Part 12 (1/2)
”Lovely house,” said Lady #1, simpering and holding a bag from the gift shop.
”What a lovely day out, my Lord,” said Lady #2, who had a wicker basket under her arm that was crammed to the gills with jams and marmalades with the Chartley logo on them.
Charles held up his hand in a gesture of thanks. ”I'm so glad you've enjoyed yourselves,” he said simply. ”Do hope to see you back here sometime.”
Nick nodded. ”Thank you for coming,” he said. ”It's wonderful you came, isn't it, Charles?”
”Oh, thank you, Lord Ranelagh,” said Lady #3 as Charles smiled politely at them, and they all dissolved into the near-hysterical yet deferential giggles that affect the British public only when confronted with the Royal Family or members of the aristocracy or people like Judi Dench or Joanna Lumley.
”Thanks again,” said Nick, steering Charles gently but firmly away from them.
Charles pulled his cuffs down from his tweed jacket, and smiled at Laura. ”Lovely to meet you,” he said. ”Enjoy the rest of your holiday.”
”Thank you,” said Laura as he drifted away. ”I...”
”So,” said Nick, turning back to her. ”Will I see you tonight, then?”
He looked at her intently, and Laura felt herself losing her nerve. ”Well-” she began.
”Look,” he broke in, ”shall we make an agreement? I'll be in the bar at eight. I normally am, in any case. So if you're there, you're there.”
Laura didn't want to disappoint him, but she told herself it didn't seem as if he'd really mind that much either way. ”Cool,” she said. ”I'm not sure what I'm doing for the rest of the day, anyway. So I'll see. Thanks.”
”Well, Laura. I hope the rest of your day here is enjoyable. Thank you for coming. Apart from the low point of nearly burning down the house and its grounds, you've had a good time, I hope?”
He was already turning away, withdrawing. Laura said honestly, ”Well, Nick-I know this isn't really your business, but since you ask-actually, I haven't had a very good time, to be honest. It's not much fun here, not for me, anyway.”
Nick stopped and turned around. ”What?” he said sharply.
Laura twisted the camera strap around in her hands. ”It's just-well, it could have been better.”
”Could have been better?” he said, incredulous.
”Yes,” Laura said firmly. ”It's a stately home, I know that. But it's a day out for most people. That's really important, you know? You can't just expect them to have to negotiate with two lunatics having s.e.x in the ticket kiosk to get in, and then charge them a vast amount of money for the privilege of seeing some second-rate paintings in a few dusty rooms, and then round it all off with some rock-hard, stale scones in the cafe. On their precious holiday. I really don't mean to be rude, I'm sure Charles is lovely, he seems very nice and it's wonderful for you that you live here and everything. But since you ask, no, I haven't had a good time.”
Nick flinched as she finished, as if someone had thrown cold water at him. ”Well, thank you for that,” he said after a while.
Laura bit her lip. ”I'm sorry. But you did ask. Look-I've got to go now. Oh, h.e.l.l, look, there's my mum. She can't meet you, she'd want to meet Charles, too, and that'd be like suicide. Bye, Mr. Nicholas Whatever-Your-Name-Is. Thanks, sorry about everything. I've been so rude, I can't believe it.”
”Don't worry,” Nick said. He took her hand. ”By the way, Nick-it's short for Dominic, which I hate. You haven't been rude. You've been very interesting. Incredibly interesting, in fact. Enjoy the rest of your holiday, Laura. If I don't see you.”
”Thanks, Nick-Short-for-Dominic,” said Laura.
Nick touched his hand to his forehead and made a mock salute. He smiled at her politely, slightly formally. ”Take care, anyway. Bye.”
In the car on the way back, Laura was silent as Angela and George chatted enthusiastically about the things they'd seen, what they'd done, and the postcards and tea towels they'd purchased.
”What a beautiful house. I mean, one room after the other, so beautiful. You missed the picture gallery, Laura. It was-well, beautiful. All of it was! How do you live there, I wonder? It must be strange. Mustn't it?” Angela gabbled, like a six-year-old after eating too much candy.
”I agree,” said George, taking a corner slowly. ”A strange life, living there. I was talking to-harrumph-I was talking to Marjorie, that very nice lady in the shop. She was telling me the marquis is there full-time now. He hardly ever goes to London anymore. On that estate, day after day. He knows them all by name, ever such a nice chap these days, apparently.”
”Of course,” said Angela. ”Yes, of course. He was the one who-”
”Yes,” said George. ”And his sister. One of them.”
”Of course, there's three, isn't there.”
”Yes, of course.”
”Of course what?” Laura broke in, unable to contain herself anymore.
”We-ell,” said Angela. ”Yes-hrrm. Audrey-that's the very nice lady who was in the toy soldier display. Well, she said there was a time they were all very worried about him. The young marquis, I mean. Before his father died, the old marquis. Quite wild, apparently, when he was younger. Drink. Drugs. Women. You know, all sorts. And the sister, too. Rose. She had to go to a clinic, a rehab clinic, to sort herself out. This was after the mother left, you know. She went quite wild-and of course Audrey wouldn't have felt it appropriate to tell me, naturally.”
”What do you mean, drink, drugs, women?” Laura said. ”That doesn't really mean anything these days, you know. I mean, we've all-well. So he went clubbing a few times and got p.i.s.sed. Big deal.”
”Oh, no,” said her mother, shaking her head sorrowfully, as if the Marquis of Ranelagh were the son of one of her friends from Harrow. ”Really went off the rails. Few years after his parents split up. Well, poor boy, he was only eleven when it happened. It was awful. All over the papers. Well, some of the papers. Not the Guardian, naturally.”
Laura couldn't work out if this was a veiled criticism of the Guardian for not having its reporting priorities right, or of her for reading a paper that did not concern itself minutely with the lives of the aristocratic, rich, and famous. So she said nothing, but a pang of sympathy for Charles shot through her. Poor Charles, poor thing. To have that everywhere, your family's misery, picked over by vultures and people who didn't know you, who made up their minds about you-it must have been b.l.o.o.d.y.
”Well, he seems okay now,” she said in a neutral voice.
”Yes, lovely man, apparently,” Angela said happily. ”Audrey was telling us-he's Going Out with a very nice young girl. Cecilia Thorson. Her father is some Swedish millionaire. Very grand. Married to one of the Inghams, Lady Tania.”
Laura rolled her eyes. She couldn't care less, she really couldn't. Even her old self, pre-purge, was completely uninterested in the lives of socialites and which posh person was s.h.a.gging which other posh person. Maria the simple nun and Captain von Trapp-now, that was interesting. Had been interesting, rather.
”That's been in the papers, too, I remember now,” said Angela. She swiveled round in her seat and lowered her voice, as if there might be a Daily Mail reporter hiding in the glove compartment. ”I hear it's serious. They're all hoping she's-well, The One! You know!”
”Ooh, goody!” said Laura sarcastically, but it was wasted.
”Yes!” said Angela, nodding.
”So, when are the Sandersons arriving?” Laura asked, deftly steering the subject away.
Angela folded her hands in her lap. ”Early Sat.u.r.day, I think. Your grandmother was going to call them today to confirm who's staying and how long, that sort of thing.”
”Are they definitely coming?” Laura said childishly.
”If you mean Lulu and Fran, yes, they definitely are,” Angela said sternly. ”And very nice it'll be, too. Yes. Annabel's bringing pudding, that's very kind of her.”
”Is Robert coming?” George asked suddenly.
”Yes, of course he is!” Angela said.
”Oh,” said George.
”Look, you two,” said Angela as the car turned into Seavale and the wheels crunched slowly over the sandy stone path, ”stop being childish. Yes, you, George,” she said to her husband, who had opened his mouth to object. ”It's Mum's day, and we'll all have a lovely time, and it'll be great. Besides, Cedric Forsythe's coming up, and he's bringing Jasper.”