Esther and Philip Falconer considered a twenty-first birthday to be the most important anniversary in a person’s life. “Coming into manhood or womanhood,” was the way Esther put it.
She also believed it should be a family affair, and that everyone who could should chip in to make it the best. And she would always add, “No, not the best. Better.”
For one moment Harry thought of offering his own restaurant, the Rendezvous, as the venue, closing it for the evening, claiming it was a private event to his steady customers.
Instantly, he changed his mind. James’s eighteenth birthday party had been held at the Bettrage Hotel in a private room. Nothing less would do for his twenty-first.
Harry’s brother George agreed with him and so they worked out how much they would each give to their parents. When they explained this to Matthew, James’s father and their eldest brother, he insisted on matching the amount.
George, who had collected wines as a hobby for years, also offered to provide the wine for the birthday party.
It was with a huge smile that Philip was able to announce to his sons that Lady Agatha and the Honorable Mister had already gifted them with the wine, to honor James.
As it so happened, he was a particular favorite of Lady Agatha’s. For years she had been giving him magazines and books, and there was always a birthday present from her of some kind.
“So this year it was the wine,” Philip remarked. Esther had added, “And thank you, boys, for helping to pay for the private room. The food and the tips we can easily manage from our savings.”
And so on a sunny evening on May 27, 1891, a Wednesday, George and James walked together up Curzon Street heading for the Bettrage Hotel in Mayfair.
Uncle and nephew did not talk very much as they walked along at a steady pace. George was mentally writing a new piece in his head; James was thinking about sending a telegram to Mrs. Ward. Instead of writing a letter.
By the time they had reached the famous hotel, he had made up his mind. He would send the telegram, and no doubt she would send one back. That was much quicker. He was so intrigued by her invitation he couldn’t wait to go to Ascot, where she lived.
Philip and Esther were already standing in the private room, near the table which had been set up as a bar, with waiters standing behind it. Hurrying over to his grandmother, James kissed her on the cheek. Holding her at arm’s length, he exclaimed, “You should always wear deep purple, Grans. It’s decidedly your color.”
“James is correct, Mother. How regal you look. Royal purple! And your hair is beautiful,” George complimented her.
Esther smiled, thanked them.
Both men shook hands with Philip, and remarked how smart his tuxedo looked on him. After thanking them, he said, “I can certainly say the same about you two. You’re a couple of toffs. I think there’s nothing quite as elegant as a man in a black tie. I’m glad Esther insisted on our wearing them tonight.”
“I want to thank you, Grans, and you, Grandpa, for allowing me to invite my friends. It’s very generous of you to have them at such a private family event.”
Philip nodded, smiled, and so did Esther. He then said, “I understand from Rossi that they’re your posse.” A laugh escaped. “I must say I do like that curious name. Rossi explained that it means really close friends.”
Before anyone could respond, Natalie appeared in the doorway of the room, accompanied by William. He had come up to London for the party, not wanting to miss it. Lucy Charteris, Natalie’s assistant, was right behind.
After introductions had been made, and drinks served, Matthew and Maude strolled in with Rossi and Eddie hovering in their wake, and came across to embrace their son James.
Detective Inspector Roger Crawford and Harry were the last members of the group to walk in, both apologizing profusely.
James thought it was a lovely gathering, people he cared about. His family, as always, and those friends who had shown how much he meant to them over these last months. A great posse indeed.
His eyes roamed around the room. Suddenly he felt as if he were standing outside, looking in through a window. And for a fraction of a minute, he saw each person objectively, and he was amazed.
How good they all looked, attractive, nicely dressed, being friendly with each other, moving around yet attentive. Laughing and chatting.
What pleased him the most was the sudden knowledge that every one of them wanted to celebrate his birthday, share the joy with him. How lucky he was to have a family like his—family meant everything to him. And his friends did, too.
Natalie, a staunch supporter at work; William, his dearest male friend, always ready to help him if he could. Detective Roger Crawford, who had gone out of his way to make sure he was safe, that he hadn’t been targeted by someone. And finally, Lucy Charteris, Natalie’s assistant, who had proved to be another diligent and loyal colleague.
He was many times lucky, no two ways about that.
His eyes stayed on Lucy, and his face suddenly changed, a smile pushing through. His uncle Harry had just made a beeline for her and was being his most charming self. And she was charming Harry back.
Well, you just never know, James thought. You could meet your soul mate anywhere, anytime. And certainly when you least expected it. Lucy was blond, a pretty English rose.
As if the window he was staring through had melted away, he found himself in the middle of Rossi and Natalie, one on each side of him, eager to talk.
“We want to ask you a question,” Rossi said in a firm, no-nonsense voice.
Natalie took hold of his arm. “Only you can answer it,” she asserted.
James looked from one to the other, and said, “Ask away. I’ll do my best to answer it.”
It was Rossi who took the lead. “Why didn’t Peter Keller come to the party? Or didn’t you ask him?”
Inside James was amused, knowing full well that Natalie probably believed Keller’s absence had to do with her.
Keeping a straight face, he replied, “He was invited, but he had longstanding plans to go to Le Havre, then down to a vineyard in Provence, and back to Le Havre. Armand was going with him to the vineyard, so it was all too difficult to rearrange. He’s extremely busy, as you know, still getting the wine business back on its feet. There was nothing personal about it.”
Natalie nodded. “I thought perhaps he might be upset with me, because of William.” She threw him a questioning look.
James said, “Not at all, as far as I know. He likes you a lot, but I’m sure he’s still gun-shy.”
Rossi asked, “What are you referring to, James?”
“I understand he had a relationship with someone that he considered to be serious. And quite unexpectedly, the lady broke it off. There was never a proper explanation, I gather, and then she went to live in America.”
“Oh how awful!” Natalie exclaimed. “I think that explains a lot. He was a bit cautious with me, and I worried about our relationship. But when I look back there never really was one. He was a bit remote.”
“William isn’t. He cares about you,” Rossi announced in a confident voice.
James glanced at his sister alertly. He realized Rossi and Natalie had become close friends and decided to leave them to their confidences. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies, I must move around, work the room.”
Esther and Philip, with the help of Harry, had planned the menu. The first course was seared foie gras on thick slices of warm sautéed apple, to be followed by a scoop of lemon sorbet to cleanse the palette. The main course was duck cooked in an orange sauce with tiny roasted potatoes.
Dessert was James’s favorite, strawberries Romanov, but there was also a birthday cake with twenty-one candles, which he had to blow out. He did so amid much laughter.
The wine flowed, with champagne for the birthday cake, and everyone commented on the delicious food. A grand meal.
There were short speeches, accolades, jokes, and teasing. The supper was a great success, which pleased his grandparents, who had set out to make it the best birthday ever for their grandson. After all, there was nothing quite like a twenty-first birthday party … it must always be special so it was remembered forever.
Everyone stayed on, to relax together, and coffee and tea were served. Philip offered after-dinner drinks and took a cognac for himself. And so did his three sons.
“There’s nothing like a drop of Napoleon at the end of a superb supper,” Harry said.
“Now is the perfect time to open your presents,” Rossi announced, and she and Natalie began to bring them over to James. He had told everyone not to buy anything for him, but they had not listened.
There was an elegant delphinium-blue cravat from Natalie, and a gold stick pin with a small pearl at the end, ideal for the cravat, from William. Lucy had found a silk handkerchief which worked well with the cravat and would go in his top pocket. Inspector Crawford gave him a smart satchel for his papers, made of soft black leather.
After opening them all, James said, “Thank you. Thank you for my presents and for making this a wonderful birthday.”
As he said this, he looked at his grandparents, smiling, and then smiled once more at his entire family.
Slowly he walked around the table, kissing cheeks and shaking hands, being his usual charming self.
Eddie, never one to be left out, exclaimed, “I hope you liked my painting, James.”
“I did. It’s one of your best.” He glanced at his mother, and then his sister. “And your white shirts are the epitome of elegance … definitely to keep for special occasions.”
James and George walked back home to their flat on Half Moon Street. It was a balmy night, without a wind, and the midnight blue sky was scattered with stars. Uncle and nephew were not in a hurry, and George smoked a cigarette, enjoying the stroll and dissecting the evening. The journalist in him came out in its usual way.
“Did you notice that Harry was somewhat taken with Lucy?” George threw James a knowing look.
“I certainly did,” James responded, and grinned. “He didn’t waste much time.”
“He beat me to it as usual,” George mumbled. “Anyway, Natalie’s more my type. But I think she’s taken. I noticed William—hovering a lot.”
“I believe they might be an item. And probably serious—or at least on the way to being so.”
“Mmm. Lost out again, I have. By the way, when is Irina coming back from Russia? She’s been gone awhile now.”
James let out a long sigh. “I don’t know. Her aunt Olga had an accident and needs her for a bit longer.” He half smiled. “At least I had a birthday card from her, and she seems to miss me.”
“I’m sure she does. Don’t worry, old chap. She’ll be back.”
“I got a promotion this week, Uncle George. Mr. Malvern appointed me managing director of Malverns. I’ll be running the company. He wants to slow down, take it easy.”
“My God, why didn’t you tell us all at the party? Everyone would have been thrilled to hear this fantastic news. Congratulations, James. Well done. And you’ve earned it.”
“Thanks, Uncle George. It’s true. I’ve worked like the devil, and put in long hours. But to be honest, I didn’t expect such a big promotion.”
“I wish you’d told us at the dinner. But never mind, I’ll announce it to the world. In my paper.”
“You’d better check that out with Henry Malvern first,” James cautioned. As always he never wanted to look as if he was boastful or promoting himself.
“Leave it to me,” George answered. “I’ll handle it with kid gloves.”