Silk

His coat missed, but his cap landed neatly on one of the hooks.

‘Good catch, eh, what?’ He congratulated himself as Wilson bent to retrieve his coat.

‘Mrs Pickford said to tell you the minute you came in that she wants to see you,’ the butler informed him.

‘Does she so? Well, I’d better toddle along and see what she wants then, hadn’t I?’ Greg laughed.

‘Well, Gregory, is there anything you feel you might want to tell me?’

Greg moved his weight from one foot to the other. It was always wise to be cautious when his grandmother called him ‘Gregory’.

‘Not really, Grandmother, unless it’s that I wouldn’t mind nipping off to London for a few days. See how little Amber’s getting on, you know.’

‘Well, I’m delighted to hear of your concern for your cousin, Gregory, delighted but somewhat surprised, since by your own behaviour you have placed your family in a situation that threatens all our reputations.’

Greg’s stomach plunged. He was quick-witted enough to know where the conversation was leading.

‘I refer of course to your affair with Caroline Fitton Legh. Lord Fitton Legh came here to see me earlier.’

Fitton Legh knew? Greg grew pale.

‘Apparently Cassandra urged Caroline to confide in him, having found you both in flagrante, although as I understand it, the flagrante was more on your part than Caroline’s, since according to Cassandra you were assaulting her.’

‘That’s a lie.’

‘And the affair? Is that also a lie?’

Greg didn’t dare say anything.

‘So then, I take it that you were having an affair with Caroline Fitton Legh.’

‘It was nothing, just a bit of fun.’

‘On the contrary, it was far from nothing. It will be impossible now, of course, for you to hope to be selected to replace the sitting MP when he retires; Lord Fitton Legh will see to that. The Fitton Leghs are too well connected for their influence to be ignored, Gregory, and I am disappointed that you didn’t have the intelligence to think of that before becoming involved with her. Lord Fitton Legh has demanded that you leave Cheshire, and in the circumstances I agree with him that that would be a good idea. Were it not for that wretched girl Cassandra being so quick to spread the tale, it might have been possible to mend matters, but unfortunately things have gone too far for that. Now Lord Fitton Legh’s pride demands retribution in the form of your banishment. I have to say that I am most seriously displeased with you, Gregory.’

‘It wasn’t my fault,’ Greg protested. ‘It was Caroline who began it, I swear it, Grandmother, and then when I tried to end it she wouldn’t let me.’

Blanche looked at him and then said calmly, ‘Whilst I was waiting for you to return, I wrote to Henry Jardine in Hong Kong on your behalf, asking him if he could find you a place in his business. It will be good experience for you. Jardine is a first-rate businessman, the raw silk for the mill is shipped via him, and our families have known one another for three generations. Whilst I don’t expect you to involve yourself in trade, Gregory, it is always wise for a person to know how to handle money, as I am sure Lord Fitton Legh would agree.’

Blanche’s loathing of trade had meant that she refused to invest in the stock exchange. Her wealth was all in cash – held in the same bank vaults as that of the royal family.

‘Hong Kong?’ Greg was about to object but then he remembered that he had heard some interesting tales about the fun enjoyed by the ex-pat community living there. Hong Kong couldn’t possibly be as dull as Macclesfield.

Greg found it easy to shrug off anything unpleasant, so long as he wasn’t constantly reminded of it.

‘I take it there isn’t anything else you wish to tell me with regard to your affair with Caroline?’ his grandmother was asking him.

Greg thought fleetingly of Caroline’s claim that she was having his child and then dismissed it. If she was breeding then if she had any sense she would insist that the brat was her husband’s, Greg decided. That being the case, there was no need for him to mention it to his grandmother.

In fact, he congratulated himself a couple of hours later, he had come off pretty well, all things considered. His grandmother was being frosty with him now but she would soon come round. And as for being banished to Hong Kong, he reckoned it would be a piece of cake, and he’d have a fine old time.

‘So, Fitton Legh is forcing Blanche to send her precious grandson to Hong Kong. Bit of luck, eh, Cassandra catching him out like that? Mind you, I’d warned her to keep an eye on him when she said that he’d taken to calling when Fitton Legh wasn’t there. Plain as the nose on Cassandra’s face what was going on.’

As Jay listened to his grandfather he recognised that he was in high glee over Greg’s disgrace. Jay certainly couldn’t remember when he had last seen him in such good spirits.

He’d obviously been drinking quite heavily, as the decanter on the table beside him was nearly empty. Jay frowned to see it, knowing that his grandfather had been warned to moderate his drinking for the sake of his health.

The gossip about the affair had spread fast, of course, but it had come as no surprise to Jay, who had guessed exactly what was going on.

‘It’s a pity you aren’t more of a de Vries, Jay,’ Barrant told him. ‘If you were only half the man your uncle was, you’d have had the Pickford granddaughter falling for you and then we could have brought her down as well.’

Jay had felt many things for his grandfather over the years – compassion, pity, frustration, love – but this was the first time he had felt anger and contempt. He accepted that his grandfather would take pleasure in Greg’s downfall because it was also Blanche’s downfall, but it had not occurred to him until now to suspect that Barrant might actually have deliberately meddled and stoked the fire that had burned Greg, via Cassandra. Now, though, with Barrant’s tongue loosened by triumph and brandy, Jay was unwillingly aware that his grandfather could be more manipulative than he had previously considered.

‘If that’s what you have in mind then you’d be better off suggesting it to Cassandra. She obviously has more of a taste for betrayal than I do,’ Jay told him grimly, adding for good measure, ‘Although whether or not that is a de Vries characteristic I dare say you will know better than I, Grandfather.’

Let his grandfather make what he liked of his comment. If Barrant didn’t know by now that Cassandra preferred her own sex to his then perhaps it was time he found out. After all he had shown no mercy for the vulnerabilities of others so why should any be shown to his? His suggestion with regard to Amber was as unthinkable as it was distasteful. The anger Jay felt at the thought of Amber being harmed or hurt in any way burned in his chest. He was glad that she was in London and out of reach of his grandfather’s malice.

Chapter Eight

Spring 1930

Amber was so happy. She felt as though her happiness was bursting out of her in the same unstoppable tide that had all the signs of spring appearing in Hyde Park. She was enjoying herself so much. Her happiness fizzed and bubbled inside her, and all the more so on days like today when she was with Lord Robert.

So far, as ‘the professor’, Lord Robert had taken her to the Vogue offices, where she had glimpsed Mrs Alison Settle, Vogue’s Editor, and been introduced to Madge Garland, the Fashion Editor, who had asked them rather pointedly to ‘remind Cecil, when you see him, that I am still awaiting the sketches he promised me’.

They had gone to the British Museum, where Cecil had given instructions that they were to look at all things Egyptian. But best of all, so far as Amber was concerned, had been their visit to the Royal Society of Arts behind the Strand, where she had gazed in wonder at the architecture and listened to a lecture on its provenance. Lord Robert had promised her that he would take her to West Wycombe, the village recently bought by the society in order that it could be preserved for future generations.

He had set her ‘homework’, which consisted of instructions such as ‘design a south-facing room setting for a blonde socialite who wears only Wedgwood blue’, or ‘Lord R. wishes to have new curtains for his drawing room – the theme is Egyptian Napoleonic – show three different styles.’

Sometimes his instructions were accompanied by little sketches similar to the ones he sketched for Vogue; other times they were just rough notes, but Amber adored receiving them almost as much as she adored being with Lord Robert – especially when they were on their own, without Saville, as they were today.

Amber looked adoringly at Lord Robert, dressed as usual in his academic ‘disguise’.

The days were flying by now, what with the pleasure of her outings with Lord Robert to look forward to, the Comtesse du Brissac’s French conversation, the Constance Spry flower-arranging classes she and Louise were now attending, and of course the deportment classes, which no longer held any fears for Amber now she had mastered the curtsy.

Add to that the social events she was also now attending and there were hardly enough hours in the day, as she had just complained to Lord Robert.

‘Lady Rutland is treating you better now, is she?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ Amber confirmed. There was no point in spoiling the day by confessing to him how uncomfortable and out of place she felt at these social events and how conscious she was of the chilly looks she received from the mothers of other débutantes, the stiff silences and awkward pauses, when those débutantes refused to talk to her. Louise didn’t help, of course. She had made it plain that she despised Amber, and of course her close friends had followed suit.

In some ways Amber didn’t blame them. She was, after all, an outsider amongst them. She suspected she would have felt alien even without Louise’s unpleasantness.

‘I had a letter from my cousin Greg this morning. He’s going to Hong Kong. My grandmother thinks it will be good for him, he says,’ she told Lord Robert, deliberately changing the subject. ‘It was a shock because he had been going to be a Member of Parliament. He writes that he thinks that Hong Kong will be much more fun than becoming an MP.’

Since Greg himself had written so enthusiastically about the change of plan, Amber could only be pleased for him. But she’d miss him so much, knowing he was halfway across the world, and somewhere unknown to her, where, unlike at Macclesfield, she would be unable to picture him mentally.

‘I dare say he is quite right,’ Robert agreed. She was so innocent. Frighteningly so at times, he acknowledged. Being with Amber was like drinking a glass of clear pure water: a shock at first to the system when one was accustomed to far more intoxicating substances, but somehow it left a yearning within one to return to its simplicity and goodness.

‘I’m pleased for Greg, but disappointed for myself as I was hoping he would be at the dance Lady Rutland is to give after the presentation,’ Amber admitted. ‘At least then I would have known that I’d have someone to dance with.’

‘You will most definitely have someone to dance with.’

Amber looked at him. ‘You mean you will be there?’ Her eyes sparkled.

‘I wouldn’t miss it for the world,’ Robert told her, realising as he said the words that they were true.

They were in Selfridges, and soon it would be time to leave since Amber had a fitting for her presentation dress. As always, though, she wanted to draw out the precious minutes she spent with Lord Robert and so she begged him, ‘Tell me again about the party when they had a treasure hunt and the clues had everyone running into Selfridges and jumping over the counters.’

Robert shook his head and laughed. ‘Those were foolish times – I should never have told you about them.’

‘I’m glad you did. They must have been such fun.’

‘Come now, it’s time you were back in Cadogan Place,’ Lord Robert told her firmly.

‘Are you ready yet?’ Louise asked Amber aggressively, ‘only I’m not waiting for you if you aren’t, and Mummy said to tell you that you’re to come with us to a tea party later.’

Amber didn’t mind so much about going for her gown fitting, but she would much rather not have been going to the tea party.

The gowns were being made by Reville in Hanover Square, the same court dressmaker who had not only made Lady Rutland’s own gown a generation before, but who had also been one of Queen Mary’s favourite dressmakers. Although Amber’s grandmother had been content to let Lady Rutland choose the dressmaker, she had insisted on selecting the fabric for Amber’s gown herself. It was de rigueur that débutantes wore only white or the palest of pastel-coloured gowns. For Amber’s gown her grandmother had chosen a silk for the underdress that was neither white nor cream but somewhere in between, over which was to go lace sewn with tiny pearls so that it looked as though the entire skirt of the overdress was made from mother-of-pearl. To complement the fabric Blanche had specified that the dress itself was to be made in the simplest of styles, little more than a narrow full-length shift at the front, but at the back from the base of Amber’s spine the overskirt was split to reveal a fan of plain satin pleats that formed a small train.

Louise had laughed mockingly when they had gone for their first fittings, twirling around in her own far more full-skirted and fussy gown, with its daringly peach underskirts showing through the heavy lace overdress, but now as they both watched the undeniable elegance of Amber’s gown emerging from the seamstress’s clever fingers, Louise’s mockery had given way to scowls.

Not that their presentation gowns were the only new clothes the girls had. Amber’s grandmother’s letters were full of detailed instructions about which shops Amber was to visit in order to be fitted for the outfits Blanche had already discussed by telephone with the shop manageresses. Invariably Louise too had a new outfit paid for by Blanche, but Louise’s choice was her own, and Amber was beginning to recognise that whilst her grandmother had ‘good taste’, Louise clearly did not.

Now as she brushed her hair, and thanked her maid for helping her, Amber acknowledged that she didn’t much care whether Louise waited for her or not.

She had had such a wonderful time this morning with Lord Robert. She hugged her pleasure to herself, wrapping it around her. What did Louise’s unkindness matter when she had such a wonderful friend in Lord Robert?

The fitting didn’t take very long, although Louise complained that her dress had been trimmed with the wrong lace. On their way back Amber insisted on calling in at Hatchards to order a copy of Evelyn Waugh’s new book.

It was only after she had completed giving her order that she realised that Louise was now in conversation with a man who must have come into the shop after them. Although she didn’t know why, something about the way Louise was behaving made Amber feel uneasy and uncomfortable. When Louise didn’t make any attempt to introduce Amber to her companion she felt relieved.

Louise was plainly enjoying the encounter, though, and in the end Amber left the shop without her and was several yards down the street when Louise finally caught up with her, out of breath but looking like the cat who’d got the cream.

The tea party was being given by Lady Wyesnaith at her Carlton Terrace home. Louise had chosen to wear a very close-fitting satin sleeveless dress in bright blue – almost the same shade as her eyes – with a deep V neckline, whilst Lady Rutland was wearing her customary rusty black beneath her furs.

Amber, without anyone to guide her, had asked her maid uncertainly, ‘What should I wear, do you think?’ and she had guessed from the pleased look Louise had given the softly draped, very simple pale amber frock, with its toning silk velvet jacket embroidered with amber bugle beads Amber had chosen, that Louise considered her own outfit to be far superior.

Since Lady Wyesnaith was presenting her own daughter at one of the court presentations, the tea party was one of those events, given by the sponsors of débutantes, ostensibly for the girls to get to know one another and the mothers to check diaries to ensure that no important débutante balls clashed, but in reality for the mothers to check out the competition their daughters might face amongst the other girls and to tailor their guest lists accordingly.

Amber, who had listened diligently whilst the Comtesse du Brissac instructed them on the importance of small talk and how one should engage in it, did her best when Lady Rutland abandoned her at a tea table with one spare seat without introducing her, but Amber knew from the silence that her intrusion was exactly that, which made the hand she felt on her arm and the familiar voice of her best friend from school, exclaiming happily, ‘Amber, I can’t believe it’s you. How wonderful!’ all the more welcome.

They had agreed, at Amber’s suggestion, during their final term together at school that they would not write to one another. Amber had believed then that their paths lay in very different directions and, knowing how conservative Beth was, she hadn’t wanted to embarrass her schoolfriend by clinging to their friendship when there was such a wide social divide between them. Now, of course, things were different – at least for the present, and whilst Amber was mixing in the same social circles as her schoolfriend.

Within seconds Amber was being spirited away to be introduced to Beth’s mother, who greeted her with such genuine kindness that Amber felt close to tears.

The Countess of Levington was an older and worldlier version of her daughter. They shared the same features, and good clear English skin, although Beth’s hair was fairer than her mother’s. Looking at Beth’s mother, Amber could see quite plainly what Beth herself would be in years to come. It was plain that the countess was a loving parent.

A brisk nod of her head confirmed that yes, the countess did indeed remember Beth talking about Amber, her friend from school.

‘Your father was, I believe, Russian?’ she questioned Beth, with practised ease.

‘What are you doing here?’ was Beth’s first question once they were on their own. ‘I thought you wanted to go to art school!’

‘I did. But my grandmother wouldn’t let me. She’s paid Louise’s mother to bring me out.’

There, she had said it, and she was holding her head high, even if inside she was dreading what Beth might think.

To her relief Beth’s only comment was a sympathetic, ‘It must be horrid for you, having to live with Louise.’

Amber gave a heartfelt sigh. ‘It is.’

Beth gave her arm a small squeeze. ‘Never mind. I’ll ask Mummy to make sure that we get invited to the same things. Finishing school in Paris was awful, worse than school, and now I still have to go to the Vacani School to learn to curtsy, and you know how clumsy I am.’

‘We’ve done that,’ said Amber. ‘I was hopeless at first.’

‘Oh, were you? That’s much better than getting it right first go.’

When Amber looked unconvinced, Beth told her, ‘Mummy says that it’s always the girls who get the curtsy right from their first class who go and do something silly when they’re presented. Oh, watch out, here comes Louise,’ she warned.

‘What are you two talking about?’ Louise demanded suspiciously.

‘I was just telling Amber how lovely it is to see her here.’

‘She’s only here because my mother has taken pity on her,’ Louise told Beth sharply.

Amber and Beth exchanged knowing looks.

The three of them, although they themselves did not know it, made an attractive picture standing together, Beth with her soft light brown hair and her sweet expression; Louise, the tallest of the three of them, the most ‘knowing’, her short bobbed hair as sleek and dark as a raven’s wing, and her blue eyes fringed with long dark lashes. But it was Amber, with her strawberry-blonde hair, her dark gold eyes and her perfect bone structure, who lifted the visual appeal of the trio above mere prettiness to true beauty.

‘You’ll be having a coming-out ball, I expect?’ Louise asked Beth.

‘Yes,’ Beth told her, ‘Mummy’s already worrying about finding enough young men to invite, especially if there are other balls on the same night. It would be awful if there aren’t enough men for us to dance with.’

‘Debs’ delights, you mean?’ Louise looked scornful. ‘Who wants to dance with them? Not me. I want to dance with a real man, someone exciting and … dangerous.’

‘From the warnings the comtesse has been giving us about not getting into cabs on our own with debs’ delights it sounds as though they are dangerous.’ Amber pointed out.

‘What? Because they might try to steal a kiss?’ Louise tossed her head. ‘Well, personally I think I’d rather like to know what it’s like to be kissed, wouldn’t you?’

Whilst Beth looked shocked Amber replied honestly, ‘It would depend on who was doing the kissing.’

‘Well, yes, of course. He’d have to be handsome, and rich, although I suppose in your case, Amber, all that would matter was him having a title.’

‘She’s such a cat,’ Beth said angrily after Louise had gone. ‘She hasn’t changed at all.’

Amber said nothing. After all, what could she say when Louise’s comment had been the truth, at least as far as her grandmother was concerned?

‘I’m so pleased we shall be coming out together,’ Beth told Amber warmly. ‘I’ve been dreading it, but now it’s going to be fun. Oh, look, Mummy wants us.’

Amber hung back.

‘What is it?’ Beth demanded.

Uncomfortably Amber explained how she’d been excluded and ignored, adding that she didn’t want to put Beth in an embarrassing position by clinging on to her.

‘I shouldn’t be surprised if it’s Lady Rutland people want to avoid and not you,’ Beth told her firmly. ‘She isn’t very well liked, you know.’

And not as well connected or socially powerful as Beth’s mother, as Amber soon discovered, after Beth had insisted on dragging her over to her mother.

People who had ignored her when Lady Rutland had introduced her were now being astonishingly pleasant. Girls who had previously turned their backs on her were now smiling at her and making room for both Beth and Amber to join them round tables set up for tea.

Engrossed in conversation, Amber only noticed the dark look Louise was giving her when she happened to glance up and see her, standing by the door with one of her own coterie of friends.

Seeing her look at Louise, the girl sitting next to Amber told her conspiratorially, ‘That’s Louise Montford. She’s fearfully fast, you know. My brother met her at a house party over Christmas.’

‘What do you mean?’ Amber asked her curiously.

The other girl gave her a coy look and then told her breathlessly, ‘Well, when they were playing hide-and-seek one evening, no one could find Louise for ages, and then when they did find her in one of the boots cupboards she swore that she’d been on her own but someone else said that they’d seen one of the boys sneaking away from the cupboard just before they found Louise. And then another night she went and joined the boys in the billiard room after supper, and she was the only girl there. One of the boys, Edward Fearton, told my brother that she’d let him kiss her and that she’d sat on his lap and let him put his hand on her knee. If she isn’t careful she’s going to get herself in an awful lot of trouble.’

Amber digested these confidences in silence. It was true that the kind of behaviour the other girl had just described was very fast and not acceptable at all for a young unmarried girl. There was a certain wildness about Louise at times, she admitted, as though the other girl enjoyed taking risks and breaking the rules. But the reality was that Louise could not afford to flout convention, not if she was to make the kind of marriage her mother needed her to make to repair their family finances, to someone of equal social standing to her own, and with money: the kind of man that every mother wanted for her daughter and the kind of man too who could take his pick of socially acceptable well-brought-up young women when looking for a wife. The kind of man who was not likely to choose a young woman with the wrong kind of reputation.