Roses and Champagne. Betty Neels
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‘We’re not—I won’t…I shall speak to Virginia when she gets home!’
‘So you said,’ Lucius had stopped before another shop window. ‘Now, that’s nice,’ he pointed out the brown velvet suit draped over a stand, its matching blouse in a deep cream silk cast negligently by it.
Katrina took a look. ‘Chanel,’ she observed. ‘It’ll be hundreds of pounds.’
‘You said only a few minutes ago that you had plenty of money.’ He added smoothly: ‘Dressed in that you’d easily get the better of Virginia. Buy it.’
Katrina, who had had no intention of buying anything else, found herself in the shop, trying on the suit which was a perfect fit, and since she might as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb, trying the blouse as well, writing a cheque for a heart-stopping sum, and walking out of the shop again. Outside she said firmly: ‘I’m not buying another thing—I could have got two good tweed outfits for that money…’
‘So you could, but think how nice you look in that coat and skirt. Worth every penny. I like the little jacket; as that other woman said, you have a very pretty bosom, you should show it off more.’
Katrina gasped. ‘Well, really, Lucius, whatever will you say next.’
‘Well, surely we’ve known each other long enough for me to make a few brotherly remarks without you coming over all modest?’ A gleam came into his eye. ‘Why, I remember—let me see, I must have been about twelve and you five—we went swimming in the river, and you without a stitch on.’
Katrina let out a gurgle of laughter. ‘Oh, I remember—Nanny gave me such a ticking off and a good smacking.’
‘And I had a painful interview with Father in the study.’
‘We deserved it, I suppose—it was March, wasn’t it? We could have died of cold.’
They had tea in a small tea-room, waited upon by a refined young lady in a chintz overall; China tea and mammoth eclairs. Katrina, about to start on her second cake, arrested her fork in mid-air when Lucius said:
‘You’ll get fat, Katie.’
She looked at him in horror. ‘No—am I fat now? Even a little plump?’
‘Just right—don’t for God’s sake go on a diet, though—skinny women have no charm.’
Katrina took a good bite. ‘Oh, good—all the same, I must remember to weigh myself sometimes.’ She smiled at him across the little table. ‘What a strange day it’s been; like a dream.’
‘Every second of it true, Katrina. Who is taking you to the Hunt Ball?’
‘Well, several men have offered…’
‘But you’ve not accepted?’
‘No.’
‘Then you’ll come with me. You were coming to the dinner party first anyway, weren’t you?’
‘Yes, but what about Virginia? I mean, won’t you feel—well, awkward?’
He gave her a cool stare. ‘Why should I? There’ll be a dozen of us there anyway, and she and I are bound to meet again, you know.’
‘Yes, but after the things she said…’
‘Silly, childish nonsense. Shall I send the car for you or will you drive over?’
‘I’ll drive.’
He nodded. ‘You can leave the car at my place and pick it up later.’
They walked back presently and got into the car and began the drive home. ‘Doing anything this evening?’ asked Lucius idly.
‘No—I don’t expect Virginia until tomorrow. I’ll sketch some ideas for the book jacket.’
‘We can call in at your place and you can make sure she hasn’t come home and then have dinner with me.’ He added wickedly: ‘We have to get to know each other, you know.’
‘What rubbish—we’ve known each other all our lives. Besides, I’d rather like a quiet evening.’
‘When have you ever found me noisy?’ he wanted to know, ‘and I promise I’ll drive you home the moment you want to go.’
There was no message from Virginia when they reached her home. Mrs Beecham received Katrina’s news that she would be dining with Lucius with a straight face but a decided twinkle in her shrewd eyes. All she said was: ‘I know where you are if you’re wanted, Miss Katrina. Will you be late back? Lovelace can take Bouncer for his walk.’
‘I’ll not be late, Mrs Beecham. Will you get someone to take these boxes up to my room?’ She bent to scratch Bouncer’s head and Lucius, standing by the door, said: ‘Bring him with you, you know how he likes a romp with my two.’
So Bouncer scrambled into the back of the car and stuck his head between them as they drove back into the lane and, after a moment or so, turned in at the gates of Stockley House. Katrina was as familiar with the house as her own home, but it never ceased to give her a thrill as she got out before its massive entrance. The front of the house was Queen Anne, only at the back were there the remains of the Tudor house which had been the first Massey home. The porch was a magnificent one, leading to a vast door opening on to a small vestibule which in turn gave on to the front hall, a circular apartment with a great many doors and a double staircase taking up the whole of the far wall. The ceiling was painted and gilded and the white panelled walls were hung with paintings. Katrina said a cheerful ‘Good evening’ to Cobb, the middle-aged and spidery man who had opened the door, and walked past him Bouncer beside her. But not for long; one of the doors was open and two dogs came bounding out, a Great Dane puppy and a Dalmatian. They fell upon their master with every sign of delight and then joined Bouncer. Lucius walked past her, through the open door, and opened the doors leading on to the terrace beyond the room, and the three of them streamed out, barking with pleasure.
‘They can let off steam for a bit,’ he commented, coming back into the hall. ‘You’d like a drink? Want to do your face? You know which room, I’ll be in the drawing room.’
Katrina nodded and crossed the hall to the staircase. On the way she paused to look at one of the portraits. ‘I see Buxom Bessy’s still here—she ought to be hidden away in a guestroom.’
Lucius had strolled across to join her and they stood looking up at the painting of an extremely plump lady in a remarkably low-cut gown and a fearsome wig. ‘She has a certain air…’ he began and Katrina giggled.
‘The Lucius Massey who married her thought she was enchanting; she was probably very pretty when he first met her. He must have continued to think so, because he loved her until she died.’
‘Poor Bessy—ten children too!’
‘Not as bad as it sounds, though. There would have been nursemaids enough, and tutors and governesses.’
Katrina