Chapter Six

1911

‘El, I am entirely disappointed in you,’ said Laurie, once Viola had — thank God — left the room, and it was just the four of them. Marigold was quite settled on his lap, a warm, soft weight, not unlike Biscuit the dog back at Pencradoc.

Biscuit was Elsie’s dog. She’d had him since she was around eight years old, which now made him the grand old age of sixteen, but he showed no signs of shuffling off his mortal coil any time soon. Since Elsie had left for London, he showed no particular loyalty to any of the Teagues, but seemed to love everyone equally.

Biscuit would quite happily seek affection from whomsoever was close by, although Medora was, Laurie knew, of the opinion that she was the most favoured soul in the house now. The truth was, that if Elsie walked back in the door, Biscuit would launch himself at her as if he was a puppy again, and had even good-naturedly accepted Marigold and her well-meaning, babyish tweaks and pulls to his ears on her visits.

Laurie felt somehow disloyal likening his toddler niece to the family’s ancient dog, but the weight was the same in his lap and he felt himself patting Marigold’s back even as she snuggled in today. Her breathing grew shallow and her weight seemed to increase and he knew the child was asleep — which also meant he was trapped here a little longer so, again thank God , he was pleased the hideous Viola Arthur had flounced out.

‘Well, please excuse me,’ said Louis cheerfully, and tiptoed out, saying something about having work to do for his father’s estate and how he was dreadfully sorry but it simply couldn’t wait. Privately, Laurie thought Louis was heading into his study to lock his door and have forty winks after playing pirates so furiously with his daughter. There was a nanny or a nursemaid or something, he knew, but it was clearly her day off. Or maybe her week off — who knew? But Marigold was certainly making the most of having her father around. It was good for them both.

‘Why ever are you disappointed in me?’ Elsie’s eyes were wide and far too innocent. ‘I was entertaining a friend — you turned up. Is it my fault ,’ she asked, spreading her arms wide and dramatically, ‘that there is clearly a frisson between you two, and you have yet to notice it yourselves?’

‘There is no frisson. Viola is an awful person — she’s loud and outspoken and jumps to conclusions. I swear she thought I’d made her fall over on purpose.’

‘Darling, it’s fate. That’s what it is.’ Elsie shrugged, unconcerned. ‘Now, on to other things.’ She rummaged around on one of the tables, moving a paintbrush or two, sorting out some mail, discarding the sketch she’d been working on, and finally finding the letter she was after. ‘Look.’ She handed it to Laurie. ‘It’s from Pearl. We’ve decided we’re having a Halloween party for the little ones. Delightful, yes?’ She swooped down and gently scooped Marigold off Laurie’s knee, cuddling her close and kissing her hair the way Louis had kissed hers earlier.

Laurie unfolded the letter properly and read it. Some words jumped out at him that made him cringe inwardly: I’m desperately hoping Viola will still be here for Halloween. Yes, I agree, let’s show the little ones how we do Halloween properly. I am happy to host it here, but I know how keen you are for that little poppet to spend time at Pencradoc — and to hell with all that snobbery. American Aunt Pearl and Aunt Viola will make sure Marigold is as merry as a grig when she sees our jack o’ lanterns!

‘Well, I am sure that Pearl is the only one who is desperate for Viola to be here,’ he said. ‘And please can you translate it for me?’

Elsie rolled her eyes heavenwards. ‘You know what it means. Don’t be awkward.’

But Laurie was feeling in an awkward sort of mood. He obviously wanted to be part of the Halloween celebrations — he loved a good ghost story as much as the next person and there was always an eerie magic about the night at Pencradoc. However, he also knew that Aunt Pearl would not do anything by halves.

‘And will Holly and Noel be involved as well?’ he asked, resigned to the fact that the “little ones” would also include the “littlest one”, as in Holly and Noel’s newborn, Joe.

‘Of course. It will be wunnerful , Laurie. I promise.’ She grinned, deliberately using one of the words her friend was famous for saying.

‘There will be small people overrunning the place,’ he said grumpily. He wasn’t really grumpy, to be honest. He was just irritated that Viola might appear again. He hoped she’d have had enough of England’s autumnal weather by then, and disappear back to New York. Or turn tail and head to Paris, and go back to that poor sop who apparently adored her.

Vile.

Oh. Actually . . .

‘El, do you think we can call her Vile-ola?’

‘Laurie! No! Of course you can’t! And please — not in front of Marigold!’ She pulled the little girl closer into her black lacy bodice and cupped her hand around the ear that was exposed, just in case the sleeping child heard anything. ‘You’re more of a child than she is at times! Dreadful boy.’

Oh, well. She might be correct. “You can’t win ’em all”, as he was sure Viola would say.

It was just — wunnerful — that they might be thrown together again at Halloween . . .

Not.

‘Oh — something over there for you on the table,’ said Elsie, nodding to where she’d left her most recent sketch. ‘Top one.’

Laurie got up and went over. He picked up the top paper, and, to his horror, saw a charcoal sketch of Viola. It was definitely her — the attitude, the turn of her head, everything.

‘Elsie! What the h . . .’ He cast a glance at Marigold. ‘Heck is this?’

‘It’s a gift from me to you. No! No need to thank me. Fresh off the page.’ She held her hand up and closed her eyes. ‘You must promise me you’ll take it home with you and not to destroy it. Not yet, anyway. Please keep it for a while. Then, after a few months, perhaps when — or if — she goes back to America, you can decide what to do with it.’ She opened her eyes and glared at him. ‘Best Sibling Promise.’

A “Best Sibling Promise” was something they’d done as children, when they’d been up to mischief together. It was an unbreakable bond, always had been, always would be.

‘Elsie Pencradoc. You are not the best sibling, you are the worst sibling.’ Laurie was furious. But Elsie’s gaze remained fixed on him. His mouth worked for a moment, then he rolled his eyes heavenwards and whipped the picture off the desk. ‘You have me over a barrel. I will do as you ask, but I am not happy about it.’

‘Nobody said you had to be happy about it,’ she said easily. ‘Not one person.’

Laurie just shook his head.

Yes. His sister was utterly, utterly vile.

But once again, she had the upper hand and he wasn’t very happy about it at all.

* * *

Viola hadn’t intended on being in England any longer than she had to be. No siree . The intention had been that she would be heading back to America with Sam — sometime in September, they’d said, sitting in their rented house in Bloomsbury, planning what they’d do.

Elsie had found them the property, when they’d decided to extend their stay a little. Sam had, of course, travelled to London first just after that crazy midsummer ball, and fallen in love with the place. Viola was sure the truth was that he’d fallen in love with a girl he’d met at the theatre, then another girl he’d met at a museum, and another girl he’d met in Hyde Park . . . the list went on.

But a few days after the awful re-introduction to Laurie Teague, she and Sam got an invitation to a ball. It was the end of the Season, as they so charmingly called it over here, and there was some celebratory ball going on in Mayfair.

At first, Viola was reluctant to go. As far as she was concerned, the Season was nothing more than a meat market. That was, she knew, how Pearl had ended up meeting and marrying Ernie on such a brief courtship. She, Viola, had been much younger, of course, when Pearl had come over here to fulfil her parents’ dreams. Viola, was twenty now and felt grateful that she hadn’t been herded down the same track as her elder sister.

The truth was, that once Pearl had gained her status in England by becoming a “Lady”, her parents were quite happy that their wealth had put their family on the map in Cornwall’s High Society — so they currently weren’t pressuring Sam to marry, and Viola was in no imminent danger of becoming a Dollar Princess herself. She’d grown up in Washington Square North and everyone at home knew how well their neighbour, Flora Davis, had done, marrying Terence John Temple Hamilton-Temple-Blackwood. ‘Second Marquess of Dufferin and Ava,’ Mrs Arthur always said breathlessly.

To Viola’s mind, Pearl had done her bit to raise the profile of the Arthur family by marrying Sir Ernest Elton, so there was no need for Viola to try to compete with the beautiful Flora — or even Pearl — right now.

It would happen, it definitely would — there would be an expectation somewhere along the line — but, for now, the two youngest Arthur siblings were footloose and fancy free, as the saying went. It helped that they had no financial concerns, and maybe, Viola thought, perhaps it was a good thing to be over here with Sam, away from the machinations of her mother . . .

Whatever. Right now, there was a ball to attend and she did like a good party. Pearl’s fabulous midsummer costume ball had been delightful, despite all the craziness and the drama, and Viola hoped that this one would be the same.

And here they were this evening — at the Mayfair Ball!

‘I doubt they’ll appreciate us dancing the way we did at Pearl’s,’ her brother said as they pulled up in a carriage in front of the vast townhouse the ball was taking place at. The house was owned by some distant member of the nobility — Viola wasn’t even sure they would know her if they fell over her, but they obviously knew of Pearl and Ernie, and as the Society grapevine went, they’d also know she and Sam were here for a little while.

‘Mmm. It was fun, though, at Pearl’s.’ Viola smiled as she recalled ragtime dancing the bunny hug and the turkey trot and the grizzly bear . . .

‘It was. Well, here we go. See who I can fall in love with tonight.’ Sam knew exactly what he himself was like, and it was a laughing Viola who alighted the carriage before him and went up the steps to the house.

Almost the first person she saw when she went into the ballroom — a ballroom! A proper-sized ballroom in a townhouse, though! — was Elsie.

Tonight, Elsie was dressed in black again, but in a far more fashionable ball gown. The frock had a dove-grey underskirt, which was covered in intricately patterned black lace, and half the bodice was covered in rich black velvet, which then wrapped around her waist and trailed into a sash that hung prettily down the front.

Although Viola’s frock was mint green with a pink sash, she felt dowdy next to her friend, and even more so when Elsie swooped down on her, with arms wide and welcoming, and a huge smile lighting up her face. Elsie’s hair was tonight piled up on the top of her head with strings of pearls wound through it. She looked utterly breathtaking. Viola patted her own fair hair, set off with a pink ribbon to match her sash, and didn’t feel much more confident.

That was entirely unusual for Viola — she usually felt composed and self-assured in any company — but Elsie outshone every woman in that room.

‘Viola! And Sam! How delightful!’ said Elsie. ‘Come. Louis is over here.’ She linked one arm through Viola’s and one through Sam’s, and marched them through the crowds. Viola felt all eyes turn to look at them and raised her chin a little higher. They would not intimidate her, not at all, even though she keenly felt how short she was tonight! That was the only thing she wished she could change about herself, really. But beyond that . . . Elsie wasn’t exactly tall, but she was still taller than Viola and she felt, for a moment, like a tot being dragged in from the yard for supper.

‘Here we are. Louis, look who I found.’ Elsie smiled and released the pair of them, and then Louis took her hand and kissed it politely.

‘Jolly good to see you here. Glad you could make it.’

‘Oh, we had nothing else planned,’ replied Sam, shaking his hand, his eyes already searching out a belle of the ball he could approach just as soon as. ‘And it is dreadfully good to see you. Now — you must excuse me. I think I have already spotted someone I know.’ He bowed politely, smiled again and headed off in the direction of a pert little brunette who was making big eyes at him.

Ugh.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Elsie, holding Viola’s hand. ‘You shan’t be left alone. Stay with us. I’m just looking for the third member of our party, but he’s escaped my notice at the moment. Oh, look. Yes. There he is. Jolly good.’ She squeezed Viola’s hand and Viola suddenly realised quite how vice-like Elsie’s grip was on her.

She couldn’t have moved away even if she had tried — well, without a big, showy struggle — but dear God did she wish she had struggled when the realisation struck as to who the third person was, and clearly why Elsie had secured her in such a fashion.

Good Lord, no.

Laurie Teague was weaving his way through the crowds, smiling and waving as he spotted Louis and Elsie, but his face dropped into a dreadful scowl as soon as he saw Viola!

Viola forgot herself for a moment. ‘Elsie! No! I’m sure we don’t want to spend any time together. That’s quite all right.’ She shook her arm fruitlessly. Yes. That grip was definitely vice-like.

‘Oh, no. Not at all!’ Elsie would not be dissuaded. ‘Laurie would, I’m sure , prefer to spend some time with you, rather than be paraded like a prize piglet for the ladies here tonight.’

‘Prize piglet ?’ Viola was stunned. What was the “prize” with Laurie Teague?

‘Yes. They all know me , of course,’ said Elsie, but without a trace of entitlement. It was simply a fact. ‘They know my father was the Duke of Trecarrow, and all about Pencradoc and Wheal Mount and everything. In fact, the reason I’m even here tonight is because our dearest hostess wishes me to recommend her godson to the Royal Academy.’ Elsie pulled a face. ‘Not sure if she knows I have no influence over that whatsoever. Quite. Anyway. Laurie — the son of the famous artist Ruan Teague — is, of course, Ruan Teague’s heir. And as such, is a good catch.’ She raised her eyebrows, watching her brother gradually come back to life from his stance of frozen horror. ‘So inevitably, once our delightful hostess realised Laurie was in the vicinity, she of course invited him too. In the hopes that a young lady here will indeed reel him in.’ She left loose of Viola’s arm and mimed a fishing rod.

‘I do not envy the young lady who does succeed in reeling him in,’ Viola somehow managed to say. Silently, she added, But it won’t be me! ‘But seriously, Elsie, I can just find my brother and help him manage his moral compass tonight, and all will be well.’

She made to leave, but she was too slow and all of a sudden he was in front of her.

It annoyed her that he was so tall. Even in her heels, all ready for dancing, she really felt unbearably short tonight. And the fact that, for a brief moment, she had seen him smile and knew that expression would never light on her. It gave her a feeling she was unaccustomed to, deep in the pit of her stomach: jealousy. Pure and simple jealousy.

The feeling made her start. Why would she be jealous that Laurie Teague would smile at other girls in a way he wouldn’t ever smile at her? Surely, she shouldn’t care one jot. But she didn’t have a chance to ponder it further as he was only inches away from her now.

‘El,’ Laurie said, not looking at Viola. ‘And Louis. I thought I saw you hiding over here.’ He raised the glasses of champagne he was holding, two in one hand, one in the other. ‘Just went to get some refreshments.’

‘We found Viola and Sam when you were . . . refreshing,’ said Louis with a smile, taking one of the glasses.

‘Not for me, thank you,’ said Elsie, looking at the sparkling liquid. ‘I want to keep my wits about me tonight, thank you. I shall just have some — normal — wine.’

Louis looked at Viola wryly. ‘I’m not speaking out of turn, because she would be the first to say it — but Elsie and champagne don’t go well together.’

‘Oh, I’m sure Viola can recall Pearl’s last ball,’ said Elsie comfortably. ‘Champagne definitely didn’t suit me then — but look at the outcome.’ She touched Louis’ cheek. ‘I’m rather glad I was so outspoken.’

‘I am also rather glad,’ said Louis, taking hold of her hand and kissing it.

Viola did indeed remember Elsie’s declaration. It had been an education. But she was too polite to agree, so she simply smiled.

‘Laurie, perhaps Viola would like that spare glass of champagne?’ said Elsie. ‘And also, you two haven’t greeted one another yet.’

Laurie fixed his gaze on Viola, his eyes like burning embers, emanating something she couldn’t quite decipher.

He bowed, rather stiffly. ‘Good evening, Miss Arthur.’

She bobbed a tiny curtsey and inclined her head just a smidgen. ‘Good evening, Mr Teague.’

He offered her the champagne glass and she hesitated, then took it with another quick nod of thanks.

She was spared any further horror by the reappearance of Sam.

‘Laurie!’ he said expansively. ‘Good to see you! I was just talking to that delightful young lady over there,’ he indicated the pretty brunette, ‘but then her beau reappeared and I was sadly sidelined. Viola, would you care to dance?’

‘Oh — yes. Please. That would be wunnerful. ’ Viola was so relieved to be able to escape Laurie’s immediate vicinity, she would have agreed to almost anything at that moment.

‘Even though it’s quite old-fashioned compared to our ragtime routines?’ Sam smiled.

‘Even so,’ she replied.

‘A little Parisian waltz, then? Just to mix things up here?’ Sam and Viola had made up their own version of the waltz in Paris and, rightly or wrongly, enjoyed the look of confusion on peoples’ faces when they started dancing.

Viola agreed and allowed her brother to whisk her away, far away, from Laurie Teague.

Well — as far as she could get, anyway, in a full-sized ballroom in a house in Mayfair.