The building had been well turned out, providing everyone curious about the inside of America in England a chance to see it. She was sorry Richard had missed it, given the impressive collection of buildings he’d already visited.
“Then I’m doubly sorry I’ve been lax in my social duties. I would’ve liked to have seen the notorious Ambassador and his wife in the flesh.”
“There’s nothing remarkable about them.”
“Except his reputation.”
She didn’t ask him to explain, afraid Eunice might approach and overhear or the conversation might come around to her questionable family connections. The Ambassador and his wife had made a solid showing during Eunice’s dance with no hint of the tension from the Royal Academy. Relations between America and Britain, however, were growing more contentious with every curt remark Ambassador Kennedy made about Britain’s poor chances of winning a war. “Should I expect you or another note for my coming-out dance?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I owe it to you after my beastly conduct in May. You’ll save me the waltz, won’t you?”
“Only because no one can dance it the way you do. It’s so much more fun when my toes aren’t being stepped on.”
“Then I’ll endeavor to leave your shoes unscuffed.” He raised his top hat, then drifted off to speak to Lord and Lady Duff Cooper. For a man seeking forgiveness, he could’ve stuck around a little longer.
“Elm out of the doghouse with you?” Dinah tilted up her head to see out from beneath the wide-brimmed picture hat dipping down over one side of her face.
“He shouldn’t be, but he’s too charming to ignore.”
“The title helps.”
“Even if it annoys me to tears that a little flattery can make me forget what an utter swine the Viscount is.”
“A charming swine.”
“I should know better than to fall for it, but I can’t help it.” The moment in the taxi when she thought he might kiss her and the faint possibility that she meant something to him held her interest more than it should, as did his title. She hated how charmed she was by his rank, but with everyone else so concerned with standing, how could she not be? If it weren’t for Richard and his very practical take on things, she might be completely fooled by the fantasy of society, one she knew wasn’t anything like what it seemed.
“Then enjoy it. It won’t last forever.”
“I don’t suppose it will.” Something would change everything between them, war, the end of the Season, his mother, or Richard. Time would decide which one.
NO. 10 WAS A frenzy of activity when Valerie returned from Royal Ascot. Men from the BBC in their cheap dark suits carrying cables and equipment added to the usual mix of people milling about the ground floor.
“Dreadful news.” Marian shook her head as Valerie joined her behind the ministers and secretaries at the back of the Cabinet Room. The BBC men adjusted the microphone on the table in front of Uncle Neville, turning knobs and fiddling with wires in advance of his radio address. “The Japanese are blockading the port of Tientsin, a British concession in China, and making it so not even food or medicine can make it through.”
“They don’t mean to cause trouble too, do they?” The situation in Europe was bad enough without the Japanese throwing their hat in the ring.
“If they do, it’ll be on Germany’s side. The Japanese are desperate to conquer China, they need their oil and resources and believe our concessions are interfering with their success.”
“Silence, please,” the balding radio operator commanded. “Five, four, three, two, one.”
The red light in front of Uncle Neville lit up and he smoothed the papers on his desk, tension choking the room as he began to read.
“The Japanese blockade of the British Concession at Tientsin continues. British subjects are detained and searched and subjected to unspeakable indignities while the entry of perishable foodstuffs and ice into the British Concession has been intentionally delayed. His Majesty’s Government is doing all it can to remedy the deficiency, and His Majesty’s Ambassador at Tokyo has made it quite clear to the Japanese government that we cannot acquiesce in the blockade. With regard to the local incidents at Tientsin, it is becoming increasingly clear that this is a new attempt at world domination in the Far East by the Japanese, who I hope will be able to restrain their subordinates in Tientsin.”
The longer Uncle Neville spoke, the hotter the room grew. Valerie rubbed her neck, afraid she might faint, and she wasn’t usually wilting.
“Are you all right?” Marian whispered.
“No, I need to step out.” She twisted through the gathered officials and secretaries to make for the freer air of the anteroom off the main corridor. Marian followed her, waiting patiently while Valerie paced the carpet, anxiety making it impossible to stand still.
“Those poor people. Trapped, and with no idea what’s going to happen to them.” She understood Richard’s helplessness with his patients. Here she was in No. 10, and there was little she could do to offer the Englishmen in Tientsin any comfort or hope. “I wish there was something I could do, collect medicine or food to send to them, anything to help see them through this.”
“Even if you could, it’d take four weeks to reach them. The British China Station in Hong Kong is preparing ships with aid.”
“Will it be enough?”
“I can’t say.”
Valerie leaned against a secretary’s desk and trilled her fingers on the polished edge. “If we could wire them money, they could purchase more food and medicine and other things navy men might not think of, such as food for babies and children.”
“Do you have such an amount?”
“I don’t, but society does. I’m sure I and my friends can impress on them to be generous.” Their Excellencies would do all they could to help her. They couldn’t sit back and do nothing any more than she could.
“Even if you can raise money, how will you get it there in time?”
“I don’t know.” And then it struck her. Valerie stood upright, snapping her fingers. “Katherine’s father, Lord Harlech, is in banking. I’m sure she can have him arrange a wire transfer of whatever funds we collect.”
“I can contact someone on Admiral Sir Percy Noble’s staff to arrange receipt. He’s the Commander in Chief of the British China Station. He’ll be in charge of sending ships to Tientsin, but I’ll need the Premier’s permission. That’s far above my duties, and you’ll have to act quickly. There isn’t much time before those ships are dispatched.”
“I’ll get you the permission you need.” Valerie hurried upstairs to the White Drawing Room, where Aunt Anne was arranging the flowers sent down from West Woodhay House in a crystal vase. She paused in fussing with the roses to watch Valerie rush to the desk and remove her list of thank-you-note addresses and stationery from the drawer. One thing about the tedious business was that it’d given her quite an extensive list of people she could contact for donations.
“I’ve never seen you so eager to write thank-you notes. Was Royal Ascot that exciting?” Aunt Anne asked, leaving the roses to lilt in the vase.
“This is far more important than pithy lines to hostesses.” Valerie explained her and Marian’s plan to Aunt Anne, who listened with her usual calm, hoping Aunt Anne didn’t object to Valerie asking members of society for money.
“I think it’s a marvelous idea.”
“We’ll need Uncle Neville’s help too.” She explained about the warships and the political red tape.
Aunt Anne brushed a bit of pollen off her skirt. “Leave that to me. Mr. Colville isn’t likely to let you interrupt Neville, but he isn’t about to stop me.”
“Thank you so much.” Valerie turned to her list of addresses, ready to begin writing, when Lady Ravensdale’s name caught her eye and made her pause. “One more thing.”
“Yes.”
Valerie turned in her chair, gripping the carved wood back, hesitant to mention it, but the thought, like the pli
ght of the people in Tientsin, nagged at her. “Should we carry on with my coming-out dance in the face of everything? Lady Ravensdale was awful about you and Uncle Neville enjoying yourselves at Cliveden during the Anschluss. What will she and others say about my coming-out ball?” She could practically see the headlines from rotund Lord Castlerosse in his Londoner’s Log about the Prime Minister dancing with debutantes while the world burned.
“We are not canceling your dance. People look to us to set the tone. If we act as if nothing is wrong, they’ll see it and take heart that things are not as dire as the newspapers suggest. If we appear glum, it won’t raise anyone’s spirits but make them more fearful.”
“I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“After I speak to Neville, we’ll see to the letters and place a call to Lady Bridgeman. A woman so adept at arranging supplies must have a few ideas on how to help the British stranded by the blockade. You’d better ring your friends. You don’t have much time.” With a determined nod, she strolled out of the room to approach Uncle Neville and secure permission for the donations.
Valerie rushed to the phone and within moments Dinah was on the line.
“What a smashing idea,” Dinah breathed after Valerie explained the plan. “I’ll be there at once.”
“Bring the others. I need time to collect everything here.”
“I won’t disappoint you, Your Excellency. See you soon!”
Valerie drafted the donation letter and Aunt Anne helped polish it. They perfected it just in time for Their Excellencies to arrive, and in a flurry of excited chatter and gossip they wrote out numerous copies on the No. 10 stationery Aunt Anne provided to lend more gravitas and urgency to their collection efforts. She even enlisted the No. 10 footmen to deliver the letters once they were complete.
By the next morning, more envelopes of donations than invitations arrived with the post, and Miss Leaf helped Valerie organize them. Checks continued to trickle in throughout the day, delivered by footmen from a number of posh London addresses. Even the Princesses Elizabeth and Margaret were kind enough to send money for the benefit of the English children in Tientsin. Valerie wished she had time to collect more, but Marian’s announcement that the ships were to set sail in the morning and everything must be sent off at once put paid to that. With Katherine’s father’s help, the funds were cabled to Hong Kong and all remaining money collected was placed in a special account managed by Lord Harlech to be used as directed by Their Excellencies for future aid projects.
The grandfather clock in the entrance hall chimed nine times as Valerie came downstairs. After all her hard work, Valerie was dead-tired. She could imagine how exhausted the staff and Garden Room Girls must be, and their day was far from over. She’d be sure to have sandwiches sent down to them before she retired. It was the least she could do.
“Here it is.” Valerie handed Marian the list of essential supplies to be purchased that she and Lady Bridgeman had drawn up that evening.
“I’ll have them cabled to Mr. McBride, Admiral Sir Percy Noble’s private secretary, at once. It’s four A.M. in Hong Kong.”
“Will that give him enough time to collect everything?”
“When I told Mr. McBride it was the Premier’s niece organizing this, he assured me he’d personally make sure it was done.”
“Please include a note of thanks from me.”
“I will. He’ll appreciate the sentiment, coming from so eminent a person.”
“I’m hardly eminent, just fortunate to be where I am.”
“We both are.”
Mr. Rucker and Mr. Seyer strolled by, each man looking a bit rough around the edges. Mr. Seyer covered a large yawn with the back of his hand while Mr. Rucker braved the over-roasted coffee Mrs. Bell had brewed to keep them going. “Is there any end in sight for all of you tonight?”
“No.” Marian rolled her sagging shoulders and stood up straight. “There’s too much to be done and the time difference is making it worse. No rest for the weary.”
Marian’s tired smile suggested there might never be rest for her. In some ways she enjoyed a great deal more freedom than Valerie, but in others she had very little of it. The typist could no more decide to not work than Valerie could pursue employment. Like all of them, Marian’s future, even the next few hours, was dictated by others and events far beyond her control.
“Thank you, for everything,” Valerie offered, feeling this was woefully inadequate.
“Thank you for helping, and remember a great many Londoners will need aid too, especially if supplies become scare.”
“I won’t forget them.” She couldn’t, not after seeing the concern and worry in Marian’s eyes when she’d spoken of her family and what they might face if war came. Yesterday’s news pulled them a step closer to it and all the awfulness it would entail. She’d used her position to help fellow Englishmen a world away. She feared it wouldn’t be long before she must do it again much closer to home. “This has given me a great deal of practice in how to arrange these types of things.”
Chapter Seventeen
The line of cars arriving at Downing Street to deposit their guests stretched all the way down Whitehall. Valerie stood for over an hour at the top of the Grand Staircase at the head of the receiving line with Uncle Neville and Aunt Anne. They shook hands and greeted people until there was little feeling left in her fingers. Nearly every face from the court presentation paraded past her and she didn’t shrink in shyness from welcoming them to the prestigious address. These people had been strangers to her a mere three months ago. They’d become a regular part of her life since, some more friendly than others.
Uncle Neville winced as he rubbed his side during a pause in the stream of guests paying their respects. His black evening jacket deepened the dark circles under his eyes. He’d slip off to work once hosting duties were finished, but his being here at all meant the world to her.
“Everything all right, Neville?” Aunt Anne asked in a low voice.
“Indigestion. The fish was very rich, but well made.” Before the dance, Aunt Anne had hosted a grand dinner in the large dining room in Valerie’s honor. “I’m fine.”
He smiled at Aunt Anne, setting her and Valerie at ease before Mr. Dobson called out the next names.
“Lady Fallington and Lord Elmswood.”
Valerie clasped her hands tight in front of her, hoping the quick beat of her heart wasn’t visible beneath the glittering diamonds of the Cartier necklace. She stood up straight in her white tulle evening gown with the midnight blue lace accents on the wide skirt and a royal blue waist sash. They were here. It meant Mavis’s little exhibition hadn’t done as much damage as she’d thought.
“Lady Fallington, thank you ever so much for your donation to the Tientsin relief.” She’d taken quite a chance sending a request to her and had been equally surprised when she’d received money in return. The woman’s patriotism must have outweighed her objections to Valerie and her stepmother.
“I was more than happy to donate.” Whatever Lady Fallington’s thoughts on Valerie and her various relations, they remained hidden behind her usual aristocratic smile as she greeted her, then moved on to her aunt and uncle.
“Don’t forget, you promised me the waltz,” Elm reminded, charming as ever.
“I haven’t forgotten.” She raised her arm with the dance card attached to it and he took it, his grip on her fingers firm while he wrote his name. The moment in the taxi when she thought he might kiss her flashed before her. “Until our dance.”
“Until then.” She studied him for any hint of feeling about her, but he was the proper Viscount tonight, not the man who’d held her close in the seedy basement club. With his mother hovering nearby, he couldn’t be anything but the dutiful son who escorted his mother into the drawing rooms.
“Good evening, Miss de Vere Cole.” Mr. Chaplin’s greeting brought her firmly back to her hostess duties.
“Mr. Chaplin, you’ve joined up.” His uniform shocked h
er as much as the high collar of it sharpened the soft line of his jaw.
He hooked his thumbs in his lapels, puffing out his chest. “The Household Cavalry, the last mounted regiment in England.”
His pride didn’t settle Valerie’s unease. He was a nice chap who’d been a regular partner at every dance and she’d learned a great deal about horses because of him. She hated to think what that uniform meant to his future. “You’ll be quite distinguished among your fellow servicemen.”
“Thank you, Miss de Vere Cole. Might I partner with you for the foxtrot?”
“You may.” She held out her dance card, allowing him to sign it before he carried on into the Pillared Drawing Room and Mr. Dobson called out the next names.
“Lady Aschcombe and the Honorable Miss Rosalind Cubitt.”
Lady Ashcombe approached with the same imperious look from over her thick cheekbones that she’d pinned Valerie with at the court presentation. Valerie didn’t shrink under the scrutinizing glance but faced the Baronette’s daughter with the confidence expected of the Premier’s niece. She might have a whole parcel of questionable experiences and family members in her past, but so did most of the people passing before her. If they could hold their heads high, then so could she.
“You’ve truly blossomed, Miss de Vere Cole,” Lady Ashcombe complimented. “You’re a credit to your aunt and uncle, especially your work on behalf of the Tientsin unfortunates.”
That was certainly unexpected. “Your donation to our collection was greatly appreciated, Lady Ashcombe.”
“My pleasure, of course.”
Rosalind wasn’t so conceding, still indifferent to Valerie but a touch more respectful in light of the event and venue. The two of them exchanged stiff greetings before Rosalind followed her mother into the Pillared Drawing Room. It served as the ballroom for tonight, the doors to the adjacent rooms thrown open to accommodate the full house. She had yet to see Richard. He’d assured her he’d be here and she very much looked forward to dancing with him.
The Last Debutantes Page 23