‘Ah well,’ I said. ‘I’m here now. Have you any idea what I’ll be doing?’
‘Hiding out here with me for a couple of hours is your first duty, m’girl. Then when the heavy work has been done we shall swan imperiously about the place doling out soggy canapés and cheap sparkling wine as though they were the food and drink of the Olympian gods.’
‘That sounds like a workable plan,’ I said. ‘I don’t suppose you have any biscuits?’
‘Funny you should ask,’ she said, reaching into a cupboard behind her. ‘I happen to have snaffled a plateful from under Cook’s eternally grumpy nose this very morning. Help yourself.’
It was going to be quite a pleasant day after all.
It turned out to be a most pleasantly relaxing afternoon. Maude, who revealed herself to be a game old girl, had been excellent company and had provided me with more than enough household gossip to keep Lady Hardcastle amused for weeks, but eventually we had been rounded up by Jenkins and assigned our party duties.
I was, as predicted, given the task of mingling unobtrusively with a tray of limp nibbles and warm fizz. Other than that we were to direct guests to the facilities if asked and to keep them out of the library, which had been given over to the band to use to store instrument cases and to relax during their breaks. It wasn’t onerous work.
Clarissa had exhibited unaccustomed determination and had overridden her mother’s original choice of string quartet, insisting instead that Roland Richman’s Ragtime Revue be engaged – a London-based band of some repute – and had booked them herself at extremely short notice. Lady Farley-Stroud’s disapproval had been loud and hearty, but she had eventually been persuaded that it was not, despite her firm belief to the contrary, her night and that the young people would prefer something a little more lively and up to date. I was grateful to Maude for telling me all this – it made Lady Farley-Stroud’s loud exclamations of enjoyment and attempts to tap her feet appreciatively all the more entertaining.
Lady Hardcastle had made her customary unobtrusive entrance somewhere between the early arrivals and the stragglers and it wasn’t until nearly nine by the hall clock that we spotted each other and she came over to ask how things were getting along.
‘Not so badly, my lady,’ I said, proffering my tray. ‘Do help yourself to an over-salted snack and some champagne-style vin de table.’
‘I see a career for you as head waiter at the Ritz with a line of patter like that.’
‘Thank you, my lady. Have you been here long? Are you having fun?’
‘Oh, you know how it is. I’ve been to better parties, but I’ve been to far worse. Oh, but Clarissa’s London friends are quite fun. They seem to have adopted me as some manner of Eccentric Aunt figure so I’m not wanting for respectful admirers.’
‘Not a racy big sister, then?’
‘Sadly not. I think my Disreputable Aunt years are well and truly upon me. What of you? Have you knocked the staff into shape?’
‘There’s at least one I wouldn’t mind knocking on her derrière, but all is generally well, thank you,’ I said.
‘Splendid, splendid. Oh, look out, here comes Captain Summers.’
‘Bad news?’
‘Frightful bore. Newly returned from India.’
‘Ah, Lady Hardcastle, there you are. I thought I’d lost you,’ said a suntanned, luxuriantly-moustached man of about my own age.
‘What ho, Captain Summers,’ said Lady Hardcastle. ‘No, not lost, just mingling. Armstrong, this is Captain Roger Summers. Captain Summers, my maid, Armstrong.’
‘Oh,’ he said with some bewilderment. ‘How d’you do.’ He turned quickly away from me and back to Lady Hardcastle. I curtseyed slightly, but politely, and melted a step or two backwards, invoking the servants’ mystical powers of invisibility.
‘Is this what parties are like back in Blighty these days?’ he blustered. ‘Not sure I’ve quite got the hang of it yet. And this dashed awful music? American, isn’t it?’
‘It’s quite the thing with the young people,’ she said. ‘Give it a chance, I’m sure you’ll like it.’
‘Bah. Give me a military band any day,’ he said, dismissively. ‘And this weather. So dashed cold.’
‘Oh, you Raj types and your silly complaints. It’s perfectly delightful weather.’
‘You were in India, weren’t you?’ he said. ‘Surely you noticed the difference.’
‘I was in Calcutta for a year or two, yes.’
‘What was your husband doing in Calcutta? Perhaps I knew him.’
‘My husband died in China before I got to India.’
Captain Summers was embarrassed. ‘I... er... I’m so sorry. I had no idea...’ Sadly, though, he didn’t quite know when to stop digging. ‘But does that mean you were in India on your own? Gracious me.’
‘Not alone, no. Armstrong was with me.’
‘Well I never. Alone in India. I’ve never heard of such a thing.’
‘Then this must be a very exciting evening for you,’ she said, dryly.
‘What? Oh. Well, I ought to circulate, don’t you know. Got to put the old face about a bit. Try to be sociable and all that.’
‘Cheerio, Captain,’ she said brightly and turned to me. ‘Insufferable oaf.’
‘He’s just a little out of his natural environment,’ I said. ‘He’ll adapt soon enough.’
‘We’ll make a scientist of you yet, my girl. Yes, he might well adapt. Or become extinct. One can only hope.’
I was still laughing when Sir Hector came over with a gaudily dressed stranger. I melted into the background again.
‘Emily, m’dear,’ said Sir Hector, jovially. ‘Are you having fun?’
‘Enormous fun, Hector, yes. Thank you for organizing such a diverting evening.’
‘Bah! Not me, m’dear, it’s all down to the memsahib. I couldn’t organize m’sock drawer, what?’
She laughed with seemingly genuine delight.
‘But where are me manners? Lady Hardcastle, may I present Mr Clifford Haddock. Mr Haddock, this is m’good friend and neighbour, Lady Hardcastle.’
‘Charmed, I’m sure,’ he oozed in an unpleasant, nasal voice.
‘How do you do,’ said Lady Hardcastle, offering a hand which he kissed ostentatiously. As she withdrew her hand, I could see her mentally counting her fingers to make sure none were missing.
‘Haddock’s in antiques, don’tcha know,’ said Sir Hector. ‘Come to appraise some of me knick-knacks, what?’
Poor old Sir Hector had a charmingly na?ve talent for indiscretion, and I could imagine Lady Farley-Stroud giving him her most terrifying Gorgon’s stare for revealing their straitened circumstances.
‘He’s got some lovely pieces,’ said the oily antiques dealer. He looked Lady Hardcastle up and down. ‘And you look like a lovely piece yourself, my dear.’
Lady Hardcastle favoured him with a Gorgon stare of her own and Sir Hector, recognizing the danger contained in such a look, took him quickly by the elbow and began to steer him away.