* * *
As soon as The Daily Mail dropped on her doormat the following morning, Virginia immediately grabbed it. She ignored the front page headline “Divorce?” above a photo of Rod and Alana Stewart, and quickly turned to Dempster’s column, to see the headline “Marriage?” above a not very flattering photo of the Lady Virginia Fenwick in Monte Carlo with Bofie.
As Virginia read Dempster’s lead story, she regretted ever letting Bofie loose. A close family friend (code for the subject of the story) tells me that Lord Bridgwater is hoping shortly to announce his engagement to the Lady Virginia Fenwick, the only daughter of the late Earl Fenwick. This might come as a surprise to my regular readers, because as recently as last week, Lady Virginia was seen at a point-to-point on the arm of the Duke of Hertford. Watch this space.
Virginia read the article a second time, fearing that Bofie had over-egged the pudding, because you didn’t need to read between the lines to realize that Dempster didn’t believe a word of it. She would have to call Perry and tell him it was all complete rubbish. After all, everyone knew Bofie was gay.
After several cups of coffee and even more false starts, Virginia finally picked up the phone and dialed Perry’s number in Eaton Square. It had just begun to ring when there was a knock on her front door.
“The Duke of Hertford’s residence,” said a voice on the other end of the line that she immediately recognized.
“It’s Lady Virginia, Lomax. I wondered if I might speak to—”
The knocking at the door continued.
“I’m afraid his grace is not at home, my lady,” said the butler.
“Do you know when he’ll be back?”
“No, my lady. He left in a hurry this morning, and gave no instructions. Would you like me to let him know you called?”
“No thank you,” said Virginia, putting down the phone. The knocking persisted like the hammering of a rent collector who knew you were inside.
She walked to the door in a daze, imagining Perry must have left for the country without her, for the first time in over a year. She needed time to think, but first she must get rid of whoever it was at the door.
She opened it and was about to let loose on the intruder, only to find Perry, down on one knee. “Don’t tell me I’m too late, old gal,” he said, looking up at her forlornly.
“Of course you’re not, Perry, but do get up.”
“Not until you say you’ll marry me.”
“Of course I will, my darling. I’ve already told Bofie you’re the only man in my life, but he won’t take no for an answer,” she said as she helped the duke back onto his feet.
“I don’t want to hang about, old gal,” he said. “I can see the finishing line, so we’d better get on with it.”
“I understand exactly how you feel,” said Virginia, “but don’t you think you should talk it over with your children before you make such an important decision?”
“Certainly not. Fathers don’t ask their children’s permission to marry. In any case, I’m sure they’ll be delighted.”
Three weeks later, thanks to a tip from a family friend, Nigel Dempster printed an exclusive photograph of the Duke and Duchess of Hertford leaving Chelsea Register Office in the pouring rain. And the happy couple, wrote Dempster, will be enjoying their honeymoon on the duke’s estate near Cortona, and plan to return to Castle Hertford to spend Christmas with the family.
31
CHRISTMAS WITH THE HERTFORDS was frosty inside as well as outside the castle. Even Clarence and Alice were clearly dismayed that their father had married without informing them, while Camilla left no one—family or staff—in any doubt as to how she felt about the usurper.
Whenever Virginia entered a room, Camilla would leave with her husband and their two children trailing behind her. However, Virginia still had an advantage over the rest of the family: there was one room none of them could enter, and where she had complete domain for eight hours in every twenty-four.
While Virginia worked on her husband by night, she concentrated on Clarence and Alice by day, accepting that Camilla was not for turning, although she hadn’t altogether given up on her husband and children.
Virginia made sure that whenever any member of the family saw her with the duke, she appeared to be caring, solicitous, and genuinely devoted to him, taking care of his every need. By the end of the first week some of the frost had begun to thaw, and to her delight, on Christmas Eve Clarence and Alice accompanied them on their morning walk around the grounds. They were surprised to discover what an interest Virginia was taking in the upkeep of the estate.
“After all,” she told Clarence, “when you eventually leave the army, we must make sure you take over a flourishing enterprise, and not a moribund estate.”
“Then I’ll need to find a wife as conscientious as you, Virginia,” he replied.
One down, two to go.
Alice was the next to fall in line. When she opened her Christmas present to find the latest Graham Greene novel, The Tenth Man, she asked, “How did you know he’s my favorite author?”
“Mine too,” said Virginia, who had quickly read three of Greene’s novels after she’d spotted a well-thumbed paperback on Alice’s bedside table. “I’m not surprised to find we have that in common, and although The End of the Affair is quite excellent, Brighton Rock is still my favorite.”
“That’s hardly surprising,” said Camilla. “After all, you and Pinkie Brown have so much in common.”
Alice frowned, although it was clear that the duke had no idea what they were talking about. Two down, one to go.
When the grandchildren opened their Christmas presents, they yelped with joy. A Star Trek watch for Tristan, and a Barbie doll for Kitty, which Virginia had purchased soon after she discovered that Camilla had refused to consider them in favor of a Shorter Oxford Dictionary and a sewing kit.
Camilla’s gift had been the most difficult of all to decide on, until Virginia came across a photograph of her playing the flute in her school orchestra, and Cook told her that she’d heard her ladyship was thinking of taking up the instrument again. After all, you have quite a lot of spare time when the nearest town is over a hundred miles away.
When Camilla opened her present and saw the gleaming instrument, she was speechless. Virginia considered her monthly allowance had been well spent. This was confirmed when Tristan walked over to her and said, “Thank you, Grandmama,” and gave her a kiss.
By the end of the second week, both Clarence and Alice had agreed that Papa was a fortunate man to have found such a gem, and although Camilla didn’t agree with her siblings, she no longer left the room whenever Virginia entered it.
On the day of the family’s departure, Virginia organized packed lunches and lemonade for the children to take on the plane, and before they all climbed into the waiting car, everyone kissed her goodbye, except Camilla, who shook hands with her. As the chauffeur-driven Rolls-Royce headed down the long drive on its way to Heathrow, Virginia didn’t stop waving until the car was out of sight.
“What an absolute triumph for you,” said the duke as they walked back into the castle. “You were magnificent, old gal. I think toward the end even Camilla was beginning to come around.”
“Thank you, Perry,” said Virginia, linking her arm through his. “But I can understand Camilla’s feelings. After all, I would feel the same way if someone tried to take the place of my mother.”
“You have such a generous heart, Virginia. But I fear there’s a subject Camilla raised with me that I can’t put off discussing with you any longer.”
Virginia froze. How had Camilla found out about the loan, when she’d arranged for Moxton to leave for his Christmas holiday the day before the family arrived, and not to return until the day after they’d departed?
“I’m sorry to have to raise such a painful subject,” said the duke, “but I’m not getting any younger, and I have to consider the future, and yours in particular, old gal.”
Vir
ginia made no attempt to speak because this was something she had already thought about. Also, Desmond Mellor had taught her that whenever you hope to strike a bargain, be sure the other side makes the opening bid.
“The old finishing line and all that,” added the duke. “So I’ve decided to draw up a codicil to be added to my will, so you’ll have nothing to worry about after I’ve gone.”
“My only worry,” said Virginia, “is that after you’ve gone, I’ll be all alone. I know it’s selfish of me, Perry, but if I could have my way, I would die before you. I just can’t bear the thought of having to live without you.” She even managed to manufacture a tear.
“How did I get so lucky?” said the duke.
“It was me who got lucky,” purred Virginia.
“Before I call my solicitor and get the ball rolling, old gal, I want you to give some thought to what I might leave you. Of course you’ll have the Dower House on the estate, and an allowance of five thousand a month, but if there’s anything else in particular you’d like, just let me know.”
“That’s so thoughtful of you, Perry. I can’t think of anything at the moment. Perhaps just a little memento to remind me of you.”
The truth was that Virginia had already given the matter a great deal of thought, as it was all part of her retirement plan. She didn’t need reminding that she’d already missed out on two wills and she didn’t intend to do so a third time.
However, she needed to carry out some more research before briefing Perry on which little memento she had in mind. She knew exactly the right person to advise her on the subject, but she couldn’t invite him to the castle while the duke was in residence. No matter, that problem would be solved in a couple of weeks’ time when Perry went up to London for his annual regimental reunion, an event he never missed because, as the regiment’s honorary colonel, he would be expected to chair the dinner.
32
VIRGINIA JOINED PERRY for the short journey to the local station.
“I wish I was going with you,” she said as they walked out onto the platform together.
“Not much point, old gal, I’m only staying in town overnight, and I’ll be back by tomorrow afternoon.”
“When you’ll find me standing on the platform waiting for you.”
“You don’t have to,” he said as the train pulled in.
“I want to be here when you return,” she said as the duke climbed into a first-class carriage.
“That’s good of you, old gal.”
“Goodbye,” Virginia called out, and waved as the train set off on its journey to London. She then quickly left the station in search of another man.
“Are you Poltimore?” she asked a young man standing on the pavement and looking a little lost. His fair hair almost reached his shoulders, and he was wearing a duffle coat and carrying a small suitcase.
“I am indeed, your grace,” he said, giving her a slight bow. “I wasn’t expecting you to come and pick me up.”
“My pleasure,” said Virginia, as the chauffeur opened the back door of the car for them.
On the drive back to the castle, Virginia explained why she’d invited an art historian from Sotheby’s to come and view the Hertford collection.
“For some time the duke has been concerned that he might have overlooked something of real value that ought to be insured. We keep a full inventory, of course, but as my husband doesn’t take a great deal of interest in his family heirlooms, I thought it would be sensible to bring it up to date. After all, none of us are getting any younger.”
“I’ve been looking forward to seeing the collection,” Poltimore replied. “It’s always a bit special to be allowed to view a collection that hasn’t been seen by the public. I am, of course, aware of the Constable of Castle Hertford, and the Turner masterpiece of St. Mark’s Square, but I can’t wait to find out what other treasures you have.”
Me too, thought Virginia, but didn’t interrupt the young man’s enthusiastic flow.
“It didn’t take a lot of research to discover that it was the third duke, who traveled extensively around the continent during the eighteenth century,” continued Poltimore, “who was responsible for putting together such a fine collection.”
“But he can’t have been responsible for purchasing the Turner or the Constable,” said Virginia.
“No, that would have been the seventh duke. He also commissioned Gainsborough’s portrait of Catherine, Duchess of Hertford.”
“You’ll find her hanging in the hall,” said Virginia, who had already studied the inventory in great detail, before coming to the conclusion that the duke would never agree to part with any of the Hertford family heirlooms. However, she was rather hoping that during the past three hundred years, something just might have escaped their notice.
On arrival back at the castle, Virginia didn’t waste any time, but took the man from Sotheby’s straight to the library, where she presented him with three thick, leather-bound volumes entitled The Hertford Collection.
“I’ll leave you to get on with your work, Mr. Poltimore. Do feel free to roam around the house, remembering that your main purpose is to try to find anything we might have missed.”
“I can’t wait,” said Poltimore, as he opened the first volume.
As she turned to leave, Virginia said, “We dress for dinner, Mr. Poltimore, which will be served promptly at eight.”
* * *
“I’ve been able to check almost everything listed in the inventory,” said Poltimore over a glass of sherry before dinner, “and I can confirm that it all appears to be in order. However, I do think the current estimates for insurance purposes are well below the collection’s true value.”
“That’s hardly surprising,” said Virginia. “I doubt if many of the aristocracy could afford to insure their possessions at their current value. I remember my father once telling me that if the family pictures were to come on the market, he would no longer be able to buy them. Did you come across anything of significance that wasn’t accounted for?”
“Not so far. But I haven’t had the chance to check the two upper floors, which I’ll do first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Those are mainly the staff quarters,” said Virginia, trying to mask her disappointment. “I don’t think you’ll find anything worthwhile up there. But you may as well look, as you’re here.”
A gong sounded and she led her guest through to the dining room.
* * *
“Where’s Mr. Poltimore, Lomax?” Virginia asked the butler when she came down for breakfast the following morning.
“He took an early breakfast, your grace, and when I last saw him he was on the top floor making notes of the pictures hanging on the landing.”
Virginia retired to the library after breakfast and began to double-check the inventory, wondering if there just might be a minor masterpiece somewhere that the duke wasn’t particularly attached to and would be willing to part with. However, when she looked through Poltimore’s revised valuations, there was nothing that would make it possible for her to continue to live in the style she considered worthy of a duchess. She would just have to make sure that her monthly allowance was raised from £5,000 to £10,000 so she didn’t starve. Her mood didn’t improve when Poltimore told her over lunch that he had found nothing of any real significance on the top two floors.
“Hardly surprising, bearing in mind they’re the staff quarters,” Virginia replied.
“But I did come across a drawing by Tiepolo, and a watercolor by Sir William Russell Flint that should be added to the inventory.”
“I’m most grateful,” said Virginia. “I only hope you don’t feel your visit has been a waste of time.”
“Not at all, your grace. It’s been a most enjoyable experience, and if the duke were ever to consider selling anything from his collection, we would be honored to represent him.”
“I can’t imagine the circumstances in which that would happen,” said Virginia, “but if it should arise, I will
be in touch immediately.”
“Thank you. I still have time,” he said, looking at his watch, “to check the lower ground floor before I leave.”
“I can’t imagine you’ll find anything below stairs,” said Virginia, “other than a few ancient pots and pans, and an antique Aga that I’ve been telling the duke should have been replaced years ago.”
Poltimore laughed dutifully, before finishing the last mouthful of his bread and butter pudding.
“The car will be ready to take you to the station at two forty,” said Virginia, “which should give you plenty of time to catch the five past three back to London.”
* * *
Virginia was talking to the gardener about planting a new bed of fuchsias when she looked up to see Poltimore running toward her. She waited for him to catch his breath, before he said, “I think I may have found something quite remarkable, but I’ll need to check with the head of our Chinese department before I can be absolutely certain.”
“Your Chinese department?”
“I nearly missed them, hidden away in a corner of the downstairs corridor, near the pantry.”
“Missed what?” said Virginia, trying not to display her impatience.
“Two large blue and white vases. I checked the markings on the base, and I think they just might be Ming Dynasty.”
Virginia kept her tone casual. “Are they valuable enough to be added to the inventory?”
“Without question, if they turn out to be originals. A similar pair, but much smaller than yours, came up at auction in New York a couple of years ago, and the hammer price was over a million dollars. I’ve taken some photographs of them,” Poltimore continued, “in particular the distinctive markings on the base, which I’ll show to our Chinese expert as soon as I get back to Bond Street. I’ll write to let you know his opinion.”
“I would prefer you to telephone me,” said Virginia. “I wouldn’t want to get the duke’s hopes up, only to find it was a false alarm.”
“I’ll call you some time tomorrow,” Poltimore promised.
This Was a Man Page 23