"No, I haven't actually," said Becky honestly.
Another disdainful look appeared on the face of Mrs. Trentham, although it failed to stop her flow, "—who was created a baronet for his services to King George V—"
"And what were those services?" asked Becky innocently, which caused Mrs. Trentham to pause for a moment before explaining, "He played a small part in His Majesty's efforts to see that we were not overrun by the Germans."
"He's an arms dealer," said Major Trentham under his breath.
If Mrs. Trentham heard the comment she chose to ignore it.
"Did you come out this year, Miss Salmon?" she asked icily.
"No, I didn't," said Becky. "I went up to university instead."
"I don't approve of such goings-on myself. Ladies shouldn't be educated beyond the three 'Rs' plus an adequate understanding of how to manage servants and survive having to watch a cricket match."
"But if you don't have servants—" began Becky, and would have continued if Mrs. Trentham hadn't rung a silver bell that was by her right hand.
When the butler reappeared she said curtly, "We'll take coffee in the drawing room, Gibson." The butler's face registered a hint of surprise as Mrs.Trentham rose and led everyone out of the dining room, down a long corridor and back into the drawing room where the fire no longer burned so vigorously.
"Care for some port or brandy, Miss Salmon?" asked Major Trentham, as Gibson poured out the coffee.
"No, thank you," said Becky quietly.
"Please excuse me," said Mrs. Trentham, rising from the chair in which she had just sat down. "I seem to have developed a slight headache and will therefore retire to my room, if you'll forgive me."
"Yes, of course, my dear," said the major flatly.
As soon as his mother had left the room Guy walked quickly over to Becky, sat down and took her hand. "She'll be better in the morning, when her migraine has cleared up, you'll see."
"I doubt it," replied Becky in a whisper, and turning to Major Trentham said, "Perhaps you'll excuse me as well. It's been a long day, and in any case I'm sure the two of you have a lot to catch up on."
Both men rose as Becky left the room and climbed the long staircase to her bedroom. She undressed quickly and after washing in a basin of near freezing water crept across the unheated room to slide between the sheets of her cold bed.
Becky was already half asleep when she heard the door handle turning. She blinked a few times and tried to focus on the far side of the room. The door opened slowly, but all she could make out was the figure of a man entering, then the door closing silently behind him.
"Who's that?" she whispered sharply.
"Only me," murmured Guy. "Thought I'd pop in and see how you were."
Becky pulled her top sheet up to her chin. "Good night, Guy," she said briskly.
"That's not very friendly," said Guy, who had already crossed the room and was now sitting on the end of her bed. "Just wanted to check that everything was all right. Felt you had rather a rough time of it tonight."
"I'm just fine, thank you," said Becky flatly. As he leaned over to kiss her she slid away from him, so he ended up brushing her left ear.
"Perhaps this isn't the right time?"
"Or place," added Becky, sliding even farther away so that she was nearly falling out of the far side of the bed.
"I only wanted to kiss you good night."
Becky reluctantly allowed him to take her in his arms and kiss her on the lips, but he held on to her far longer than she had anticipated and eventually she had to push him away.
"Good night, Guy," she said firmly.
At first Guy didn't move, but then he rose slowly and said, "Perhaps another time." A moment later she heard the door close behind him.
Becky waited for a few moments before getting out of bed. She walked over to the door, turned the key in the lock and removed it before going back to bed. It was some time before she was able to sleep.
When Becky came down for breakfast the following morning she quickly discovered from Major Trentham that a restless night had not improved his wife's migraine: she had therefore decided to remain in bed until the pain had completely cleared.
Later, when the major and Guy went off to church, leaving Becky to read the Sunday newspapers in the drawing room, she couldn't help noticing that the servants were whispering among themselves whenever she caught their eye.
Mrs. Trentham appeared for lunch, but made no attempt to join in the conversation that was taking place at the other end of the table. Unexpectedly, just as the custard was being poured onto the summer pudding, she asked, "And what was the vicar's text this morning?"
"Do unto others as you expect them to do unto you," the major replied with a slight edge to his voice.
"And how did you find the service at our local church, Miss Salmon?" asked Mrs. Trentham, addressing Becky for the first time.
"I didn't—" began Becky.
"Ah, yes, of course, you are one of the chosen brethren."
"No, actually if anything I'm a Roman Catholic," said Becky.
"Oh," said Mrs. Trentham, feigning surprise, "I assumed, with the name of Salmon . . . In any case you wouldn't have enjoyed St. Michael's. You see, it's very down to earth."
Becky wondered if every word Mrs. Trentham uttered and every action she took was rehearsed in advance.
Once lunch had been cleared away Mrs. Trentham disappeared again and Guy suggested that he and Becky should take a brisk walk. Becky went up to her room and changed into her oldest shoes, far too terrified to suggest she might borrow a pair of Mrs. Trentham's Wellingtons.
"Anything to get away from the house," Becky told him when she returned downstairs and she didn't open her mouth again until she felt certain that Mrs. Trentham was well out of earshot.
"What does she expect of me?" Becky finally asked.
"Oh, it's not that bad," Guy insisted, taking her hand. "You're overreacting. Pa's convinced she'll come round given time and in any case, if I have to choose between you and her I know exactly which one of you is more important to me."
Becky squeezed his hand. "Thank you, darling, but I'm still not certain I can go through another evening like the last one."
"We could always leave early and spend the rest of the day at your place," Guy said. Becky turned to look at him, unsure what he meant. He added quickly, "Better get back to the house or she'll only grumble that we left her alone all afternoon." They both quickened their pace.
A few minutes later they were climbing the stone steps at the front of the hall. As soon as Becky had changed back into her house shoes and checked her hair in the mirror on the hallstand, she rejoined Guy in the drawing room. She was surprised to find a large tea already laid out. She checked her watch: it was only three-fifteen.
"I'm sorry you felt it necessary to keep everyone waiting, Guy," were the first words that Becky heard as she entered the room.
"Never known us to have tea this early before," offered the major, from the other side of the fireplace.
"Do you take tea, Miss Salmon?" Mrs. Trentham asked, even managing to make her name sound like a petty offense.
"Yes, thank you," replied Becky.
"Perhaps you could call Becky by her first name," Guy suggested.
Mrs. Trentham's eyes came to rest on her son. "I cannot abide this modern-day custom of addressing everyone by their Christian name especially when one has only just been introduced. Darjeeling, Lapsang or Earl Grey, Miss Salmon?" she asked before anyone had a chance to react. She looked up expectantly for Becky's reply, but no answer was immediately forthcoming because Becky still hadn't quite recovered from the previous jibe. "Obviously you're not given that much choice in Whitechapel," Mrs. Trentham added.