with his wise, scholarly face; Mrs Rabinovitch who had taken her aside to beg her help in keeping a second glass of wine from the Vale of Tears that was her husband’s stomach, Tom Byrne who had slipped a note into her pocket and thanked her for her kindness to Ollie … How happy everyone looked, how pleased they were at the earl’s good fortune!
And how magnificent was Muriel Hardwicke, Anna’s own handiwork, standing and holding court in the centre of the room.
Anna herself, sensitized by her upbringing, would not have chosen, for a simple supper party in a country house, an orange dress both embroidered with crystal beading and lined with bands of monkey fur; nor would she have found it necessary to have added diamond-studded vulture quills to the bandeau which supported her hair. But she had faithfully carried out Muriel’s orders and the result was dazzling. The earl himself seemed unable to take his eyes from her.
This was true. Fetching Muriel downstairs, Rupert had indeed been dazzled. He had seldom seen Muriel out of uniform - to him she had been a calming presence dressed in white, ready with a merciful injection when the pain grew too great. Now it occurred to him how little he really knew of his bride’s thoughts and hopes and fears.
Anna surged towards them, illumined and slender, like a votive bronze from the more ecstatic sort of tomb, and preferred her tray, which Muriel waved away. What a strange girl she was, thought Rupert, following her with his eyes. He had not spoken to her since the evening beside the lake but her spoor was everywhere: in Uncle Sebastien frowning at the piano over a Stravinsky score, in James caught rescuing a trapped Peacock butterfly from the study window and producing an embarrassed and somewhat garbled version of Tolstoy’s theory of Reverence for Life; in his mother’s new hairstyle based -and becomingly - on that of Diaghliev’s beloved Karsavina.
‘Is that the Russian girl?’ Minna asked the dowager.
‘Yes, that’s Anna. She’s a dear girl and such a hard worker.’
Lady Westerholme was looking delightful in a dress of dove grey chiffon which Mrs Bunford, the village dressmaker, had finished just two hours before. The dowager always had her clothes made by Mrs Bunford, not because that excellent lady was a good dressmaker - she had, in fact, a most unfortunate way with the set of a sleeve - but because Mrs Bunford was the sole support of an invalid husband and a delicate son. Fortunately, the dowager’s fine bones and wide-set grey eyes enabled het to get away with anything and no one who patronized Mrs Bunford expected to be able to lift their arms above their head.
‘Ollie can’t stop talking about her,’ said Minna, watching Anna approach Uncle Sebastien and receive a fatherly and affectionate smile from him. The earl’s uncle, cleaned up by Sid and poured into his evening clothes, was on his best behaviour. Not only was he to give away the bride at the wedding ceremony, but tonight it was he who was to propose the health of the happy couple and only the briefest lunge at Pearl’s entrancing bottom as he passed her in the corridor had marred his conduct during the whole evening.
‘I was wondering,’ Minna continued, ‘do you think I might borrow her for the ball? I’ve got some Russians coming and it would be such a help.’
‘But of course, my dear. Borrow anyone you like.’ ‘You’re an angel, Mary. And now you really must introduce me to that gorgeous girl!’
- - - -*
‘This is Lady Byrne, Muriel, our dearest friend.’
Minna smiled warmly at Rupert’s lovely bride. ‘I can’t tell you how happy you’ve made Ollie by letting her be your bridesmaid. It’s her first time and she’s over the moon.’
‘I’m so glad she’s pleased,’ said Muriel graciously. ‘I look forward very much to meeting her. Rupert seems so very fond of her.’
‘I’ll bring her over as soon as I possibly can,’ promised Minna. ‘I suppose
And how magnificent was Muriel Hardwicke, Anna’s own handiwork, standing and holding court in the centre of the room.
Anna herself, sensitized by her upbringing, would not have chosen, for a simple supper party in a country house, an orange dress both embroidered with crystal beading and lined with bands of monkey fur; nor would she have found it necessary to have added diamond-studded vulture quills to the bandeau which supported her hair. But she had faithfully carried out Muriel’s orders and the result was dazzling. The earl himself seemed unable to take his eyes from her.
This was true. Fetching Muriel downstairs, Rupert had indeed been dazzled. He had seldom seen Muriel out of uniform - to him she had been a calming presence dressed in white, ready with a merciful injection when the pain grew too great. Now it occurred to him how little he really knew of his bride’s thoughts and hopes and fears.
Anna surged towards them, illumined and slender, like a votive bronze from the more ecstatic sort of tomb, and preferred her tray, which Muriel waved away. What a strange girl she was, thought Rupert, following her with his eyes. He had not spoken to her since the evening beside the lake but her spoor was everywhere: in Uncle Sebastien frowning at the piano over a Stravinsky score, in James caught rescuing a trapped Peacock butterfly from the study window and producing an embarrassed and somewhat garbled version of Tolstoy’s theory of Reverence for Life; in his mother’s new hairstyle based -and becomingly - on that of Diaghliev’s beloved Karsavina.
‘Is that the Russian girl?’ Minna asked the dowager.
‘Yes, that’s Anna. She’s a dear girl and such a hard worker.’
Lady Westerholme was looking delightful in a dress of dove grey chiffon which Mrs Bunford, the village dressmaker, had finished just two hours before. The dowager always had her clothes made by Mrs Bunford, not because that excellent lady was a good dressmaker - she had, in fact, a most unfortunate way with the set of a sleeve - but because Mrs Bunford was the sole support of an invalid husband and a delicate son. Fortunately, the dowager’s fine bones and wide-set grey eyes enabled het to get away with anything and no one who patronized Mrs Bunford expected to be able to lift their arms above their head.
‘Ollie can’t stop talking about her,’ said Minna, watching Anna approach Uncle Sebastien and receive a fatherly and affectionate smile from him. The earl’s uncle, cleaned up by Sid and poured into his evening clothes, was on his best behaviour. Not only was he to give away the bride at the wedding ceremony, but tonight it was he who was to propose the health of the happy couple and only the briefest lunge at Pearl’s entrancing bottom as he passed her in the corridor had marred his conduct during the whole evening.
‘I was wondering,’ Minna continued, ‘do you think I might borrow her for the ball? I’ve got some Russians coming and it would be such a help.’
‘But of course, my dear. Borrow anyone you like.’ ‘You’re an angel, Mary. And now you really must introduce me to that gorgeous girl!’
- - - -*
‘This is Lady Byrne, Muriel, our dearest friend.’
Minna smiled warmly at Rupert’s lovely bride. ‘I can’t tell you how happy you’ve made Ollie by letting her be your bridesmaid. It’s her first time and she’s over the moon.’
‘I’m so glad she’s pleased,’ said Muriel graciously. ‘I look forward very much to meeting her. Rupert seems so very fond of her.’
‘I’ll bring her over as soon as I possibly can,’ promised Minna. ‘I suppose
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