*
Virginia could no longer put off visiting her bank manager after an embarrassed Mayfair hairdresser presented her with a bounced check.
“A clerical error,” Virginia assured her, and immediately wrote out another check. But once she’d left the salon, she hailed a taxi and asked the cabbie to take her to Coutts in the Strand.
Mr. Fairbrother rose from behind his desk as Lady Virginia marched into his office unannounced. “No doubt you have a simple explanation for this?” she said, placing the REFER TO DRAWER check on the manager’s desk.
“I fear, my lady, that you are well above your agreed overdraft limit,” said Fairbrother, not commenting on the fact that she hadn’t made an appointment. “I have written to you several times requesting a meeting to discuss the present situation, but you have clearly been very busy.”
“I rather assumed that as my family has banked with Coutts for over two hundred years, I might be given a little more latitude.”
“We have been as obliging as we felt able in the circumstances,” said Fairbrother, “but as there are several other transactions pending, I’m afraid you left us with little choice.”
“If that is the case, you have left me with no choice but to make arrangements to move my account to a more civilized establishment.”
“As you wish, my lady. And perhaps in the fullness of time you would be kind enough to let me know to which bank we should transfer your overdraft. Meanwhile, we will, I fear, be unable to honor any of your current outstanding checks until we have received his lordship’s monthly payment.”
“That’s fortunate really,” said Virginia, “as I’ve recently visited my father in Scotland, and he agreed to raise my allowance to three thousand pounds a month.”
“That is indeed good news, my lady, and will unquestionably help to alleviate your current short-term problem. However, I should point out that following that meeting with your father, his lordship wrote to inform the bank that he was no longer willing to guarantee your overdraft. And he made no mention of any increase in your monthly allowance.”
13
VIRGINIA SPENT THE morning at a new hairdresser, had her nails manicured and picked up her favorite Chanel outfit from the dry cleaners before returning to Cadogan Gardens.
As she stared at herself in a full-length mirror, she felt she didn’t look too bad for forty-two, well, forty-three … well … She took a taxi to Harry’s Bar just before 1 p.m., and when she mentioned the name Cyrus T. Grant III to the concierge, she was immediately accompanied to the private dining room on the second floor.
“Welcome, my darling,” said Bofie as she entered the room. He quickly took her to one side and whispered, “I know Cyrus is just dying to meet you. I’ve already told him you’re a member of the royal family.”
“I’m a distant niece of the Queen Mother, whom I’ve only met at official functions, though it’s true my father occasionally plays bridge with her when she stays at Glamis Castle.”
“And I told him you had tea with the Queen only last week.”
“Buck House or Windsor?” asked Virginia, joining in the game.
“Balmoral. So much more exclusive,” said Bofie as he grabbed another glass of champagne from a passing waiter.
Virginia pretended not to notice the guest of honor, who was surrounded by admirers, and wondered if they would have been hanging on his every word had he not been the twenty-eighth richest man in America.
Cyrus couldn’t have been an inch over five foot five, and sadly didn’t have Gary Cooper’s looks to compensate. He was wearing a red-and-white check jacket, blue jeans, a pale blue silk shirt and a leather bootlace tie. His Cuban heels made him almost the same height as Virginia. She wanted to giggle, but somehow managed to keep a straight face.
“Cyrus, may I introduce my dear friend, the Lady Virginia Fenwick?”
“Nice to meet you, my lady,” said Cyrus.
“Please call me Virginia, all my friends do.”
“Thank you, Ginny. You can call me Cyrus, everyone does.”
Virginia didn’t comment. Bofie clapped his hands, and once he had everyone’s attention, said, “I’m sure you’re all ready for a spot of lunch.”
“I sure am,” said Cyrus, who left the ladies standing. Virginia was both appalled and delighted to find herself sitting on the right-hand side of the honored guest.
“How long do you plan to be in England?” she ventured.
“Just a few weeks. I’m here for what you people call the season, so I’ll be going to Wimbledon, Henley and, most important, Royal Ascot. You see, I have a filly running in the King George VI and Queen Elizabeth Stakes.”
“Noble Conquest.”
“Well, I’ll be damned,” said Cyrus. “That’s impressive, Ginny.”
“Not really. I never miss Ascot, and your horse is already being talked about.”
“I’d invite you to be my guest,” said Cyrus, “but I guess you’ll be in the royal box.”