The Novel in the Viola (17 page)

‘What are you doing?’ she hissed.

‘So sorry, your ladyship.’

I replaced the napkin on her lap with a little flourish and retreated to the back of the room. I saw Mr Rivers watching me. A look of concern slid across his face. He called Mr Wrexham to his side, and a moment later the elderly butler propped open the dining room door and opened the window. A stream of cold air blew across my cheeks and I smiled at Mr Rivers, but he had turned back to Juno, his serious blue-grey eyes fixed upon her. Across the room, Kit was building a bread roll tower and laughing with Diana and a bosomy girl in a green dress. A few minutes later, as I glanced along the table, I saw that Mr Rivers’ chair was empty.

‘You. Again.’

Diana’s napkin sprawled at her feet once more. The fabric on her dress must be very slippery. I knelt to pick it up and, as my fingers touched it, she moved her foot, pinning my skirt to the floor with a sharp heel. I crouched at her feet, trapped like an idiotic pageboy. I tugged at my skirt but she dug in further, so that I could not free myself without making a scene. After a half minute, she allowed me to stand and replace the fallen napkin onto her lap.

I retreated to the wall, remembering not to lean, as per Mr Wrexham’s precise instructions. Apparently leaning was as bad as dawdling. Diana fed spoonfuls of her syllabub to Kit, who ate one or two and then batting her away, lit a cigarette. He never would have dared smoke during dinner with ladies in his father’s presence, but after Mr Rivers left, any restraint amongst the party evaporated. Juno rested her head on a young man’s shoulders, his fingers toying with her hair. The butler disappeared to fetch another bottle from the cellar. The gentlemen unfastened their bow ties.

‘Elise,’ called Kit.

‘Yes, sir?’

He dangled his black bow tie between his fingers.

‘Put it on.’

‘No.’

‘It’s my birthday.’

‘No, your birthday’s tomorrow.’

As I looked up, I realised that the entire party was watching us argue. I tried to grab the bow tie from him.

‘No. I want to put it on you.’

‘Kit,’ I pleaded in a low voice.

His eyes were glassy with drink. I decided it would be best to humour him before Mr Wrexham or Mr Rivers returned. I could shout at him later. I crouched beside his chair and he slipped the silk around my neck. His breath smelt of alcohol and his lips were red with wine. I felt my cheeks colour as he tied the bow around my throat, his fingers brushing my skin. I swallowed and he did not remove his hand. I knew I ought to move away, but I stayed for a moment, feeling the warmth of his fingers, watching the half-smile crease around his eyes.

‘Shall I ring the bell for coffee?’ said Diana, voice shrill, her painted fingernails drum-drumming on the tablecloth.

I pushed Kit away, scrambled to my feet and half ran out of the room in my haste to fetch the tray.

After serving coffee I slipped away into the stable yard. Poppy and Will sat side by side on the mounting block. In the last couple of months they had quietly started courting, and Poppy’s small freckled hand rested in Will’s large one.

‘How’s the party?’ she asked.

‘Kit’s drunk.’

‘In front of his father?’

‘Mr Rivers left after the dessert.’

I kicked a stray piece of flint and it shot across the yard, hitting the water pump with a crack.

‘What do you know about Diana Hamilton?’

Poppy sat swinging her legs, tossing pear drops up into the air and catching them on her tongue. ‘Well, their father, Lord Hamilton, lost the family fortune on a horse. Tragic really. Diana was named after his first big win. Juno after his second. Then he went and lost it all on Afternoon Delight.’

‘I think she’s sweet on Kit.’

Poppy shrugged. ‘Most girls are. Shame if she’s set her cap at him, though. Flirting and making eyes is one thing, but really he ought to marry someone with money. This place needs a fortune spent on it.’

I looked away, avoiding her eye.

She tossed another pear drop and Will pushed her out of the way, catching it himself. She laughed, throwing back her head and gobbled the next sweet straight from the paper bag. I forced myself to smile and leant against the stable door.

‘What does Kit want to talk to us about anyway?’

Poppy shrugged and jumped down off the mounting block, wandering over to Mr Bobbin’s door. The old horse poked his nose out and she fed him a pear drop.

‘You’re all better now, aren’t you,’ she crooned, stroking him behind the ears.

Kit ambled into the yard, hands thrust in his pockets, and puffing on his usual cigarette.

‘Sorry,’ he said as soon as he saw me. ‘Bit much to drink. You’ve always known I was an idiot.’

I had wanted to yell, chide him over his stupidity, but he looked so full of remorse that my resolve waivered. I pulled the wrinkled bow tie out of my apron and thrust it at him, saying nothing. He took it from me and fixed me with bloodshot eyes.

‘I’m sorry, Elise. Really I am. Sometimes I forget. That . . . you know . . . you’re not one of us.’

I stamped my feet and rubbed my hands together. A frost was beginning to form along the cobbles and the ivy clinging to the stable’s brickwork glittered in the darkness. A few months ago in Vienna, I had been one of them. Now I wasn’t sure what I was. The other servants barely spoke to me. They knew I wasn’t one of them either. I belonged nowhere.

‘What is it that you want?’ I asked, careful to stand away from him, on the other side of the yard.

Poppy stopped feeding sweets to Mr Bobbin and looked back at Kit, who cleared his throat and stubbed his cigarette out on a cobblestone.

‘Well, I thought it would be fun. You know, shake things up a bit. If you and Poppy came to my party dressed as chaps. I’ll lend you each one of my old tuxes. It’ll be fun.’

I stared at Kit, feeling myself redden with anger for the second time in as many hours.

‘You are mad. Quite mad. I’m a maid. I serve drinks. I fill glasses. I clean things. I am not some cabaret girl. This is not the
Simpl
.’

Kit remained unfazed by my rage. He watched me through his too blue eyes and gave a tiny shrug.

‘No need to shout. Thought it would be fun. Thought you were the kind of girl who liked to break a rule or two.’

I had to admit that it did hold some appeal, as did the prospect of annoying Diana, but the rational part of me realised it was not sensible. I recalled Margot’s warning: I must behave. There was no visa waiting for me in New York.

‘No. I am going to bed. Do you need anything, sir?’ I used the ‘sir’ to irritate him, remind him of the difference in our positions.

Kit looked at me, and for the first time in our six-month acquaintance, I saw a flash of anger glide across his face. His eyes narrowed.

‘Yes, thank you, Elise. I would like a brandy and a cigar.’

I glared at him, but after my little barb, I couldn’t very well refuse.

‘And you, Poppy?’ he said, turning to her. ‘Can I tempt you into a tux? You’d look very fetching, I’m sure.’

She shook her head. ‘No thanks. I have a new dress. I want to wear that.’

‘Good,’ said Will. I’d actually forgotten he was there. Will was so quiet; he sat and he watched Poppy, eyes big with love, saying nothing. ‘I maint be a gentleman like yoos, but it gives me a nasty feelin’, this stuff. Don’t think them folks will see it as a bit o’ fun an’ nonsense.’

‘Tosh,’ said Kit. ‘What do you know? You won’t even come to the party.’

‘No. I doesn’t need to be sneered at by yer chums.’ Will spoke slowly without raising his voice, watching Kit levelly and unafraid. ‘I wish yer a very happy birthday and I’m right glad of yer friendship. But I ent comin’ dancin’ an’ makin myself ridiculous. Them others won’t git that things is different here. They won’t git Tyneford ways.’

I had never heard Will disagree with Kit before. Kit didn’t answer, only thrust his hands deep into his pockets and kicked at a piece of straw. He knew Will was right. He noticed me hovering beside the back door, staring at him.

‘Aren’t you supposed to be getting me a brandy?’ he snapped.

Muttering under my breath, I slipped inside the house. When I returned a few minutes later, they were laughing again, peace restored. I couldn’t imagine that Kit could stay angry for long, especially not with Will. The two had been friends all their lives. I knew very little about the England outside of Tyneford, but I suspected that in most places stone wall builders and son and heirs were not close friends. Kit, Will and Poppy had run together across the hills looking for wild duck eggs, and fishing for elvers as soon as they were tall enough to clamber over the stiles and wooden gates that divided the valley. Kit was at ease with Poppy and Will. When I watched him with his Cambridge chums and the society set, he pulled on a new personality like Diana donned her fur coat. He was rakish and charming and he drank and I wasn’t sure whether I liked him or not.

‘I’m goin’ ter walk Poppy home,’ said Will, draping a hefty arm around her shoulders.

Kit gave him a playful slap on the back and kissed Poppy on the cheek. She waved goodbye to me, and they walked away into the darkness, leaving Kit and me alone in the stable yard. I thrust the brandy into his hands.

‘You can have this, but I’m keeping the cigar.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘You smoke cigars? That’s new.’

He pulled a box of matches out of his breast pocket and struck a light. I sucked at the cigar, but couldn’t get it right. Kit plucked it out of my mouth, lit it and placed it back between my lips. I sucked gently, drawing the smoke into my mouth and succeeded in not spluttering.

‘My brother-of-law. Robert. He used to give me his cigar sometimes at parties.’

‘I hope brother-of-law is the same as brother-in-law or I shall be jealous. And I’ll have to fence him or something. And I’m appalling and he’ll probably kill me.’

I laughed, but my heart was beating loudly in my chest. I wondered that Kit could not hear it. He drained his brandy.

‘It’s wicked, Elise, but sometimes I find myself wishing for war. Because then you’d have to stay.’

‘Kit. Don’t. My family.’

‘I know. I’m sorry.’

‘I wish you could meet Anna. She’d charm you in a second.’ I passed him the cigar. ‘What do you remember about your mother?’

‘That’s the thing, Elise; I don’t.’

‘I suppose you were very small when she died.’

‘I was four – quite old enough to remember her. She died very suddenly. She drowned.’

‘Drowned? Oh, Kit, how awful. I’m so sorry.’

He rubbed his nose, leaving a grey smudge on the tip. ‘Funny thing was she was an excellent swimmer but she drowned in the bath. Had some kind of fit. My father found her. For years he was terrified I suffered from the same weakness. Wouldn’t let Nanny bathe me. Insisted on strip-washes instead. I must have been a very smelly little boy.’

Not knowing what to say, I reached for his hand. He allowed me to squeeze it for a second and then disentangled himself, flicking cigar ash from his trouser leg.

‘When they told me, apparently I fainted. Then, when I woke up, she was gone. Disappeared. I couldn’t understand why everyone looked so sad. Why my father wouldn’t stop crying. All my memories of her had vanished, you see. I look at family photographs and I see myself standing beside a pleasant-faced stranger. I remember parties, picnics, boat trips and I know she was there but she’s not in my memory of any of them.’

‘Do you dream about her?’

‘No.’

I wished I could offer some words of comfort, promise him Anna’s love, but I had no consolation and Anna was far away. I kissed him on the cheek, smelling the sandalwood of his cologne mingling with the cigar smoke.

We sat in silence, side by side, our fingers not touching, and listened to the huff of the horses, their breath steaming in the cold air like water vapour from a singing kettle.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The birthday and broken glass

The next morning May woke me before dawn. It was Kit’s twenty-first and the day of his party. Over a hundred guests were expected for dinner and dancing, and we had hours of preparation, plus eight houseguests to care for. I cleaned the living rooms and laid the downstairs fires before the sun crept up behind Tyneford hill. As I carried the basket of kindling upstairs, dawn blazed through the window above the porch. The hillside seemed to crackle and burn with light, the backs of the cattle shone rosy-red and the hawthorn bushes were licked with scarlet. I thought of Moses and smiled.

‘Elise,’ called a soft voice behind me.

I turned to see Mr Rivers in the hall, wearing his dressing gown and slippers.

‘Have you been reading the papers?’

I scoured
The Times
every evening before falling asleep, searching for even the slightest piece on Vienna or Austria, but I had read nothing but the usual dismal stories on page fourteen: Jews harassed, property seized, arrests and inflammatory speeches by Herr Ribbentrot and Herr Hitler. Stories buried among notices about the planting of geraniums, the King opening Parliament and the famous Corry triplets needing their tonsils removed.

Mr Rivers frowned, worry lines appearing on his forehead.

‘The attack in Paris? I hope Herr von Rath survives. I fear it will be bad for the Jews if he does not.’

He gestured to me and I followed him down the stairs and into the library. Automatically, I went to the windows and opened the curtains, so that the early morning light trickled into the room. Mr Rivers sat at the desk and fiddled with the dials on his wireless. Static crackled as the instrument warmed. I felt a swirl of nausea and a pain thrum in my temples. I recited their names as a prayer:
Annaandpapannaandpapannaandpapapapapa.
Then the voice of the newsreader over the airwaves: ‘
The King opened Parliament yesterday. A grand ceremony . . .
’

We listened to the news in silence for a few minutes. The attack in the German embassy in Paris was not mentioned. As the shipping forecast began, Mr Rivers switched off the wireless.