insignificance at the prospect of Lord Sedgwick’s
and Lord Sneddon’s arrival. She knew she was ill prepared to come face to face
with two of the most handsome and eligible young men in England, to say nothing
of the richest. While she had never met them in person, she was familiar with
their looks from the society pages of magazines and newspapers, which seemed to
contain photographs of one or other of them almost every day. She was suddenly
very aware of her own shortcomings, not only of her relative poverty and her
far lower social position, but also of her insignificant looks and the
cheapness of her clothes that would make her stand apart. She wondered too, why
they had chosen this weekend of all weekends to visit Sir William and Lady
Withers. She did not think it was a coincidence, for Cedric knew that Lavinia
meant to visit Ashgrove. Rose felt her cheeks grow warm. The only explanation
was that they had wanted to meet her, this shop girl that Lavinia had
befriended. They would surely see her as a source of amusement to liven an
otherwise dull visit to middle-aged relatives.
She suddenly felt wretched, it was too awful. She wanted to be home,
sitting by the fire with her mother in their little sitting room with the last
few pieces of remaining furniture salvaged from their old house. She saw the
two of them sitting there in companionable silence, half listening to a
programme on the wireless, while her mother worked away with a needle,
straining her eyes as she tried to finish a dress that she was making for one
of her clients. Rose herself would be pretending to read a book or magazine,
while all the time she would be surreptitiously studying the household
accounts, trying to calculate how long they had before another painful decision
had to be made about their accommodation and whether there were any further
economies that could be made to prolong the inevitable. Usually such a scene
made her feel depressed, but now she found herself longing for it, the dull
familiarity of it all.
Rose looked up. Amid the idle chatter between aunt and niece she could
see Stafford coming towards them across the lawn. She could feel her heart
beating faster and her hands becoming moist. She wanted to dash back into the
house, race up the stairs and shut herself in her bedroom. Once there, she
would focus all her attention on studying the plate glass covered dressing
table in her room, with its valance of floral chintz, until the beating of her
heart grew more regular and she felt able to pluck up the courage necessary to
meet the visitors.
‘M’lady, Lord Sedgwick and Lord Sneddon have just arrived.’
‘Ah, very good, Stafford; show them into the rose garden, will you, it’s
much too nice to go back inside. In fact, I think we’ll have our afternoon tea
outside, we might as well make the most of this good weather, so welcome after
all those rains of late spring.’
‘Very good, m’lady.’ Stafford gave the slightest of bows and retreated
across the grass.
‘Dear old Stafford,’ Lady Withers said, fondly. ‘I really don’t know what
I would do without him. He and Mrs Palmer run this whole house between them, I
really don’t have to do a thing. In fact, when I do try to do something, it
always goes wrong, like inviting Edith down for the weekend at the same time as
inviting you down, my dear. I should have known Cedric would want to see you
and having Edith and Cedric here together is the very worst thing. And of
course,’ she added as an afterthought, ‘it will be rather a nasty surprise for
him to find that your mother is here too.’
‘I wonder whether I should go and warn him before he bumps into Mother,’
Lavinia enquired, more of herself than of anyone else.
‘Oh, don’t worry my dear, I’m sure Stafford has already done that, he
thinks of everything. I really don’t know what I’d do if he ever decided to
leave. I suppose there will come a time when he’s too old to remain in service
and wants to
and Lord Sneddon’s arrival. She knew she was ill prepared to come face to face
with two of the most handsome and eligible young men in England, to say nothing
of the richest. While she had never met them in person, she was familiar with
their looks from the society pages of magazines and newspapers, which seemed to
contain photographs of one or other of them almost every day. She was suddenly
very aware of her own shortcomings, not only of her relative poverty and her
far lower social position, but also of her insignificant looks and the
cheapness of her clothes that would make her stand apart. She wondered too, why
they had chosen this weekend of all weekends to visit Sir William and Lady
Withers. She did not think it was a coincidence, for Cedric knew that Lavinia
meant to visit Ashgrove. Rose felt her cheeks grow warm. The only explanation
was that they had wanted to meet her, this shop girl that Lavinia had
befriended. They would surely see her as a source of amusement to liven an
otherwise dull visit to middle-aged relatives.
She suddenly felt wretched, it was too awful. She wanted to be home,
sitting by the fire with her mother in their little sitting room with the last
few pieces of remaining furniture salvaged from their old house. She saw the
two of them sitting there in companionable silence, half listening to a
programme on the wireless, while her mother worked away with a needle,
straining her eyes as she tried to finish a dress that she was making for one
of her clients. Rose herself would be pretending to read a book or magazine,
while all the time she would be surreptitiously studying the household
accounts, trying to calculate how long they had before another painful decision
had to be made about their accommodation and whether there were any further
economies that could be made to prolong the inevitable. Usually such a scene
made her feel depressed, but now she found herself longing for it, the dull
familiarity of it all.
Rose looked up. Amid the idle chatter between aunt and niece she could
see Stafford coming towards them across the lawn. She could feel her heart
beating faster and her hands becoming moist. She wanted to dash back into the
house, race up the stairs and shut herself in her bedroom. Once there, she
would focus all her attention on studying the plate glass covered dressing
table in her room, with its valance of floral chintz, until the beating of her
heart grew more regular and she felt able to pluck up the courage necessary to
meet the visitors.
‘M’lady, Lord Sedgwick and Lord Sneddon have just arrived.’
‘Ah, very good, Stafford; show them into the rose garden, will you, it’s
much too nice to go back inside. In fact, I think we’ll have our afternoon tea
outside, we might as well make the most of this good weather, so welcome after
all those rains of late spring.’
‘Very good, m’lady.’ Stafford gave the slightest of bows and retreated
across the grass.
‘Dear old Stafford,’ Lady Withers said, fondly. ‘I really don’t know what
I would do without him. He and Mrs Palmer run this whole house between them, I
really don’t have to do a thing. In fact, when I do try to do something, it
always goes wrong, like inviting Edith down for the weekend at the same time as
inviting you down, my dear. I should have known Cedric would want to see you
and having Edith and Cedric here together is the very worst thing. And of
course,’ she added as an afterthought, ‘it will be rather a nasty surprise for
him to find that your mother is here too.’
‘I wonder whether I should go and warn him before he bumps into Mother,’
Lavinia enquired, more of herself than of anyone else.
‘Oh, don’t worry my dear, I’m sure Stafford has already done that, he
thinks of everything. I really don’t know what I’d do if he ever decided to
leave. I suppose there will come a time when he’s too old to remain in service
and wants to
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