“Jonnie?”

He nodded. “I’m afraid seeing me must have brought it back.”

“Well, I suppose it has to be brought back every now and then … but it isn’t as bad as it was in the beginning.”

“Poor old Jonnie. He was made for martyrdom.”

“You did not go to the war, I suppose.”

“Not much in my line. I’m not the heroic type.”

“I often wonder what good it did in the end.”

“Ah, that’s the question. But at the time it seemed the right thing to do.”

“Do you remember Miss Gilmore … Grace Gilmore?”

“Oh yes, I do. She was a rather striking lady as far as I remember.”

“She married Jonnie.”

“Did she really?”

“Yes, she went out as one of Miss Nightingale’s nurses. They found each other out there and were married. She is here in London now. We see a great deal of her now she is a member of the family.”

“I thought she was a most unusual person.”

“Yes, I suppose she is.”

“Tell me about yourself.”

“There’s little to tell. You know what it is like at Cador. Well, that is my life, with occasional visits to London.”

“Where are you staying now?”

“With Aunt Helena … Jonnie’s mother. She’s bringing me out.”

“I see.”

“Are you often invited to occasions like this?”

“Frequently. They have to keep up the quota of young men to provide partners and escorts for the debutantes, and if one is not too old, maimed, or in any way afflicted, and one’s family is up to a certain level in the social scale … one is invited. The sexes must be evenly balanced—so here I am.”

“And do you enjoy the role?”

“I am enjoying it immensely at this moment.”

“It is pleasant to renew old acquaintances.”

“Well, not always. Sometimes it can be alarming. Just imagine being confronted by one of the skeletons which have crept out of the cupboard.”

“Are there many in your cupboard?”

“It is inevitable that such a worthless character as I should collect a few. You now … you have a life of virtue behind you. You are an innocent maiden just setting off into life’s devious paths. That is different.”

I shivered faintly. It was inevitable that meeting him should revive old memories and his references to skeletons in the cupboard made me uneasy.

He did not notice and we had just passed our group. Morwenna was still sitting out and as she could not manage animated conversation was looking bored and uneasy.

I said: “Will you do me a favor?”

“Even unto one half of my kingdom.”

“I shall not be as demanding as that. I want you to return me to my family and dance with Miss Pencarron.”

“Is that the young lady sitting there?”

“Yes. She is rather nervous. She is terrified that she is going to be a failure.”

“Which of course is the easiest way of becoming one.”

“I know. That’s why I don’t care.”

“You are asking a great deal.”

“Why? She is a charming girl, and she has been taught to dance. She won’t tread on your toes … too much.”

“I would endure a stampede to please you. But you are still asking a great deal because I have to abandon the pleasure of your company, and I have a better idea. Leave this to me.”

As we went on dancing he was scanning the groups of people as we sped by. Suddenly he halted.

“Philip,” he called. “Philip, this is Miss Hanson. What are you doing here standing partnerless? Is that the way to do your duty? Miss Hanson, this is Philip Martin.”

He bowed. “Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Let’s make a foursome for supper,” said Gervaise Mandeville. “You go and dance with Miss Hanson’s friend. She’s very much in demand so be quick. Let’s hope she’s free now. Come along, we’ll take you over and introduce you.”

We went back to the group. “Excellent,” said Gervaise. “She’s free.”

Philip Martin was introduced. He was a rather colorless young man, but he had a pleasant manner and all the usual clichés were exchanged.

He asked Morwenna to dance. There was a look of relief on Helena’s face as they started off. Gervaise and I followed them into the dance.

I liked him for that. In fact I was liking him more and more with every minute. He had an ebullient personality, and a way of turning the most faintly amusing subject into a hilarious joke. He laughed a great deal; and when he was not laughing his eyes were alight with amusement.

I spent almost the whole evening with him.

We met Morwenna and Philip Martin in the supper room; we sat at a table for four, eating delicious cold salmon washed down with champagne. I could see that Morwenna was enjoying the ball and I was grateful to Gervaise for that; and there was a great deal of laughter at the table.

We arranged that we should all take a ride in the Row the next day; and I was delighted that I was going to see Gervaise again so soon.

Riding home in the carriage we were rather subdued. I could see that they were all very pleased at the way in which the evening had gone.

I thought it was all thanks to Gervaise, who had certainly made it enjoyable for me … and for Morwenna. But for his timely introduction of Philip Martin Morwenna might have sat for the whole evening, uninvited except by the middle-aged gentlemen whose duty it was to ask the neglected for the occasional dance.

“He is a very charming young man,” said Helena of Gervaise.

“It was nice that we knew him,” commented my mother. “It is always pleasant at such affairs to come upon people one knows. He’s an archaeologist, I believe.”

“He isn’t now,” I said. “He gave it up.”

“The parties and balls get more interesting as the season goes along,” said Helena. “That is when you all get to know each other. At first quite a number are strangers to each other.”

“Gervaise Mandeville and Philip Martin are calling for us tomorrow,” I said. “We are going riding in Rotten Row.”

I was well aware of the significant glances between our elders. This was how these affairs were supposed to go. I daresay there would be a great deal of discussion among our elders about Gervaise Mandeville and Philip Martin.

Morwenna and I were too excited to sleep. We lay in our beds and talked about the evening.

“I think Gervaise is very interested in you,” said Morwenna.

“Oh, it is just because he stayed at Cador once.”

“I think it is more than that.”

“He came down with Jonnie. They were digging together.”

“Yes. I know. By Branok Pool.”

Still the mention of the place made me feel as though I had been doused in cold water.

“That’s why he picked me out,” I explained. “He recognized me.”

“Well, he needn’t have attached himself to you for the whole evening. He liked you. He liked you a lot. I could see that.”

“And Philip liked you.”

“I don’t think so. He was just doing what he felt he had to. He told me Gervaise had given him a tip.”

“A tip?”

“Yes … advised him about some horse race and he won two hundred pounds. He said he was very grateful to Gervaise. I think that was why he was dancing with me because Gervaise wanted him to. Did you ask him to?”

“What nonsense!” I lied. “Really, Morwenna, you have to stop thinking like this. You get the notion that nobody wants you for yourself … and you make it so obvious that if you are not careful people will begin to think you are right.”

“You certainly don’t think like that.”

“No, my dear Morwenna, I never think about it. If people like me that’s fine … if they don’t … well, I won’t like them either. We always like people who like us. I think it will be fun riding tomorrow. Gervaise is amusing, isn’t he?”

“Yes,” said Morwenna.

“Are you sleepy? Good night.”

“Good night,” said Morwenna.

I could not sleep. It had been an exciting evening. I had loved the glitter, the ballroom, the splendid dresses, the flowers and meeting Gervaise. But over it all had been the shadow of the past. I could not think of Gervaise without seeing him digging at the pool and remembering the fears that had aroused in me.

I supposed it would always be like that.

My friendship with Gervaise grew apace. He had visited the house frequently. We met at parties and he always arranged that we should be together there. Philip Martin had dropped out. I supposed he felt he had repaid his obligations to Gervaise for the “tip.” So we were no longer a quartet. Poor Morwenna, she accepted her fate stoically. It was all working out just as she had expected it would.

I had made a pact with Gervaise that when we were at parties and dances, he would be sure that there was a partner for Morwenna. He always did and I was grateful to him. He was very kind and gentle to her and provided the partners in the most tactful way, so that Morwenna did not guess she was being asked because he insisted that they should.

There was a ball given by Aunt Helena and Uncle Matthew, but it was held at the house in the square as there was an adequate ballroom there. Uncle Peter was present and several celebrated politicians so it was quite an auspicious occasion.

It went off very well and by that time it seemed clear that the friendship between myself and Gervaise was progressing to something deeper.

Uncle Peter had, as he said, made discreet inquiries and discovered that Gervaise was the younger son of a rather illustrious family which claimed to have come over with the Conqueror, but could at least be traced to the fourteenth century. They had fallen on hard times, as had so many of the great families with mansions to keep up and a style of living from which it would be sacrilege to depart because it had been going on for centuries. Gervaise was by no means wealthy; there were two elder brothers and a sister. The estate was in Derbyshire. His father had married a rich heiress which had bolstered up the family fortunes for a few decades. Gervaise had charm, breeding, but a rather inadequate income.

My mother was not in the least perturbed about that. She said they were not fortune hunting for their daughter. She thought Gervaise charming and she could see that I was becoming very fond of him.

On the rare days when I did not see him time seemed long. I missed the laughter and the lighthearted way of looking at life.

“You’re lucky,” said Morwenna with ungrudging admiration. “He is so amusing … but what I like best about him is that he is so kind. Are you going to marry him?”

“I’ll have to wait to be asked.”

“I’m sure he will ask you.”

“Sometimes I am not sure. Has it struck you that, charming as he is, he is not really very serious?”

She was thoughtful. “He makes everything seem amusing, yes, but I think he could probably be serious about some things, and I think he is about you. He is always there. You see each other so frequently.”

“Yes,” I said slowly. And I knew I should be unhappy if he regarded our relationship as something with which to amuse himself for a short time.

We suited each other. It amazed me how, when I was in his company, I responded to him. I was lighthearted, as he was … and everything seemed to be such fun. I had never felt quite so carefree since that incident at the pool. In the first place he had reminded me of it because of the fact that he had dug there with Jonnie. He reminded me of Jonnie, being interested in the same things—and yet with him I felt lighthearted. It was miraculous.

He was a great favorite with the family. My mother had written to my father; she wanted him to come up to London and stay a while. I knew why. It was because she thought that my relationship with Gervaise was growing serious and she wanted him to inspect a possible son-in-law. They tried to be discreet but it was not difficult to see through their discretion.

The season progressed; more parties, more dinners, all of which I shared with Gervaise. We visited the opera; we shared a love of this; we heard the works of Donizetti and Bellini and a young composer, Giuseppe Verdi, whose music I enjoyed more than any. On one occasion the Queen was present. That was a gala event. I watched her, obviously enraptured by the music, now and then turning to the Prince beside her to make some comment.

This season, which I had anticipated with a certain amount of apprehension, was proving to be one of the most exciting and wonderful periods of my life. It was all due to Gervaise, of course.

He had been very interested to meet Grace again. He talked to her about Jonnie and how friendly they had been. Grace had said it had been wonderful to be able to talk about Jonnie; she feared that to do so upset his mother a great deal and so his name was hardly ever mentioned. She found some relief in talking of him. She wanted to hear the little anecdotes he had to tell of their friendship. He made them amusing and it was pleasant to hear them laughing together.