American visitors hither and yon, and arranged for them to stay, as paying guests, in a selection of well-vetted private houses. Isobel Balmerino had been roped into this exercise, and hard labour it was, too. Violet could not think of a more exhausting way of making a bit of money.
However, from the social point of view, the Steynton family had proved themselves a true asset to the community, being both friendly and unassuming, generous with their hospitality, and always willing to give time and effort to the running of fetes, gymkhanas, and various fund-raising events.
Even so, Violet could not begin to imagine why Verena was here.
"I'm glad you stayed. I would have been sorry to miss you. Edie's just making us a cup of coffee."
"I should have telephoned, but I was on my way to Relkirk and suddenly thought, much better to drop in and take my chance. On the spur of the moment. You don't mind?"
"Not in the least," Violet fibbed robustly. "Come and sit down. I'm afraid the fire's not been lighted yet, but…"
"Oh, heavens, who needs a fire on a day like this? Isn't it blissful to see the sun?"
She settled herself on the sofa and crossed her long and elegant legs. Violet, less gracefully, lowered herself into her own wide-lapped chair.
She decided to come straight to the point. "Edie said you wanted a word with me."
"I just suddenly thought… you'd be the very person to help."
Violet's heart sank, envisaging some bazaar, garden-opening, or charity concert, for which she was about to be asked to knit tea-cosies, declare open, or sell tickets.
"Help?" she said faintly.
"No. Not so much help, as give advice. You see, I'm thinking of throwing a dance."
"A dance?"
"Yes. For Katy. She's going to be twenty-one."
"But how can I advise you? I haven't done such a thing for longer than I can remember. Surely, you'd be better to ask somebody a little more up-to-date. Peggy Ferguson-Crombie, or Isobel, for instance?"
"It's just that 1 thought… you're so experienced. You've lived here longer than anybody I know. I wanted to get your reactions to the idea."
Violet was nonplussed. Casting about for something to say, she welcomed the appearance of Edie with the coffee tray. Edie set this down on the fireside stool. "Are you wanting biscuits?" she asked.
"No, Edie, I think that will do very nicely. Thank you so much."
Edie departed. In a moment, the vacuum cleaner could be heard roaring away upstairs.
Violet poured the coffee. "What sort of an affair did you have in mind?"
"Oh, you know. Reels and country dances."
Violet thought that she did know. "You mean tapes on the stereo, and eightsomes in the hall?"
"No. Not like that. A really big dance. We'd do it in style. With a marquee on the lawn…"
"I hope Angus is feeling rich."
Verena ignored this interruption. "… and a proper band for the music. We'll use the hall, of course, but for sitting out. And the drawing-room. And I'm sure Katy will want a disco for all her London friends, it seems to be the thing to do. Perhaps the dining-room. We could turn it into a cave, or a grotto…"
Caves and grottoes, thought Violet. Verena had clearly been doing her homework. But then, she was an excellent organizer. Violet said mildly, "You have been laying plans."
"And Katy can ask all her friends from the south… we'll have to find beds for them, of course…"
"Have you spoken to Katy about your idea?"
"No, I told you. You're the first person to know."
"Perhaps she won't want a dance."
"But of course she will. She's always loved parties."
Violet, knowing Katy, decided that this was probably true. "And when is it to be?"
"I thought September. That's the obvious time. Lots of people up for the shooting, and everybody still on holiday. The sixteenth might be a good date, because by then most of the younger children will have gone back to boarding-school."
"This is only May. September's a long way off."
"I know, but it's never too early to fix a date and start making arrangements. I'll have to book the marquee, and the caterer, and get invitations printed…" She came up with another pleasurable idea. "And, Violet, wouldn't fairy lights be pretty, all the way up the drive to the house?"
It all sounded dreadfully ambitious. "It's going to be a lot of work for you."
"Not really. The Tourist Invasion will be over by then, because the paying guests stop coming at the end of August. 1 shall be able to concentrate my mind. Do admit, Violet, it is a good idea. And just think of all the people I'll be able to cross off my social-conscience list. We can get everybody off in one fell swoop. Including," she added, "the Barwells."
"I don't think I know the Barwells."
"No, you wouldn't. They're business colleagues of Angus's. We've been to dinner with them twice. Two evenings of jaw-aching boredom. And never asked them back, simply because we couldn't think of anybody who could be asked to endure an evening in such excruciatingly dull company. And there are lots of others," she remembered comfortably. "When I remind Angus about them, he's not going to raise any difficulties about signing a few cheques."
Violet felt a little sorry for Angus. "Who else will you ask?"
"Oh, everybody. The Millburns and the Ferguson-Crombies and the Buchanan-Wrights and old Lady Westerdale, and the Brandons. And the Staffords. All their children have grown up now, so they can be invited, too. And the Middletons should be up from Hampshire, and the Luards from Gloucestershire. We'll make a list. I'll pin a sheet of paper to the kitchen notice-board, and every time I think of a new name, I'll write it down. And you, of course, Violet. And Edmund, and Virginia, and Alexa. And the Balmerinos. Isobel will give a dinner party for me, I'm sure…"
Suddenly, it all began to sound rather fun. Violet's concentration drifted back to the past, to forgotten occasions now remembered. One memory led to another. She said without thinking, "You should send Pandora an invitation," and then could not imagine why she had come up with the impulsive suggestion.
"Pandora?"
"Archie Balmerino's sister. One thinks of parties, and one automatically thinks of Pandora. But of course you never knew her."
"But I know about her. For some reason, her name always seems to come up at dinner-party conversations. You think she would come? Surely she hasn't been home for over twenty years?"
"That's true. Just a silly thought. But why not give it a try? What a shot in the arm it would be for poor Archie. And if anything would bring that errant creature back to Croy, it would be the lure of a full-blown dance."
"So you're on my side, Violet? You think I should go ahead and do it?"
"Yes, I do. If you have the energy and the wherewithal, I think it's a wonderful and generous idea. It will give us all something splendid to look forward to."
"Don't say anything until I've bearded Angus."
"Not a word."
Verena smiled with satisfaction. And then another happy thought occurred to her. "I shall have a good excuse," she said, "to go and find myself a new dress."
But Violet had no such problem. "I," she told Verena, "shall wear my black velvet."
2
Thursday the Twelfth
The night was short and he did not sleep. Soon it would be dawn.
He had imagined that, for once, he might sleep, since he was tired, exhausted. Drained by three days of an unseasonably hot New York; days filled to the brim with breakfast meetings, business lunches, long afternoons of argument and discussion; too much Coca-Cola and black coffee, too many receptions and late nights, and a miserable dearth of exercise and fresh air.
Finally, successfujly, it had been achieved, though not easily. Harvey Klein was a tough nut, and some persuasion was necessary to convince him that this was the very best, and indeed the only way to hook the English market. The creative campaign that Noel had brought with him to New York, complete with a time-schedule, layouts, and photographs, had been approved and agreed upon. With the contract under his belt, Noel could return to London. Pack his bag, make a last-minute telephone call, stuff his brief-case with documents and calculator, take another telephone call (Harvey Klein to say safe journey), get himself downstairs, check out, flag down a yellow cab, and head for Kennedy.