And it suddenly felt like a very real possibility. I’d told him about the money. In my anger I’d told him I had nothing. He couldn’t marry a pauper. Surely he’d turn his attentions elsewhere now. He’d have to.
The idea made me want to burst into tears. Was that normal? Was I in love? Or just some silly girl with a persistent crush? How could you tell the difference?
Mother would know. She’d tell me what it felt like to find the person you wanted to share yourself with so completely. She could tell me, in the way only a mother can, how to navigate from a fond kiss on the doorstep at the end of the evening to showing yourself in all your glory at bedtime: face
smeared with cold cream, hair in curl papers, downing the cup of cocoa you simply can’t sleep without. But you’re not meant to sleep, are you? Should you have coffee, to stay alert?
These were the things—the terrifying, mysterious things a girl was supposed to ask her mother in those last desperate hours before the veil came out and the satin engulfed her. When the girl was supposed to be cramming herself full of the knowledge that was to serve her for the next fifty years. But who was I to ask now?
I stopped fighting and let the tears come. I choked them out, sitting there, staring at my reflection in the looking glass. Watching my face crumple and go all blotchy.
Reilly laid the brush down, handed me a handkerchief, and patted my shoulder.
“Thank you, Reilly,” I said in a wobbly voice. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night, miss.” She gathered my laundry and jewelry, but as she reached the door, she turned back. “I know it’s not my place, miss, but my mother used to say that a proper fight now and again was a good thing. Clears the air, like a thunderstorm.”
I managed to smile. “Thank you, Reilly,” I repeated.
She nodded, smiled sympathetically, and left.
I remained at the dressing table for a while, toying with the hairbrush as the tears eased, then wandered over to the window, hoping to catch a breeze.
The air was still as heavy as midday, pregnant with the possibility of a real storm. It pressed suffocatingly close. Crickets droned, a deep buzz that vibrated through me and rattled around. The rising moon carved a shimmering path down the center of the rectangular pond that ran from the back terrace to the espaliered fruit trees on the opposite side of the garden. As children visiting Laura during the school holidays, we had used it like a pool on hot summer days. Stolen away from Nanny long enough to climb in and splash about, slip-sliding on the slime that gathered at the bottom. Pity the poor footman enlisted to help drag us out of there.
A Bright Young Thing Page 27