What Sophy had seen was adroit handling by an experienced saleswoman, but she refrained from comment.
Lord Tyneham presented himself punctually for dinner, and was delighted to have been placed between his aunt and Sophy at the table. He set about impressing her with his knowledge on a variety of subjects. He sounded, she thought, like an encyclopaedia. He then surprised her by actually asking her opinion.
‘Do you think that young ladies ought to be taught Italian as a language? I can see that being taught to sing in it is useful, but if one went to Italy, it would only be seemly for the husband to engage in conversation with the locals.’
‘I think that …’
What she thought was, it then appeared, unimportant, because he launched into a reminiscence of his sole trip abroad, which had been to Holland because he had an interest in Delft pottery.
‘Oh no, not your boring vases and jugs again.’ Susan sounded disgusted. ‘They are all just blue and white.’
‘Their very uniformity of colour is one of the attractions,’ declared her brother, repressively. ‘It gives the displays order, and one may appreciate the forms.’
‘They are just pots. Blue and white pots. Even Uncle Chelmarsh’s interest in cows is more interesting. They do move, and they are not all the same colour.’
‘I do not think Papa would like blue and white cows,’ whispered Harriet, to her sister.
‘I have a very fine cow creamer in blue and white.’ Lord Tyneham had clearly overheard, and his mind inclined to make very literal connections. ‘There are some collectors who prefer the tulip—’
‘Are we going to purchase hats tomorrow, ma’am?’ Susan cut across her brother.
‘I …’ Lady Chelmarsh was so surprised at the interjection that she blinked, and answered rather than admonish her niece for her rudeness. ‘I thought that we would do so, yes.’
‘Oh good. Just remind me not to look at any with blue ribands. I have quite gone off the colour, and dislike it with white. So very obvious a contrast, and I would hate to look the least like a cow creamer.’ Susan gave a deceptively innocent smile, but threw her brother a swift, challenging look.
He coloured, but refrained from taking the bait, which she merely saw as a sign of cowardice, and stuck her nose in the air, convinced of her victory.
Harriet, whose relations with her brother, her nearest in age, were good, frowned. As brother and sister, it was natural to banter in private, but they would never do so before company, even in jest, and this was not in jest at all. Susan seemed to want to needle her brother at every opportunity. Harriet secretly admired her cousin’s boldness, or at least the self-confidence it showed, but this shocked her.
Sophy, seeing the look on her sister’s face, was pleased. It would be far better if Harriet took no cues from their ill-disciplined cousin. She also rewarded Tyneham for his reticence, by enquiring about the porcelain from the Orient which had inspired the European potters, knowing full well it would enable him to lecture her at length. After five minutes, she regretted this generous act. Her parent, meanwhile, was occupying Susan with a description of the fashions when she had made her own come-out, a generation previously. This was sufficiently entertaining for that young lady to forget brother baiting, and to ask youthful questions and relax in a way which Lady Chelmarsh chose to see as a sign that having her under her roof might not be as bad as she had anticipated. She remarked as such as she stood outside her bedroom door upon retiring, and was wishing Sophy goodnight.
‘Perhaps,’ suggested Lady Chelmarsh, hopefully, ‘Susan has outgrown her childish volatility.’
‘On the evidence of what we witnessed yesterday and today, Mama, I fear that is wishful thinking.’
CHAPTER THREE
Lady Chelmarsh did not have long to linger inher happy self-deception. She was not a woman much given to nervous spasms, but Susan could have induced them in the hardiest of dames. Her mere presence in the house in Hill Street seemed to set it by the ears and create an atmosphere of tension. Bembridge, the butler, who had been in the family service man and boy for forty years, struggled for four days and then went to his mistress and requested a few minutes of her time upon a serious matter.
‘I am so very sorry to have to bring this to your ladyship’s attention, but the situation is such …’ He coloured, and looked extremely uncomfortable.
Lady Chelmarsh felt her heart sink. Her household was not one where disturbance occurred, but there been one very obvious change in it.
‘My niece?’
‘Yes, my lady, I fear Miss Tyneham has been … unmindful of the distance between those above and below stairs. The staff here, I say without puffing myself up, ma’am, are well trained, discreet, and trustworthy. I would not engage, or rather retain on your ladyship’s behalf, any who were not. However, I feel I ought to ask permission to call a meeting of the staff, the male staff that is, and issue firm directions upon the way in which they react to the young lady. I, er, have reason to believe that several young men were turned off at Tyneham Court following “incidents”, my lady. I would not wish such an unfortunate occurrence here.’
‘I see.’
He hoped, most devoutly, that she did not. He had already had stern words with two of the footmen, whom he had overheard arguing over which of them ‘young miss’ preferred, and had to give his protégé, Norris, whom he was grooming to take the position of butler when he should retire, some fatherly advice and a strictly medicinal glass of Lord Chelmarsh’s second best sherry.
‘I am sure Miss Tyneham means nothing by it, my lady, but … She is a very attractive young lady, and it fair turns the heads of the young men when she … it is very difficult when … she plays her tricks off upon the staff.’
‘Her tricks, Bembridge?’
‘She, well, she … flirts. Your ladyship will understand it makes things very awkward for the footmen, being young and impressionable, when she speaks to them just so, and gives them looks which, from young women of their own station, they would see as indicative of, er, interest.’
‘Oh dear,’ murmured Lady Chelmarsh, starting to pleat a lace-edged handkerchief.
