Miss Glamora Tudor!: The New Chronicles of Barset: Book One

by ILIL ARBEL

  “Miss Merriman, I am so glad you have consented to come to tea,” said Mr. Choyce. “I wanted to hear all the news.”

  “Nothing unusual happened,” said Miss Merriman quietly. “The film is now almost over, and I shall be returning to Pomfret Towers very soon.”

  Mr. Choyce’s hand trembled slightly as he stirred his tea, but naturally Miss Merriman would never notice such a thing. She sipped her own tea calmly.

  “So you are not going to America with GMG?” asked Mr. Choyce.

  “No, I am not. Mr. Goldwasser offered me a permanent job, and Miss Brinton was extremely kind and supportive, but I have declined, though I was most grateful.”

  “May I ask why did you decline, Miss Merriman,” Mr. Choyce asked a little diffidently, “or would it be impertinent on my part to do so?”

  “Of course you may ask,” said Miss Merriman. “You have the privilege of an old friend to ask whatever you wish to know. I have to admit the offer was tempting. As you must know, Mr. Choyce, service is no inheritance, and the salary Mr. Goldwasser so generously intended to give me would have secured me a very comfortable retirement. Besides, I truly enjoyed the work, and I liked Mr. Goldwasser and Miss Brinton very much.”

  “And Mr. Goldwasser liked you, Miss Merriman. I am sure of it.”

  “Indeed I hope so. Well, he had to, since otherwise, he would not have offered me the job. But I do not fit there, Mr. Choyce. My place is here, among my old friends, my employers, my regular work. In Hollywood, I would always have been a stranger.”

  “What you said just now about service being no inheritance makes me extremely concerned. Is there a reason to believe that you will not be comfortable when the time comes for retirement?”

  “I should be all right, but in a rather limited fashion. Lady Edith Pomfret left me a generous legacy, and so did Lady Emily. But times have changed, money is not what it used to be, so the legacies won’t stretch very far. And I have no real home to retire to, Mr. Choyce. My sister, who is my only relative, is not particularly interested in me.”

  “Her loss, Miss Merriman. Her loss indeed,” said Mr. Choyce gallantly. Miss Merriman smiled.

  “I imagine I would be able to live in one of those places that rent rooms to ladies in somewhat reduced circumstances,” she said. “This would not be too bad.”

  “But not good enough for someone like you! Someone, well, I don’t quite know how to express myself on this topic. However, I think life will turn out a little differently, if I have influence at all. I am very happy you are not going to Hollywood, Miss Merriman, for many reasons. I wish I could say more, but I am not privileged, as yet, to do so. Some day, when I am better situated, will you permit me to return to this conversation?”

  Miss Merriman sat quietly, gazing at her cup for a little while, thinking. “I don’t know about secretaries and companions,” she finally said. “We give our all, we work so hard, and then one day we find we have aged and our employers need another person, a stronger, younger one… Yes, Mr. Choyce. Someday, when you feel it is the right time, I would like you to return to this conversation. But not quite yet – I understand that – not quite yet.”

  “Miss Merriman, you are a lady like no other,” said Mr. Choyce. “You do not seem to hold my circumstances against me.”

  “Not at all, Mr. Choyce, and I know exactly what is holding you back from pursuing this conversation. This issue would not have been a deterrent to any decision I would have had to make, but I know it matters a great deal to you, and I will always respect your opinion. And there is no rush; I still have my own duties to perform.”

  “I have no words to express my relief, Miss Merriman. I was so certain that you would soon announce your move to America. But, happily, you are not going, and life can go on as it was, at least for a while, with a view to a better future, I hope. With your permission, I will consider this an understanding, if a very slight one. If you agree to that, I will be most grateful.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Choyce. Yes, I think an understanding is a good word,” said Miss Merriman. “But old friends always understand each other best, don’t they? That is the joy in dwelling among them.”

  “Miss Merriman, will you do me the honor of coming with me, at your convenience, to tea with my aunt? She would be delighted to make your acquaintance, and I would feel less, I don’t know how to put it, perhaps the word I am searching for is guilty…”

  “I would love to visit Miss Choyce. It will be a great pleasure,” said Miss Merriman. “And the word ‘guilt’ has nothing to do with anything you should feel. I know how much you love your aunt, Mr. Choyce.”

  “Thank you, thank you for everything, Miss Merriman.”

  “And now I must leave,” said Miss Merriman. “It has been a delightful tea, Mr. Choyce. Do come soon and visit us at the Towers, Lord and Lady Pomfret always enjoy your visits, and so do I, but you know that, of course.”

  “I will, I will, Miss Merriman. I hope that our discussion today will at least grant me the right to see you more often.”

  The guardian angels, hovering on the ceiling, looked at each other with triumph and joy. “Well, well,” said Samuel, who, the reader will surely remember, was Miss Merriman’s guardian angel. “So Daniel knew what he was talking about…”

  “Indeed,” said Nathaniel, Mr. Choyce’s guardian angel. “I do like your person very much, Sam. She is delightful, quite the right sort.”

  “And I like yours, Nat. We will all get on very well when the time comes.”

  “We should go now and tell Mr. Charlemagne,” said Samuel. “I noticed he was not present. Where is he?”

  “He is visiting young Miss Molly, the daughter of Cook’s Kitty,” said Nat. “He seems to spend a great deal of time with her these days, and a most charming cat she is; you should meet her. Would you believe, she is the only cat he told about the cat door Mr. Choyce had constructed for him? Generally he keeps it a deep secret. Yes, let’s go tell him. He will be very pleased.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Gillie, do you know what I would like to do?” asked Lady Pomfret. “You are going to laugh at me, but I am longing to have a real house party and invite the GMG people. The whole thing started here with the meeting of Mrs. Rivers and Miss Tudor, and I would like to give the group a nice party in honour of finishing the film.”

  “But Sally, do we have enough space, and enough help, for such ambitious entertaining?” asked Lord Pomfret a little anxiously.

  “Since it is the weekend, I can borrow some space from Amalgamated Vedge in the Towers, perhaps use their conference room as a dining room, and I am sure I can get any number of women from the village who would be only too happy to oblige. Everyone misses the big old parties.”

  “I know what you have in mind, Sally,” said Lord Pomfret. “Something like the weekend we spent with my uncle before we got engaged.”

  “Exactly,” said Lady Pomfret. “I can borrow a good butler from someone, and it will be such fun, like the old days. And of course we have Merry back, so all should be well.”

  “But Sally, do we have the time? We are so busy…”

  “Let’s make the time, Gillie. Just once in a while, we should do something we truly enjoy. Life has become so busy; I sometimes feel it is almost grim.” At that, Lord Pomfret immediately gave way, for seeing Sally unhappy about anything was intolerable to him.

  “Who will you invite?”

  “Why, a really large party,” said Lady Pomfret enthusiastically. “Everyone who was connected with the film. Mrs. Rivers, Miss Tudor, Mr. Goldwasser, Miss Brinton, Edmond Keith, Jessica and Aubrey, Emma, if she can take a short holiday from her studies in Paris, Mr. Alcott… am I missing anyone?”

  “Yes, my dear. You have forgotten the Mertons.”

  “Of course, how could I? Naturally I will ask them.”

  “And how about Mrs. Morland? She is always such a pleasant guest.”

  “Excellent idea, Gillie. That really gives us the perfect number of gues
ts. What fun!” And with that, Lady Pomfret went to the big business part of the Towers to see if some rooms could be arranged. And since we know and like so well the people who occupy the Towers, especially Mr. Adams, we are certain that they will make no difficulty at all, and Lady Pomfret will have her exciting house party.

  A few days later the phone rang at Pomfret Towers, and Lady Pomfret, who was writing letters in the library, answered it herself.

  “Lady Pomfret? This is Miss Brinton. I am calling to discuss a small change in plans. I have to go to America, rather suddenly. May I have your permission to send Miss Robinson in my place?”

  “Of course,” said Lady Pomfret. “But who is Miss Robinson?”

  “Oh, I am sorry, I should have explained. Miss Maisie Robinson is our chief script writer, who came recently from America to work on the sequel with Mrs. Rivers. She is longing to meet you.”

  “Certainly! I would have invited her had I known she existed. She is most welcome. But Miss Brinton, is everything all right with you? I don’t mean to pry, but this sudden trip to America sounds serious.”

  There was a short silence followed by an embarrassed laugh on the other side. “I am getting married, Lady Pomfret. Miss Tudor convinced me that I will lose neither independence nor the capacity for work, not with the type of man the general is. She adores the general.”

  “Let me add my advice, then,” said Lady Pomfret. “No, you will lose nothing if you marry the right man, but you will acquire more responsibilities and additional work. That is what happened to me, but I never regretted my decision to marry. Nothing can give you such a sense of love and support as a good marriage. So I congratulate you.”

  “Thank you, Lady Pomfret. With all my heart. This time, I am going through with it; no more last minute cancellations. And after a short honeymoon in the Lake District, it’s back to work. The general will enjoy meeting all of you.”

  “And we will love meeting him. Again, my warmest congratulations.”

  Everyone else accepted. The Mertons and Mrs. Morland had to leave after Saturday’s dinner rather than stay until after Sunday’s tea, since they had various engagements they could not cancel. However, Mrs. Morland promised to bring the butler, borrowed from her friend and neighbour Lord Crosse, and between Merry and the butler, there was a certainty of success. As Lady Pomfret walked over the house, checking the rooms and making sure all was comfortable, her thoughts kept returning to the past with mild nostalgia. She felt as if the years were shedding away and she was young Sally Wicklow who got engaged to Gillie during that far off, adventure-filled weekend they spent at Pomfret Towers as the guests of old Lord Pomfret. She smiled to herself when she remembered how domineering and unpleasant Mrs. Rivers was during that visit. Ah, well, the menacing Baedeker Bitch, as her publisher used to call her behind her back, and probably still did, had mellowed a little, even if most people still found her rather difficult. Lady Pomfret suddenly remembered, with amusement, how hard Mrs. Rivers had tried to have her own beautiful daughter, Phoebe, marry Gillie. It all happened so long ago, before the war changed everything and everyone. Dear Phoebe was now happily married, and as for Gillie and herself, they were almost an old married couple… Ah, well. She gave herself a little mental shake and decided to enjoy the present in her own uncomplicated and practical way.

  The Clovers, Edmond, and Emma, who had driven down together from London, arrived before the rest of the party. Mrs. Rivers, Nestor, and Maisie came in the huge white car, and Mr. Goldwasser drove a smaller car, accompanied by Glamora.

  “What a beautiful day,” said Glamora. “Unusually blue sky. I am very happy these days, Jake.”

  “And I am happy to see you happy, Glam. This course of reading suggested by Miss Merriman is doing you a lot good, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it does, Jake. I feel liberated, let out of a cage. I can speak with such ease…”

  “It was her most brilliant idea,” said Mr. Goldwasser. “And she had so many of them. What an unusual person she is.”

  “You like Miss Merriman a great deal, don’t you, Jake?” asked Glamora placidly.

  “Oh yes, I was highly impressed by her when you introduced me, and now, after working with her, I truly admire her.”

  “I feel the same, Jake. She is one in a million. She understands everything.”

  “Yes, such a subtle mind, and yet capable of perfectly clear thinking,” said Mr. Goldwasser.

  “And she is quite attractive,” said Glamora thoughtfully. “Not in our flashy Hollywood style, but in her own quiet, very English, and lady-like fashion.”

  “Well, yes, I suppose so,” said Mr. Goldwasser casually.

  “Actually, very attractive,” said Glamora, musing. “She is unaware of it and probably never gave such matters much thought, but she has a very elegant figure and her face is not only pretty, but has some quality which I still don’t have the exact words to describe. Do you know what I want to say, Jake? You usually do.”

  “Yes, I know exactly what you want to say. You mean that she looks intellectual, spiritual, and high-thinking,” said Mr. Goldwasser.

  “Yes, Jake, you do like her a lot,” said Glamora. “It’s a long time since I have seen you pay so much attention to a woman.”

  “Surely you don’t imagine, Glam…” said Mr. Goldwasser, somewhat startled.

  “That’s all right, Jake. A little harmless romance won’t hurt either of you or anyone else. You would never allow anyone to suffer, not if you can help it. And I can see why you would find a lady of Miss Merriman’s calibre hard to resist.”

  “No, Glam, it’s nothing like that,” said Mr. Goldwasser a little sheepishly. “Really, it’s not…” Glamora laughed.

  As they arrived at the Towers, they saw Edmond, standing outside, and he helped Glamora out of her car. Glamora Tudor was probably the only woman in existence who knew how to get gracefully out of a car, a talent most women would envy. One perfect leg followed the other in a smooth motion, and the butterfly-like vision emerged elegantly from her temporary cocoon. “Hank, darling!” she said, hugging her favourite leading man. “How are you? And how is the playwriting going?”

  “Excellent, Miss Tudor,” said Edmond, who once freed from the film and not having to face the menace of dancing, no longer felt awkward with Glamora and treated her like an old friend – which was indeed what she had always meant to be. “Mr. Clover, though, should be the one to tell you about it.”

  Aubrey, advancing toward them with Jessica, smiled at Glamora. “So good to see you, Glam,” he said. “Yes, our boy here is doing extremely well; the theatre is in his blood. Someday he will write a script for you, and you will do each other credit.”

  “And Miss Lover will create the costumes,” said Glamora, smiling at Emma who came from the garden, which even in autumn looked charming. “But here are Lady Pomfret and Merry! We must go in.”

  “Wait just one minute,” said Jessica. “I believe this is Mrs. Morland’s car.”

  Indeed it was, and Mrs. Morland, delighted to have been invited to share this charming occasion, came out of the car, losing half her hairpins in the process and certainly not looking as elegant as Glamora as she did so. But there was no shortage of gallant men who immediately came to the rescue, and everyone entered the house, Mrs. Morland working, en route, on sticking the pins back where they belonged.

  As they gathered in the drawing room, Edmond found himself sitting next to Nestor, who was noticeably quiet. “So how did the film go, Alcott?” he asked, curiously.

  “Very well,” said Nestor gloomily. “We are to have a sequel.”

  “Yes, I heard about that,” said Edmond. “Remarkable. What is the name of the sequel?”

  “It’s called, tentatively, Let Your Hearts Tango,” said Nestor. Edmond silently thanked his stars for releasing him just in time from another film that required dancing. However, he did not mention that to Alcott, of course, but said, “Do you know that you are going to be the first man ever to make a secon
d film with Miss Tudor? She must like you very much.”

  “I don’t know about that. She still talks about you, Keith. She has never forgotten you.”

  “Why should she forget me? She felt I was like a son to her.”

  “A son, your age? What nonsense. Look at her.”

  “I think you are forgetting that Miss Tudor has been a great star since the early thirties… but age is not important here. It’s the feelings that matter. She wanted to mentor me and advance my career, but you are the one with whom she is making a second film. The only one, ever; possibly the last one, too.”

  “Maybe you are right,” said Nestor, his jealousy abating. “You have always been a pal, Keith. I am sorry.”

  “So why don’t you introduce me to this very attractive young lady who has just come into this room?” asked Edmond.

  “What attractive young lady? Oh, you mean Maisie. Right, you have never met her. Sorry. Maise, this is Edmond Keith, I told you about him, he is the fellow who had the part of Nestor Chardonay before me; you must have seen him in Fever in Peru. Keith, Miss Robinson is our chief screen writer. She had created the script for Send Me No Lilies and now she and Mrs. Rivers are working on the script for Let Your Hearts Tango.”

  “I am changing the name.” said Maisie decisively. “Not passionate enough. I heard you are a playwright, Mr. Keith. Would you have a better idea for a name for such a film?”

  “I am very pleased to meet you, Miss Robinson,” said Edmond, looking with open admiration at her low-keyed beauty and subtle elegance. “Let me think about a good name. I’ll keep in touch and let you know.”

  “Good!” said Maisie. “We writers must stick together. I liked you very much as Simon Bolivar, Mr. Keith. If you are as good a writer as you are an actor, you will go far.”

  “Thank you, Miss Robinson,” said Edmond, gratified. “I have to admit to preferring writing, but I did have fun doing Fever in Peru.”