It must have been around this time that Percy Wiltshire was finally discharged from the Scots Guards. Lately I had stopped worrying about his mother telephoning me. During those dreadful years between 1916 and 1919 I always assumed it would be a message to say that Percy had been killed on the Western Front, as his father and elder brother had been before him. It was to be years before I admitted to the dowager marchioness whenever she called how much I dreaded hearing her voice on the other end of the line.
Then quite suddenly Percy asked me to marry him. I fear from that moment on I became so preoccupied with our future together and being expected to visit so many of his family that I quite neglected my duty to Becky, even though I had allowed her to take over the flat.
Then, almost before I could look round, she had given birth to little Daniel. I only prayed that she could face the inevitable stigma.
It was some months after the christening that I decided to pay a surprise visit to the flat on my way back from a weekend in the country with Percy's mother.
When the front door opened I was greeted by Charlie, a newspaper tucked under his arm, while Becky, who was sitting on the sofa, appeared to be darning a sock. I looked down to watch Daniel crawling towards me at a rate of knots. I took the child in my arms before he had the chance to head off down the stairs and out into the world.
"How lovely to see you," Becky said, jumping up. "It's been ages. Let me make you some tea."
"Thank you," I said, "I only came round to make sure you are free on—" My eyes settled on a little oil that hung above the mantelpiece.
"What a truly beautiful picture," I remarked.
"But you must have seen the painting many times before," Becky said. "After all, it was in Charlie's—"
"No, I've never seen it before," I replied, not sure what she was getting at.
Chapter 14
The day the gold-edged card arrived at Lowndes Square Daphne placed the invitation between the one requesting her presence in the Royal Enclosure at Ascot and the command to attend a garden party at Buckingham Palace. However she considered that this particular invitation could well remain on the mantelpiece for all to gaze upon long after Ascot and the palace had been relegated to the wastepaper basket.
Although Daphne had spent a week in Paris selecting three outfits for the three different occasions, the most striking of them was to be saved for Becky's degree ceremony, which she now described to Percy as "the great event."
Her fiancé—though she hadn't yet become quite used to thinking of Percy in that way—also admitted that he had never been asked to such a ceremony before.
Brigadier Harcourt-Browne suggested that his daughter should have Hoskins drive them to the Senate House in the Rolls, and admitted to being a little envious at not having been invited himself.
When the morning finally dawned, Percy accompanied Daphne to lunch at the Ritz, and once they had been over the guest list and the hymns that would be sung at the service for the umpteenth time, they turned their attention to the details of the afternoon outing.
"I do hope we won't be asked any awkward questions," said Daphne. "Because one thing's for certain, I will not know the answers."
"Oh I'm sure we won't be put to any trouble like that, old gel," said Percy. "Not that I've ever attended one of these shindigs before. We Wiltshires aren't exactly known for troubling the authorities on these matters," he added, laughing, which so often came out sounding like a cough.
"You must get out of that habit, Percy. If you are going to laugh, laugh. If you're going to cough, cough."
"Anything you say, old gel."
"And do stop calling me 'old gel.' I'm only twenty-three, and my parents endowed me with a perfectly acceptable Christian name."
"Anything you say, old gel," repeated Percy.
"You haven't been listening to a word I've said." Daphne checked her watch. "And now I do believe it's time we were on our way. Better not be late for this one."
"Quite right," he replied, and called a waiter to bring them their bill.
"Do you have any idea where we are going, Hoskins?" asked Daphne, as he opened the back door of the Rolls for her.
"Yes, m'lady, I took the liberty of going over the route when you and his lordship were up in Scotland last month."
"Good thinking, Hoskins," said Percy. "Otherwise we might have been going round in circles for the rest of the afternoon, don't you know."
As Hoskins turned on the engine Daphne looked at the man she loved and couldn't help thinking how lucky she had been in her choice. In truth she had chosen him at the age of sixteen, and never faltered in her belief that he was the right partner—even if he wasn't aware of the fact. She had always thought Percy quite wonderful, kind, considerate and gentle and, if not exactly handsome, certainly distinguished. She thanked God each night that he had escaped that fearful war with every limb intact. Once Percy had told her he was going off to France to serve with the Scots Guards, Daphne had spent three of the unhappiest years of her life. From that moment on she assumed every letter, every message, every call could only be to inform her of his death. Other men tried to court her in his absence, but they all failed as Daphne waited, not unlike Penelope, for her chosen partner to return. She would only accept that he was still alive when she saw him striding down the gangplank at Dover. Daphne would always treasure his first words the moment he saw her.
"Fancy seeing you here, old gel. Dashed coincidence, don't you know."
Percy never talked of the example his father had set, though The Times had devoted half a page to the late marquess' obituary. In it they described his action on the Marne in the course of which he had single-handedly overrun a German battery as "one of the great VCs of the war." When a month later Percy's elder brother was killed at Ypres it came home to her just how many families were sharing the same dreadful experience. Now Percy had inherited the title: the twelfth Marquess of Wiltshire. From tenth to twelfth in a matter of weeks.
"Are you sure we're going in the right direction?" asked Daphne as the Rolls entered Shaftesbury Avenue.
"Yes, m'lady," replied Hoskins, who had obviously decided to address her by the title even though she and Percy were not yet married.
"He's only helping you to get accustomed to the idea, old gel," Percy suggested before coughing again.
Daphne had been delighted when Percy told her that he had decided to resign his commission with the Scots Guards in order to take over the running of the family estates. Much as she admired him in that dark blue uniform with its four brass buttons evenly spaced, stirrupped boots and funny red, white and blue checked cap, it was a farmer she wanted to marry, not a soldier. A life spent in India, Africa and the colonies had never really appealed to her.
As they turned into Malet Street, they saw a throng of people making their way up some stone steps to enter a monumental building. "That must be the Senate House," she exclaimed, as if she had come across an undiscovered pyramid.
"Yes, m'lady," replied Hoskins.
"And do remember, Percy—" began Daphne.
"Yes, old gel?"
"—not to speak unless you're spoken to. On this occasion we are not exactly on home ground, and I object to either of us being made to look foolish. Now, did you remember the invitation and the special tickets that show our seat allocation?"
"I know I put them somewhere." He began to search around in his pockets.
"They're in the left-hand inside top pocket of your jacket, your lordship," said Hoskins as he brought the car to a halt.