“It will be wonderful to have him here.”
“You’ll see him … often, I imagine. And now, of course, we shall have to get busy. Court dress … deportment lessons … dancing. My dear Rebecca, your days from now on will be fully occupied Until we get you into that drawing room where you will have to make your curtsy … without a wobble, mind … and have become acceptable to London society.”
Then the preparations began. This was what my mother had done some twenty years before. Morwenna told me that the presentation ceremony was less formal than it had been. In the days of the Prince Consort it had been quite a different matter, with debutantes and sponsors being severely censored to make sure that their families were worthy to come into contact with the Queen.
Time was passing and it would soon be Easter. Pedrek came home for half term which was pleasant. Madame Dupré was past giving deportment and dancing lessons. Her successor was Madame Perrotte, middle-aged, black-haired and sallow skinned, who spoke in mincing tones, over-refined and very precise. I danced with her which was not very inspiring, but I did enjoy the lessons. I sang, too. My voice could naturally not compare with that of Jenny Lind but, according to Madame Perrotte, it was just passable.
The lessons took place in the Cartwright home as Morwenna was sponsoring me.
When Pedrek arrived there was great rejoicing. Both his parents thought him wonderful—and so did I! There was something so dependable about Pedrek. He always seemed to me in command of his own life. He was practical and not given to flights of fancy; he was kind and considerate to everyone.
Dancing lessons became great fun because he was called in to partner me. Madame Perrotte would sit at (he pianoforte and rattle out the tunes to which we danced round and round the drawing room, most of the furniture having been pushed to the sides of the room. Madame Perrotte, one eye on the keyboard and the other on us, would cry out: “Non … non, more esprit … s’il vous plaît. This is good, good … ah, too slow … too quick … oh … oh, ma foi.” Pedrek and I would be overcome with mirth and the excitement of the dance, feeling almost hysterical with suppressed laughter.
There was my court dress to be tried on; there was department and the correct manner to curtsy. It was hard to believe so much had to go into one small gesture. But it had to be right, Madame Perrotte insisted, one false step, one little slip and a girl could be disgraced for ever.
Pedrek and I used to laugh about it and I would go into the nursery and show the children how one had to curtsy before the Queen, and how we danced and sang; they listened intently and used to clap their hands when I showed them how I danced in the Cartwright drawing room with Pedrek. They were both practicing curtsies and playing at presentation. Belinda always wanted to be the Queen and she amused us all by her regal manner.
As for my stepfather, if he were looking for a duke or earl to enhance his political career, I did not feel in duty bound to provide it … even if I could. I had not asked to be presented and if I failed, I simply did not care.
There were three weeks to the great day and Benedict thought it was time for the children to go to Manorleigh. He said that I should go down with them to stay for a week or so, then return. I should feel fresh for my ordeal after the respite and I should have a week or so to prepare myself.
Both Morwenna and Helena agreed that it was a good idea. And so it was arranged.
The children were excited. They were going to a big house in the country.
“But it’s not as big as Cador,” Belinda announced.
“No, perhaps not,” I replied. “But it is a big house, and you will be able to ride in the paddock and enjoy it very much.”
“You are coming,” stated Lucie.
“Yes … just at first. Then I shall come back to London. But I shall not be far away and I shall be coming to see you. It is going to be great fun.”
Arriving at the house was an emotional experience. I was prepared for that. Mr. and Mrs. Emery greeted us in the dignified manner of butler and housekeeper in the establishment of a very important gentleman. Here at least were two who did not resent Benedict.
After the first encounter Mrs. Emery unbent a little. A sentimental heart beat under the black bombazine and jet ornaments.
“It’s nice to see you here, Miss Rebecca,” she told me, after everyone was settled in and we had a few words alone. “I hope we see you often. Mr. Emery and I often talk of you.”
“You are happy here, Mrs. Emery?”
“Oh yes, Miss Rebecca. The master … he’s very kind. Not one of the interfering sort. Them sort I can’t abide. He knows we can manage best on our own … and he gives us a free hand. It’s a fine old house, as you know.”
She was pleased the children had come.
“There’s one thing an old house like this wants and that’s children,” she went on. “All them nurseries going to waste up there. That Leah is a quiet one. She’ll be in the nursery most of the time. Miss Stringer … well, governesses are always a problem.”
“I think she would like her meals in her room.”
“That’s how it should be.”
Mrs. Emery was well versed in the protocol of houses like this and she was one who would like everything to be as it should be.
I heard the children laughing in the nursery and I went in. Leah was with them. She seemed less tense than she had in London.
I said: “You like it here, Leah?”
“Yes, Miss Rebecca,” she answered. “I be one for the country. ’Tis better for the children. It’s put some color in their cheeks.”
“They didn’t look exactly wan when they arrived.”
“Oh, you know what I mean, Miss.”
Yes, I thought. It means you will be happier here. Well, I was pleased for her.
Miss Stringer was slightly less delighted. She was sorry to leave London but at least Manorleigh was not so far from the metropolis as Cornwall and I imagined she would be making little trips to town every now and then.
So everyone seemed satisfied.
Mrs. Emery informed me that she had given me my old room and she looked at me a little questioningly. “I thought that was what you’d want, Miss Rebecca. If not, I can have another made ready on the other side of the house.”
I knew what she meant. This was the room I had occupied when my mother was here. Would there be too many memories?
It was natural, of course, that I should remember, but as it was six years since my mother had died, I should have thought that, for people like Mrs. Emery, she had now become a figure of the past. But that was not so, I could see.
I told her I preferred to stay in my old room.
That first night at Manorleigh was an emotional one for me. Perhaps, I thought coward-like, I should have had another room. I sat at the window for a long time, looking down on the pond where Hermes was still poised for flight, now touched by moonlight. And there was the seat under the tree where I had sat with my mother; I remembered how at the pool she had asked me to care for the unborn child … almost as though she had known what was going to happen to her.
I spent a restless night. I was haunted by dreams of my mother. I thought I was seated there in the garden and that she came to me.
I should expect this, coming back to the house, but as my grandmother had wisely told me, I had to put the past behind me and live for the present.
So much had happened since her death. I kept saying to myself, it is six years.
But there was a great deal to remind me of her in this house that at times it almost seemed as though she were there.