Song of Songs

by Song of Songs (retail) (epub)

  We went up to Town as usual at the end of March. It was the second week in April and I had been buying gloves in Jermyn Street when I saw him, coming out of his tailor’s. His back was as straight as ever, but his face – his face was defeated. I did not stop to think – there was a gap in the traffic and with a peremptory ‘Stay there’ to Liliane I lifted my skirts and scurried across the street. But my carefully thought-out phrases deserted me and I could only stammer, ‘Please – I wanted to say – oh, I am so sorry.’ His head jerked up and his blue eyes stared at me bleakly. My small store of courage oozed away, but I had to tell him, so I stammered on. ‘He was such a nice boy, so gentle, and he was so kind to me at Eton – and you…’ At last I blurted out, ‘If anything happened to the twins I just couldn’t bear it – it must be dreadful for you. I’m so sorry, Lord Gerald – I mean Lord Staveley.’ I saw how his face contracted with pain at the title and hated myself for my clumsiness – so I turned and darted dangerously across the street and, seizing Liliane’s arm, hauled her half-running down the pavement. Back at Cadogan Place I took refuge in my bedroom, and wept with shame for my stupid unthinking impulsiveness – I had only re-opened his wounds and made a fool of myself.

  Next week Mother took me to a reception in Grosvenor Square. The evening was long and dull and my head ached. I moved across to the window and tried to fade into the heavy curtains as my eyelids drooped. ‘Lady Helena.’ My eyes flew open. He was standing in front of me, his face almost as pale as his shirtfront. We stared at each other. At last he said, ‘I spoke to Muirkirk, he thought you’d be here tonight, so I came along.’ My heart pounded; was he still so angry with me? He suggested, ‘Perhaps we could sit down somewhere?’ I followed him to a small brocade sofa and sank down on it. He arranged himself carefully beside me. ‘The other day, in Jermyn Street, you left so suddenly that I didn’t have time for a word with you.’ I sat mute and trembling. ‘I wanted to tell you how grateful I was for what you said. I know you’d only met Stavey a few times but – he liked you. That day at Eton you treated him like one of your brothers – and yet you made him feel grown up. He was terribly pleased; he talked about you a lot afterwards, you know.’

  I felt the blood rising in my cheeks as I stared down at my shaking hands. Finally I whispered, ‘I liked him, too.’

  He said gently, ‘I know you did – and if I hadn’t, I would have realized it last Friday.’ He drew a deep breath and then said, his voice tight with pain, ‘Lady Helena, you would hardly believe the way condolences have been offered to me. Oh, quite politely and correctly, of course – but all the time’ – I sensed his shudder – ‘I could see the calculation in their eyes. Subtly, slyly, they were congratulating me.’

  I turned and looked at him. ‘But, but Lord Gerald – Lord Staveley…’ and then I understood. I remembered my father and Hugh and I felt sick.

  He watched my face and said simply, ‘So now you see why I was so grateful to you last week.’ We were silent for a moment, then he gave a short, hard laugh. ‘No, you would hardly believe how many mothers of marriageable daughters have suddenly clamoured to renew their acquaintance with me – I who was always known to be a confirmed bachelor – but of course I wasn’t worth anything to them then – a younger son with a barely adequate allowance – but now I’ve become the prey of every dowager in town – and poor Stavey’s body is scarcely cold in its grave. They behave as if I don’t care.’ His voice was tortured. He looked at me and spoke urgently. ‘After my brother died in South Africa and I came back alone, Moira took me up to the nursery and he was there, playing with his toy soldiers. He called to his mother and then he saw me – he was nervous, I could see that, I’d been away so long, I was a stranger – but he smiled, a brave little smile, and held out his hand, as Nanny had taught him. And I vowed then that I would be as a father to him – and so he became my son – the son I had never had, and never looked to have. And now they tell me how sorry they are, and add up my income behind their greedy eyes.’

  I felt the intensity of his anger, but there was nothing I could say. We sat beside each other in the crowded glittering room, in silence, until at last I took a deep breath, turned to face him and said falteringly, ‘How is, how is his mother, Lady Staveley?’

  ‘Distressed, of course, but Moira’s always been a very religious woman. She seeks consolation in her Church.’ He glanced at me and added, ‘She spoke several times of her meeting with you, in the park that afternoon. She said you seemed “a nice, old-fashioned girl”’. He paused. ‘And you are an old-fashioned girl, aren’t you, Lady Helena? You work diligently at your music and practise your singing every day and blush when you are spoken to, and have to search painfully for answers.’

  I whispered, ‘I’m sorry.’

  He said quickly, ‘Oh my dear – don’t be sorry. I am complimenting you. You know I look round rooms like this sometimes and shudder at the thought that these shrill, giddy little females are the future wives and mothers of England. They can’t even stay loyal for more than five minutes to their bosom friends how will they ever be loyal to their husbands and sons?’ I looked up at his pale face as he stared at the noisy crush in front of us. Turning quickly, he caught my gaze and held it. He looked at me for a long moment, then spoke in a low voice. ‘You are a very loyal person, Lady Helena, aren’t you? I believe you would follow your brothers to the gates of hell itself – if need be.’

  I returned his gaze, slowly I nodded. ‘I think that once you’ve given your affections you’ve given them for a lifetime.’ And I knew then that he knew, and I dropped my eyes before him.

  He got to his feet and stood in front of me, and said abruptly, ‘Obviously I will not be going into Society this Season – and there are the lawyers with their interminable business – but perhaps before your family leaves Town I might see you again. Good evening, Lady Helena.’ He turned and walked away and left me shaking on the small hard sofa.

  Chapter Seven

  It was June when he came; Mother was receiving at home. Cooper brought in a card and Mother picked it up from the tray and I saw her frown a moment as she looked at it. Then she turned to Mrs Clavering and said, ‘How curious – Lord Staveley – I don’t believe we’ve ever met. Show Lord Staveley up, Cooper.’

  I sat rigidly beside her as he walked across the room. ‘Lady Pickering, please forgive my intrusion – Muirkirk told me you were at home today.’ He turned to me. ‘Lady Helena, would you be so good as to present me to your Mama?’

  Mother glanced at me, her dark eyes suddenly sharp. As soon as I had performed the introductions he said to her, ‘I met your daughter some years ago in Munich, Lady Pickering, so I feel we are old friends – and your inseparable twins were in the same house as my nephew at Eton.’

  Mother murmured the correct reply, then touched my hand lightly with hers. ‘Helena, I believe Juno is signing to you.’

  Juno was not, but I obediently walked over to the far side of the drawing room. As I pretended to listen to Juno I watched Mother and Lord Staveley from the corner of my eye. They were talking earnestly together. Then he picked up his hat and gloves and threaded his way through the company to me. His face was serious and he stood looking down at me before he spoke. ‘Lady Helena, your Mama has kindly invited me to join her house party at Hatton, at the end of the month. I haven’t given her my reply yet – that depends on you.’ The blood pounded in my ears, I could only stare at him. He said, slowly, ‘I will come – if you will sing for me. Will you do that?’

  ‘Yes, Lord Staveley. I shall be pleased to sing for you.’

  Gravely he looked at me. ‘Then I shall come.’ Turning away, he left the room. I struggled to concentrate as Juno rattled on about the latest exploit of Mrs Pankhurst, but I did not hear a word.

  That evening Mother and Papa both dined at home; there were only the three of us. As soon as the servants had left Mother reached for a peach and said, ‘Victor, Lord Staveley called today.’ Papa grunted. ‘I have invited him to our house par
ty at Hatton later this month.’

  Papa looked up in surprise. ‘But we won’t be at Hatton then.’

  Mother said firmly, ‘We will be, now.’ Papa opened his mouth to protest, but Mother continued, ‘It appears Lord Staveley has known Helena for some time – and he spoke very highly of her singing.’

  Two pairs of parental eyes swivelled in my direction. Then they turned and met, with small mutual smiles of satisfaction. ‘Then of course I shall put off going to old Towcester’s, Ria. Lord Staveley, eh? Northants, you know – ironstone.’

  Mother added softly, ‘The Irish estates are rather run down, I believe – but extensive.’

  Papa cracked a walnut. ‘You know, Ria, I think I’ll have a word with Hyde – discreetly, of course…’

  ‘Of course,’ Mother echoed, ‘but it’s as well to be prepared, Victor.’ They leant towards each other in a rare moment of amity.

  I could not bear to listen to any more. I pushed back my chair. ‘Mother, if you will excuse me…’

  ‘Of course, my dear.’

  Papa smiled jocularly. ‘You run along, Helena – and practise your singing.’

  I thrust the door shut, too hard, as their voices murmured on.

  Mother insisted on several visits to Mirette’s in Dover Street before she took me back to Hatton; my wardrobe must not be found wanting at this time. I was her ugly duckling who had, suddenly and against all expectations, turned into a swan. I followed her passively, in a daydream of fair hair and blue eyes.

  *

  He arrived at Hatton early on Saturday evening, just before the dressing bell. I sat at the table in a daze of happiness; I could not believe he was really here, in our familiar dining room. I kept glancing under my eyelashes down to where he sat, handsome and impeccably tailored, on Mother’s right hand.

  When the gentlemen joined us in the drawing room he came up to me and asked, very formally, if I would sing for him.

  As I led him through to the music room I asked, ‘Do you wish for Lieder, Lord Staveley?’

  He gave an apologetic smile. ‘I’m afraid my accompanying is not up to young Benson’s standards – I can’t sight read.’

  I said quickly, ‘I can accompany myself.’

  He looked at me, surprised. ‘Even Lieder? I didn’t realize you were such a proficient pianist – that is good news. I was thinking I’d have to brush up my own technique – or rely on the local organist at Bessingdon.’ He spoke so matter of factly that it took a moment for the implications of what he had said to sink in. I sank quickly on to the piano stool to conceal my shaking legs. He chose the simple, lyrical songs and I played and sang for more than an hour. When Mother came to the connecting door he stood up and thanked me gravely before escorting me back to the drawing room.

  All through the night I would drift into consciousness and hug myself with sheer joy at the thought that he was sleeping under the same roof. Next morning I tried on and discarded half a dozen frocks until Liliane was bemused. At last I stood before the mirror in a simple pleated linen in a warm peach shade. As always I wished that my nose were straight and my mouth smaller – but today I knew that it did not really matter.

  We spoke little at breakfast; I was grateful for Mother’s confident flow of small talk. As we finished our coffee she said lightly, ‘You must ask Helena to show you round the grounds, Lord Staveley. The Japanese garden is quite pretty at this time of the year – and of course the orangery is delightful in June.’

  Speechless, I led him out on to the terrace. He turned to me and smiled. ‘Which is it to be, Lady Helena – the orangery or the Japanese garden?’

  I said quickly, ‘The orangery is nearer.’

  He threw back his head and laughed, and I blushed for my gaucheness.

  A gardener slipped quickly out of the far door as we came into the warm scented orangery. I glided in a dream between the waxy white blossoms and dark glossy leaves until he said, ‘Won’t you sit down, Lady Helena?’ I sank down on one of the ornate iron benches and he carefully hitched up the cloth of his elegant grey trouser leg and dropped down on one knee on the stone floor in front of me. He looked up, his face quite still, before he finally spoke. ‘Lady Helena, will you do me the honour of giving me your hand in marriage?’

  I looked back into his blue eyes, and saw the network of fine lines around them, and the silver threads among the gold at his temples as I whispered, ‘Yes, yes – of course I will.’

  We stayed unmoving for a few moments, like two statues, staring at each other. Then slowly I held out my hand and he took it and I felt his warm lips brush my skin.

  I smiled at him and he jumped up quickly and threw himself down beside me so that the iron bench jerked. Drawing a deep breath he said – suddenly, endearingly, young – ‘I’ve never made a proposal of marriage before – I do hope I got that right!’

  I felt a bubbling joy well up inside me, I wanted to laugh, to sing. I dared to tease him. ‘Perhaps we should check in the etiquette books, Lord Staveley?’

  He turned and looked at me in surprise. Then he began to laugh as he took my hand and squeezed it. ‘What a nice child you are, Helena. But, you know, I’m sure the etiquette books will say you can call me “Gerald” now!’ I felt the hot blushes rise in my cheeks. He smiled and stood up and pulled me up too. ‘I’d better go and see Lord Pickering now, I suppose I should have asked his permission first – but I think I made my intentions pretty clear to your Mama and she didn’t seem to see any problems. Where will your father be at this time of day?’

  I almost thrust Gerald through the door of the library, then I ran to the back stairs and flew up them. Alice and Hugh had left their sons at Hatton on their way to Wales; now I burst into the nursery and cried, ‘Nanny – I’m going to be married – I’m going to be married!’ Then I was laughing and crying in the beloved carbolic-soap-scented arms.

  Nanny patted my shoulder and said, ‘There, there, dear – isn’t that nice? Well, I am pleased for you, my chick.’

  When Cooper came for me I felt very shy. My heart was pounding as I entered the library. Gerald was standing with my father, talking – but he turned towards me at once. The library floor seemed to shiver as I walked forward, but his voice was quite calm. ‘Your father has given his consent, Helena.’

  Papa bent over me; his moustaches tickled my cheek. ‘I’m delighted my dear, absolutely delighted.’ He straightened up. ‘She’s a good girl, Staveley old man – you won’t regret it – does as she’s told and never argues. I must go and tell her Mama.’ He strode towards the door and we were alone.

  I wanted to run to Gerald and throw my arms around his neck, but I was too shy. I stood rooted to the floor, gazing up at him. He said briskly, ‘Perhaps we should view that Japanese garden now, Helena.’

  On the terrace I held my hand out to him; he picked it up and placed it securely through his arm. I leant against him a moment, for the sheer joy of feeling the hard male strength of him. Then we set off sedately for the Japanese garden. The sun shone, the flower beds were a blaze of colour, and the lawns stretched green and inviting before us. I loved him, oh, how I loved him!

  As we came up to the curving wooden bridge over the small still lake he said abruptly, ‘Helena, I must leave you after luncheon.’ The shadow swooped darkly down on me. ‘Don’t look so desolate, my dear – it will only be for a few days. But Moira is expecting me.’ The stabbing pain of jealousy pierced me. ‘Remember, it won’t be easy for her, Helena; she’s lived at Bessingdon since she came there as my brother’s bride, and watched her son grow up there.’ And now her son was dead, and I would usurp her place. ‘She’ll be glad it’s to be you, Helena. I dropped a hint, and she was pleased, I know. But I would like to tell her in person as soon as possible.’

  And now I was bitterly ashamed of my unreasoning jealousy; he was so kind, so good – how would I ever be worthy of him? ‘Of course, I quite understand – Gerald.’ My voice dropped as I spoke his name; I scarcely dared use it, even now. />
  ‘And there’s something I must bring back for you – the Prescott betrothal ring. Though it’ll have to be altered before it will fit that slender hand of yours.’ With the tip of his finger he gently touched my hand as it lay on his sleeve. I stood very still. ‘Du Ring an meinem Finger, Mein goldenes Ringelein’ my dream had come true. Slowly I raised my eyes to his face: he was gazing ahead at the dainty bamboo tea house. I drank in the firm line of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbones, the fine arch of his eyebrows. I loved him, I loved him – and now he was mine. He stepped forward on to the bridge; I followed obediently.

  After luncheon I walked sedately out to the Delaunay-Believille with him; he took my hand, squeezed it quickly and jumped in. I would have liked to have gone to the station, but he had said nothing and I was too shy to suggest it. So I stood gazing after the departing motor, and then walked slowly back inside, quite bereft.

  But upstairs Nanny cheered me with plans for the nursery at Bessingdon. ‘This one will be old enough for a governess next year’ – she patted William’s curly head – ‘and then I can come to you.’ I thought of my child, Gerald’s child, safe on Nanny’s lap – and the world seemed to have room for no more joy. Until my brothers arrived home just before teatime and slapped me on the back and promised to come and shoot Gerald’s partridges every year. ‘And his pheasants, and we’ll hunt his foxes,’ ‘and stalk his deer,’ Robbie chipped in, ‘and fish his salmon!’

  I laughed. ‘You can come to see me, you selfish wretches.’

  Next morning Papa muttered over his Times. ‘Those Serbs ought to be horsewhipped, the lot of them – they’ve shot the Austrian Archduke. That country’s a disgrace – remember the butchery in ’03?’

  Uncle Arnold protested, ‘But that was their own king and queen, Victor – quite a family affair.’