‘Oh flattery! Flattery!’ exclaimed Mercy.
‘Never mind that,’ said Charlotte. ‘Personally I think you would need your head examined if you agreed to take him on. He has no aptitude at all. Nevertheless, will you try, as a favour to me and to save my toes from further punishment?’
‘When you put it like that I can hardly refuse, can I?’ replied Mercy.
Already she had put the record on the turntable, and was winding up the gramophone. After a preliminary hiss the music started.
‘Dum dum dumdum dum dumdum dum.’ She began humming the tune, and after a moment raised her arms to an imaginary partner and began to dance.
‘That’s it! Archie, look at her feet!’ ordered Charlotte. ‘Slow, quick, quick, slow. Come on, try it.’ She dragged him to his feet, and, in line, the trio began pacing out the dance.
‘This is no good, I’m doing the lady’s steps,’ protested Archie.
‘Then turn round and do them backwards, you idiot! Oh, the record’s finished! Wind it up again, Mercy, and we’ll try once more!’ Charlotte was at her most imperious. ‘Now, have a go with Mercy as your partner. Ready? Begin! Slow, quick, quick, slow!’
‘Mrs Lisburne is much easier to dance with than you,’ observed Archie. ‘She doesn’t turn it into a battle of wills.’
‘Not in that direction, you silly man!’ Charlotte protested, as the dancing couple somehow finished up wedged in a corner of the room.
‘I was concentrating so hard on my feet I forgot I had to steer as well!’
‘I think we’d better draw a diagram for this imbecile, don’t you, Mercy? Have you got a pen and paper handy?’
‘In the bureau,’ gasped Mercy, breathless with laughter.
‘Physical training, navigation, and now geometry! I’d sooner be on manoeuvres, honestly I would,’ grumbled the luckless Archie.
‘Stop moaning! You’ll manage well enough when you follow my diagr—Oh no!’ Charlotte’s words ended in a yell of distress as she knocked over the ornamental silver inkstand.
‘Your lovely skirt! You’ve got ink down it!’ cried Mercy.
‘It would happen to this outfit, my particular favourite! The ink has ruined the velvet! Just look at it!’
Mercy was already ringing the bell.
‘I’ll send for Stafford,’ she said. ‘She’s a marvel with stains.’
‘It had better be dealt with straight away,’ said Stafford when she arrived. ‘Will you be kind enough to come with me, ma’am, and I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Archie, you’re to keep practising while I’m gone,’ ordered Charlotte over her shoulder, as she was shepherded away by the maid.
‘She doesn’t give up, does she?’ said Archie with a wry smile. ‘On this occasion I think she’s wasting her time, and yours. When it comes to dancing I’m a regular duffer.’
‘No, you’re not,’ Mercy contradicted. ‘Try to remember that dancing is supposed to be fun. Let’s give it one more try, and this time forget about the steps. We’ll just move round the room in time to the music.’
‘You’re a glutton for punishment, I’ll give you that. Right, that’s the gramophone rewound. And off we go… I think I’m beginning to get the hang of it… Now for that tricky bit Charlotte was trying to teach me …’
‘No, not yet!’ cried Mercy, but her protest was in vain. Archie, in attempting the new step, caught his foot in the rug. He lost his balance, and collapsed on to the sofa in a hysterical, undignified heap, with Mercy underneath him.
‘Get off, you’re squashing the breath out of me,’ laughed Mercy.
‘I can’t move!’ Archie, too, was almost helpless with mirth. ‘My foot’s entangled in the fringe of the rug. Oh, this won’t do! What would anyone think if they came in?’
‘What should people think?’ demanded a male voice. ‘The truth seems pretty obvious to me.’
Over Archie’s shoulder Mercy saw Peter’s tall figure outlined in the doorway.
‘Hello, darling,’ she said. ‘You are home early.’
‘Yes, too early. Or maybe I’ve arrived just in time. Really, Mercy, you disappoint me. I would have thought you had sense enough to be more discreet when you have a rendezvous with your lover.’
‘Lover? You are joking!’ Her smile faded. There was no humour in Peter’s voice, only coldness and anger, and hurt.
‘Hey, Lisburne! What do you think of catching me in a compromising situation with your wife?’ called Archie cheerily, turning his head. ‘Why, the wretched fellow’s disappeared. He might have given me a hand to get to my feet.’
‘Oh! Get up, please,’ begged Mercy.
‘I’m trying to. What’s the fuss about? Surely your husband knows this is only a lark. Oh lord, he didn’t seriously think we were… ?’ At last Archie realized that the joking was at an end, and stood up.
‘He did!’ exclaimed Mercy, scrambling to her feet. ‘He thought we were making love!’
‘In his own house? Surely not! Oh, don’t take on so. I’ll go after him and explain. He’ll be back in a minute laughing like a drain, you’ll see!’ Archie rushed from the room and down the stairs.
Archie ran out of the door, but as he did so the Daimler shot past, heading towards town.
He came back in, panting at his exertions.
‘I’m afraid I missed him,’ he puffed. ‘I expect he’s heading for his club, the bolt-hole of all misunderstood and misunderstanding husbands. I’ll go and ferret him out, then I’ll drag him back here, eh? And on the way I’ll make sure he stops off at the florist’s and buys you the biggest bunch of roses in the place!’ For a moment the cheery expression left his face as he looked up at her. ‘Can I say how sorry I am that this has happened? I feel very much to blame.’
‘Please don’t,’ said Mercy, in a small voice, it isn’t your fault. It is a stupid misunderstanding, but please… if you could hurry?’
‘Of course. I’m on my way now.’
‘What on earth is all this rumpus about?’ Charlotte appeared at the head of the stairs wearing one of Mercy’s dressing gowns. ‘Why has Archie deserted me? He can’t hate learning the tango that much!’
‘It isn’t any laughing matter! There has been a terrible misunderstanding.’
‘And Archie ran off in a huff?’ Charlotte was incredulous.
‘No, of course not. We were practising the tango together when we fell over, and Peter came in and— and—’
‘Jumped to the wrong conclusion,’ finished Charlotte. ‘Really, Mercy, there are times when I wonder at the common sense of that husband of yours. As if you would be carrying on a torrid affair here, of all places; and with me only along the corridor. Now stop looking so tragic this instant and send for some tea. On second thoughts…’ Charlotte scrutinized her friend’s face more closely. ‘On second thoughts make that brandy. We may as well make ourselves comfortable while we wait for Archie to bring home your misguided spouse.’
They waited a long time. When Archie finally returned he looked rather hot and bothered.
‘A slippery customer, your husband!’ he said. ‘I chased him all over town without catching up with him. Don’t worry, though. I’ve left letters addressed to him everywhere likely and unlikely, asking him to contact me most urgently.’
‘What a storm in a teacup! I had no idea that Peter could be so unreasonable,’ remarked Charlotte.
‘He’s not unreasonable! Not normally!’ Mercy leapt to his defence.
‘Then how do you explain his behaviour at the moment? If that isn’t unreasonable I don’t know what is.’
Mercy made no reply. She could not explain to her friend how new and fragile was the reconciliation between her and Peter. Too fragile to withstand the least suspicion of betrayal.
‘The minute he gets in touch with me we’ll have the whole silly business sorted out in double-quick time, you’ll see.’ Archie spoke with a conviction and optimism that Mercy wished she could share.
‘It makes me thankful I haven’
t got a husband to bother about,’ stated Charlotte. ‘They seem to be far more trouble than they’re worth, even the nice ones, like Peter. Is that the time? I’m afraid we must be off now that I’m decently clad again. I’m out to dinner tonight. A charity affair, all lukewarm food and clothes smelling of mothballs. Rest assured, my dear, Archie will start his game of “Hunt the Husband” again first thing in the morning, and then I will give the silly man the dressing down of his life.’
‘Why?’ protested Archie. ‘What have I done to deserve that?’
‘Not you, you idiot! Peter!’ Charlotte gave a groan of exasperation, and propelled the young officer down the stairs.
They had no sooner left the house than the drawing room door opened, and Agnes emerged.
‘I had intended to spend a restful afternoon with my embroidery. However, that was not to be,’ she said with disapproval. ‘All the dashing about and running up and down stairs. The place was like a bear garden.’
It was on the tip of Mercy’s tongue to point out that much of the activity had been caused by Peter and his jumping to conclusions. She did not, though. Instead she said, ‘I do not see how people going up and down stairs can possibly interfere with embroidery.’
‘I only ask for a little consideration!’ snapped Agnes. ‘Obviously I hope for too much!’ And she swept out of the room, a picture of hurt indignation.
Mercy waited until she was well clear before she also left. She had too much on her mind to dwell on Mrs Lisburne’s imagined grievances. It was long past midnight when she heard the Daimler return. She lay in bed, hoping in vain for Peter to come to her. When he did not she rose and, putting on a robe, went quietly along the corridor. Peter had taken to sleeping in a room on the far side of the house – more final than his sleeping in the dressing-room. There was a light showing under the door when she reached it. For a moment she listened, making sure that Poole was not about, then she knocked. ‘Peter,’ she said softly. ‘Let me in.’
Immediately the light was switched off.
‘Peter!’ Her voice was more urgent now. ‘I must talk to you. Please open the door.’
Complete silence was the only reply. She turned the handle. The door remained shut. In one final effort she rattled at it, but Peter made no response. All she could do was return to her own room before she woke the rest of the household. Her disappointment was bad enough to bear, she did not want to add humiliation to it. But now her predominant emotion was a growing anger.
She awoke determined not to hang about the house waiting for a chance to explain things to Peter. If he wanted explanations then he would have to seek her out. She opened her diary and checked engagements for the day. Her life was going on undisturbed.
Eventually, she encountered Peter in the hall, as she was going out and he was coming in. She would have let him pass with an impersonal, ‘Good afternoon. What a lovely day!’ but it was he who stopped.
Dismissing the ever-present Rogers, he said, ‘Is that all you have to say to me?’
‘What else is there?’ she asked sweetly.
‘You don’t feel you owe me some explanation?’
‘Explanation!’ cried Mercy. ‘Oh, at last we’ve come to it, have we? For hours I’ve been waiting, quite prepared to give an explanation, but where were you? Sulking at your club or some similar hide-out. Well, I am afraid I have not the time for such explanations now. I have an appointment. It’s your turn to wait, kicking your heels.’
She moved towards the door, but he caught hold of her arm.
‘For heaven’s sake!’ he said, his voice low. ‘What did you expect me to think, finding you with Nicholson in that way?’
‘I expected – I hoped that you might have trusted me enough at least to hear my version, instead of dashing off in high dudgeon, not caring how much you embarrassed poor Archie or humiliated me.’
‘Are you saying that you are not having an affair with Nicholson?’
‘Oh for goodness’ sake, use your common sense!’ she exclaimed, her patience at an end. ‘Is it likely that I would have an assignation with my lover here, where anyone might interrupt us at any time?’
‘Then what were you doing?’
‘Very well, for the sake of peace I will tell you. We had fallen over. Archie and I were dancing and we overbalanced.’
‘Dancing? A likely story!’
‘Since you clearly do not trust my word then ask Charlotte.’
‘Why should I ask Charlotte?’
‘Because she was only yards away, in my dressing- room, having a stain removed from her skirt.’
‘I know Charlotte. She’ll say anything to help a friend.’
‘Now you have gone too far!’ Mercy rounded on him furiously. ‘I can’t force you to believe me, and frankly I am not particularly interested whether you do or don’t. Question Charlotte if you like! Question Stafford! Question your mother!’ she added, suddenly noticing the drawing room door move a few inches. ‘You may as well come out, Mrs Lisburne. You’ll be able to hear much better out here in the hall.’
‘There is no need to be impertinent!’ Agnes emerged with dignity. If she was feeling embarrassed at being caught listening she did not show it.
‘One benefit of your eavesdropping is that we don’t need to explain matters,’ said Mercy, ignoring her comment. ‘You heard what’s been going on, now perhaps you will explain to your son that I was not alone with Captain Nicholson yesterday afternoon.’
‘I really do not know how I am expected to know any such thing,’ said Agnes haughtily.
‘By your usual method of leaving the drawing room door open so that you can hear what is going on.’
‘I will not be insulted in my own home.’ Agnes began to stalk away. ‘If your wife and her friends choose to concoct some cock-and-bull story about ink-stains, then it is no concern of mine.’
‘Ink-stain? What is this about ink?’ asked Peter.
For once Agnes appeared ruffled by her slip of the tongue.
‘I have no idea what you are talking about,’ she said. And she would have walked away.
‘Mother, I would know the truth. Was Charlotte Dawson-Pring here at the same time as Archie Nicholson?’ There was a steel in Peter’s tone which Mercy had never heard before.
Agnes almost quailed before her son’s anger. ‘I— I suppose so. Well, yes, she was.’ Then she rallied. ‘And if you have quite finished this inquisition I would be obliged if you would let me leave,’ she said, with more of her usual asperity.
‘How can I apologize?’ said Peter quietly, after she had gone. ‘Just saying I’m sorry is – is woefully inadequate. I’ve been hasty and unjust, and so many other things. I ask you to forgive me.’
Mercy should have been relieved to hear his words but somehow the right emotions evaded her. The last twenty four hours had left a bitter wound. He had been too quick to condemn, and she had forgiven him too often. She had no more forgiveness left to offer.
‘If you had only listened, given me the benefit of the doubt…’ Mercy’s voice was low and bitter.
‘You will forgive me, won’t you? Please?’ He held his hands out to her.
She backed away. ‘I may have done once, when I was young and naive, but not any more. You didn’t believe me, and you didn’t trust me. How can I forgive that?’
Keeping her head high she left the house. She did not look back.
A burning resentment made Mercy go ahead with her afternoon’s plans. She would carry on as usual, just to show Peter that she did not care. In this determined mood she left to join Charlotte at the Devonshire Hall Hotel. She was late, and the fashion show, for which she had a ticket, had already begun.
‘You haven’t missed much,’ Charlotte hissed in her ear. ‘Some tolerable skirts and blouses, and a walking costume in which I would not be seen dead. The best is still to come.’
Mercy settled in her seat and made herself concentrate on the elegant well-corseted figures that swept past in an increasing variety of cl
othes. If her friend thought her chatter a little forced or her face rather strained, she made no comment.
‘I am going to be extravagant,’ Mercy announced, when the show came to an end.
‘I am delighted to hear it. What do you propose to do?’
‘Buy something new. I like the look of that peacock- blue silk.’
‘An excellent choice. You should look absolutely superb in it.’
‘I thought I could wear it at the Melba concert next week. What do you think? Would it be suitable for an afternoon performance?’
‘I think that there will be more eyes on you than on the celebrated Madame Melba. You have got your ticket, I hope? I understand they are as rare as hen’s teeth. I only got mine through sheer belligerence.’
‘There is no need to worry on that score. Lord Alston has invited me to join his party.’
‘Ah!’ said Charlotte knowingly. ‘So he’s back from Switzerland, is he?’
‘I presume so. I received a letter from him the other day.’ Mercy deliberately kept her voice nonchalant. In fact, until this afternoon, she had been going to decline his invitation. Now she was determined to accept.
‘Bully for you!’ said Charlotte softly. ‘From that I presume you have finally caught up with that husband of yours.’
‘Yes!’ said Mercy, in such a forbidding tone that even Charlotte did not feel inclined to question her further.
There was little sign of Peter during the next few days. It was as though the brief idyllic reconciliation had never happened, and Mercy struggled hard to put it from her mind. The easiest way was to throw herself wholeheartedly into the social whirl once more, and so she found herself accepting practically every invitation that came her way.
Apart from the thin veneer of ‘keeping up appearances’ her marriage was over. So what was left to her? She had nothing else, she would be a social butterfly.
Chapter Twelve
‘I am going as Boadicea,’ announced Charlotte. ‘You could show more interest.’
‘More interest in what?’
To Dream Again Page 24