Lynda Plante - The Talisman

‘You’d better go up, Edward. I’ll see to that wretched child later. I have to get the other rooms ready.’

Beginning to get angry, Edward picked up his case. He thought to himself that he was being shoved in the bloody nursery again. But far from being a nursery, Edward’s room was enormous. The four-poster was canopied and draped in dark-navy velvet. The room smelt of mildew, but it was, or had once been, very ornate.

Harriet appeared, her arms full of sheets and blankets. ‘Come on, I’ll help you make up your bed. Sorry about this, but you’ll get used to it.’

As they removed the counterpane, Edward couldn’t help but notice the clouds of dust. The linen sheets were clean, though, and with Harriet’s help he made up the bed. She flopped down on it, lying flat out. ‘Right, I’ll give you a few tips. If you want a hot bath, be sure to get up early, otherwise you’ll never get one. Don’t use the lavatory on this floor because it doesn’t flush. Use the one on the second floor... Do you ride? We’ve got five horses — three hunters and two geldings. Dreadful thing to do to anyone, isn’t it? I always think they shouldn’t do it. Have you ever seen a stallion’s donger?’

Edward started unpacking, opening a Jacobean chest of drawers lined with yellowing newspapers and reeking of mothballs.

‘Only, if you don’t ride,’ Harriet continued, ‘you’ll find it ever so boring here. How tall are you?’

Edward laughed, and Harriet cocked her head to one side.

‘Do you always ask questions and then not wait for an answer?’

She chortled, wrinkling her nose. ‘It’s habit. No one here ever listens to anyone else. Where are you from?’

Edward pointed to the front of her trousers. ‘Your flies are undone.’

She looked down and, without any shame, buttoned up her old, baggy trousers. Edward finished unpacking and stood in front of the dressing table, combing his hair. Harriet hovered behind him, standing first on one leg, then the other. ‘You look a bit foreign — you know, like an Italian.’

Edward smiled at her through the mirror. She looked like a boy, but she was sucking her thumb. ‘You’ll get buck teeth,’ he told her.

Harriet blushed and quickly withdrew her thumb from her mouth. She marched to the door, all skinny arms and legs. ‘I’m going for a ride, do you want to come with me?’

Allard appeared and interrupted, ‘No, he doesn’t. Go on, hop it, pest, and stop hanging around Edward. Go on.’ He shoved his sister out, then closed the door. ‘Listen, I’m just going to shoot off for a while. It’s a coincidence, really — do you know Henry Blackwell? Well, he is staying with friends a couple of miles away. I’m just going to trot over for a drink, might ask him over. Won’t be long — see you later.’

Edward sat on the bed, the smell of dusty curtains in his nostrils. He swung his fist and punched one. He knew Allard was using him to cover up his so-called friendship with Lord Henry. He muttered angrily, ‘I’ve got to get out of this dump...’

When the gong for dinner rang with a strange, clanging sound, ending with a clatter as it fell off its stand, Edward heard Harriet yelling down the stairwell that she would be two minutes. Edward checked his appearance in the mirror and went down to dine with the Simpson family.

Later the doorbell rang, and they could hear the thunder of Buster’s paws along the hall as he raced to the front door. They heard the butler shouting to the person outside to push hard on the door as the dog was on guard.

‘We expecting anyone, dearest?’ Mrs Simpson asked her husband.

Allard jumped to his feet and told his mother that it would be Henry. As he rushed to the door he turned to Edward. ‘We’ll all go and gate-crash a few parties.’

Henry appeared at the door in his evening dress and waved to Mrs Simpson. A rather chinless young man, Robert D’Arcy, waited as Allard, behind him, booted Buster up the bum. ‘Go on, get out of it. Come on Robert, Edward. Let’s get going.’

Harriet, not included in the invitation, paid not the slightest attention to anyone. She sat curled up on the sofa, reading Horse and Hound .

Although Edward didn’t have much inclination to ‘party’, he departed with the three boys. They were in high spirits. Allard drove the Bentley, and they went on a round of gate-crashing, except that there was a shortage of young, eligible men, so they were made welcome wherever they went. At first, Edward was very much on the outside, not knowing any of the people, but in one night he got a clear idea of the English social scene. He was half amused, now able to assess the social strata of the Simpson family. They were really upper-middle-class social climbers, with as many aspirations as Edward. He now saw the other side of the country set in a series of parties in ever more splendid homes. The smell of money, old money, was intoxicating, and he took it all in. In those few hours he met more titles than he had in his entire time at Cambridge.

Edward was accepted as part of the group. He looked right, spoke well, and his costume fitted the play. He started to relax. Being by far the most handsome of the four young men, he was soon the centre of attention. He was no fool, and knew not to make the first move himself. Accepting Allard’s invitation had not, it was now clear, been a mistake. Somewhere among this horde of society people he would find one to act as a rung to help him climb onwards and upwards. But he had plenty of time, he would only make his move when he was sure he had made the right connection — one with money. The debutantes twittered and giggled around him, flattering him and making advances. He charmed them, smiling shyly. If they had known what thoughts were running through his mind, they would have blushed.

As he listened and laughed on cue, he amused himself by making each girl believe he was enamoured of her. When he danced he held his partner just that little bit closer than was entirely polite, and he knew he had them creaming their little silk drawers. Nor did he stop with the debs. He made himself equally charming to their parents. He asked them seemingly innocent questions, wanting to be very sure precisely who they were.

He had no thought of marriage, nothing could have been further from his mind. He wanted finance, connections. His intention was to make enough money by the end of the holiday to see him through his final term. He was introduced to mothers, and was astute enough to create just the right air of formality. The invitations flooded in. Everyone agreed Henry’s friend from Cambridge was adorable.

Allard watched Edward ‘work the room’ and nudged Henry and Robert slyly. ‘He’s going to be a great asset this vac, very useful, wouldn’t you say? I reckon we’ll be invited to every “do” in Yorkshire.’

Robert disappeared, and Allard and Henry departed together, making it obvious to Edward that they didn’t want him along. He was assured of a lift back to the Hall, so it took little persuasion for him to stay. Indeed, he had no intention of leaving, the ground was too thick with rich pickings.

It was after midnight when Edward was finally driven home by Lady Summercorn, her two daughters flanking him in the back of the car. She was swathed in mink, an attractive woman in her late forties. She gave him dazzling smiles in the rearview mirror, and when they reached the Hall she turned to him, resting her arm on the back of the driving seat. ‘I’m sure we’ll be seeing a lot of you. Please do call.’ As she handed Edward a card he noted the square diamond solitaire ring, and the veiled look in her eyes. The Lady Primrose syndrome again — he had received several of these ‘come hither’ looks during the evening. These women were more rampant than ever, due to the number of absentee husbands who had gone off to war.