Lou paused outside the door to the drawing room. She took a deep breath – not easy in the bone-crushing corset – and stepped inside the dark panelled room.
‘My dear Louisa.’ Mrs Hart rose from a chair beside the fire. ‘How lovely to see you looking so refreshed. You know Charlotte, but may I introduce you to my brother’s wife, Lady Mandeville.’
The woman seated on the sofa beside Charlotte rose. She had the same wide eyes as her daughter, and although her face had lost the plumpness of youth, she was handsomely beautiful. Her fair hair was flashed with soft grey, and she wore a dignified dress in a dark blue lace. She took hold of Lou’s hand and shook it warmly.
‘Welcome to our home, Miss Arnold. My husband’s sister has told me something of the unhappy circumstances that have brought you here. I hope that, in some small way, we can provide a pleasant distraction.’
‘Thank you, your Ladyship,’ Lou said. ‘I’m very grateful to you for letting me stay.’
‘How sweet. Please, Miss Arnold, won’t you walk into dinner with me.’
A footman opened a connecting door for them to pass through. The long table in the centre of the next room was set for five with silver and crystal and a vase of beautiful purple flowers in the centre. Lady Mandeville sat at one end with Charlotte beside her. Lou was shown to the seat beside Charlotte with Mrs Hart opposite. An empty place remained beside Mrs Hart.
‘My son, Edward, will join us,’ Lady Mandeville said, ‘just as soon as he returns from town. He knows my feelings on tardiness, but recently…’ She glanced at the footman who was pouring wine. ‘Well, he has been busy, and sometimes forgets.’
‘Forgets,’ Charlotte laughed. ‘Yes, he does forget his way home when he has spent all afternoon in the public bar of The White Lion Inn.’
‘Charlotte!’
‘Sorry, Mama.’
Two footmen, one of whom Lou recognised as William from earlier, served them a starter of melon formed into perfect spheres. An older man hovered around the table. Dressed in a black suit with a bow tie at his neck, he had a horseshoe of perfectly white hair. He was small and rather wiry, but what he lacked in stature, he more than made up for in the force of his presence. From the way he wordlessly directed the footmen with a series of nods and hand gestures, Lou guessed that he was Bainbridge, the butler. He surveyed the room constantly, and when a ball of melon slipped from Charlotte’s plate, all it took was a nod to send the second footman forward to scoop it up. When William removed Lou’s plate, she had to stop herself from thanking him, reminding herself that it wasn’t the done thing. She should treat him as though he was invisible, even if she had spoken to him just a few hours earlier.
‘I am told that the help has arrived from Caxton Hall today,’ Lady Mandeville said, as William offered her a plate of carved chicken. With a silver serving fork and spoon, she served herself a small portion. ‘Were it not for the generosity of my husband’s cousin with his staff, I am certain I should not be able to cope with all I have to do for the shoot and the Christmas Ball. Are you acquainted with Lord and Lady Caxton, Miss Arnold?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ Lou said. She could hardly say that she had traipsed around the bedrooms and kitchens at Caxton Hall and eaten a cream tea in what had once been their buttery. Copying Lady Mandeville, she took a small sliver of chicken from the plate William offered and helped herself to a scoop of vegetables from the tray offered by the second footman.
‘I had not expected so many guests to accept my invitation,’ Lady Mandeville said. ‘It is sure to be our largest Christmas Ball yet.’
Charlotte grinned and leant in to Lou. ‘Mama has invited everyone we know, and many that we don’t! She hopes to have good news to announce and wants an audience. Although I’m not sure that my brother, Tom, is aware yet that he is to be the stuffed goose of Mama’s festivities.’
‘Charlotte!’ her mother chided her, but she could hardly contain a smile. ‘Is it not my duty as a mother to present my children with opportunities? Even if I cannot second-guess what any of you will do. In my day, children were obedient; they did their parents’ bidding. I really do not know what has become of this generation. I am sure –’
The door flew open, and a young man staggered in. ‘Good evening family,’ he slurred, waving his arms before he fell against the wall. ‘What a pleasure and a delight it is to see you all.’
As one, Bainbridge and the footmen abandoned their serving plates and stepped forward to help him into his seat at the table. ‘Why, thank you, Bainbridge,’ the young man said, collapsing into the chair. ‘What an absolute gent you are. Have I ever told you that? No, I doubt that I have.’
‘Thank you, Mister Edward,’ Bainbridge said quietly before returning to his post beside the sideboard, directing the footmen to continue the service.
Edward ran his fingers through his thick, strawberry blonde hair, making his fringe stick up like a cockscomb. ‘That’s it, Bainbridge. Return to your work. One mustn’t converse with the staff, must one? It makes everybody uncomfortable. Lord alone knows what would happen if we were to treat you as fellow travellers on the journey to the grave.’
‘Edward!’ Lady Mandeville said.
Edward pushed his wire-framed spectacles further up his nose and turned to face her. ‘Mother?’
‘You could at least have dressed for dinner. Especially since we have a guest. This is Miss Arnold.’
Edward draped his arm over the back of his chair. He took a moment to focus on Lou through the thick glass of his spectacles. ‘Good evening, Miss Arnold. What a pleasure it is to make your acquaintance. May I ask, does it offend you that I present myself at dinner in my tweeds? Is the world as we know it going to come crashing to an end simply because I failed to change my suit?’
‘Really, Mama,’ Charlotte objected. ‘It is too much to bear that he thinks he can behave like this in front of our guest.’
‘Oh, don’t mind me,’ Edward said, grinning like a fool. The second footman placed a plate before him. He pushed it away. But when his wine glass was filled, he drank it in one go and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. ‘You all go right ahead and talk about me as though I am not here. What does it matter what I think? My opinion is of no significance to this family.’ He leant forward and pointed at Lou as though to emphasise his point. ‘You see, Miss Arnold, I am the spare. The sediment that sank to the bottom of the bucket while my brother, Thomas, is the heir, the cream that rose to the top. I am the chaff. A thorn in the side. A spare part. A –’
‘Edward!’ Lady Mandeville said again, this time successfully silencing her son. She dismissed Bainbridge and the footmen, instructing them that she would ring when they were next needed. Lou wished she could follow them, rather than sit here to witness this young man’s meltdown.
When the door closed behind the staff, Lady Mandeville turned to Edward. ‘How can you be so indiscreet?’ she said coldly. ‘If your father were here, he –’
‘Well, he’s not, is he? He’s in town. Not that I would know anything about that. He has never invited me to his office in The House to introduce me to his parliamentary friends. I suppose he’s afraid I’d want to discuss Keats and Byron and Rosetti. Unlike the magnificent Captain Thomas Mandeville, who knows exactly what to say to those old Tories on the subject of policies. Head Boy, captain of the rugby team, cavalry officer; now there’s a son any father can be proud of.’
Charlotte slammed her cutlery down. ‘You’re drunk. And nobody here cares to listen to your bile.’
‘I may be drunk, but that doesn’t mean I’m not correct.’ He downed another glass of wine. ‘Do you know, Miss Arnold.’ – Lou squirmed, why was he directing his outpouring at her? – ‘My sister is to be presented next year. Mother will find her a husband with land and money, because that’s what our family does, you see, they make matches for Lady Wealth. God forbid anything as tawdry as love should get in the way of a politic match.’
‘I do not need you to speak on my behalf,’ Charlotte said. ‘And I have no intention of ever marrying. So there.’
‘Oh, Charlotte. Dear, dear, Charlotte. You poor, misguided little kitten. You will be married. But if our perfect brother is not allowed to make his own match, then what hope is there for you and I? You will be put out to stud soon enough.’
‘Really,’ Lady Mandeville said, her neck flushing. ‘This behaviour is insufferable.’
Mrs Hart placed her cutlery down on her plate with a controlled chink. She took her napkin from her lap and wiped her lips. ‘Edward,’ she said. Standing up, she took hold of his hand. Edward got shakily to his feet. He fell against the table, and Mrs Hart helped steady him before escorting him from the room.
‘I must apologise on behalf of my son, Miss Arnold,’ Lady Mandeville said, ‘since it would seem that he is currently incapable of doing so for himself.’ She rang the bell to recall the staff as though Edward’s outburst had had as little effect on the meal as a pebble dropped into the English Channel. She took up her cutlery and regaled Lou and Charlotte with the details of new glass baubles she had ordered from Selfridges. Bainbridge and the footmen recommenced their well-rehearsed dance, placing dishes on the table, removing them and replacing them. Lou looked from mother to daughter. Rich or poor, stately home or council house, families were all the same. The Mandevilles just had more space and better clothes to conduct their squabbles in than the Arnolds.
At the end of the meal, Lou pushed her pineapple ice cream around the bowl until it melted to a yellow slick. The fun had gone out of the food as well as the dream.
‘You look tired, Miss Arnold,’ Lady Mandeville said and, with exquisite tact, added, ‘Do not feel obliged to take coffee with Charlotte and I, if you would rather retire.’
‘It has been a long day,’ Lou said. She got up and placed her napkin on the chair, glad of the excuse to leave.
‘But you will join us for church in the morning,’ Charlotte said. ‘It’s the Christmas carol service for the village school. It’s always held on the last Friday before Christmas. All the staff attend. Mother takes the car, but it’s just a short walk to St Mary’s. Won’t you join me after breakfast?’
‘As you like,’ Lou said.
Leaving mother and daughter to their coffee, Lou made her way into the deserted hall. But just short of the stairs, a movement in another downstairs room caught her attention. Edward was slumped in a chair beside a billiard table, his head in his hands. Mrs Hart perched on the arm of the chair.
‘Oh, my darling, what is wrong? This is so unlike you,’ Mrs Hart said. ‘You seemed so happy this morning when we were out on our walk. What can have changed in these few short hours? Has something occurred to make you feel lost, is that it? You must find something to occupy your time. It’s not enough for you to stay around the house all day. Why don’t you write to your old headmaster? I am sure he would be only too happy to have a bright young man like you on the staff at Harrow.’
‘It’s not that.’ Edward shook his head. He took his hands from his face, removed his spectacles and rubbed his eyes. ‘It’s … it’s … I can’t eat, I know I shan’t be able to sleep. I can’t bear it. I don’t want to live anymore.’
‘Please, my darling,’ Mrs Hart said, ‘don’t talk so. You make me fear for you.’
‘She’s gone. We were supposed to meet in the library. I went looking for her in all of the places where she might be. She’s gone. I can feel it.’
‘Who, Edward? Who has gone?’
With a sob, Edward collapsed on to Mrs Hart’s shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him and held him as he wept.
In an attempt to put a stop to this young man’s pain, Lou closed her eyes. Since this was her dream, surely, she should have some level of control over it? But when she opened her eyes, she saw that Edward was still there, his tears darkening the shoulder of his aunt’s dress. Gathering up her skirt, Lou ran up the stairs to her room. She had barely caught her breath when Sally appeared to help her undress. Lou sat listless as she was unpinned, unfastened, unhooked, and a heavy linen nightdress was slipped over her head. When she proved unresponsive to conversation, Sally diplomatically fell silent. Like a child, Lou gave in to Sally’s tender kindness. She was clearly a nurse whose responsibility it was to administer care.
After Sally left, Lou lay in the darkness, the orange embers of the dying fire glowing in the hearth. Eyes open, eyes closed, all she could see was Dean and Stephen sitting at the kitchen table that morning. Like Edward, Dean had seemed so lost, his heart breaking. In the real world, were her brothers sitting beside her hospital bed, talking to her, willing her to wake from her coma? Or were they thinking how, in the long run, it would be better for them all if she never woke up again?
She rolled on to her side and hugged her knees to her chest. She didn’t deserve this dream world where she dressed in fine clothes and feasted on fluffy biscuits and melon balls. Of course, it was all just her overactive imagination reacting to the drugs, taking her to the kind of world she had always wanted to inhabit. She was escaping – if only for as long as she remained in this dream – while her brothers were left at home. They were the ones who deserved a holiday from the awful lives she had thrust them into. It was her fault that Mum was dead, and here she was, escaping the fallout. Guilt churned in her stomach like curdling cream. That was the single thing she would never escape. Guilt. It would follow her wherever she went, even into her dreams.