The Silk Vendetta

The Engagement

Although I could never pass the mausoleum without recalling the terror of my incarceration there, my dreams were no longer haunted by that dank underground chamber with the rows of coffins and the lifelike statues.

Charles stayed away for a long time. He even spent the next Christmas at the home of a friend, coming home on Boxing Day just to see the family and not even staying the night. Our first meeting was a little embarrassing, but he had obviously determined to behave as though that distressing incident had never taken place, and I was glad to do the same. He was distant, cool, but not unfriendly. It was the best way to behave.

Julia had recovered from her disappointment because at Easter she was to be presented at Court and such an undertaking demanded all her attention. I imagined she hadn’t time to spare many thoughts for Drake. His name was never mentioned except by Lady Sallonger on one occasion who said: “What was the name of that rather charming young man who stayed here once? Was it Nelson or something?”

“Something like that, Lady Sallonger,” I said.

“I’d like you to read to me now, Lenore. It will send me to sleep. I had a rather bad night. I think I want more cushions … not that green one … the blue is softer.”

So Drake Aldringham seemed to have passed beyond our horizon.

It was decided that Julia should spend a week or so in London under the guidance of the Countess of Ballader. There were so many things she had to learn and she must be ready in every way for the great occasion.

Grand’mere was to go with her, so that she could study the current fashions, for although her work was excellent and she had that something which is called by the French “je ne sais quoi” and was entirely hers, there was a possibility that she might not be au fait with the very latest fashion. She might also acquire some new materials other than those which came to her from Spitalfields. Miss Logan, who knew of these matters having served in a very aristocratic family, assured Lady Sallonger that this was necessary.

I was with Lady Sallonger—as I often was now—when Grand’mere came to her. I was always struck by Grand’mere’s dignity. It was so much a part of her and it demanded immediate respect.

“Forgive me for disturbing you, Lady Sallonger,” she said, “but I must speak to you on a matter that is very important.”

“Oh dear,” sighed Lady Sallonger, who had an aversion to matters that were important and might be left to her to decide.

“It is this. I am to go to London. Yes, it is necessaire for Miss Julia to go. And we must see what is being worn and what we can do to give her the finest wardrobe of the season … yes, yes. I am happy for all this, but I could not go without my granddaughter. It is necessaire that I should have her with me.”

Lady Sallonger opened her eyes very wide. “Lenore,” she cried. “But I need Lenore here. Who will read to me? We are re-reading East Lynne. I need her to look after me.”

“I know that Lenore is of great service to you, Lady Sallonger, but I could not work well if she were not with me … and this is for one week only … perhaps a day or so more. Miss Logan is very good. And there is Miss Everton. They can all serve you.”

“It is quite impossible.”

They looked steadily at each other—two indomitable women, each accustomed to having her own way. It was a tribute to Grand’mere’s character and perhaps her unusual position in the household, that she won the day. Self-absorbed as she was, Lady Sallonger realized die importance of getting Julia launched into society. Grand’mere must go to London and it was clear that she would not go unless I went with her.

Lady Sallonger eventually pursed her lips into a pout and said: “I suppose I shall have to let her go, but it is not very convenient.”

“I know how you appreciate my granddaughter,” said Grand’mere with a touch of irony, “but I must have her with me. Otherwise I could not go.”

“I do not see why not… .”

“Ah, my lady, it is not always easy to see the ‘why not’ for what is necessary for others. i do not see why Miss Logan cannot look after you, and since Lenore is such a comfort to you, you will readily see why i cannot do without her on this very important occasion.”

Grand’mere was triumphant.

“It is time you had a little rest from her,” she said when we were alone. “She is demanding more and more of you. I can see that as the years pass … unless something happens to prevent it … you will be her slave. It is not what I wish for you.”

I was very excited at the prospect of going to London. Cassie was downcast because she would not be accompanying us. There was a suggestion that she should come but Lady Sallonger had very firmly said that she would need her to share some of my duties with Miss Logan.

“It is only for a week or so,” I told Cassie, “and I shall tell you all about it on my return.”

So Julia and I set out with Grand’mere on a rather blustery March day, travelling by rail, which was far more convenient than going by carriage. Cobb met us at the station and took us to the house in Grantham Square.

I was very excited, riding through the streets of London. Everyone seemed to be in a great hurry and there was bustle everywhere. Hansom cabs and broughams sped through the streets at such a rate that I feared they would ride over people in their haste. But no one seemed to think this extraordinary so I supposed it was the usual state of affairs.

As we came into Regent Street Grand’mere was alert. She spoke the names of the shops aloud. Peter Robinson’s… Dickens and Jones … Jay’s. I caught glimpses of splendid looking goods in the windows. Grand’mere was purring like a contented cat.

Grantham Square was in one of the many fashionable residential parts of London. The house was tall, the architecture Georgian and elegant. There were steps to a portico with two urns on either side supported by flimsily clad nymphs and in the urns was a display of tulips. Cobb deposited us at the house and took the carriage round to the mews at the back.

There was a butler, a footman and several servants—slightly more than those we had at The Silk House. Sir Francis was not at home so we were taken to our rooms by the housekeeper who asked us to let her know if there was anything we needed. She was an authoritative looking lady and rather formidable in her black bombazine which rustled when she walked. Her name was Mrs. Camden.

Grand’mere and I were to share a room. It was at the top of the house and large and airy. There were two beds and a small alcove in which was a basin and ewer.

Grand’mere said: “I think we shall be comfortable here. At least we are together.”

I smiled at her. I knew she was determined not to leave me alone in a house to which Charles might come back.

They were interesting days. Sir Francis arrived later that night. He was very courteous to Grand’mere. He said he had been delayed and hoped that we had been well looked after. The Countess of Ballader was arriving the next day and she would then get to work with Julia.

He wanted to take Grand’mere to the Spitalnelds works to show her the new looms and the modern way of weaving, which was causing some distress to the workers, who always thought that when something new came in it threatened their jobs.

“There are always troubles,” he said.

Grand’mere explained to him what a help I was to her and how I had a natural flair for matching styles with materials.

“She will be another such as yourself,” said Sir Francis, eyeing me with approval.

“I think that may well be so,” replied Grand’mere fondly.

I was so tired that night that I was asleep as soon as I got into bed and I awoke next morning to a feeling of excitement.

The Countess of Ballader arrived next day and took charge of Julia. She was to stay in the house while we were there. There was so much Julia had to learn. On those occasions when I saw her—and these were not often for she was almost always being put through her paces by the indefatigable Countess—I heard that on the great day she must have her hair dressed in such a manner as to support the three plumes, and a veil must be worn; her curtsy never seemed to please the Countess, though she could not see what was wrong with it. What was a curtsy anyway? One just bobbed down. Why should it be so difficult to learn? And her waist was not small enough; she had to be fitted for new corsets and she knew they were going to squeeze her so painfully that they made her red in the face; and that would be wrong too.

Poor Julia! Being launched into society seemed to be more a strenuous ordeal than a pleasant experience. But her excitement remained, though she did admit that she might be a failure at her first ball and she was terrified that no one would ask her to dance.

I had a happier time. Grand’mere and I explored London together. We looked in shop windows; we walked through the departments. Grand’mere noted the latest fashions … not only in the shops but on the ladies in the streets. There was a lack of chic, she said. She did not need to learn anything from them.

She bought a few materials and discussed with me how they should be made up.

Sir Francis took Grand’mere to Spitalfields. She came back preoccupied, I thought.

It was fun sharing a room with her, for we used to lie in bed and talk before we slept.

She said: “All this fuss … for one young girl. It seems an extraordinary custom, does it not? A girl cannot go into society and meet others of her class until she has been approved by the Court. And what is that encounter? A bob of the knees and … pass on. And yet there she is … in court gown, plumes and veil… after months of preparation. What do you think? Does it not make you laugh?”

“I think there is something rather obscene about it.”

“Obscene? What is this?”

“Well, I mean parading her… showing off what she has in the hope that some man will think her worthy to be his wife.”

“Ah. That is so. You think it is … how shall I say? … demeaning to our sex.”

“Is it not?”

Grand’mere was thoughtful and at length she said: “It would seem to me, ma petite, that we have to fight hard for our place in the world. To be equal with a man one must be so much better, so much more clever. It is something I have always known. Here am I. I have a talent for materials … for style … and because of it I am a guest… or almost a guest… in the house of Sir Francis Sallonger. He treats me with respect always. He is, after all, a gentleman. But we have seen how precarious our position can be through the odious Monsieur Charles. We have to guard against that. Yes, this is in some way demeaning … this setting up Mademoiselle Julia on auction as it were, but, ma cherie, I find myself wishing that all this was being done for you because if you were launched into society you would have a chance of meeting people whom you could not otherwise. It is a great anxiety to me. I think of it often. Now … you are safe. I am here to guard you. But I am not young … and there will come a day …”

“No!” I cried involuntarily. The thought of life without Grand’mere was something I could not bear to consider.

“Oh, but I am well. I am strong … there are many years left to me yet. But before they are over my dearest dream is to see you settled. I want for you a husband not necessarily rich … but good. He must be good. I want to see you with little ones. For, believe me, they are the greatest comfort a woman can find. I had this comfort with my Marie Louise. Your grandfather was a good man. He died young and I was left with my daughter. When she died I thought I had died, too, for the world seemed to have nothing left for me until they put you into my arms… and since then, it has been us two against the world.”

“Oh, Grand’mere,” I said, “never talk about leaving me.”

“There is only one thing in the world which could make me do that. Before anything in the world I want to see you happily settled … taken care of. I want to see that before I go.”

”I can take care of myself.”

“Yes … you will. That is what I tell myself. I took care of myself when I was left. I worked for the St. Allengeres. I was important to them … my knowledge of silks, my talent for styles. I was of great use to them.”

“And they let you go.”

“Yes, because of you. I could not have stayed there in that close community where everyone knew the business of everyone else. They knew I had to get away … so they asked Sir Francis to take me.”

“And he did.”

“He was getting a bargain. He knew of my skills. And he did this because Monsieur St. Allengere asked him to. Although there is much rivalry between the branches of the family and religious differences … blood ties are strong and they go back through the centuries.”

“How strange it is that there should be these two branches of that family … both engaged in business … meeting occasionally although they are rivals.”

“It is … how you say? … symbolic. It is like the Church. There is a schism. One goes one way, one the other. With the Reformation came the split in the family. The Catholic side and the Huguenot side. They are opposed in religion and in business—although they are in different countries—they vie with each other. In England there is not the deep feeling for religion as there is in Villers-Mure, I believe. Oh… there is contention between them … but they visit now and then, each wanting to know what the other is doing. They are the friendly enemies.”

“And what of you, Grand’mere, for you are of Villers-Mure?”

“My religion is to care for those I love. I am one of those who love someone more than a doctrine. Perhaps I am wrong but I could never care whether I worshipped in one way or an-other. I feel that God will understand.”

“I know He will,” I said. “And I will say that you are a better Christian than many who are outwardly devout.”

“What a serious conversation! How did it start? Oh, I know. The parade of Julia. I hope she will do well and find the husband who satisfies all… most of all herself.”

There was silence for a while, then she went on: ”I had an interesting time with Sir Francis. They have some wonderful looms nowadays. He is very proud of them but…”

I waited and there was silence again.

“You were going to say something, Grand’mere,” I prompted.

“Oh yes … that Sir Francis is a little … how shall I say? … anxious.”

“What should he be anxious about?”

“There is one thing. I believe the business is not as prosper-ous as it was.”

“But he is very rich. He has The Silk House … this house … and all those servants.”

“So much to keep up. As you say … the house, the ser-vants, the sons, the daughters and Lady Sallonger. He has many| commitments, has he not?”

“He must be very rich, Grand’mere.”

“Those who have much can lose so much more.”

“Do you really think he is worried about money?”

“I daresay if he lost the business tomorrow he would still be comparatively rich. He has property and many assets, I am sure. But he is anxious about the business. He did hint that a great deal of silks are coming into the country. There are still echoes of the Fontainebleau agreement. You see, the French have al-ways had a reputation and the very fact that a material is French gives it an advantage over that which is produced here.”

“Did he tell you he was worried?”

“No, but he said that he needs desperately something which is new … something which is going to take the public by storm … something not too expensive so that it can appeal to a great number of people besides the elite … something that we can bring out in various forms … very special and very expensive For some … and in a cheaper version for everybody to wear.”

“And will he do this?”

“My dear Lenore, the first thing to do is find this miracle material. He believes people are working on it in France. His people are too. Perhaps it is like a race. Who shall find it first and make it his own.”

“Is this what he is uneasy about?”

“I am sure the business needs a boost. He must get back lost business. That is what I understand. I thought he looked a little lired. He was quite flushed and very breathless … and he talked to me with more vehemence than usual. Mon Dieu! Did you hear that? The clock is striking midnight. These night time chats are good, are they not, but we must not carry them on until the next day. Good night, my precious one.”

I was soon fast asleep.

It was two days later when it happened.

It seemed almost as though Grand’mere had known it was coming. Sir Francis was taken ill. He had had a mild stroke from which it appeared he would recover; the unfortunate fact was that he was not in Grantham Square when it had happened.

He was in the house of a Mrs. Darcy in St. John’s Wood. Mrs. Darcy had been terrified and had called a doctor at once. He had thought it advisable not to move Sir Francis immediately so he had remained in Mrs. Darcy’s house for several days. His own doctor went there. Charles and Philip were sent for. If it had happened in Grantham Square it would have been so much easier, but the significant point was that he had been taken ill at two o’clock in the morning.

Charles took over quite efficiently. He thought it was imperative that his father be brought back to Grantham Square without delay.

This was eventually arranged and everyone breathed more freely, particularly when they knew that Sir Francis would recover.

The Countess was rather voluble to Grand’mere on the subject. A friendship had grown up between them and this seemed to include me. They were together a great deal discussing Julia’s requirements and as the Countess agreed that Grand’mere could produce gowns which were more striking, and at the same time elegant, than any dressmaker she knew, there was an immediate rapport between them.

She said she would like to ”bring me out.” She thought I had more “originality” than Julia. Julia was too eager. “Trying too hard,” she called it, “and showing it.” “It’s a social sin to show one’s eagerness,” she explained. “One must not miss an opportunity, of course, one must be alert, but assume indifference. It is not easy to achieve the right attitude but it is the way to success.” And she thought I would do this better than Julia.

During our conversations she became very frank about her self and she had a racy turn of expression which was not exactly what one would have expected from a Countess.

“I was not born to the purple,” she said, when she was in a confidential mood. “Plain Dulcie Dorman me. I had a way with me which the men seemed to like … particularly the old men. There are some who attract the young, some the middle-aged, but for me it was the old ones. I was on the stage. It was the only thing for a girl like me … good looking with her wits about her. The Earl saw me. He was quite a duck really … a bit doddering … all of thirty-five years older than I was. But he doted on me … and if mere was one thing I liked it was being doted on. So I married him… and for five years I looked after him. Quite fond of him, I was … and there was I, the Countess, living with my old Earl in a house nearly as big as Paddington Station and as draughty. It wasn’t exactly comfort, but I liked being a lady. Then he died and what was there for me? Debts … debts … debts and a distant cousin turning up to take the house. As for me, I was pretty nearly on my uppers … but not quite, so I looked about to see what I could do. I was at least the Countess of Ballader and that was a good deal. So I took up this business of looking after girls. I soon learned about it and I’d had some good clients. And here I am. I’Ve had my ups and downs…and I’m glad of it. I’ve been plain Dulcie Dorman who could high kick with the best… and I’ve been the Earl’s lady. I’ve seen life from both sides, you might say. That’s a help. It makes you understand people’s troubles. One thing I’ve learned is don’t judge or blame … because you can only get half the story, anyway. Take Sir Francis.” She smiled at us benignly. “I liked him. I knew how things were. It’s lucky it worked out fairly well. If he had died in the lady’s bed, the fat would have been in the fire. Julia’s presentation would have had to be postponed. Of course there haven’t been the rigid conventions at Court since Albert died. He was responsible for that strict moral tone; he liked to visit the sins of the fathers on the children. Her Majesty is not really so strict. But if he had died in his mistress’s bed, how should we have been able to keep the press away from such a spicy piece of news. Yes, that would have put a finish to Julia’s debut.”

“This relationship,” said Grand’mere, “is it of long standing?”

”Oh years and years. It’s been a steady affair. There’s nothing promiscuous about Sir Francis. Poor Mrs. Darcy, she is very upset.”

We were to extend our stay on account of Sir Francis’s illness and we should be in London for at least another week. In one of our nightly chats, Grand’mere talked to me about Sir Francis.

“As the Countess says, one must not blame him,” she said. “He is a good man. He loved Mrs. Darcy and she him. It was like a marriage.”

“But what of Lady Sallonger?”

“Lady Sallonger is married to her ailments. You see how it is. After Cassie’s birth she wanted no more children. There are needs in a man’s life … and if he cannot have them where he expects to, he looks elsewhere.” “So Sir Francis looked to Mrs. Darcy?” “That would seem so,” she said. “He must not be blamed. He looks after Lady Sallonger. All her whims are granted. There was no unkindness … and unkindness is the real sin.” There flashed into my mind the memory of Charles running up the steps and looking back at me in the frightening darkness; I thought of the boys who had killed Willie’s dog. She was right. Unkindness was the real sin.

* * *

Charles was in the house but I had lost my fear of him. He treated me when we met in that cool manner which indicated that he had no interest in me and no longer felt rancour. It was different with Philip. He was pleased to see me.

The two brothers spent a great deal of time with their father, who, although confined to his bed, where he would be for at least a month, was well enough to receive visitors; and as he was anxious to talk to his sons, the doctor came to the conclusion that to try to prevent that would have distressed Sir Francis too much.

I gathered there was a great deal to talk about.

Grand’mere said mat decisions were being made. Philip was very serious, but he was especially charming to me. When i came down to breakfast one morning he was there alone. His face lit up when he saw me.

He said: “I’m so glad you are here, Lenore. So much is happening really.”

“You mean because of your father?”

He nodded. Then he gave me that very pleasant smile of his. “I always like talking to you. You always seem to understand. This is going to make a great difference. Both Charles and I have done with education from now on. Well, it’s about time. It is really what I wanted and I have been urging my father to allow it for some time. Charles and I are going into the business at once.”

“Yes, I rather thought that would be so.”

”Our father is recovering but he will never be the same again. The doctor says he will have to take great care. This is a warning. So from now on we are in the business. Of course I didn’t want it to happen this way. However, I want to talk to you some time.” He looked round. “It’s not easy here. Perhaps we could go somewhere.”

“Where?” I asked.

“We could go down to Greenwich. I love the river. There is an inn there I know—the Crown and Sceptre. They say the whitebait there are the best in London.” He grimaced. “I’d like us to go alone. But I suppose that is out of the question.”

I did not answer.

“We’ll have to have a chaperone,” he went on, “or it would he considered improper.”

“Well then, if you want to talk we might as well do it here.”

“We’ll take your grandmother along. She’ll know what I’m talking about.”

“That would be lovely.”

Julia came down.

“Hello,” said Philip. “Getting ready for the fray?”

Julia helped herself from the sideboard. “The Countess is quite a dragon,” she said. “I get little peace.”

“All in a good cause,” said Philip lightly.

“You’re lucky,” said Julia, glancing at me. “You don’t have to suffer like this. I shall never get my weight down and those corsets are killing me.”

“I shouldn’t eat all that bacon then if I were you,” Philip advised.

“I have to keep my strength up. I think that lavender coloured brocade your grandmother has bought is lovely.”

“It’s beautiful,” I agreed, “and have you seen the style it’s going to be made in?”

“Oh no. They don’t think it is necessary to consult me. Your grandmother and the Countess are like a couple of old witches doing this and that… and never letting me know a thing.”

“I’m sure my grandmother would show you all the patterns if you wished to see them.”

“Sometimes I’m sick of the whole thing, and I want to go home. Then there will be all the balls and things …”

“You’ll love them,” I said. “You know it is what you have always wanted.”

”I thought I did … till now.” She sighed and helped herself to more bacon.

“It won’t be a young lady the Countess has to launch, it will be an elephant,” said Philip with brotherly candour, for there was no doubt that she was putting on weight. I think her nervousness made her eat more than otherwise she would have done.

I left them at the table but Philip caught me up.

“Perhaps today,” he said. “The late afternoon and we’ll get there about half past six. You’ll enjoy it. Ask your grandmother.”

When I told Grand’mere she seemed very pleased.

“I like him,” she said. “He’s the best of the bunch.”

Since she was so pleased I could look forward to the evening with even greater pleasure.

Philip was an expert with the oars. He said he liked rowing and had had plenty of practice at the University, so we could trust ourselves with him.

“I shall be in London a great deal now,” he told us. “This morning I have been to Spitalfields. There is a lot to be learned.”

Grand’mere said: “Your brother does not share your enthusiasm.”

“True,” agreed Philip. “In a way I’m rather pleased. I fancy it will give me a freer hand. I should hate interference.”

“He will be a sort of sleeping partner,” I said.

“Even the most prosperous business cannot afford sleeping partners,” stated Grand’mere. “It is necessary for all to do their share.”

”I don’t think he has the feeling for silk … or for business. Charles ought to go into Parliament… or law or something.”

“I am sure you will be successful,” I told him.

His brow clouded a little. “Do you know,” he said, “I think my father’s stroke was brought about through anxiety.”

“I think that could be very likely,” agreed Grand’mere.

“Do you mean he was worried about business?” I asked.

Philip nodded. “Things are not quite what they should be. I wouldn’t say this to anyone else, but you have always understood, Lenore, and as for you, Madame Cleremont, you are part of the business. No, certainly things are not what they should be.”

“I gathered that from your father some time ago,” said Grand’mere.

“It’s these foreign imports,” Philip explained. “Sales of our silks have declined and they go on declining.”

“Do you think there should be a duty on foreign goods?” I asked.

He was thoughtful. “It would be useful, of course. We could then price our materials higher. We would not have to compete so rigorously. But whether one believes in free trade or not is a big question. One has to ask oneself whether one would wish for it on other commodities. It would hardly be fair to expect a tariff on what suits us. Do we want it on silk because we are limping along?”

“What we need,” put in Grand’mere, “is to find some new style of weaving … something that produces a beautiful material … better in every way from what we have already.”

“A secret method,” I suggested.

“Exactly!” cried Philip, his eyes shining. “A secret method of producing something which has never been produced before with no one else knowing how it is done.”

“Wouldn’t they soon discover?” I asked.

“They might, but they would not be allowed to use it. There is such a thing as a patent. It prevents people by law from stealing someone else’s invention.”

“What a good thing!”

“First we have to find the invention,” said Philip ruefully. “Oh, here we are.”

We tied up the boat and climbed the stairs to the footpath.

“Greenwich has always appealed to me,” said Philip, “because it was one of the headquarters used by the Huguenot refugees. I always wonder whether my ancestors came here before they went to Spitalfields. They even have their own chapel here. I don’t think it is in existence now. And here is the Crown and Sceptre.”

The inn had bow windows to enable those seated there to get a good view of the river.

“They are noted for their whitebait,” said Philip, “so we must have that. Do you like whitebait, Madame Cleremont?”

“It depends,” replied Grand’mere. “It has to be freshly caught, I believe.”

“You can rely on that here.”

The innkeeper’s wife came up to talk to us. She knew Philip so obviously he was a frequent visitor. He would like to think of his ancestors coming here all those years ago.

”I was assuring my friends that the whitebait would be fresh,” he said.

“Why, bless you,” said the woman. “This morning it was swimming in the sea.”

“And you have the secret of cooking them just as they should be.”

“Oh, it is no secret. It is the only way to serve whitebait to my mind. I remember my mother throwing them into a layer of flour, all spread out on a cloth and shaking them to make sure they were all covered. Then they are thrown into a cauldron of boiling fat … just for a minute or so … then drain ‘em off and they’re ready to eat. Now you must be quick or they’ll lose their crispness. Served up with a sprinkling of lemon and a dash of cayenne pepper and they’re a real treat. And they should be washed down with the right liquid … say, some punch or iced champagne.”

“Which shall it be?” asked Philip.

We settled for the iced champagne.

Over this, Philip said:’ ‘My brother and I are going to France shortly. My father is hoping that our connections in Villers-Mure will let us work there for a short while. He is sure that we have a great deal to learn … discover how other people do things … get new ideas for the business.” He looked at Grand’mere. “It is your old home. What do you think? Is it a good idea?”

“It’s always useful to find out how people do things in other countries,” said Grand’mere.

“I wish we could produce right from the very start. I’ve often thought we should set up in India or China, which is the right sort of environment. In some parts of China I believe the silkworm is reared out of doors. That would surely get the best results. As it is we have to import our raw materials.”

”Even in Villers-Mure they have to have artificial heat for the mulberries,” said Grand’mere. “It is really cheaper to have the materials brought into the country and concentrate on the weaving.”

“Of course you are right,” said Philip. He turned to me. “Are we boring you with all this talk, Lenore?”

“Not in the least.”

“Lenore is interested in silk and I think she has a special feeling for the finished product,” said Grand’mere.

“I expect you will be coming up to town quite a lot now.”

”Why?” asked Grand’mere.

“Well, Julia will be here.”

“She will not need us,” I said. “She will be involved in social activities.”

“For which Lenore does not qualify,” added Grand’mere.

“Oh, Lenore is too young as yet.”

“I shall soon be sixteen,” I said.

“You seem older, doesn’t she, Madame Cleremont? So much more sensible than Julia.”

“This is my upbringing,” said Grand’mere. “Lenore is not in Julia’s position. There will be no bringing out for her.”

“I am glad of that,” said Philip earnestly.

“Why?” asked Grand’mere sharply.

“I don’t think it would suit Lenore … to be paraded. It’s all right for Julia … not Lenore.”

“You think Lenore is not one of the family and therefore …”

“I am thankful that she is not one of the family.”

He took my hand and pressed it and I saw Grand’mere’s eyes were shining. “I think,” she said, “that you and I feel that there is something rather … how do you say? … special about my granddaughter.”

“You and I seem to be in agreement about almost everything, Madame Cleremont.”

Grand’mere sat back and lifted her glass. “To the future,” she said. And I felt that the pair of them had sealed a pact.

We were all rather thoughtful on the way home and when we were in bed that night, Grand’mere said: “What a delightful young man Philip has grown into.”

“He is always gentle and kind.”

”So different from his brother. It is strange how people differ. Some say it is in their upbringing, but those two boys have been brought up together … and see what a difference.”

“Yes,” I said, thinking of Charles in the mausoleum.

“I believe he is fond of you. I mean … I know he is fond of you. What he said this evening …”

“What did he say … only that he was glad I was not one of the family.”

“You know what he meant. He is in love with you. He is waiting to say so only because you are so young. Perhaps in a year … you’ll be just on seventeen and …”

I laughed. “Oh, Grand’mere, you are romancing. Do you want so much to get me off your hands?”

“More than anything in the world 1 want your happiness. 1 want you to be cherished and loved. That is what I want … before I go.”

“I wish you would not talk about going.”

“I do not intend to go for a long time, but one must be practical. Look at Sir Francis … well one day and struck down the next. Oh, he has recovered they say, but he will never be the man he was. I should be so happy if I saw that everything was settled for you. Philip has always been fond of you. I have always known that he was the one. He has that wonderful enthusiasm for his business. He would be dedicated to his work, to his wife and his family.”

“Grand’mere, I feel you are making a situation to fit what you want.”

She shook her head. “Tonight he showed his feelings clearly. It was almost a proposal.”

“I did not see it as such. I think he was just trying to be kind because he thought I felt left out of this presentation business.”

“No. No. I am a happy woman tonight. I see the way ahead.”

“Well, Grand’mere, I am glad you are happy.”

“Good night, my child, and may the good God bless you.”

I lay awake thinking about what she had said. I tried to recall every moment of that visit to the Crown and Sceptre. What had Philip said that was so revealing? I knew that he liked me. He had always been kind and friendly and I had looked upon him and Cassie as my best friends in the house.

Had there really been something significant about that conversation—or had Grand’mere tried to fit it into her dreams? I suspected her of that now and then.

And myself … married to Philip! Most girls think of marrying when they get into their teens. They dream of knights and heroes of romance. St. George … No, nobody wanted a saint. Sir Lancelot was more eligible. He had been a sinner but a great lover. Loving recklessly was more attractive than slaying dragons. People like Nelson … Drake …

Drake, of course. There had been something exciting about him. Julia had recognized it. What if it had been Drake who had said what Philip did at the table in the Crown and Sceptre? What should I be feeling now?

Quite excited. Well, I was excited now, for it was exciting to be loved … if that was what Philip had meant by those cryptic words.

The days passed quickly. Charles and Philip left for France, for Sir Francis had recovered sufficiently to resume his normal life; and Grand’mere with Julia and myself returned to The Silk House.

Lady Sallonger greeted me rather peevishly telling me that she had had a very bad time. Miss Logan’s voice tired quickly, and Cassie did not put the same expression into the words as I did. We had remained away longer than we had said we would. She had all the anxiety of worrying about Sir Francis.

“If I could go to London and look after him I would be happy to do so,” she said. “But here I am … a poor invalid unable to move from my couch … and everyone deserting me. No one seems to realize that I cannot move about. 1 am quite chilled. Ring the bell for them to put some more coal on the fire and is that window open? Well, please close it and bring me my red rug … I cannot endure this blue one… . Oh, the fire, Henry … The red rug, Lenore … that blue one is so scratchy … and my skin is so delicate. See if you can find something to read to me.”

So it went on. Grand’mere was right in saying that Lady Sal-longer was getting more demanding than ever. She commanded that I be in attendance whenever I was not in the schoolroom.

I did manage to get to Grand’mere’s room. I told Lady Sal-longer that 1 was needed to help with Julia’s clothes. The one thing which we had managed to impress on Lady Sallonger was the importance of Julia’s coming out. She herself had “come out” so she knew all about it, although it was, of course, a much more demanding matter in those days when the Prince Consort was alive. Then things had been conducted with far more decorum. She had come out and been the success of the season. The offers she had had … !

I found her description of the London scene in her days more entertaining than sitting listening to her continual demands, so I encouraged her to speak of it and I learned what it meant to be a young girl in her days; and she grew quite animated remembering.

“There were afternoon parties where everyone was in full evening dress. Drawing Rooms, they called them. They had left those horrid little dark apartments in St. James’s Palace and were held in the Throne Boom at Buckingham Palace. We were selected with the greatest care in those days. Such a time it was … learning to curtsy and how to walk backwards. It was a nightmare … particularly with a train of about three or four yards in length. Those plumes and veils! And being stuffed into your corsets! It was agony for some of the girls. Of course I had a naturally slender waist. And all for a few minutes of being presented to Her Majesty. Oh dear, what days they were! And Sir Francis swept me off my feet before I had a chance with anyone else. I am sure I should have married a duke if I had not been caught up so quickly. How we danced in those days! My foot is going to sleep. Do massage it, Lenore.”

So we were back to the familiar, and dreams of past glories faded.

But I did manage to spend some time with Grand’mere. Emmeline was constantly clothed in the most expensive garments. Cassie, who was often with us, was very fond of Emmeline. She made up stories and was sure that, when it was dark, the three dummies came to life and talked about the triumphs they had enjoyed before they were turned into dummies by some wicked witch. She was sure Emmeline smiled inwardly when she was swathed in blue silk.

Julia was happier now. She was back at home. She enjoyed the dancing lessons in which I always had to take part as the gentleman, which I enjoyed very much too. Cassie used to sit watching us, applauding. But I loved best being in the sewing room, taking a turn at Grand’mere’s machine, feeling the softness of the silken materials and wishing they were being made for me.

Mia was getting fatter. I think anxiety made her eat even more than normal. I wondered what the Countess would say when she saw what weight Julia was putting on. Grand’mere was concerned that the dresses might not fit when the time came to wear them.

In due course Easter was with us and Julia was delivered by Miss Everton into the hands of the Countess and the real process had begun.

The workroom was very quiet. Cassie said Emmeline was sulking. Grand’mere made two dresses—one for Cassie and one for me—out of the material left over from Julia’s needs. We called them our coming out dresses.

August came and the season was drawing to an end. No dukes, viscounts, baronets or even a simple knight had asked for Julia’s hand. She was to come down to Epping for a few weeks’ rest after her strenuous time, and then she would go up to London again, and under the excellent guidance of the Countess of Bal-lader make a fresh onslaught onto London society.

Philip and Charles had returned from France. Philip came to the house occasionally. He spent a lot of time in the big work- room. I would be there often with Cassie and he would talk enthusiastically about what he had seen in France.

He was worried about his father’s health. Sir Francis would insist on going to Spitalfields and he did tire easily. Philip thought he should rest more—something which Sir Francis refused to do.

There was a great deal of excitement in London for Charles had produced some fantastic ideas which had been of inestimable value to those who were researching on new methods.

“Charles of all people,” marvelled Philip. ”Who would have thought he was interested enough? He has contrived some formula. He said he has been working it out for some time. So odd. He gave no sign. I should never have thought he was such a secretive fellow. … To keep something like that to himself! At first I was inclined to be skeptical … but it seems it is just the climax to something our people have been working on for years. I’m having a special loom made, Madame Cleremont, and I’m going to bring it up here to you, but this has to be secret until it is launched. I don’t want any rivals to get a whisper of it. It is going to produce a certain weave which will bring a special sheen … not seen before. I think it is going to produce something quite different from anything we have done before. And to think that the clue to this perfection has come through Charles!”

The new loom arrived and Grand’mere used to talk to me about it every night when we were alone.

“Philip is so excited,” she said. “I think we shall soon have perfected it. Who would have believed it of Charles! And the funny thing is now that he has given us the key which is bringing it to perfection he seems to have lost interest. Philip is most excited. I think we’ll have made it in a few days now. We shall have to make sure it remains Sallongers’.”

“There is that patent Philip mentioned at the Crown and Sceptre.”

“That’s right.”

Philip had been at The Silk House for about two weeks. He was caught up in the excitement.

“This could be something quite unique,” he kept declaring.

Then came the great day. Philip took the piece of silk material which Grand’mere handed to him and they looked at each other with shining eyes.

“Eureka!” shouted Philip.

He seized Grand’mere and hugged her. Then he turned to me, lifted me up and swung me round. He kissed me heartily on the lips.

“This is going to be the turn of the tide,” he said. “We will celebrate.”

“At the Crown and Sceptre,” said Grand’mere, “with whitebait and champagne.”

Cassie came in. She stared at us in amazement.

“It’s a great occasion, Cassie,” I cried. “That which has been sought has been found.

“Cassie must join us in the celebration,” I added.

Philip took the material and kissed it reverently. “This is going to bring success to the Sallongers,” he said.

“Don’t forget the patent,” I reminded him.

“Wise girl,” he cried. “I shall see to it this very day. We need a name for it.”

Grand’mere said: “Why not Lenore Silk? Lenore has had a hand in it.”

“No, no,” I cried. “That would be ridiculous. It is Charles’s really and yours, Philip … Grand’mere’s too. I have just stood by and done the fetching and carrying. Let’s call it Sallon Silk. That’s part of the family name and we have alliteration’s artful aid.”

On consideration it was decided that that was a good name. And that evening we sailed to Greenwich and, as Grand’mere had suggested, celebrated on whitebait and champagne.

For some time we talked of little but Sallon Silk. It was an instant success and there were articles about it in the papers. Sallongers were commended for their enterprise and the prosperity they were bringing to the country. ”There is no silk which can match its excellence,” said the fashion editors. “Nothing from China or India, Italy or even France can compare with it. Sallon is unique and we should be proud that it has been discovered by a British company.”

We used to talk about Sallon when we were in Grand’mere’s workroom. Philip was often there discussing new ways of turning the invention to advantage. At the moment it was very expensive and a Sallon Silk dress was an essential of every fashionable wardrobe; but Philip wanted to use the method for producing cheaper material and so putting it within the reach of many more women to possess a Sallon Silk dress.

It was now being made in the factories. New looms had been installed for the purpose and Grand’mere, to her delight, was experimenting with an idea to bring out a cheap version.

She, Cassie and I were caught up in the project. Julia was in London where the Countess had moved into the house in Grantham Square and she was chaperoning Julia on her engagements.

We were into another year. I should soon be seventeen. Grand’mere had always implied that that was an age when wonderful things would happen.

Then the blow fell. Sir Francis had another stroke and this time it was fatal.

It was a bleak January day when they brought his body to Epping for burial. The coffin lay in the house for two days before it was taken to the mausoleum. There was to be a service in the nearby church and then Sir Francis would be brought to his last resting place.

The whole family was assembled at the house. Lady Sallon-ger assumed great grief which I felt could not be genuine for she had seen so little of him and never seemed to miss him. She insisted on going to the service to see the last she said of “dear Francis.” She was carried down to the carriage, looking frail in her black garments and hat with the sweeping black ostrich feathers. She held a white handkerchief to her eyes and insisted that Charles should support her on one side and Philip on the other.

It was chilly in the church. The coffin stood on trestles throughout the service, then it was taken to the carriage and we made our slow ceremonial way to the mausoleum.

Standing there in the bitter wind memories came back to me. Several of the servants were there and I noticed Willie with the dog in his arms.

On the edge of the crowd was a stranger. She was dressed in black and there was a veil over her face. She looked tragic.

I knew at once who she was and I saw that Grand’mere did too.

“Poor woman,” she whispered.

It was Mrs. Darcy.

The summer had come. Philip was often at The Silk House. Grand’mere used to grow pink with pleasure when she heard his voice. He talked to us about the business.

“There is no doubt,” he said, “that the discovery of Sallon Silk has saved us from bankruptcy. Yes,” he continued, ”things were pretty bad. No wonder my father worried himself into an illness. The French were getting the better of us at every turn. They could produce so much cheaper and I suspect that they were cutting their prices just to wipe us out of the market. Well, we’ve retaliated. Sallon Silk has saved us.”

“Charles must be very proud.”

“He’s not in the office much. He says he’ll come when he’s found some other invention which will revolutionise the silk industry.”

“How very strange,” I said, “that he, who is not really interested—or doesn’t appear to be—should come up with this miraculous discovery.”

“Odd indeed. I begin to think he must have a big feeling for silk after all. He is now having what he calls a good time. I have to say he deserves it and as long as he is ready to settle down in time, we’ll let him continue.”

Now that I was approaching my seventeenth birthday it seemed that I should be out of the schoolroom. I should have liked to work more with Grand’mere. I was getting more and more immersed into the excitement of the new discovery and 1 loved designing gowns which would suitably show it off. There were now several kinds of silk based on the new invention and Philip was introducing new colours which would suit it best. He was constantly involved with dyers and discovering where, because of the local water, the best results could be achieved.

I looked forward to the days when he came and we would sit in Grand’mere’s room and talk. Cassie was often there. She would sit silently, listening, usually on a stool, her knees crossed and her hands clasped about them. She was very happy to be a part of the excitement.

My birthday was in November. Not a good time for a birthday, Julia had always said. It was too near Christmas. The best time for a birthday was in the middle of the year. She may have been right, but I was greatly looking forward to my seventeenth birthday, for it would be a sign that I had passed out of girlhood and was a young woman.

Had I been a daughter of the house there would have been a season for me; but of course there could not be one for a girl in my position.

Julia’s season did not appear, so far, to have done a great deal for her. She was still, as Grand’mere cynically said, “on the market.” She was quite discontented and, I think, a little deflated because she had had no proposal of marriage. As I said to Grand’mere, it must have had a demoralizing effect on a girl.

As for myself I was passing into a new phase. Lady Sallonger was very pleased about it. She was thinking up more tasks for me. “It is absurd … a girl of your age… going to the schoolroom every day. Why, I don’t doubt you could teach Miss Everton a thing or two. I want you to look at my tapestry. I think there is something wrong with the pattern.” That meant her stitches were at fault, but she blamed the design, not herself. “You can come to me in the mornings when you leave the schoolroom. I feel so lonely when I am having my glass of sherry. I want you to talk to me.”

I said to Grand’mere: “Lady Sallonger is going to find new ways of using my time when I leave the schoolroom.”

“We must try to defeat her,” replied Grand’mere.

My seventeenth birthday must be celebrated. She was going to arrange a very small party in her room—Cassie, herself and myself. She would mention it to Philip if he came home and perhaps he might like to join us.

The day came. It was a typical November day—the sort I always associated with birthdays. There was mist in the air and from my windows the forest seemed touched in mystery.

Lady Sallonger had given me a silk shawl which had once belonged to her.

She said: “We should have celebrated your birthday, Lenore, but for being in mourning for Sir Francis.”

”I understand,” I told her.’ ‘I really don’t want a celebration. I ‘m just glad to be seventeen.”

“Seventeen! I remember my seventeenth birthday. What a day! There was a party at the Hall. I wasn’t ‘out’ then. You would have loved the Hall. It was very grand, very baronial. Of course there was a great fuss when I married Sir Francis. My people were against it. Trade, you know …and they guessed that I should have married right at the top. I could tell you some tales.”

“I expect you will,” I could not help replying.

She missed the irony. In fact I was sure she did not listen to anything anyone else said.

I told her the silk shawl was lovely. It was. It was hand-painted with blue and pink butterflies on green leaves; but I was beginning to feel that it was not so wonderful to be seventeen if I were to be pressed into further duties.

In the afternoon Lady Sallonger developed a headache—a real one, which meant that she must stay in her room and lie in the dark. Miss Logan and I got her to bed and left her.

As I came out of her room I saw Philip coming up the stairs. He had just arrived.

“Oh, Philip,” I cried, “how nice that you have come home on my birthday!”

“But of course I did. Where is my mother?”

“She has just gone to bed. She has one of her headaches.”

“So you are free. I wanted to talk to you.”

He opened the door of his mother’s sitting room. “In here,” he said, “where we can be quiet.”

We went into the room. He shut the door and, putting his arms round me, kissed me.

“Happy birthday!” he said.

“Thank you, Philip.”

“At last you have reached it.”

“Yes, I’m seventeen. It does seem to have taken a long time to get there.”

He took my face in his hands. “I promised myself that I would wait until then.”

“For what?”

“I have something for you.” He fumbled in his pocket and took out a velvet covered case.

“What is it?” I asked. “For you. I hope you like it. If it doesn’t fit they can do something about it.” I opened the case and there was a ring. It was splendid—an emerald surrounded by diamonds.

“I thought the green would suit you,” he said. “Your eyes look a little greeny sometimes.”

“This forme, Philip!”

“It’s meant to mean something. An engagement ring.”

He took my left hand and slipped it on the third finger. Then he kissed it. “It is what I’ve wanted for a long time, Lenore.”

I was bewildered. Grand’mere had hinted at this, but I had never really believed her. I thought she was imagining what she wanted to happen.

“Lenore,” he went on, “I’ve loved you for such a long time, and all this excitement we’ve had lately has brought us closer together. Do you feel that?”

“Why … yes.”

“Then …”

“But Philip … I wasn’t expecting this. I feel so … I don’t know … so foolish really … so uncertain … not knowing.”

“Didn’t you know I was waiting for this day?”

“No.”

“I thought it was so obvious. You look a bit shocked. It is just the surprise, isn’t it? I mean you do care for me?”

“Of course I care for you. You’ve always been so good and kind to me. It’s just, I suppose, that I am not ready.”

I took the ring from my finger. “Philip … can’t we wait?”

He shook his head. “I’ve waited long enough. I want you now. I want us to be married. I want to share everything with you. We care about the same things … you and your grandmother. I can’t tell you what this has meant to me.”

I put the ring back into the case and gave it to him.

“Just a little while please, Philip.”

He smiled ruefully. “Not so long,” he said. “Promise me … not for long.”

“No,” I said. “It won’t be for long.”

He went to his room, a little less exuberantly than he had come in; and I went upstairs.

Grand’mere came in.

“Was that Philip? Why, what’s the matter? You look…how Is it… not yourself.”

“Philip has asked me to marry him.”

Joy suffused her face; her eyes sparkled and the colour in her cheeks made her look like a young woman. “I am so happy,” she said. “This is what I dream of. Now 1 am the happiest woman in the world.”

“I haven’t said I will, Grand’mere.”

She drew back and stared at me in amazement. “What?”

“Well, it was so unexpected. I…”

“You mean you refused him!”

“Well, not exactly.”

Her relief was immense.

“I was just so surprised.”

“It doesn’t surprise me. Why, you were meant for each other.”

“But I am only seventeen, Grand’mere. I feel I haven’t lived long enough.”

“I know … and I’m old enough. He is a good young man. He will be a good husband. He has a purpose in life. I have prayed to God and the saints every night for this. What did you tell him?”

“He offered me a ring. …”

She clasped her hands, smiling.

”He put it on my finger, but I couldn’t… It was too soon.”

“No, no. It is the right timing. Your birthday! What could be more romantic? Oh, Lenore, you are not going to be foolish, are you? If you turn away from him you will regret it all your life.”

“I cannot be sure. …”

”I can and I know what is best. Lenore, I beg of you, do not he foolish over this. You will never find one so good … so worthy. I know. I have seen much of the world.”

“I want to forget it. He will be here soon and so will Cassie.”

That evening stands out in my memory. There were just the four of us—myself, Grand’mere, Cassie and Philip—and that was enough.

How we talked! I thought of it afterwards, and how Philip’s eyes were constantly meeting mine, and his were so loving and tender. I felt cherished and so happy to be with those who loved me dearly.

Philip talked a great deal about Villers-Mure which enchanted Grand’mere. He had been deeply impressed with the place and not only with the production of silk. Grand’mere listened intently, now and then joining in. I could see she was back in her childhood. Cassie sat silently clasping her hands about her knees gazing from one to the other of us and now and then sparing a glance for the dummies as though she really believed that they were part of the company. She was a fanciful girl, Cassie, and so glad to be included in our little circle.

Philip was saying that Villers-Mure was almost more Italian than French.

“That is how it is with places on the border,” said Grand’mere. “There were many Italians there and we were so near. There was bound to be some Italian blood among us, though we were under the French flag.”

“There is a strong feeling for music there,” went on Philip, “and I feel that came from Italy. Do you know, one could hear them singing in the fields and some of them had magnificent voices. It was often Italian opera. I remember once standing spellbound for a rendering of La Donna e mobile; and on another occasion I heard two singing a duet from Trovatore.” He began to sing himself: Ai nostri monti ritorneremo. We applauded and he said: ‘ ‘You should have heard that as I did in the open air.”

“Oh yes,” said Grand’mere. “They loved the music. They loved to sing and dance.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” said Philip. “They are light-hearted and merry, but very quick to anger I might say over something quite trivial. They can be really murderous. And then there is the French element … the realists versus the romantics. I can’t tell you how fascinating I found it apart from their methods in the workroom.”

“Was Monsieur St. Allengere frank with you?” asked Grand’mere.

Philip laughed. “Up to a point. They are naturally not prepared to give away secrets. I wonder what they think now that we have discovered Sallon Silk.”

“Would they know about it?” I asked.

“Know of it? The whole world knows of it. It’s a major breakthrough in manufacture. I expect they are grinding their teeth in fury because they didn’t think of it first.”