“My goodness, your German is appalling,” said Hugh. “What have you been doing all year?”
“I would tell you, but I may faint at any moment. Do bring Fr?ulein and me some refreshment, I implore you.”
“I’ll be right back,” said Hugh, jogging off towards the marquee. Beatrice wished she had asked for another cup of lemonade, but she did not like to call after him.
“Miss Nash, this is Fr?ulein Gerta—Gerta, das ist Miss Nash,” said Eleanor with the bored air of one used to the flow of smooth and unimportant social niceties.
“Freut mich, Sie kennenzulernen,” said Beatrice. The nanny nodded her head and broke into a smile that transformed her from stone to apple-cheeked youthfulness.
“Ganz meinerseits,” she replied.
“You speak German?” said Eleanor. Her blue eyes flashed interest at once, and she threw off her air of boredom as she smiled widely. “Oh my goodness, perhaps you were sent to save me. I have been struggling like the devil to pick it up, but Fr?ulein speaks no English at all, and it is too exhausting to be always throwing myself across the chasm of understanding.”
“I expect your husband is fluent in both languages?” asked Beatrice.
“Yes, he is, damn him, and he seems to think it should be easy for me to be the same,” said Eleanor. “Now do sit down here beside me and tell me do you think it at all reasonable for him to accept a summons home and leave me surrounded by a German staff who speak no English?”
“I have often found that necessity does make one pick up languages a little faster,” said Beatrice. She sank cautiously into a canvas deck chair. “I once had to lease an apartment in Cairo…”
“Yes, yes,” said Eleanor, tossing her beautiful head and threatening to dislodge her hat. “But could he have at least engaged a bilingual nanny or lady’s maid? No, Fr?ulein Gerta and Liesl the maid are from families who have served his family for centuries, and the Baron’s family only has one way of doing things.” Here she assumed a slightly deeper voice and wagged a finger at herself. She crossed her eyes while doing so, and Beatrice could not help laughing.
“I hear your husband is young and handsome and that you are both very much in love,” said Beatrice, who had heard the same whispered by several admiring matrons during the afternoon.
“Oh, he is besotted, and I have him twined around this little finger of mine,” said Eleanor. “But on this one issue he is immovable because his mother insists I cannot be presented at court until I have enough German to answer should their Imperial Majesties stoop to speak to me.” She sighed and kicked off her white, heeled shoes onto the grass. “With two thousand people circulating in the most complicated of processions, I would be lucky if a footman asked for my wrap.”
“Oh dear,” said Beatrice, trying not to grin.
“And so I am confined to making little signs and pointing like a blind person,” Eleanor complained, leaning down to massage toes encased in white silk stockings.
Beatrice was not quite sure about the analogy, but she lost her train of thought as she saw Hugh coming across the grass, bearing with him not only Daniel but also Harry Wheaton and a footman with many glasses carried on a tray with legs.
“We weren’t sure what everyone would want to drink, so we brought everything,” said Harry Wheaton, his face as innocent and unself-conscious as that of a spaniel puppy.
As the footman set the tray table next to Eleanor’s chair, Beatrice stood up to make a hasty withdrawal, but Wheaton forestalled her. “I say, Eleanor, I made an absolute donkey of myself insulting Miss Nash the other day, and I beg you to help me make my apologies.”
“Did you really, Harry?” said his sister. “Well, you may have to leave immediately, because if Miss Nash is not of a mind to forgive you, I’m afraid I must choose her over you. She is going to teach me German.”
“Really, it was nothing,” said Beatrice. “But I should find Mrs. Kent. If you’ll excuse me…”
“But we will certainly not excuse you,” said Eleanor. “We will have my oaf of a brother removed by several footmen. Do pass me some champagne, Daniel.”
“Miss Nash, I really do apologize, most sincerely,” said Wheaton. “Do stay and have a glass of champagne—or have a glass of lemonade, as I intend to do.” He picked up a glass of lemonade, causing his sister and Daniel to go off into peals of laughter.
“I forgive you, Mr. Wheaton,” said Beatrice, “if only for the sake of your mother, who has been so kind to me, and your sister, who is so charming.”
“I am often so forgiven,” he said. “I will drink this lemonade in their honor and promise to be a better man hereafter.”
“Good,” said Eleanor. “Now Beatrice can sit down and we can all be comfortable while Daniel reads us some of his poems.” The footman offered lemonade and champagne, and Beatrice took the lemonade and promised herself it would be the last time.
“I’m an invited guest, not the entertainment,” said Daniel. “I only show my poems on the most serious of occasions.”
“You used to show me one for a penny,” said Eleanor. “I have a whole box of ditties tied up with a tartan ribbon from my twelfth birthday.”
“I was less discriminating in those days,” said Daniel. “Discrimination being less affordable when one is a small boy with no pocket money.”
As the talk ebbed and flowed, Hugh pulled up a deck chair and Daniel sprawled on the grass with no regard for his light flannel trousers. Harry Wheaton perched on the end of his sister’s chaise, and there was talk of a picnic expedition to the hop fields and of the new bathing machines at Camber Sands, and then Eleanor was expressing a wish that Beatrice accompany her to bathe as neither Fr?ulein nor the maid enjoyed the water and had made such a fuss last time. Beatrice, pleased to be still and cool and among this laughing circle of young people as the shadows lengthened across the lawn, felt for a moment released from care and repeated to herself that it had been a happy decision to come to Rye.
—
When the time came to leave, Agatha Kent seemed distracted and was still looking about her after she, her nephews, and Beatrice had already taken their farewells of Lady Emily. “There he is,” said Agatha and waved her sunshade quite rudely at the Headmaster, who seemed to be slipping away down a side path.
The Headmaster changed direction and came to say goodbye. “Lovely afternoon,” he said.
“We have been looking for you everywhere,” said Agatha. “You have been positively elusive.”
“I have been looking for you too,” said the Headmaster. “Quite impossible in the crush, of course.” The small group of guests remaining on the large lawn did not seem to Beatrice to qualify as a crush, and Agatha’s pursed lips suggested she thought the same.
“Mrs. Fothergill seems to be under the extraordinary impression that Miss Nash should appear at the governors’ meeting tomorrow,” said Agatha. “I am sure she meant no offense to your independence and judgment, Headmaster, but I did suggest it would be the height of rudeness to suggest any debate of your decision in such matters.”
“I appreciate your support, Mrs. Kent,” said the Headmaster. He looked uncomfortable around the neck and pulled at his collar. “I do hope my letter to you, Miss Nash, indicated that a final approval of our Board of Governors was usual.”
“And usually automatic,” added Agatha.
“Quite so,” said the Headmaster. “And it seems to me that Miss Nash has little to fear from any last-minute candidate.”
“So there is a candidate?” said Agatha.
“Quite sudden and unexpected,” said the Headmaster. “I assure you I did not suggest nor promote the young man in question, but it has been argued persuasively that should we deny the board a chance to hear from all parties, we may be open to criticism at a later date.”
“Bettina Fothergill’s work,” said Agatha.