going to be made in telegraphic form. However, her attention was on her aunt. The old lady had turned almost grey.
‘She won’t be coming to stay, Great-Aunt,’ she said reassuringly. ‘She’s bound to have booked her passage on the boat. She probably got a present for Violet after she received the photograph and she didn’t have time to post it. Sir Guy will be here to keep father company, and Morgan’s brought in a huge amount of wood for the fires downstairs and in the ballroom. And everything looks nice by candlelight.’ And all the shabbiness and the cobwebs are hidden, she added silently.
‘I must finish the dresses.’ Violet sprinted out of the room and ran lightly up the stairs, singing the latest Bessie Smith song.
‘I must reply.’ Great-Aunt Lizzie made a visible effort to pull herself together.
‘Oh please, let me do it,’ begged Rose. ‘I know just what to say: COME STOP EAT STOP BUT DON’T STOP STOP.’
‘Rose, there’s Justin with a load of wood; ask him if he could possibly bring it up to the ballroom,’ said Daisy hurriedly. Justin had been getting a bit of exercise helping Morgan to chop wood and had arrived each morning carrying an axe as well as a fishing rod. He had turned out to be rather fun, entering into all the plans for the party – only turning stiff and pompous when Violet tried to be the grand lady. Daisy liked him more and more each day. Now she gave him a quick wave through the window and then turned to the elderly woman. ‘Her Grace won’t stay the night, I’m sure she won’t, but it might work out very well for her to visit here. You know what Violet is like when she’s excited and in a good mood. And she’ll be wearing that gorgeous dress. She’ll look beautiful. I’m sure that the Duchess will offer to present her when she sees her. This room is lovely at night.’ Pity about the torn curtains, she thought, and said hastily, ‘Luckily we have all those candles that Maud found in the basement. I always think that candle flames look awfully nice reflected on dark glass.’
‘That’s your artistic nature, Daisy,’ said the old lady graciously. She had begun to recover. ‘Bring me a pencil and some paper and I’ll draft a telegram. Is the boy still in the kitchen?’
‘I told him to wait,’ said Daisy. Morgan could fetch the Duchess and then return her to the station for the next train, she decided. Mrs Beaton had made a splendid cake. Violet and her three sisters would all be dressed in party clothes. There would be hot fires and artistic arrangements of candles and leaves everywhere. Her eye went to the windowsills – some holly from the woodland, she thought, visualizing pinpricks of light reflected on polished green leaves.
Sir Guy Beresford arrived at Beech Grove Manor at five o’clock. As usual he was impeccably dressed and as usual he came with a parcel in his hands. He had got into the film industry about fourteen years earlier and it had made him very rich. With no children of his own he tended to spoil Daisy, his goddaughter, and he seldom arrived without some present for her.
Morgan drove him to the door and Daisy, who had been watching from an upstairs window, came flying down to meet him.
‘How’s my very favourite godfather?’ she asked as the bulky figure struggled out of the back of the Humber, leaning heavily on Morgan’s outstretched arm.
‘You’ve only got one,’ grunted Sir Guy. ‘You want something out of me, Daisy; don’t think I don’t know what you’re like.’ His arms enveloped her in a bear-like hug and she hugged him back.
‘Come up to your bedroom,’ she said, tugging at his arm as they went into the house. ‘Bateman will say that you’re having tea upstairs. Here’s Father. Great-Aunt Lizzie says that he can’t take the dogs through the woods in case the Duchess arrives early. She’s fussing terribly about the party.’
‘Am I the first? Hallo, Michael!’ said Sir Guy, delving into his pocket and
‘She won’t be coming to stay, Great-Aunt,’ she said reassuringly. ‘She’s bound to have booked her passage on the boat. She probably got a present for Violet after she received the photograph and she didn’t have time to post it. Sir Guy will be here to keep father company, and Morgan’s brought in a huge amount of wood for the fires downstairs and in the ballroom. And everything looks nice by candlelight.’ And all the shabbiness and the cobwebs are hidden, she added silently.
‘I must finish the dresses.’ Violet sprinted out of the room and ran lightly up the stairs, singing the latest Bessie Smith song.
‘I must reply.’ Great-Aunt Lizzie made a visible effort to pull herself together.
‘Oh please, let me do it,’ begged Rose. ‘I know just what to say: COME STOP EAT STOP BUT DON’T STOP STOP.’
‘Rose, there’s Justin with a load of wood; ask him if he could possibly bring it up to the ballroom,’ said Daisy hurriedly. Justin had been getting a bit of exercise helping Morgan to chop wood and had arrived each morning carrying an axe as well as a fishing rod. He had turned out to be rather fun, entering into all the plans for the party – only turning stiff and pompous when Violet tried to be the grand lady. Daisy liked him more and more each day. Now she gave him a quick wave through the window and then turned to the elderly woman. ‘Her Grace won’t stay the night, I’m sure she won’t, but it might work out very well for her to visit here. You know what Violet is like when she’s excited and in a good mood. And she’ll be wearing that gorgeous dress. She’ll look beautiful. I’m sure that the Duchess will offer to present her when she sees her. This room is lovely at night.’ Pity about the torn curtains, she thought, and said hastily, ‘Luckily we have all those candles that Maud found in the basement. I always think that candle flames look awfully nice reflected on dark glass.’
‘That’s your artistic nature, Daisy,’ said the old lady graciously. She had begun to recover. ‘Bring me a pencil and some paper and I’ll draft a telegram. Is the boy still in the kitchen?’
‘I told him to wait,’ said Daisy. Morgan could fetch the Duchess and then return her to the station for the next train, she decided. Mrs Beaton had made a splendid cake. Violet and her three sisters would all be dressed in party clothes. There would be hot fires and artistic arrangements of candles and leaves everywhere. Her eye went to the windowsills – some holly from the woodland, she thought, visualizing pinpricks of light reflected on polished green leaves.
Sir Guy Beresford arrived at Beech Grove Manor at five o’clock. As usual he was impeccably dressed and as usual he came with a parcel in his hands. He had got into the film industry about fourteen years earlier and it had made him very rich. With no children of his own he tended to spoil Daisy, his goddaughter, and he seldom arrived without some present for her.
Morgan drove him to the door and Daisy, who had been watching from an upstairs window, came flying down to meet him.
‘How’s my very favourite godfather?’ she asked as the bulky figure struggled out of the back of the Humber, leaning heavily on Morgan’s outstretched arm.
‘You’ve only got one,’ grunted Sir Guy. ‘You want something out of me, Daisy; don’t think I don’t know what you’re like.’ His arms enveloped her in a bear-like hug and she hugged him back.
‘Come up to your bedroom,’ she said, tugging at his arm as they went into the house. ‘Bateman will say that you’re having tea upstairs. Here’s Father. Great-Aunt Lizzie says that he can’t take the dogs through the woods in case the Duchess arrives early. She’s fussing terribly about the party.’
‘Am I the first? Hallo, Michael!’ said Sir Guy, delving into his pocket and
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