Becky considered picking up the pot and pouring the contents all over the woman but somehow she managed to hold her temper, if only because she knew that making her lose it was exactly what Mrs. Trentham was hoping to achieve.
After a further silence Mrs. Trentham asked, "Do you have any brothers or sisters, Miss Salmon?"
"No, I'm an only child," replied Becky.
"Surprising, really."
"Why's that?" asked Becky innocently.
"I always thought the lower classes bred like rabbits," said Mrs. Trentham, dropping another lump of sugar into her tea.
"Mother, really—" began Guy.
"Just my little joke," she said quickly. "Guy will take me so seriously at times, Miss Salmon. However, I well remember my father, Sir Raymond, once saying—"
"Not again," said the major.
"—that the classes were not unlike water and wine. Under no circumstances should one attempt to mix them."
"But I thought it was Christ who managed to turn water into wine," said Becky.
Mrs. Trentham chose to ignore this observation. "That's exactly why we have officers and other ranks in the first place; because God planned it that way."
"And do you think that God planned that there should be a war, in order that those same officers and other ranks could then slaughter each other indiscriminately?" asked Becky.
"I'm sure I don't know, Miss Salmon," Mrs. Trentham replied. "You see, I don't have the advantage of being an intellectual like yourself. I am just a plain, simple woman who speaks her mind. But what I do know is that we all made sacrifices during the war."
"And what sacrifices did you make, Mrs. Trentham?" Becky inquired.
"A considerable number, young lady," Mrs. Trentham replied, stretching to her full height. "For a start, I had to go without a lot of things that were quite fundamental to one's very existence."
"Like an arm or a leg?" said Becky, quickly regretting her words the moment she realized that she had fallen into Mrs. Trentham's trap.
Guy's mother rose from her chair and walked slowly over to the fireplace, where she tugged violently on the servants' bell-pull. "I do not have to sit around and be insulted in my own home," she said. As soon as Gibson reappeared she turned to him and added, "See that Alfred collects Miss Salmon's belongings from her room. She will be returning to London earlier than planned."
Becky remained silently by the fire, not sure what she should do next. Mrs. Trentham stood coolly staring at her until finally Becky walked over to the major, shook him by the hand and said, "I'll say goodbye, Major Trentham. I have a feeling we won't be seeing each other again."
"My loss, Miss Salmon," he said graciously before kissing her hand. Then Becky turned and walked slowly out of the drawing room without giving Mrs. Trentham a second look. Guy followed Becky into the hall.
On their journey back to London Guy made every excuse he could think of for his mother's behavior, but Becky knew he didn't really believe his own words. When the car came to a halt outside Number 97 Guy jumped out and opened the passenger door.
"May I come up?" he asked. "There's something I still have to tell you."
"Not tonight," said Becky. "I need to think and I'd rather like to be on my own."
Guy sighed. "It's just that I wanted to tell you how much I love you and perhaps talk about our plans for the future."
"Plans that include your mother?"
"To hell with my mother," he replied. "Don't you realize how much I love you?"
Becky hesitated.
"Let's announce our engagement in The Times as soon as possible, and to hell with what she thinks. What do you say?"
She turned and threw her arms around him. "Oh, Guy, I do love you too, but you'd better not come up tonight. Not while Daphne is expected back at any moment. Another time perhaps?"
A look of disappointment crossed Guy's face. He kissed her before saying good night. She opened the front door and ran up the stairs.
Becky unlocked the flat door to find that Daphne had not returned from the country. She sat alone on the sofa, not bothering to turn the gas up when the light faded. It was to be a further two hours before Daphne sailed in.
"How did it all go?" were the first words Daphne uttered as she entered the drawing room, a little surprised to find her friend sitting in the dark.
"A disaster."
"So it's all over?"
"No, not exactly," said Becky. "In fact I have a feeling Guy proposed to me."
"But did you accept?" asked Daphne.
"I rather think I did."
"And what do you intend to do about India?"
The following morning when Becky unpacked her overnight case, she was horrified to discover that the delicate brooch Daphne had lent her for the weekend was missing. She assumed she must have left it at Ashurst Hall.
As she had no desire to make contact with Mrs. Trentham again, she dropped a note to Guy at his regimental mess to alert him of her anxiety. He replied the next day to assure her that he would check on Sunday when he planned to have lunch with his parents at Ashurst.
Becky spent the next five days worrying about whether Guy would be able to find the missing piece: thankfully Daphne didn't seem to have noticed its absence. Becky only hoped she could get the brooch back before her friend felt the desire to wear it again.
Guy wrote on Monday to say that despite an extensive search of the guest bedroom he had been unable to locate the missing brooch, and in any case Nellie had informed him that she distinctly remembered packing all of Becky's jewelry.
This piece of news puzzled Becky because she remembered packing her own case following her summary dismissal from Ashurst Hall. With considerable trepidation she sat up late into the night, waiting for Daphne to return from her long weekend in the country so that she could explain to her friend what had happened. She feared that it might be months, even years before she could save enough to replace what was probably a family heirloom.
By the time her flatmate breezed into Chelsea Terrace a few minutes after midnight, Becky had already drunk several cups of black coffee and almost lit one of Daphne's Du Maunes.
"You're up late, my darling," were Daphne's opening words. "Are exams that close?"
"No," said Becky, then blurted out the whole story of the missing diamond brooch. She finished by asking Daphne how long she thought it might take to repay her.
"About a week would be my guess," said Daphne.
"A week?" said Becky, looking puzzled.
"Yes. It was only stage jewelry—all the rage at the moment. If I remember correctly, it cost me every penny of three shillings."
A relieved Becky told Guy over dinner on Tuesday why finding the missing piece of jewelry was no longer of such importance.
The following Monday Guy brought the piece round to Chelsea Terrace, explaining that Nellie had found it under the bed in the Wellington Room.
Chapter 9
Becky began to notice small changes in Charlie's manner, at first subtle and then more obvious.
Daphne made no attempt to hide her involvement in what she described as "the social discovery of the decade, my very own Charlie Doolittle. Why, only this weekend," she declared, "I took him down to Harcourt Hall, don't you know, and he was a wow. Even Mother thought he was fantastic."
"Your mother approves of Charlie Trumper?" said Becky in disbelief.
"Oh, yes, darling, but then you see Mummy realizes that I have no intention of marrying Charlie."
"Be careful, I had no intention of marrying Guy."
"My darling, never forget you spring from the romantic classes, whereas I come from a more practical background, which is exactly why the aristocracy have survived for so long. No, I shall end up marrying a certain Percy Wiltshire and it's got nothing to do with destiny or the stars, it's just good old-fashioned common sense."