Miss Brown couldn’t help but return it. ‘They will be proud of you. Theyshouldbe proud of you. Now hurry. Hurry!’
Her governess flapped her hands, ushering Evelyn out of the bedroom and down the stairs to the waiting party below. Evelyn felt nervous with excitement. Although her parents often entertained, they were usually evening affairs, which excluded their children. It was most unusual for them to have tea in the afternoon on the great lawn and for her father’s relatives to be present. As Evelyn approached the gathering, her steps slowed. Doctor Birch was sitting by her mother’s side and, if the crumbs on his plate were anything to go by, had been present for some time. Everyone had been there for some time, except for Evelyn.
Her mother noticed her arrival and indicated to the vacant seat next to her.
‘Evelyn, dear, come and sit next to me. Brown, fetch her one of my parasols.’ She gave Evelyn one of her fleeting, sideways,glances as she sat down. ‘We must buy you a new dress,’ she said through a tight smile, before returning her gaze back to Nicholas.
Her mother’s remark, although kindly meant, ensured that Evelyn felt even more conspicuous than her late arrival had made her feel. It seemed to Evelyn that her dress grew tighter, and she was sure that if anyone cared to look in her direction they would see what a spectacle she must be. A parasol was placed in her hands. Again, she heard her mother’s quiet voice, spoken from the corner of her smile and in the manner she reserved for Sunday service.
‘Evelyn, dearest, you are holding it like a placard. Tilt it, like so.’
Evelyn carefully imitated her mother’s demonstration and copied how she placed her feet. Her mother’s final sideways glance lingered this time, and her smile softened. She gave her a single, gracefully tilted, nod. Her wordless praise meant everything to Evelyn, as it gave her the consent that she could stay.
More tea and cakes were served and Evelyn found herself successfully juggling parasol, a teacup and eating a slice of cake, without disgracing herself. While her confidence grew, she remained silent, just as her father would wish. Besides, she had little to say that would be of interest and she was content to watch and learn.
She looked at her father over the brim of her teacup. Her father’s brow was permanently in a frown, which was all the more prominent due to his receding hairline. Where he lacked hair on his head, his sideburns remained as thick as ever, framing his cheeks like two gloved hands. It was as if, Evelyn thought, his hair had slipped down his cheeks from the top of his head and got lodged on his starched collar. Perhaps the stiffnessin his posture was due to his facial hair, she thought suddenly, and if he did not have it he would be more relaxed like Nicholas.
Evelyn turned her attention to her uncle. She remembered little about him, except for one vivid memory of his large bushy moustache. She was pleased to see her memory had served her well. It had not changed, remaining as thick as she recalled and still resembled the bristles of a brush. Today it moved like a caterpillar as he spoke and Evelyn was surprised that she had not remembered that too.
Mother and Aunt Edith were content to admire their sons playing ball. Mother was in her best afternoon dress and Evelyn suspected Aunt Edith was too. Their hair was equally dressed to perfection and their impeccable manners and politeness to one another could not be faulted. However, their behaviour lacked the relaxed manner that came with true friendship and Evelyn could not help but feel an underlying tension weave its way around the party.
The only person who seemed at ease was Doctor Birch. In fact, thought Evelyn, if a stranger was to arrive at this very moment, they could easily mistake him for the owner of Carrack House, for he sat amidst the party emanating confidence and power that even seemed to eclipse her father’s. Evelyn likened it to a magical aura that surrounded him and was ever present. She knew she was not the only one to be in awe of him. His presence cast a spell on her mother whenever they met, leaving her moronic, amenable, but always grateful. Evelyn felt all of those things too, but unlike her mother, she felt ultimately fearful.
‘Which school does Nicholas attend?’ asked Uncle Howard.
Her father carefully placed his cup onto the saucer, without making a sound, and sat back in his chair. ‘We have a home tutor for Nicholas.’
‘Mr Burrows was highly recommended to us,’ interjected her mother. ‘In addition to Greek and Latin, he is a master of twoadditional languages. He is in great demand for his knowledge of science. We are fortunate to have him.’
‘But a home tutor is no substitute for the benefits of a boarded education. To be educated away from home develops ones character, principles and ability to govern. Nicholas would benefit from the sport that is on offer. It will help build a healthier body.’
‘Nicholas is healthy,’ came her father’s curt reply.
‘I’m sure he is,’ soothed Aunt Edith. She turned to Doctor Birch. ‘We were terribly worried when we heard of his illness last year.’
‘Worried he would survive,’ her father muttered under his breath. Evelyn’s fearful glance round the gathering told her that she was the only one to have heard him.
‘We all were,’ replied her mother. ‘And I, for one, thank God every day that Doctor Birch was on hand to attend him.’ She gave Doctor Birch a warm smile.
He accepted her praise with a smile of his own, confident that he deserved the compliment.
Not wishing to be outdone, Aunt Edith added, ‘I also have much to be grateful to Doctor Birch for.’ Both women turned their heads towards their sons. No more needed to be said. They all knew that Doctor Birch was the only doctor to deliver them a live child.
Evelyn watched the two boys play. Mawgan was sixteen and a good deal taller than her brother. He had fine features, with hair the colour of caramel and eyes to match. He was much better at handling a ball, and probably excelled in sport, but he rarely smiled, and there was a stiffness about him, which gave the appearance of containment and aloofness.
‘May I play ball with Nicholas and Mawgan, Mother?’ asked Evelyn, without thinking.
Her mother answered without looking at her, ‘No, dear.’ She turned towards her sister-in-law. ‘Ladies do not play ball, do they, Edith?’ The two women laughed, as did the men. For the first time, there was a tangible softening in the tension that had coiled around them. Evelyn felt her cheeks burn and wished she had the power to disappear. The boys heard the laughter and stopped their game. She saw Nicholas scan the party until his searching look settled on her glum, red face. After a short exchange of words, Nicholas and Mawgan approached, coming to her rescue.
‘I would like to show Mawgan the gardens, Father,’ said Nicholas, breathless from their game. He addressed Evelyn with a twinkle in his eye that told her he knew what her answer would be before he asked the question. ‘Effy, would you like to come too?’
Evelyn exerted all the control she could muster not to run into his arms. ‘Father, may I?’ she asked politely.
For five long heartbeats, her father considered her request. The children’s departure would leave a void. The admiration of the boys, the discussion of their education, even the teasing of Evelyn’s innocence, provided a much-needed buffer between the families. Evelyn found herself holding her breath.
Finally, her father gave a curt nod of his head. ‘You may.’
Their parents silently watched the children leave; contemplating how they would manage without them, yet resigned to the fact it would be churlish to call them back.
