The Morning Gift

The resulting conversation was as informed and intelligent as might have been expected, and when Verena turned to the women, they found her most understanding and sympathetic about their complaints. For as might have been expected, the refugees that Quin had wished on them were continuing to be ungrateful and difficult. Ann Rothley’s dismissed cowman had been taken on by the Northern Opera Company and caused havoc among the servants.

‘They’re all asking for time off to go to Newcastle and hear him sing in that ridiculous opera – the one where they burn a manuscript to keep warm. Something about Bohemians.’

And Helen’s chauffeur too was giving trouble: he was threatening to leave and go to London to try and join a string quartet.

‘Well if he does at least you won’t have to listen to all that chamber music,’ said Frances.

But, of course, it wasn’t so simple – it never is.

‘Actually, he’s rather good at his job,’ said Helen, ‘and much cheaper than an Englishman would be.’

Only with Bobo Bainbridge did Verena not attempt to converse. Bobo, whose adored husband had dropped dead nine months ago and whose mother-in-law did not approve of displays of grief, now navigated through her social engagements by means of liberal doses of Amontillado, and for women who let themselves go in this way, Verena had nothing but contempt.

At nine o’clock, Quin took the men to smoke and play billiards in the library and the women were left to discuss Verena’s party.

This, somewhat to Frances’ dismay, soon grew into a much larger affair than she had intended. Her suggestion of a buffet supper and dancing to the gramophone caused Lady Plackett considerable surprise.

‘The gramophone?’ she said in offended tones. ‘If it is a matter of expense . . .’

‘No, of course it isn’t,’ interrupted Ann Rothley, rather put out by this gaffe, ‘but actually, Frances, there’s a very good little three-piece band just starting up in Rothley – it would be a kindness to give them work.’

So the three-piece band was agreed on, and Helen Stanton-Derby (over-ruling Lady Plackett’s suggestion of lilies and stephanotis from the florist in Alnwick) said she would do the flowers. ‘There’s such lovely stuff in the hedges now – traveller’s joy and rosehips . . . with only a little help from the gardens one can make a marvellous show.’

‘And I thought mulled wine,’ said Frances. ‘Cook has an excellent recipe.’

Mulled wine, however, affected Lady Plackett as adversely as the gramophone had done and she asked if she could contribute to a case of champagne, an offer which Miss Somerville refused. ‘I’ll speak to Quin,’ she said firmly; ‘he’s in charge of the cellar,’ and they went on to discuss the menu and the list of guests.

Comments on Verena, as the County drove home, were entirely favourable.

‘A very sensible girl,’ said Ann Rothley and her husband grunted assent, but said he was surprised that Quin, who’d had such beautiful girlfriends, was willing to marry somebody who, when all was said and done, looked like a Roman senator.

His wife disagreed. ‘She has great presence. All she needs is a really pretty dress for the dance and she’ll be as attractive as anyone could wish.’

An unexpected voice now spoke from the back of the motor where Bobo Bainbridge had been supposed to be asleep.

‘It will have to be a very pretty dress,’ said Bobo – and closed her eyes once more.

Frances, meanwhile, had followed Quin into the tower – a thing she did seldom – to ask his advice about the drinks.

‘Ah yes, Verena’s dance.’ Quin had taken so little notice of discussions about this event that it took an effort to recall it. ‘It’s on Friday week, isn’t it? Does Verena want me to look in or would she prefer to entertain her friends on her own?’

Frances looked at him in dismay. ‘But of course she wants you to be there. It would look very odd if you weren’t.’ And then: ‘You do like Verena, don’t you?’

‘She’s an excellent girl,’ said Quin absently. And then: ‘Who have you invited?’

‘Rollo’s coming up from Sandhurst – he won the Sword of Honour, did Ann tell you? And he’s bringing a friend of his who’s going to join the same regiment. And the Bainbridge twins have got leave from the air force so –’

‘From the air force? Mick and Leo? But they can’t be more than sixteen!’

‘They’re eighteen, actually – they went in as cadets. Bobo was hoping one of them would stay on the ground, but they’ve always done things together; they’re both fully fledged pilots now.’

‘My God!’ Bobo’s adored twins had kept her alive after her husband’s death. When they came home, she sobered up, became the friendly, funny person she had been throughout his childhood.

‘And both Helen’s girls are coming up from London. Caroline’s going to marry that nice red-haired boy in the Marines – Dick Alleson.’ Caroline had carried a torch for Quin for many years and everyone had rejoiced when she became so suitably engaged.