“Yes, you’re completely right,” I said. “I shouldn’t have auditioned really as I don’t have any spare time these days. Maybe next time.”
And with that, seeing Kitty delightedly jumping up and down in the corner of my eye, I got my coat and walked majestically out of the building.
Since then Kitty’s been lording it over me ad nauseam. Silvie and I had to retire to my bedroom to escape. I did her hair up beautifully while she tried on my lipstick. She’s such a sweet creature.
On that note, I must away to get my beauty sleep. I will let you know how my plan to get Mr. Slater proceeds. Success will be mine.
Venetia
Saturday, 27th April, 1940
The Question of Venetia’s Virginity
Why is it that just when you think you know how everything works, something explodes right under your nose and you have to rethink it all through? There was I, merrily going through life thinking that no one did anything except perhaps one or two kisses before they got married, and then, boom! I see the whole act unfold in front of my very eyes.
Things I would dearly like to know
Was Venetia as pure as the driven snow, as we’ve always been taught to be?
Will she have to marry Mr. Slater now?
Will this mean she’ll stop playing her evil games with Henry?
Does anyone else do this before they’re married?
Will I have to?
First of all, let me state that as far as I was concerned, before I saw what I did, Venetia was still a virgin. Mama told both of us that one has to stay a virgin until one gets married, and I must say it has never crossed my mind to question this instruction. I’ve seen plenty of copulation before, so don’t think I’m na?ve—bulls mounting cows in the fields, that time Mr. Dawkins brought his mare over for Amadeus to get her pregnant, and the dogs in the stables are at it all the time. And I know what it leads to—babies. So why was Venetia doing it? She’s not married and, as far as I know, she doesn’t want a baby. It was disgusting.
Then I wondered if she’d done it with anyone else, and a cloud of memories flew into my head like a photograph album of every boy she’s ever toyed with. Now that I came to think about it, she could have done it with any of them: Cecil Worthing, David Tilling, even Victor Lovell or, Heaven forbid, Henry. They’d known each other since they were children, grew up as friends, spent many evenings together at parties, perhaps sneaking out into the night for a quiet kiss that may have led to more. Maybe this was her awful hold over them.
Could Venetia be a harlot?
Angela Quail is most definitely a harlot. I’m sure she did it with Edmund, as they were always touching each other in a most embarrassing way. I think she wanted to be with Henry, too, because she always seemed odd around him, all fluttery. I wonder if he rejected her and chose me instead because he likes proper girls and Angela wears her depravity like a badge of honor. I suppose being the Vicar’s daughter has made her more unruly.
But with Venetia, Daddy would hit the roof.
It all started after my singing lesson with Prim this afternoon, which had gone particularly well as she told me that I had perfect pitch. I couldn’t wait to tell Silvie, and since she wasn’t at home, I trotted off to the stables to see if she was there. It was such a delicious day, all buttery and golden, and I felt as if the world made complete sense. The cherry blossom was just past its best, and pink and white petals cascaded over me as I crossed through the orchard—it was wondrous, like it was snowing tiny soft cushions.
As I passed through the whiffy stable yard, I thought I heard voices by Amadeus’s door. For a brief moment, I wondered if Venetia had taken a funny turn and decided to pay her old horse a bit of attention—she’s completely neglected him since she stopped dressage.
No such luck.
It was Venetia’s voice all right, but she wasn’t talking to Amadeus. I stood on tiptoe to look through a gap in the wooden door and had the perfect view of Mr. Slater, immaculate in gray suit and tie. He looked incredibly out of place in the stable setting, which smelled of sweaty horses and saddle leather. I would have been surprised to see him there, had it not been for Venetia’s little bet with Angela.
But this didn’t seem like a little bet at all.
She was standing close to him looking up at him in the most ridiculous way, her blond hair swept to the side and over one shoulder. Even from where I stood, the gusto of her peachy perfume overpowered the sinewy whiff of manure. She was wearing a dress I’ve never seen before. It was sunflower yellow and shone like silk, with a flowing skirt and low in the front, exposing her cleavage with startling fullness. A white cardigan was draped around her smooth shoulders, making her look young—playful kitten one minute, conniving minx the next.
“What do you have for me?” she said, standing before him, inches away.