I don’t know why I should let it annoy me, but it did. She was, of course, calling attention to her own helpless femininity which was supposed to be so attractive to the opposite sex.
In any case those mornings were spoilt, and because I felt so bitterly disappointed I tried to analyse my feelings for Drake.
I so much enjoyed being with him; I was intensely interested in all he was doing and I felt I should like to share in it.
In his turn, he was interested in the shop. The Countess had said I must not call it “the shop.” It was “the salon.” “What’s in a name?” I had asked. “A tremendous amount,” she had retorted. ”I have often told you that it is not so much what things are as what people believe them to be. A shop is somewhere where things are sold over the counter. A salon is where artists deign to sell their work.”
“I’m learning,” I replied. “The salon it shall be.”
When I had told Drake this he had been very amused. He had listened intently to the story of our beginnings. He was so interested in everything I was doing. He enjoyed being with Katie and it was clear that she was fond of him. I had a cosy feeling that when we had walked back with Katie in between us, holding our hands, the Countess, who had seen us, had felt some approval. “You looked … right… like that,” she said.
As for Grand’mere, she had never been one to hide her feelings and her opinion was obvious.
I was very touched to consider how her one thought, throughout her life, had been to care for me. She had been heartbroken when Philip died; she had seen through my marriage all her dreams coming true. But I had been without Philip for a long time and she was visualizing another dream with Drake at the centre of it.
It would have been impossible for me not to consider which way I was going. Drake’s persistent visits to the park, our growing friendship, the manner in which a special light came into his eyes when he saw us—they were all significant. There was a possibility that he was falling in love with me.
He was eager for me to go down and see the manor at Swad-dingham and we were to pay the visit the first weekend after the Parliamentary recess.
And myself? I could never forget Philip and that honeymoon in Florence which had ended so tragically, and since my feelings for Drake were beginning to grow into something very serious, I thought of those days more and more.
I had grown up considerably since my marriage. I had been young, simple and innocent. I had known little of the world then. Perhaps Philip had been a little like that, too. We were like two children. Could we have gone on like that? I had suddenly been brought face to face with tragic reality. I had become a mother and there was now one person in my life who was more important to me than myself. I had learned something about the seriousness of making a living for myself and my child; and our close approach to failure and possible penury had matured me considerably. The worldly Countess had taught me a great deal about people. I no longer lived in that ideal world which I had believed lay ahead of Philip and me; there were things in life which were ugly and these had to be recognized and fully faced.
Now I was asking myself how deeply had my love for Philip gone; and had I built it up to such proportions since his death? Had I told myself I could never love a man again?
Had I really known Philip? Could it be possible that there had been some dark secret in his life and that he took his life rather than allow it to come to light? Was that just possible? No, I could not believe it. Philip had been good and true and innocent … as I was. Then why had it happened as it did? And if he had not shot himself who had and why? There was only one conclusion: Either Philip shot himself or someone else did. And in any case there must have been some dark secret in Philip’s life of which I had known nothing.
I had loved Philip, but then, had I really known him? With him I had first learned the meaning of love between men and women. Our relationship had been tenderly romantic. But he was dead. Perhaps it was time that I ceased to mourn him. My meetings with Drake were beginning to tell me that I was not meant to lead the life of a nun.
When I watched him, coming towards me, my spirits lifted. I tried to see him dispassionately: a tall man dressed with quiet, good taste; he had always been distinguished looking as a boy; now that was accentuated. I admired him very much; I was happy to sit close to him and I was pleased when he touched my hand. Yes, I was attracted by him for the days when I did not see him were dull days and I found myself looking forward to that Swaddingham weekend with a joy that resembled Katie’s.
Julia came to the salon. She always arrived in style with her carriage, her obsequious coachman and the little boy who was equally eager to please.
I dreaded her visits which was foolish. She was a very good customer. As she said, she simply adored clothes.
She was a great spender—so different from the Julia of our childhood. She had had her tantrums then and had always been self-indulgent, but she had lacked this overwhelming confidence which being a rich widow had brought her.
The Countess always greeted her effusively.
“I am so glad you came in. I was just saying to Madame Cleremont that the burgundy velvet is just you. I said to her that before we show it to anyone else Julia must see it.”
Then she would hustle her off to the showroom where there would be tut-tutting from the Countess because of Julia’s growing waistline. The burgundy dress had fitted but only just. “My dear child …” (The Countess often fell back into that relationship they had shared during Julia’s launching.) “You must cut out this penchant for food.” And Julia would giggle and become almost a girl in the Countess’s company.
Of course she bought the dress as the Countess intended she should. Then she sought me out.
“Charles is getting married, “she told me.
“Oh … really?”
“It’s about time. Un manage de convenance. You know what I mean. I hear that Sallonger’s are not doing so well now. Charles is not like Philip, you know. He needs money and he’ll get it. She’s a little older than he is and not the most beautiful woman in the world, but my dear, she is gold-plated.”
“I hope it is successful.”
“She’ll get what she wants … a husband … and he’ll go his own sweet way … as he always has done. I told him once he was a ruthless philanderer. He just laughed at me and said, ‘Fancy your noticing that, little sister.’ “
“Perhaps he’ll settle down.”
“What! Charles? Do you believe that? I wish I could find someone for Cassie.”
“Cassie is happy enough.”
“You’ll probably get an invitation to the wedding.”
I did not answer and she went on: “You’re seeing quite a lot of Drake Aldringham, aren’t you?”
“We meet in the park, as you know, as you are often with us.”
“He’s very much a man of the world, you know.”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“A little like Charles in a way.”
“Like Charles?”
“Well, men are mostly alike … in one respect.”
I stared at her in amazement.
”With women, I mean. I know him very well and in spite of all this… clever business and so on…you’re a little innocent in some ways.”
“I don’t know what you are suggesting.”
She laughed. “Don’t you? Just think about it then. Drake is a very great friend of mine … a very close friend. … As a matter of fact … Never mind. Do you really think that burgundy velvet suits me? I wish the Countess wouldn’t go on so about my weight.” She looked at me archly. “Some people tell me they like it. It’s warm … and friendly … and womanly. I don’t think men really like those beanpole types.”