“Oh, they are charming,” said Aunt Amaryllis. “I like them all very much. Young Joe is very nice … and that girl Frances.”
“Oh, full of good works,” said Uncle Peter. “As you see, I have a formidable rival.”
“I don’t doubt you have more irons in the fire.”
“It’s always wise to,” said Uncle Peter.
Soon after that we left the men at their port and went with Aunt Amaryllis to the drawing room.
“I do wish you were staying longer in London,” said Aunt Amaryllis.
“It would be nice,” agreed my mother, “but we have to go to Eversleigh.”
“It must be very sad there for you now that your parents have gone, Jessica.”
My mother nodded. “It can never be the same, but I do think Claudine likes to see us and there are Jonathan and Tamarisk.”
“Those two are all right. My mother comes up now and again but my father does not like to leave the place.”
“Oh, Amaryllis, how things have changed!”
“Life does, but we have been so fortunate, Jessica, you and I in our marriages. You and Jake, Peter and I. I do hope Helena and Peterkin and Annora will be as lucky. Jacco, too. I wish Peterkin would decide what he wants to do. Helena, why don’t you try to persuade Annora to stay with us while her parents are in Eversleigh?”
Helena’s face lighted up. “Oh, that would be lovely.”
She looked appealingly at my mother and then turned to me: “Would you like to, Annora?”
“Yes,” I said, “I should. I’d love to see all the festivities for the coronation. I’d like to be with you, Helena.”
“I don’t see why you shouldn’t stay up here,” said my mother. “After all, you’d really enjoy that more.”
“We’d look after her,” said Aunt Amaryllis. “Wouldn’t we, Helena?”
“It would be lovely,” said Helena.
The next day it was decided that when my parents left for Eversleigh, I should stay in the house in the square until my parents returned.
I first met John Milward in the Park. My parents had gone to Eversleigh and I was very much enjoying being with my cousins. When he was away from the house Peterkin seemed to change his personality; he became much more relaxed. I thought that was another example of how trying it must be to live in the shadow of such a successful father.
I shared a bedroom with Helena which was a pleasure to us both because before going to sleep we would share confidences. I learned quite a lot about her and how she had always felt herself to be dull and stupid because she found lessons difficult. Coming out and discovering that she was not attractive to the opposite sex had been the coup de grâce.
But now that was changed. John Milward had come into her life.
Sometimes Peterkin would join Helena and me and we would go out together. Our favourite jaunt was to the Park which seemed a source of never-ending delight to me. We enjoyed walking and would stroll through St. James’s Park and Green Park to Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens. There we would walk by the Serpentine and stand at the edge of the Round Pond looking beyond to Kensington Palace where the Queen had spent her childhood. She was at Buckingham Palace now and I always hoped that we should catch a glimpse of her riding in her carriage. Everyone seemed delighted that we now had a young girl for a queen.
We had just entered Hyde Park and Peterkin pointed out to me Apsley House, the home of the Duke of Wellington.
“And,” he was saying, “in case you should fail to see it and pay due homage, here is the great Achilles Statue set up in honour of the Duke.”
It was a massive figure, meant I supposed to display the might and grandeur of the masculine figure—a symbol of the power of the great Duke.
I read the inscription which stated that it was dedicated to Arthur Wellesley, Duke of Wellington, and his brave companions in arms; it had been cast from cannon taken at the Duke’s victorious battles including that of Waterloo. It had been erected through subscriptions of the women of England to do honour to military glory.
“There has been a lot of controversy about it,” said Peterkin. “Some think it vulgar. Others that it is a work of genius.”
“Isn’t that always what happens to works of art?” I asked. “Most things are criticized before people know what they ought to think, and when they are proclaimed works of genius everyone agrees, and it is as though there had never been any other opinion. Lots of people have to be told what they should think.”
“When I look at that,” said Peterkin, “I think of joining the army.”
Helena said: “You were thinking of going into Parliament a little while ago.”
Peterkin grimaced. “Fancy following our father! Everyone would say, He’s not what his father was!”
“Perhaps you would be better,” I suggested.
“That would be impossible.”
It was just at this moment that two young men came strolling towards us and before I was told I knew, from Helena’s expression, that one of them was John Milward.
“Well,” he said, “fancy meeting you.” And I could see, from the manner in which he looked at Helena, that their arrival was no surprise and I remembered that she had been rather insistent that I see the Achilles Statue, and it was she who had kept us lingering there.
“Annora,” she said, “this is Lord John Milward.”
He bowed over my hand. Yes, there was something very pleasant about him. What struck me most was his youth. He looked younger than Peterkin, and Peterkin was two years younger than Helena. He seemed a little weak to me; he had large brown eyes and a gentle expression. Perhaps I had looked too long at Achilles.
He was smiling at Helena and I thought with pleasure: He is surely in love with her.
I was being introduced to the other young man and as soon as I heard his name I remembered. He was Joe Cresswell and that meant he was the son of the man whom my father had laughingly called “the enemy.”
We stood for a while talking. Peterkin explained that we were taking a walk through the Park to show Cousin Annora some of the sights. Joe Cresswell was interested and I told him I came from Cornwall; and we talked for a while about that county of which he knew a little.
I walked ahead with Peterkin and Joe Cresswell; and Helena and John Milward fell in behind. We strolled along near the Row and Peterkin explained to me that this was once called the Ring and was a sort of parade for fashionable people to show off their fine clothes.
Joe Cresswell said: “I’ve something to tell you, Peterkin. I think I may be standing at the next election. I’m one of the candidates up for selection anyway, and my father says he thinks I have a good chance.”
“That’s excellent news,” said Peterkin.
“If I get it. The general opinion is that the party will be out at the next election.”
“Yes,” said Peterkin, “everyone seems to think that is very likely.”
Joe Cresswell turned to me. “I’m sorry, Miss Cadorson. This must all be rather boring for you.”
“No. Not in the least. I am very interested to hear about it. Being in London is like breathing different air. It is all so exciting. I’m afraid we are a little dull in the country.”
“Some prefer it,” said Peterkin. “It depends so much on one’s personality.”
“I think,” said Joe Cresswell, “that I should always want to be where things are happening.”
We came to the Serpentine and walked along its banks. Joe Cresswell asked me how long I was staying. I told him I was not quite sure. My parents were visiting relatives in Kent. When they returned to London we should all go home together.
“Annora will be coming out next year,” said Peterkin. “But she is going with her family to Australia before that, I believe.”