Nanny, a trifle spherical in shape, with apple-rosy cheeks and twinkling brown eyes, compressed her mouth to hide her smile of amusement. ‘I think I can manage,’ she answered and turned her attention to Cecily. The six-year-old looked on the verge of tears.
‘Why are you crying, Cecily?’ Bess asked, going closer to her younger sister, staring at her. ‘It’s Christmas Day and we’re going to have a wonderful lunch.’
‘I’m not hungry,’ Cecily answered, her lip quivering. ‘I don’t like this fwock.’
‘Let’s not have baby talk, missy, it isn’t suitable,’ Nanny murmured, and finished tying the pale blue taffeta bow on top of Cecily’s blonde head.
‘Your dress is beautiful, and it’s the same colour as mine,’ Bess said. ‘Look at me.’
Cecily did as she was asked, and nodded. ‘It’s the same colour. But I don’t like this fwock.’
‘Yes, you do, Cecily. And say frock. Just look at Mary, she’s wearing blue too and not complaining. We match. Now isn’t that nice. And we are sisters, you know. I think Nanny’s been very clever, choosing blue dresses for the two of you. We blend.’
Mary said, ‘But you chose your own, 'cos Nanny told us.’
‘Now, now, Mary, speak correctly. Say because, not ’cos. Rather common, that way of speaking,’ Nanny pronounced, frowning.
‘Not suitable,’ Bess added, using one of Nanny’s favourite expressions.
Nanny turned to look at her, peering over the top of her glasses. ‘We’re not being cheeky are we, Bess?’
‘Oh no, Nanny, I’m never cheeky to you.’
‘That’s all right then. At least I’ve taught you something.’
‘What’s suitable and what’s not suitable,’ Mary cried, and began to laugh. The eight-year-old had a very happy nature, and she began to prance around, singing, ‘The Blue sisters. We’re the Blue sisters. Look at us. Blue like Boadicea. Blue, blue, blue!’
Bess said, ‘Now stop this, Mary, we must hurry, and we must help Nanny.’
‘Everything is in hand, missy.’ Glancing around, Nanny realized suddenly that Richard was missing. ‘Oh my Heavens, where’s little Ritchie? Oh dear, where has that child gone?’
‘I’m here,’ a small voice said, and Nanny was more horrified than ever when she saw a blond head peeping out from under the bed.
‘Ritchie, please come out at once!’
He did so and scrambled to his feet. Nanny looked him over, her eyes seeking out the merest speck of dust. But there was nothing on him. Straightening his black velvet jacket, Nanny muttered, ‘Well, at least we know the maids here are thorough.’
Cecily said, ‘I want my red fwock.’
‘Stop saying fwock!’ Mary cried, echoing Bess.
‘Nanny,’ Bess said, ‘what about Young Edward? Is he coming down for Christmas lunch? Or is he too ill?’
Nanny beamed. Young Edward was undoubtedly special to her, and she exclaimed, ‘Oh yes, indeed, your father helped him to get dressed and he took him downstairs a short while ago.’
‘Then we’d better go at once,’ Bess announced. ‘Father must be waiting for me.’
‘He’s waiting for all of you,’ Nanny replied, giving her a pointed look.
‘I want the baby,’ Cecily muttered. ‘Where’s Anne?’
‘The nursemaid has her, she’ll be taking her downstairs in a moment.’
‘Is she wearing blue velvet too?’ Mary asked, eyeing Nanny solemnly.
‘Don’t be silly, child. Of course the baby’s not wearing blue velvet. She’s wrapped in a bundle of frothy white lace right now.’
Bess said, ‘Where’s Grandmother?’
‘Mrs Deravenel is downstairs also.’
‘You like her, don’t you, Nanny?’
‘Yes, I do.’
‘But not Mother. You don’t like her.’
‘What a dreadful thing to say, Bess,’ Nanny said reprovingly. ‘Of course I like your mother. She’s a beautiful lady, and very kind and considerate to me.’
‘But not to my father,’ Bess mumbled.
Nanny threw her a cautionary look. ‘This conversation is not suitable, not suitable at all, and I won’t have it,’ Nanny said. There was a warning note in her voice.
Picking up on this, Bess said softly, ‘I’m sorry, Nanny. I won’t do it again.’ Edging closer to the nanny she whispered, ‘The little ones, they don’t understand.’
‘You’d be surprised what they understand,’ Nanny shot back pithily. ‘Very well, let us go downstairs to join your parents and your grandmother. Stand up straight, Ritchie, you’re looking like a rag doll.’
Richard looked up at her, and yawned. Then he said, ‘I’m hungry, Nanny.’
‘I am too,’ Mary announced. ‘I could eat a horse.’
‘That’s a vulgar expression, Mary. Please refrain from using it.’
‘A pony then … I could eat a pony.’
Richard laughed with Mary and Cecily, and they giggled all the way down the corridor.
Bess threw Nanny a sympathetic look as they followed behind. ‘What can you do with them?’ Shaking her head, Bess added, ‘But then they’re so young.’
Nanny averted her face so that Bess wouldn’t notice the mirth bubbling to the surface. They were priceless, these children, far too grown-up for their own good. And they had seen far too much, witnessed too many quarrels that had verged on the violent. But then the mother was to blame. Poor Mr Deravenel. She couldn’t help sympathizing with him. Fancy being married to that cold, nasty woman, and he so good and kind and handsome. Poor man. Oh, that poor man.
Bess made everyone stop at the top of the stairs, and looking at Nanny and then at her siblings, she said, ‘Grandmother put me in charge of you, so you must do as I say. We will walk downstairs sedately. And then when we get to the library you will stand in line. Like I put you yesterday. And we will sing the Christmas carol.’
‘I’m hungry,’ Richard wailed.
‘No food for you, Ritchie,’ Bess warned, ‘not ’til after the carol has been sung.’
‘Be careful, Ritchie,’ Nanny warned. ‘Come, let me take your hand, and we’ll go down together.’ The two-year-old, who was as blond as his brother, clung to Nanny’s hand tightly.
The three girls followed behind.
Once they reached the Long Hall Bess saw Jessup waiting. ‘We are going to sing our carol first, Jessup,’ Bess explained.
‘Yes, Miss Bess. Mrs Deravenel, that is your grandmother, told me that lunch could not be served until after you had done your rendition. And she herself will play the piano for you.’
‘Thank you.’ Bess gave him the benefit of one of her radiant smiles just as her father so often did.
‘Don’t forget to stand in a proper line,’ Bess hissed as they arrived at the doorway leading into the library. Ushering her siblings forward, she said, ‘Here we are, Father! We are going to sing a carol for you, and Mother.’
Bess turned and smiled at Cecily Deravenel, and added, ‘And Grandmama is being very kind. She is going to play the piano for us.’
‘How nice, Bess!’ Edward smiled at her. ‘I hadn’t realized we were going to be treated to a Christmas concert before lunch.’
‘Oh but Father, it’s only one carol,’ Bess exclaimed swiftly, suddenly looking worried. ‘Because, well, I had to teach the others the words … they had to know it by heart.’
‘How very clever of you, Bess, clever of you all, actually.’ His eyes swept over his four children standing in a row in the doorway near the small piano, which Jessup had moved in from the music room yesterday afternoon, as he always did at Christmas. How beautiful they were, his children, with their bright blond and red gold hair. Four pairs of eyes of varying shades of blue stared back at him.
He turned his head, looked at Elizabeth and smiled warmly.
She was momentarily taken aback, since she had so irritated him earlier with her comments about the diamond bow. Wanting peace on this very special day of the year, she smiled back at him, then le
aned closer, touched his hand, showing her affection. She felt a movement next to her and turned to Young Edward, who had drawn closer to her on the sofa. ‘Are you all right? Are you warm enough?’
‘Oh yes, Mama. I just wish I could sing the carol too.’ ‘I know. You don’t like being left out of anything, I realize that. Next year. You can sing next year, darling.’
Cecily rose from the chair and walked across the room to the piano, stopping for a moment to let one hand rest on Ritchie’s head for a moment.
He loved his grandmother, and turned his eyes to her face, gave her a huge smile. ‘I’m hungry, Granny.’
‘So am I, sweetheart.’ She bent down to him. ‘And we shall have turkey, stuffing and mashed potatoes in a few minutes. After the carol. Very soon, I promise.’
Bess looked at her siblings, and murmured. ‘Cecily, you must stand next to me, because you’re taller than Mary. Come along all of you, make the straight line like yesterday.’
Ritchie asked, ‘Am I here?’ ‘Yes, you’re the last.’ Bess took her place at the head of the line and said to her grandmother. ‘We are ready.’ ‘I will play a few bars and then I will start the carol,’ Cecily said and promptly did so.
A split second later four young voices rang out:
‘Hark, the herald-angels sing
Glory to the new-born King,
Peace on earth, and mercy mild,
God and sinners reconciled.
Joyful, all ye nations, rise,
Join the triumph of the skies;
With the angelic host proclaim,
“Christ is born in Bethlehem.”
Hark, the herald-angels sing
Glory to the new-born King.’
‘Thank you, children, that was wonderful!’ Edward began to clap, and so did their mother, grandmother, Young Edward, Nanny and Madge, the nursemaid, who stood near the window with Anne in a wicker perambulator.
‘Well done, all of you!’ Edward beamed at them.
Bess, Mary, Cecily and Ritchie beamed back at him. They all bowed low and then ran across to their parents, laughter filling their faces with happiness.
Mary and Cecily made for their father, as usual wishing to claim his attention.
Bess shepherded Ritchie to their mother, who bent forward, kissed the top of his head. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, acknowledging Bess who stood before her. ‘Your father is correct, you did very well.’
Bess offered her mother a tentative smile.
Elizabeth rose, glided across to the window area of the library, where Nanny stood with Madge, the nursemaid.
‘Enjoy your Christmas lunch, Nanny, and you too, Madge. Cook has everything ready for you both in the downstairs dining room. Also, I had Jessup put a small cot near the fire, just in case you wish to take Anne out of the baby carriage.’
‘Thank yer, mum.’ Madge bobbed a curtsy.
‘That is most kind, Mrs Deravenel, thank you very much,’ Nanny said, and touched Madge’s arm to indicate they should leave. She wanted to tell the children to be on their very best behaviour, but the two younger girls were caught up with their father, clinging to him, and Bess was already moving in his direction.
Bess was Nanny’s favourite, but because she abhorred favouritism she kept this a secret, treated everyone equally. But Nanny constantly worried about the nine-year-old girl, who was far too old for her years, not close enough to her mother, and far too possessive of her father.
What a strange family they were; still, she was accustomed to them by now. She had been here for eight years, and had brought Bess up, and the other little ones as well. They were sweet children, very beautiful, and she loved them dearly. It was the adults in this household who bothered her. At times she thought they were out to destroy each other.
She shook off this troubling thought. It was Christmas Day of 1918. The war was over and they were at peace. The whole world was at peace. And everyone said the World War which had just drawn to a close was the war to end all wars. She certainly hoped so.
SIXTEEN
Elizabeth was fully aware that she had said the wrong thing that morning, when she had told Edward the diamond bow brooch was too costly a thing to give to a child.
He had instantly taken umbrage, made an acerbic comment and walked away. She ought to have known better: she had come to realize this as the day had passed and turned into evening. He had always favoured Bess, spoiled her, made it clear nothing was too good for her.
And of course he detested any comment that smacked of criticism of him. Why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut? She didn’t know … but then she was always making remarks that he took the wrong way. She never did this with anyone else, only him. Was it some kind of nervousness? she wondered.
It wasn’t very long ago that her brother Anthony had told her she was a fool, that she made a fuss about things that didn’t matter. ‘Forget about winning a battle,’ he had said in a cold, reproving voice. ‘And concentrate on winning the war. That’s the only thing that matters … One day, Lizzie, you will wake up and find you’ve killed the goose that lays the golden eggs.’
He was so annoyed with her she hadn’t dared to reprimand him for calling her Lizzie. Instead she had stuttered something about not really understanding what he meant.
‘For an intelligent woman you can be truly stupid at times,’ he had said in that cold, disdainful voice of his that denoted his fury. ‘You’re argumentative for one thing, and complain about his other women, when there are no other women –’
‘Then what is Jane Shaw?’ she had cut in, glaring at her brother.
‘She’s his mistress, that’s what she is, and you know it and I know it. She’s not other women, as you put it.’
‘What are you saying? That I should accept her?’
‘Yes, I am indeed. Turn a blind eye, like other women of our class do, women whose husbands have mistresses. Which is half the population of this country I should think, perhaps even more. And remember this one important fact: a woman who has been with a man for a long time as his mistress has obviously not made any impossible demands, has not sought marriage, not wanted more than the relationship she already has. Jane Shaw has not rocked the boat. Don’t you rock it, either.’
‘It hurts my feelings,’ she had mumbled. ‘I want him to be faithful to me.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, grow up, Elizabeth! Does he neglect you physically? Stupid question. He’s obviously very attentive to you since you’re always having babies, one after the other. So, does he beat you? Come on, does he? Are you hiding something from me? Does Ned hit you?’
‘No. He doesn’t beat me, or anyone else for that matter. Edward happens to be a gentle person.’
‘I’ve understood that for a long time. I also know that he keeps you in lavish style, in luxurious homes, permits you to spend whatever you want to spend on clothes, and other trinkets, and literally covers you in jewels. You should have no complaints, my dear.’
‘It’s just that, well –’
‘It’s not just anything. Unless I might add that you are just being rather stupid, in my opinion.’ Her brother had leaned closer to her, and said in a low voice, ‘The longer he remains in this relationship with Jane the better it is for you … why can’t you see that?’
‘I’d prefer him not to have a mistress at all.’
‘Grow up! That’s not going to happen, not with a man like Ned. And if he didn’t have a mistress – I must qualify this and say that if he didn’t have a mistress like Jane – then you would have to contend with a lot of women. Women who might not be as congenial as Jane, shall we say? Women with ambitions who may very well wish to become the second Mrs Edward Deravenel.’
She remembered now how much this last comment had upset and disturbed her, and if they had not been lunching at the Ritz Hotel she might have started to weep. Somehow she had managed to control her emotions, and had simply kept her head down, searching for a handkerchief in her handbag, saying nothing.
It was A
nthony who had started to speak, this time in a gentler tone. ‘I don’t want you to cry, I can’t stand it when a woman weeps.’
‘You haven’t been very nice.’
‘I have told you the truth, the way things are, Elizabeth, and believe me, I am only thinking of you, and your welfare,’ he had said then, taking hold of her hand. ‘You have a wonderful life, Elizabeth, a charmed life, and a young, handsome husband, who is tremendously successful, and a wealthy man. One who treats you like a queen and allows you to spend money like … a drunken sailor, for heaven’s sake! He is incredibly generous. He is also a marvellous father and adores his children. And I know for a fact he has no intention of leaving you, so just give him some slack, won’t you?’
‘Yes, you are right, Anthony. Everything you say is correct. I will keep my mouth shut, I promise you. I won’t badger him about anything.’
Anthony had nodded and finished, ‘There is no doubt in my mind that he has never contemplated divorce, Elizabeth. After all, he loves you.’
You would say that, you work for him, she had thought that day, but she had managed to swallow those mean words, knowing they were inflammatory.
Now, tonight, sitting alone in her bedroom at Ravenscar on Christmas Day night, she knew that those had been unkind and ridiculous thoughts. And very unfair to her brother, who was a most decent and honourable man. And he would have said exactly the same thing, even if he had not worked for Edward. I was being mean-spirited, she chastised herself, and she was tremendously relieved those words had never left her mouth. The last thing she needed was to antagonize her favourite brother, who wanted only the best for her – happiness, security and contentment.
Leaning back on the chaise longue, Elizabeth wondered how to make amends to Ned. She must do this. Tonight. She did not want her thoughtless comments about the gift for Bess to fester inside him. He had been civil this morning, and at lunch, but then the children had been present. Even at dinner he had been pleasant enough, if somewhat uncommunicative for him. He seemed to have been in a reflective mood, now that she thought about it. After dinner he had said goodnight to herself and his mother, gone into the library and firmly closed the door behind him. Cecily had gone to her room, and she had had no alternative but to accompany her mother-in-law upstairs, to go to bed herself.
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