He chatted awhile until Thomas appeared with the frames.
They were beautiful.
“They’d be some two hundred years old,” we were told. “They knew how to make things in those days. Craftsmen. We could do with more of them nowadays. Well, I reckon we could make that picture fit. Trouble is, they’re a pair.”
I had an inspiration. “It might be that we should want the other one as well,” I said. For if Dorabella wanted a miniature of herself to match mine, the frames should be similar.
“Unfortunately,” I said, “I am not quite sure about the other one.”
“Well, you could take the one and let me know, eh? I’ll put it on one side for a while—say to the end of October? After that I’d let it go. They should go together, of course, but as it fits…”
“That would be wonderful,” I said. “Could you fit the miniature into the frame for us?”
“I think we could do that,” said the old man.
Thomas appeared again and was asked if he could fit the picture into the frame.
“Have to be trimmed a little,” he said. “Needs a bit of care, but we can manage it. It’s always like that. Pictures rarely fit the frame exactly. Could you call in this afternoon?”
We said we could and agreed on a price and triumphantly came out into the street.
Mary Grace continued to look bewildered.
Later my mother said: “Had a good morning’s shopping?”
“Very good,” I said, which she might have queried if she had not been so engrossed in her own plans.
I could scarcely wait for the afternoon.
The miniature looked more beautiful than ever in the silver frame. I wanted to show it to them all. That evening we assembled in the Dorrington drawing room for an aperitif before dinner.
I said to my mother: “I have a most lovely present for Dorabella.”
“You must have got it today,” she said.
“It was completed today.”
“What is it?”
I cut her short. “I want to show you before I explain.”
“Well, where is it?”
“Wait,” I said. I looked across at Mary Grace, who was talking to Edward and Gretchen. “I’ll get it now.”
I ran to my room and returned with the miniature wrapped in tissue paper.
I unwrapped it and held it out to my mother.
She took it and stared at it.
“Why!” she cried. “It’s lovely.”
I said: “Mary Grace came with me to get the frame.”
“But …it is you,” went on my mother.
“Come on, Mary Grace,” I said. “Confess. I have scolded her already for hiding her light under a bushel.” I turned to Richard, who was staring at the picture in amazement. “Didn’t you realize you had an artist in the family?”
“Mary Grace…” began Richard.
“I knew she dabbled about with paints,” said Mrs. Dorrington.
“You call that dabbling about with paints?” I cried indignantly. “I discovered what she was doing and she did this of me. It is wonderful and Dorabella is going to be so thrilled. I shall take Mary Grace to Tregarland’s with me and she will do one of Dorabella. There is the frame for it in the jeweler’s shop. She is going to have this for her birthday, and perhaps I shall have one of her for Christmas.”
Everyone was talking at once and attention was focused on Mary Grace. She was embarrassed but, I believed, gratified; and I was very happy for her.
Over dinner they went on talking about Mary Grace’s work and the wonderful way in which she had caught my likeness.
My mother was particularly pleased. She thought the miniature was the most delightful present. She was envious, she said, for whatever she found would have to take second place to my gift.
Mary Grace herself was talking with some animation and I believed she was enjoying the company as she never had before.
My mother was saying: “We shall have to go to Cornwall soon. The girls have always celebrated their birthdays together. It was a double celebration, of course. I don’t know what Dorabella would say if we were not together on that day. In a few weeks we shall have to be going. Your father will have to make it for this occasion, Violetta, whatever happens. It’s a pity you can’t come, Edward. It won’t be the same without you.”
Edward said: “I wish Dorabella had not gone so far away. It would have been nice if Gretchen and I could have looked in on the party.”
“I certainly wish she were nearer,” agreed my mother.
We left the men over their port and when they finally joined us I found myself sitting with Richard.
He said: “I want to thank you for what you have done for Mary Grace. She is like a different person.”
“I didn’t give her her talent. It was there all the time.”
“Yes, hidden away. You brought it into the light.”
“She is really very talented, I believe. I am going to ask her to paint my sister, and I shall show her portrait of me to my friends. I am sure there will be commissions.”
“She will be wanting a studio in Chelsea soon.”
“Why shouldn’t she?”
“Well, it has certainly changed her. Look at her talking over there to Edward. You are a marvel, Violetta.”
“Thank you, but I did not paint the miniature. All I did was recognize the talent.”
“This has been a wonderful visit for us all.” He looked at me earnestly. “You have enjoyed it, I hope.”
“Immensely. I was wondering if Mary Grace would come to Cornwall and stay at Tregarland’s. I am sure when my sister sees my picture she will want Mary Grace to do one of her. We shall be going down for our birthday—mine and Dorabella’s—and I shall suggest to my sister that she invites Mary Grace. Do you think she would come?”
“I feel sure you could persuade any member of the Dorrington family to do what you want them to do.”
“Do you really? I was not aware that I had such persuasive powers.”
I glanced across the room and saw that my mother, who was talking to Mrs. Dorrington, was watching me. There was a smile of deep satisfaction on her face and I felt a twinge of uneasiness.
When we left the Dorringtons we went to stay for a few more days in Edward’s house. My mother was often out with Mrs. Dorrington. I did not accompany them and she did not suggest it. I knew she wanted to get my birthday present and it would be a secret.
I spent a good deal of time with Gretchen and we had some talks together.
It was no use pretending that her anxieties did not exist, and I raised the subject of her family.
She said life did not improve. In fact it grew worse. She heard from them now and then and, though they always said that everything was all right, she knew differently. They lived in perpetual fear.
“All the young men are joining the Nazi Party. They march through the town. They are everywhere. It is fortunate that my family are in a rather remote spot, and any day they cannot be sure what will happen.”
“Gretchen, do you think they should try to get out?”
“They are not in a position to do that. They would lose everything. Can you tear up your roots? Not when they have been there so long. Edward says we shall go over next summer. But I do not know. There is change everywhere. They do not tell me all, but I know they are afraid. They do not want me to worry. They say all is well. I am so fearful for them.”
I was trying to think of that horrifying experience which I knew I should never forget. The terrible blustering indifference to human suffering…the sheer terror and hopelessness I had seen in faces that night. It made me despair that human beings could show such careless delight in the sufferings of others. And for what reason? I could have understood anger at some outrageous act, but this senseless persecution because of the hatred of one race for another was beyond my comprehension. What sort of people were they who could behave like this?
I felt sickened with anger and despair every time I thought of what I had seen that night.
“There is something I have to tell you, Violetta,” said Gretchen.