The Granville Sisters

by Una-Mary Parker

  ‘Everything?’ Rosie scoffed, her voice harsh. ‘Oh yes, I’ve got everything, all right.’ Then she heaved herself off the bed, and stumbled out of the room.

  When Juliet rejoined the ladies for coffee in the drawing room, there was no sign of Rosie.

  ‘Where is she?’ Juliet whispered to her mother.

  ‘Feeling ill,’ Liza murmured with a beaming smile, so the guests wouldn’t know anything was wrong.

  When the men came up from the dining room, smelling of cigar smoke and fortified by port, Cameron came straight over to where Juliet was sitting.

  They started talking and, to Juliet’s surprise, their conversation was easy and relaxed. Thanks to her father, she always read the newspapers, so her general knowledge of current affairs was up to date on a range of subjects.

  Cameron looked delighted by her responses, something he had not expected in so young a girl.

  Suddenly Juliet realized she was no longer flirting with Cameron. No longer flaunting her looks or her ability to charm coquettishly.

  This was because she was beginning to see him as a friend more than anything else. It was almost as if Cameron was becoming the brother she’d longed for, and never had.

  Six

  ‘My God, you’d think this was 1837, not 1937!’ Juliet exclaimed, drawing deeply on her cigarette.

  Cameron was closeted in the study with Henry, while Juliet and her mother waited in the drawing room.

  ‘I didn’t think arranged marriages happened any more, except in the royal family,’ Juliet added.

  ‘This isn’t an arranged marriage, Cameron adores you,’ Liza protested. She was a nervous wreck but at the same time, terribly excited. The decision had already been made. The rituals were merely being observed now. Henry was not going to put up any objections.

  ‘It’s not what I’d call a love match either,’ Juliet observed pragmatically. ‘Cameron and I have become good friends in the past three months. We get on well. I don’t think either of us is in love, though.’ She certainly knew she wasn’t. Her feelings for Cameron bore no resemblence to the way she still felt about Daniel. There were no sleepless nights spent fantasizing, no palpitations when she saw him, no breathless desire to be in his arms, giving herself to him, body and soul.

  On the other hand, she was getting exactly what she’d set out to achieve, and she felt a certain satisfaction at having reached her goal.

  As the Duchess of Kincardine, wife of an extremely rich Scottish landowner, with a house in Park Lane, she was made. No matter what happened, nothing could diminish this moment, or deprive her of having succeeded in attaining her ambitions.

  At last she would have her mother’s approval. At last she was doing the Right Thing. Yet she was desperately missing the chase and the challenge of falling in love. Of being pursued romantically, thrillingly, then of surrender, whispered promises, and finally total commitment.

  Her forthcoming engagement to Cameron held all the excitement of opening a new bank account.

  Liza spoke. ‘Friendship is the best basis for marriage. Look at Daddy and me. We’re the best of friends.’

  ‘But you told me you were madly in love when you first met,’ Juliet pointed out, not daring to ponder on how marvellous that must be; to actually marry the person you were in love with.

  Liza smiled coyly. ‘Well … yes, we were,’ she admitted, ‘but good friends, too. It’s talking the same language that matters. Having things in common. Cameron has even let you help him with the decorating at his house round the corner.’

  At that, Juliet’s eyes did sparkle. When he’d asked for her advice, he hadn’t mentioned marriage, because there was really no need. They both knew they were heading towards a future as predictable as the setting sun. And knowing all along that the house would one day be hers, she’d insisted on the latest art deco furniture and fittings, in rooms almost exclusively decorated black, white and silver … She’d even persuaded him to buy a large silver bed with a canopy, which had been designed for a maharaja.

  ‘Yes, I think he was a bit bemused by my taste,’ Juliet agreed, smiling. ‘But as Glenmally is all tartan hangings, floral carpets and the heads of dead beasts stuck on the walls, I told him we needed something different down here.’

  Remembering when she and her parents had been invited to stay at Glenmally a few weeks ago, she cast her eyes up in horror, knowing she’d never be allowed to change a thing, because his mother still lived there, and it was she who had done it up forty years ago.

  ‘Wasn’t it ghastly?’ she remarked.

  But Liza looked alarmed. ‘For heaven’s sake, don’t tell him that! Men hate it if you try to change their ancestral homes.’ There was a pause. ‘That’s why I’ve never so much as changed a cushion at Hartley. Especially while Granny’s still alive.’

  ‘I’m sure Granny wouldn’t mind.’

  ‘I still wouldn’t like to tread on her toes. You’ll have no trouble with the duchess, though. She’s sweet and she adores you already.’

  Juliet’s fine pencil-line eyebrows shot up. ‘How sweet is a viper?’ she retorted. ‘Wandering around in long robes clutching a posy of herbs and listening outside doors. She’s so possessive of her only son, I’m surprised she doesn’t want to marry him herself,’ she added acidly.

  Liza frowned. Juliet had never talked like this about Iona before. ‘Don’t get on the wrong side of her, whatever you do,’ she warned.

  ‘Don’t worry. Once we’re married, I don’t intend to spend much time in Scotland. That’s why I’m encouraging Cameron to take to the joys of living in London. I want to entertain on a grand scale, and I want our house to become a talking point; the most fashionably decorated house in town.’

  A few minutes later, Henry came into the room. He was smiling but his blue eyes held a glint of sadness.

  ‘Where’s Cameron?’ Juliet asked.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ demanded Liza, nervously fiddling with her pearls.

  Henry went over to Juliet and, putting his arms around her, kissed her on the cheek. ‘Cameron and I have spoken; if this is what you want, darling, then I’ll give you both my blessing. I am going to miss you though, when you leave home.’

  ‘Then it’s all settled!’ Liza exclaimed, laughing and crying with relief.

  ‘I still have to accept him formally,’ Juliet pointed out, scarlet mouth teasing. ‘When he proposes, I might say no.’

  Liza drew in her breath sharply. ‘You wouldn’t …!’

  Juliet laughed. ‘No, Mummy. Don’t worry. I shall enjoy being the Duchess of Kincardine, and all that goes with it.’ Her tone was brittle, and Henry spotted a hardness in her expression he hadn’t seen before.

  ‘Juliet …? Are you sure?’ he asked suddenly, looking at her intently. ‘For God’s sake, if you’ve got the slightest reservation …’

  She flung her arms around his neck, as she’d done as a small child, and pressed her cheek against his. ‘Daddy, you’re the best man in the world, but as you’re married to Mummy, I’ll have to make do with someone else,’ she teased.

  Henry looked tenderly into her eyes, knowing he shouldn’t, but unable to stop himself loving her the most, while Liza breathed a sigh of relief.

  ‘So when …?’ she began, but Henry was still looking at his daughter closely.

  ‘You’re sure you love him? This is not a game, Juliet. This is a lifetime commitment. If you have any doubts, you mustn’t go ahead with it.’

  ‘I have no doubts, Daddy. This is what I want.’ And I’m not lying, she thought. I can never have Daniel; so I’m going to enjoy what I can have.

  Henry looked relieved. ‘Then so be it. Cameron is taking you out to dinner tonight. He said he’ll pick you up at eight o’clock.’

  Juliet turned to take a cigarette out of the silver box on the table. This is all so strange, she thought, knowing she must keep these feelings to herself. Cameron hadn’t even kissed her properly, yet. It was not a bit like how she imagined getting eng
aged would be. There should be rejoicing, excitement, the pop of champagne corks, everyone hugging and kissing; like it was when Rosie got engaged.

  But then Rosie had been intoxicated with love, dizzy with blind passion, and so, it had seemed, had Charles been. But Juliet felt flat, and a chilly sense of disappointment swept through her, leaving her with a stomach-ache and a feeling of anxiety. Was she really doing the right thing? Almost immediately a voice in her head told her that of course she was; everything would be fine as soon as she saw Cameron tonight. She’d get things into perspective and realize how happy she really was. He would surely tell her now how much he cared for her, cared enough to want to marry her … but it wouldn’t be like Daniel telling her that, would it?

  But then no man, she realized, would ever make her feel like that again.

  They dined at the Savoy Grill, the only young couple in a restaurant filled with elderly businessmen, foreign potentates and public figures. Earlier, when Cameron had arrived at Green Street, he’d presented her with a corsage of slipper orchids, before producing a ring set with a large square emerald, surrounded by diamonds.

  ‘I hope you’ll accept this,’ he said awkardly, his face red, as if he was finding it difficult to express himself, ‘as a token of my … erm … esteem, and that … erm … that you’ll agree to our getting married.’

  The last three words came tumbling out in a rush, like the last flush of wine from a bottle.

  ‘I’d love to,’ she replied simply, looking into his eyes. He showed no visible sign of emotion, except perhaps slight relief.

  ‘I’m so glad,’ he replied. Then he leaned forward and kissed her on the lips, a dry puckered kiss that left her totally unmoved.

  It was the most clinical moment in any relationship Juliet had ever experienced, and she realized Cameron was hopelessly shy and unused to dealing with women. The thought of showing him, of being perhaps the first woman he’d ever had, excited her for a moment. Maybe she could do for him what Daniel had done for her? Guide him to finding out how simply marvellous sex was; and give him the biggest thrill of his life?

  And if she thought it strange that a man of thirty-two might still be a virgin, the faint alarm bells that rang in the back of her head were quickly dismissed. He was just shy. He lived in a remote area and had met few girls. He had strong morals.

  It was only later, sitting in the staid and elderly atmosphere of the restaurant, that she began to realize the rules of an arranged marriage.

  With Daniel, she’d known what was expected of her. Right from the beginning. Their whole relationship had been set alight by a driving passion that was impossible to resist. The instant attraction between them had crackled like a firework display, so that they lost themselves in each other, never wanting to become separate entities again. Sheer instinct told her what to do, what to expect, and Daniel had been the perfect teacher.

  Juliet told herself she must stop thinking of Daniel, and stop comparing Cameron to him. That way lay eternal anguish.

  ‘Here’s to us, Juliet …’

  She realized Cameron was smiling at her across the table, his glass raised.

  ‘Yes … of course,’ she said quickly, collecting her thoughts. ‘Here’s to us.’

  Everything went very smoothly and very quickly after that. Their engagement was formally announced, photographs were taken for the society magazines, and the wedding set for June. Like Rosie’s, it was to be held at St Margaret’s, Westminster, with the reception at the Hyde Park Hotel, where, if it was fine, guests could spill out from the ballroom into the garden overlooking the park.

  All the arrangements seemed to have been taken out of Juliet’s hands and she wondered what she was supposed to be doing. Most of the time she felt totally detached, as if it was someone else’s wedding that was being arranged. Even when Cameron produced the magnificent Kincardine diamond tiara for her to be married in, her reaction was: Yes. Very nice. Nothing more.

  However, Louise, Amanda and Charlotte, having fittings for their bridesmaids’ dresses, could hardly contain themselves.

  ‘Aren’t you excited?’ Louise asked Juliet wonderingly, when the imposing invitations arrived from Smythson’s.

  Henry had arranged for one of his secretaries to spend a week at Green Street helping Liza to send them out.

  ‘Not really,’ Juliet replied, ‘I always expected to have this sort of wedding.’

  In truth she didn’t understand her own impassivity. Her heart seemed numb, a dead unfeeling organ. It had happened the moment her ambitious dreams had turned to reality, leaving her with an intense sense of anti-climax. She was joining the adult world at ninteen, and a part of her grieved for the crashing down of the fantasy world that her tender years had conjured up with such vivid desire. What could she dream about now that all her wishes had been supposedly granted?

  While all around her people were boiling up into a frenzy of excitement, Juliet felt no more than if she’d secured a good, steady occupation for life. Daniel she had put firmly out of her mind. He belonged to her giddy youth, a treasured memory to be tucked away with her newspaper cuttings of her coming out.

  ‘It’s a good thing the coronation will be over before the wedding,’ Liza said dismissively, as if the marriage of Juliet and Cameron were more important than the crowning of George VI and Queen Elizabeth. ‘It will give people something to look forward to.’

  Rosie didn’t bother to get out of bed these days. She lay there, dozing, reading, eating packets of biscuits, and listening to her beloved wireless.

  The move to Speedwell Cottage had been a success; it was fifteen minutes walk from Hartley Hall, had three bedrooms, a delightfully ramshackle overgrown little garden, but the best thing, as far as Rosie was concerned, was that Charles went up to London from Monday to Friday, because he described the daily train journey from Victoria Station to Guildford as ‘utter hell’.

  When they’d first moved in, Rosie had loved arranging all their belongings in the sweet little rooms. The cottage felt more like home than Farm Street had ever done. Lady Anne helped out by producing side tables, lamps, a bookcase and a long looking glass, from amongst the stuff stored in the attic at Hartley. She also found some rugs, a rocking chair and a small desk.

  ‘Thank you, Granny,’ Rosie said gratefully. ‘Isn’t this cosy?’

  Lady Anne smiled. ‘It’s lovely, darling. Very peaceful. Much better for you at the moment than living in London.’ She had more diplomacy than to mention the absence of Charles during the week; in her opinion, some marriages benefited from the couple being away from each other from time to time.

  ‘Isn’t the garden heavenly?’ Rosie continued enthusiastically. ‘Look at the sweet peas. I want to grow roses too. And lavender. Do you think I could grow lavender on either side of the path up to the front door?’

  ‘Most certainly.’ An experienced gardener, Lady Anne studied the tiny front patch of moth-eaten grass. ‘As a house-warming present I’ll get Spence to plant half-a-dozen lavantera on either side for you. You won’t be sitting out here, will you? Then may I suggest you get rid of that grass, and plant some shrubs? Maybe hydrangea macrophylla? And camellia japonica? The flowers are such a lovely shade of pink.’

  ‘Yes, if you’ll tell me how,’ Rosie replied with delight. She slipped her arm through her grandmother’s, and, hugging her to her side, kissed her cheek.

  Dear God, thought Lady Anne, hugging her back affectionately, Rosie still is a child. Far too young to be married. Far too young to be having a baby.

  But everything was going well, with Rosie beginning to even enjoy her pregnancy, when the shock of Juliet’s engagement exploded in her face, stripping her in that instant of self-confidence and self-esteem. She was supposed to be the golden girl in the family, not Juliet. She was the one who was meant to have made a brilliant match, not her wild and wayward sister.

  It was a blow to her heart to realize she hadn’t lived up to the expectations of her mother.

  Liza
, almost hysterical with excitement, had telephoned to impart the thrilling news. Rosie realized in that instant the shift in Liza’s approval from herself to Juliet.

  ‘Isn’t it the most marvellous thing in the world?’ Liza crowed. ‘Daddy and I are simply delighted. The wedding’s going to be …’

  It didn’t help Rosie that by some dark demonic coincidence, the date chosen was that of her own wedding anniversary.

  ‘… and you’ll have had the baby by then,’ Liza was gabbling on, ‘so you must get Hartnell to make you a beautiful outfit.’

  Rosie lowered her bulky body on to the little chair by the telephone, feeling stunned and sickened. For a start, how was she going to tell her mother that she had taken out a bank loan to buy Speedwell Cottage, which she was paying back month by month out of her generous dress allowance? How could she explain that Charles hardly gave her enough for food and the household bills, because he said staying in London during the week was expensive, for which he blamed her?

  Appearances meant so much to Liza; she’d be mortified if it got out that, after all her effort, Rosie was reduced to doing all her own housework and cooking, like an ordinary working-class woman.

  The full impact of what Juliet’s impending marriage really meant, compared with her own, hit Rosie when, unable to sleep, she went down to the little kitchen to make a warm drink at three o’clock one morning. The milk was stored each day in a slate box, chilled by cold water, and kept outside on the window sill. When she poured some into a pan, she realized it had gone off. Congealed, sour lumps splashed on to the stove, making her feel nauseous.

  Resentment, envy, anger, and sorrow for what might have been, welled up in a surging mass of sheer misery, sweeping away all sense of proportion and reducing her to a weeping wreck.

  Speedwell Cottage suddenly seemed, not sweet and cosy, but cramped and poverty-stricken. How had everything gone so wrong? Why was it that Juliet, badly behaved and unscrupulous, was going to be living in the lap of luxury for the rest of her life, and a duchess at that … while she scraped together the little money she had to keep a roof over their heads? She’d done everything Mummy had wanted; played by the rules of her class and upbringing, and yet everything seemed to have gone wrong. Her marriage had become insufferable, and she couldn’t rid herself of unhappiness.