‘How very thoughtful it was of Aunt Alexa to make sure that the ballroom windows were blacked out!’ exclaimed Kate. But there was no trace of anxiety in her laughing voice. In its peaceful country setting, Blaize could surely never be touched by the dangers of war.
‘There’ll be no Zeppelins tonight,’ said Brinsley. ‘It’s my birthday, and everyone knows that I was born while Lady Luck was smiling. Only good things can happen on my birthday.’
They had been walking arm-in-arm, but now Kate moved her hand to rest lightly and formally on her brother’s arm. They stepped forward into the light and progressed with dignity up the stone steps and into the house. But if they had hoped that the staff would be caught out by the arrival of an apparently over-punctual pair of guests, they were disappointed. Two lines of footmen wearing the Glanville livery stood ready to receive them, and the butler’s silver tray awaited the first card which would tell him whom to announce. From the ballroom, a little way away, could be heard the last faint scrapings of sound as the orchestra tuned their instruments. There were a few seconds of silence and then, as though the ballroom were already crowded instead of completely deserted, the house was flooded with music as warmly as with light.
It was time for the ball to begin.
2
Even in portraiture the English nobility was not prepared to mix with trade. The Tudor long gallery on the highest floor of Blaize displayed a row of aristocrats with high foreheads and long noses. They were all descended from one of William the Conqueror’s companions-at-arms, and they were all ancestors of Piers Glanville, the present holder of the title. But Alexa’s father, who had once owned a shipping company and a bank in Bristol, had not been invited to join their company.
Instead, the portrait of John Junius Lorimer hung alone in the screened balcony above one end of the ballroom. The picture showed an old man, heavily built and dressed in sombre black. His long hair and beard and profuse side whiskers were white, but his bushy eyebrows had been painted bright chestnut. Margaret Scott, who climbed the steps to the balcony shortly before midnight, had once had hair as bright as those eyebrows; for, like Alexa, she was the daughter of John Junius Lorimer. But she was twenty years older than her half-sister and now, at the age of fifty-seven, the colour was fading and her forehead showed the lines of past sorrow and present responsibility.
In London, Margaret was a professional woman held in high esteem. Like her best friend Lydia, the mother of Kate and Brinsley, she had been a member of the first generation of women who had succeeded in qualifying as doctors in England, and now she was not only in charge of the gynaecological department of one of the great London teaching hospitals but was also responsible for the welfare of all the female students who trained there. But tonight her role was not that of a doctor but of an aunt and mother. This was a family occasion.
There were chairs in the balcony, but Margaret was a small woman and found that if she sat down she could not see above the solid lower section of the screen. Instead she stood, looking through the lattice at the picturesque scene below. Alexa, tonight’s hostess, had been an opera singer in her youth, and when she married Piers Glanville he had encouraged her to convert a tithe barn on his estate into a small opera house. So she had the contacts to turn any party into a production if she chose, and the designer whose more usual responsibility was to create Count Almaviva’s house or Don Giovanni’s palace on the stage had been given a new challenge for this special occasion. He had transformed the ballroom into a tropical forest, through which the women in their beautiful dresses dipped and swirled like exotic butterflies. Many of the young girls wore white, but Alexa had invited friends of her own generation as well as those on Brinsley’s list, and above their rich silks and brocades sparkled the jewels of a wealthy and secure society.
The girls in their debutante season were pretty enough, but it seemed to Margaret that none of them could rival their hostess. Alexa Glanville at the age of thirty-seven was as beautiful as Alexa Lorimer had been at seventeen. Tall and slender, she brought elegance to any gown she wore, and to honour this evening’s celebration her reddish-gold hair was coiled on her head like a crown in which delicate sprays of diamonds glittered, half-hidden.
Margaret looked for her son, Robert, and saw that he was partnering Kate. It was surprising how well they were dancing – for Robert did not attend many functions of this kind, while Kate’s tall, sturdy body did not suggest that she would be graceful. But she had a musical ear, and her medical training had ensured that she was never clumsy. Certainly the two cousins seemed to be in perfect accord as they circled the floor – although Margaret noticed that Robert looked unusually thoughtful. Perhaps he was needing to concentrate on the steps, for there was no sign of the cheerful grin which had hardly changed since he was a little boy – although the carroty curls which he had inherited from his mother and grandfather had sprung up again from his attempts earlier in the evening to discipline them, and this tousled confusion made him look younger than his twenty years. Margaret felt her heart swelling with pride and love as she watched him. Robert was her only child, born after the death of his father, and her whole happiness was bound up in him.
The wooden treads of the stair to the balcony gave noisy warning that someone was coming to join her. Margaret turned away from the dancers and found that it was one of her many nephews. Arthur Lorimer was the son of Margaret’s elder brother, who had died some years before. Although Arthur was a younger son, he had inherited his family’s dock and shipping business, because his brother Matthew had abandoned the offices of the Lorimer Line to become an artist. Arthur himself, now in his thirties, found the world of business completely congenial and was never happier than when he was absorbed in his accounts. He lived in the Bristol mansion which had once belonged to John Junius Lorimer and devoted himself to making money. Although his business associates and competitors thought of him as a hard and cold-natured man, he had a strong family feeling, and had welcomed the invitation to join in Brinsley’s celebrations.
They chatted now for a few moments, but Arthur’s concentration was not on the conversation. ‘Have you seen Kate?’ he asked abruptly. ‘She gave me the supper dance, but she seems to have disappeared.’
‘She was dancing with Robert only a moment ago.’ Margaret turned back to look over the screen, and found that the couple had left the floor, although the orchestra was still playing. ‘Well, she’s hardly likely to go without supper. And she’s not the sort of girl who would stand you up.’
Arthur nodded his agreement. For a moment he seemed on the point of saying something else; but after looking down once more to check that Kate was not hidden anywhere in the jungle below he changed his mind and went down the steps without speaking.
Always observant, Margaret could not help noticing that he seemed to be under some kind of strain. She wondered, as she had wondered once or twice before, whether he wanted to marry Kate. She had noticed that ever since his cousin’s arrival in England he had formed the habit of spending the night at Margaret’s house whenever he had to come to London on business, although the return journey to Bristol was not a long one. He was not a man who found it easy to chat to young women or to spare the time from his business to indulge in the formal ritual of courtship. Nor could Margaret ever imagine him falling in love. But the relationship of one cousin with another was a relaxed one, and he had always seemed at ease with Kate.
There was another reason why Arthur – approaching the decision rationally, as he was certain to do – might have seen Kate as a possible wife. She was a doctor. This could make it easier for him to confess to her, as he had earlier done to Margaret herself, the consequences of the attack of mumps which he had suffered at the age of twenty-five. He might also hope that someone dedicated to her profession would be more willing than most ordinary women to embark on a marriage in the knowledge that her husband would never be able to give her children. Not many men allowed their wives to work; but it was a concession Arthur
might be prepared to offer as a form of compensation. Whether Kate would allow herself to be bribed into matrimony was another matter.
Margaret tut-tutted to herself. Match-making, even when it was only in the imagination, was a temptation which ought to be resisted. The young people were perfectly capable of making their own plans. Of more immediate importance was Arthur’s reminder that the next item on the programme would be the supper dance, for which she too was engaged. She turned to go down, and found herself facing the portrait of her father. His piercing eyes reminded her of the many occasions during her childhood when he had demanded an explanation of some misdeed. She had been frightened of him then, but now her chin lifted – not so much defiantly as in triumph. When John Junius Lorimer died he had left his family ruined and disgraced. If anything was required to prove how hard and how successfully his four children had worked to raise themselves out of that morass of dismay, it was tonight’s ball, with its background of wealth and its strong ties of family affection. As she made her way back to the ballroom floor, the war was far from Margaret’s thoughts, and she was happy.
3
Kate had been surprised when her cousin Robert interrupted their dance together to ask whether she would talk with him for a few moments. Usually teasing and carefree, he had become unexpectedly serious. They had both spent many holidays at Blaize, and knew their way around the old house. The library was not one of the rooms open to the generality of tonight’s guests, so as she followed Robert there Kate guessed that they would not be interrupted.
‘I need advice,’ he said abruptly, closing the door behind him. ‘I want to join up, like Brinsley. Or at least, I don’t know whether I want to, but I think I ought to.’
‘Robert! You can’t do that. It would break Aunt Margaret’s heart.’
‘But everyone else is doing it. Of course no mother is going to like it, exactly, but other mothers are letting their sons go.’
‘Other mothers may have other children, and husbands. Aunt Margaret has no one but you. She’d never have a moment’s peace while you were away.’
‘It would be hard for her, I know it would. But what am I to do, Kate? Have I got to spend the rest of my life wrapped in cotton wool because I’m the only son of a widow? There has to be a moment when I leave home and start living my own life.’
‘Well, of course,’ Kate agreed. ‘And by any normal definition of leading your own life, I’m quite sure that Aung Margaret would want you to go. But this is different. You must see the difference.’
‘What I see is that everyone else is going. What am I to say when my friends ask me why I’m still at home? “I can’t leave my mother.” I don’t want to hurt her, Kate, but I feel this is my duty. I was hoping you could help.’
‘If you want help, Uncle Piers is the best person to ask for it.’ Kate knew that Lord Glanville had been Margaret’s closest friend in England for almost twenty years. ‘But if you’re asking me for advice –’
‘No.’ Robert smiled, although it was only an imitation of his usual cheerful grin. ‘I’m looking for someone whose advice will be to do what I already want to do. I can see you’re not the right person. I mustn’t make you late for your supper. Who’s taking you in?’
Kate consulted the programme which, with its miniature pencil, swung from her wrist, and saw that Arthur had initialled the next dance.
‘And he’s a punctual man,’ commented Robert when she told him. He held the door open for her. Kate hesitated, feeling that there must be something more she could say. But although Robert resembled her brother Brinsley in his laughing and apparently carefree attitude to life, there was a difference between the two cousins. Robert’s light-heartedness, unlike Brinsley’s, was not central to his character, but was the ripple on the surface of a pool of thoughtfulness. He laughed and he teased and he was always ready to play, but at heart he was serious. Brinsley might view with horror the thought of a settled future and a working career, but Robert was already in the middle of training to be a civil engineer. Kate saw that he had spoken the truth when he admitted that he was asking for support rather than advice. It meant, almost certainly, that he had already made up his mind.
Back in the ballroom, Arthur was looking for her with an impatience which contained a hint of anxiety. As Kate smiled, to show that she had not forgotten, she thought how well evening dress became him. Robert was too young and somehow too rugged to look at ease in the shining, stiff-fronted shirt and long tail coat which were part of the black and white uniform worn by all the civilian men at the ball; while at the other extreme Lord Glanville, tall and silver-haired, looked distinguished whatever he wore. But Arthur’s clothes changed him entirely for the better. By day his slightness made him appear insignificant; his face was too narrow to be handsome and his hair was already beginning to recede slightly, suggesting that he would be bald one day. Now, though, he appeared almost elegant.
Or perhaps, thought Kate, it was just that the whole atmosphere of the ball placed the dancers and the surroundings at one remove from reality. Just as a gauze might be dropped in Alexa’s riverside opera house to blur the edges of the action behind it, changing it from drama – already far from real life – to fantasy, so now the romantic setting had transformed all those who enjoyed it, making all the men seem handsome and all the women beautiful. All except herself, of course – but even she felt herself walking taller, playing her part in the scene.
The doors of the banqueting hall were thrown open and there were gasps of admiration even from guests accustomed to such displays of tasteful extravagance. Kate and Arthur, as befitted members of the family, hung back for a little, accepting a glass of punch from one of the footmen as they waited. Kate was still conscious of some kind of tension in Arthur’s manner, and searched for a subject of conversation to break their silence.
A group of Brinsley’s friends, who had all volunteered at the same time as himself, led their partners to the buffet and gave her the chance to comment.
‘How smart they all look in their new uniforms,’ she said. ‘Do you intend to volunteer, Arthur?’
‘I’m thirty-six,’ he said. ‘Too old to learn to be a soldier. This is a young man’s war. And even if that weren’t the case, I can be more use to the country by remaining at work. We’re not being told very much about the German submarines. I suppose the Government is anxious not to alarm the country. But there are certain to be losses at sea. Ships will be sunk, and they must be replaced quickly if the country isn’t to starve. The Lorimer Line has had contracts with the same shipbuilding firm for a great many years. I bought that firm last week, and I intend to increase its output at once. I’d hoped to interest Brinsley in the new business, as a matter of fact – to keep as much as possible of its profit within the family. Naturally he couldn’t do anything until the war is over, but after that I thought he might find a management position in Bristol more exciting than exile to Jamaica. But clearly he has too much to think about at the moment. He wasn’t able to give the idea proper attention.’
Kate suspected that Brinsley had little interest in business of any kind, and even less aptitude for it. But her brother would have to settle down to some kind of work sooner or later, so she was careful not to spoil an opportunity by putting her thought into words. There was another objection, though. ‘I imagine my father will want him to take over the work of the plantation eventually,’ she said.
‘It’s my impression that your father has already found a capable assistant,’ said Arthur. ‘We have a good deal of business correspondence about the bananas which he consigns to my ships. I noticed two years ago that the letters which he signed were written in a different hand. And now his secretary, or whoever it may be, appears to have taken over all the office work. Besides being more efficient in keeping his accounts up to date, he’s been quite awkwardly enterprising in looking for alternative markets and ships, which your father would never have done. I was forced to revise my quotations last year.’ Arthur’s thin lips cur
led in a smile of grudging admiration for the unknown Jamaican who had beaten him in his own field. ‘It seems to me that if your father needs a manager to succeed him, he already has one.’
‘Do you know his name?’ asked Kate.
‘D. Mattison, he signs himself.’
‘Duke!’ exclaimed Kate, smiling with pleasure.
‘You know him?’
‘Very well. He was our best friend in Jamaica, Brinsley’s and mine. He’s older than we are – he must be almost twenty-eight by now. He used to play cricket with Brinsley. It’s because Duke was such a good bowler that Brinsley became such a good batsman. And he always had a good head for figures. I suggested to Father before I left the island that he ought to take Duke into his office. I’m delighted that he’s done so.’
‘Duke is an unusual name to be christened,’ said Arthur.
‘Not for a Jamaican.’
‘Are you telling me that he’s black?’
‘Well, brown, really. Quite a few of the islanders show signs of English blood, and Duke more than most.’ Kate couldn’t help smiling at the expression on her cousin’s face. It was difficult to tell whether he was more shocked at the thought that he was doing business with a native or by the need to recognize that moral standards in the colonies had not always been as high as they should have been. Kate changed the subject quickly before Arthur should express some opinion with which she would be bound to disagree. ‘Shall we find ourselves a seat for supper?’ she suggested.
Lorimers at War Page 2