Debutantes by Cora Harrison Page A

would have been much simpler then. Perhaps Father could have found some money for my clothes, but he’ll never agree to buying clothes for us all.’ A note of grievance crept into her voice.
    ‘You will need your sisters by your side,’ said Rose wisely. ‘We don’t want you to make a mess of everything.’
    ‘Let’s go up and have a look at the trunk,’ said Daisy hastily, seeing a flush of temper stain the cheek of her leading lady.
    ‘I must go. Baz is coming over this morning,’ said Poppy. She had little interest in clothes and was not that keen on going to the Duchess’s house party. If Daisy had not told her that her refusal would spoil Violet’s chances she would have declined the invitation.
    Rose was in seventh heaven at the idea of taking part in a house party. Her scrapbooks were full of cuttings from ancient issues of Tatler and other society magazines and she had thoroughly enoyed her chat with the Duchess the evening before. Her Grace had stories to tell about most of the slightly faded figures on the dance floor at the Queen Charlotte’s Ball, posing for debutante photographs, on horseback or watching horse racing at Epsom.
    ‘Whatever we can’t get from the trunk,’ said Daisy, ‘I’ll be able to buy with the money Sir Guy gave me. Don’t worry, Violet. We’ll manage.’
    ‘What about this lady’s maid idea?’ asked Poppy in a muffled voice as she pulled on an extra jumper before setting off through the woods to Morgan’s cottage. It was a baggy old fishing pullover, something Poppy had begged from her father who had bought it in Scotland twenty years earlier, but its rich brown suited her and it was extremely warm. ‘Great-Aunt Lizzie didn’t say anything, did she?’ she said as her head emerged. ‘I say, do you think she is going to hire a maid for us?’
    ‘No need,’ said Rose. ‘We take Maud.’
    ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ cried Violet. ‘Maud’s only a scullery maid.’
    ‘She may be as well born as you or I,’ said Rose mysteriously.
    ‘What on earth are you talking about?’ Violet was in a het-up, nervy state of mind. Daisy felt a little sorry for her. Violet had her future mapped out so clearly in her mind and things kept going wrong for her.
    ‘I think Maud would work out quite well,’ she said aloud, watching Poppy impatiently braid her hair into a loose untidy plait that hung down her back. ‘She did our hair really nicely for Violet’s party and, dressed up properly, who’s to tell that she’s not really a lady’s maid? It will be useful to have her, Violet,’ she said in a warning tone of voice. ‘We don’t want the Duchess to think you are too poor to have a maid, do we? Father could never spare the money to engage a proper lady’s maid. They would cost about fifty pounds a year at least. What do you think, Poppy?’
    ‘I like Maud,’ declared Poppy. ‘I don’t know what you are talking about anyway, Violet. Who cares whether she is or isn’t a lady’s maid? She can do Rose’s sums and our hair. That’s more than you can do, Vi.’ She cast a quick look around at her sisters and said, ‘Must fly. We’re going to practise that dance tune again.’ A moment later they heard her footsteps clattering down the uncarpeted staircase to the back door.
    Violet shrugged her shoulders. ‘Have it your own way,’ she said with a martyred air. ‘If she’s unmasked, on your head be it, Daisy.’
    ‘I say,’ said Rose. ‘Talking of being unmasked, haven’t you shown her the letter, Daisy? Daisy found a letter from someone in 1906 who thinks she’s expecting a baby. And we think the baby was Maud. She says that . . . what was it, Daisy? They’ll have to allow us to get married . They can’t say that we’re too young now . Daisy, should we tell her, do you think?’ At Daisy’s look of horror, she continued, ‘No, you’re quite right, not until we’re sure. How sad it sounds! It’s like Romeo and Juliet, isn’t it,