The footmen disappeared back into the hall and then returned with the tea trolley itself, laden with tiny crust-less sandwiches, and a large selection of teabreads and cakes. Not that Amber could eat a thing. She felt so nervous and overawed.
Over tea Amber tried politely to engage Cassandra in conversation whilst Lady Fitton Legh entrusted several messages to Greg for their grandmother, but it was hard work when Cassandra would answer her with either a wooden ‘Yes’ or ‘No’. Amber was relieved when Lady Fitton Legh finally rang for the tea things to be removed.
However, her hope that they might be about to leave came to nothing when Lady Fitton Legh said sweetly, ‘Greg, Lord Fitton Legh will be very cross indeed with me if he learns that you were here and I cannot give him a full report of your meeting with the Selection Committee. Cassandra, why don’t you take Amber into the music room so that she may hear the piece that you have been practising? Cassandra is a most accomplished pianist, Amber.’
For a moment Amber thought that Cassandra might actually refuse, she looked so furiously angry, but then she stood up abruptly, her face burning a bright hot red as she rushed towards the door, ignoring Amber, who had to run to catch up with her.
Once they were in the music room Cassandra continued to ignore her, much to Amber’s discomfort. Seating herself at the piano she raised the lid and then brought her hands down on the piano keys in a loud clash of jarring discordant notes, that set the crystals on the light fittings trembling.
Whilst Amber was still recovering from her shock, and without a word of explanation for her odd behaviour, Cassandra then started to play the piano very loudly, making it impossible for them to converse. Amber wished Greg would hurry up and rescue her.
While she played, Cassandra’s face remained bright red and her eyes were glittering strangely. Amber had no idea what to do. Such behaviour was completely outside anything she was used to. At school they had been subjected to a very strict regime, which had not allowed for any expression of personal feelings in public. It was, they had been taught, not the done thing for a lady to betray her feelings.
As abruptly as she had started to play, Cassandra stopped.
‘You know that your cousin is in love with Caroline, don’t you? Not that she would ever look at him. She laughs about him. We both do.’
Amber didn’t know what to say. She felt acutely uncomfortable and, if she was honest, just a little bit afraid of Cassandra.
‘You must tell him to stop coming round here and pestering her. He will be in a great deal of trouble if he doesn’t.’
‘I’m sure you are wrong. Greg is merely being polite,’ Amber told her valiantly.
‘No, I am not wrong. I have seen the way he looks at her. I have heard the lies he has told, the excuses he has made to see her when he has no business to be here.’
She slammed the lid down on the piano, stood up and then without saying another word she swept out of the room, leaving Amber to stare after her in bewilderment.
* * *
‘There, are you feeling a bit more cheerful now?’ Greg asked Amber as they drove home.
Amber looked at her cousin. He was watching the road as he drove.
‘Greg, Cassandra said the most peculiar thing to me.’
‘What kind of peculiar thing?’
‘She said that you were in love with Lady Fitton Legh.’
There was a small pause and then Greg laughed rather too loudly.
‘Lord, what rubbish you girls do talk. Of course I’m not. Lady Fitton is a married woman. I dare say the truth is that Cassandra has a terrible schoolgirl crush on Lady Fitton Legh herself. You know what you girls are like,’ he teased. ‘You are always having a pash on someone.’
His words made sense and brought Amber grateful relief.
There had been something about the events of the afternoon that had left her feeling uncomfortable.
Lady Fitton Legh was so beautiful that it would not after all have been extraordinary if Greg had fallen in love with her, but Amber was glad that he had not.
As he had said himself, Caroline Fitton Legh was married, and the last thing Amber wanted was for her cousin to have his heart broken through falling in love with someone who was forbidden to him, and who could never return his feelings.
‘Now, Amber, I trust that you have had time to reflect on your bad behaviour and the apology you owe me?’
Why should she have to apologise for saying that she didn’t want to be presented when she didn’t, Amber thought indignantly, but somehow instead of stating her rebellious feelings she found that she was bowing her head and saying dutifully, ‘Yes, Grandmother.’
‘Very well, we shall say no more of the matter,’ Blanche told her graciously, pausing for a few seconds before continuing, ‘Now, you will be leaving for London early in the New Year. All the arrangements are in place.’
‘But, Grandmother, I don’t see how it can be possible for me to come out. You can only come out if you have someone who has already come out to present you.’ Amber was stumbling over the words in her desperation. This was the hope she had been clinging to: that it would be impossible for her to be presented.
What she had stated was, after all, the truth. And it was a truth that Amber had had reinforced over and over again when she had been at school. Her grandmother might have far more money than the families of most of the other girls at school with her, but they had something far more important. They had ‘breeding’ – connections and titles – and some of them had been very quick to let her know how far beneath them socially they considered her to be. Some, but not all of them. Not Beth – or rather Lady Elizabeth Levington – her best friend, and Amber knew she would always be grateful to her for the kindness she had shown her.
Amber had even laughed about the fact that she would not be coming out with Beth, saying truthfully to her that she was glad that she wouldn’t have to. From what she had heard, the season was little more than a cold-blooded way of marrying girls off to someone suitable as quickly as possible.
‘I am well aware of the rules that apply to a débutante’s presentation at court, Amber.’ Her grandmother’s voice was tart now as well as cold. ‘It has already been arranged that Lady Rutland will be presenting you at one of the season’s formal drawing rooms alongside her own daughter.’
Amber felt sick. The hope she had been clinging to was no barrier at all. Now what was she going to do? There was no point telling herself that she could defy her grandmother; she knew she couldn’t. She would be packed off to London and Lady Rutland, whether she liked it or not.
Lady Rutland? The name was familiar. How … ? And then she realised, and her despair increased. Lady Rutland was Louise’s mother! She was going to be coming out with the Hon. Louise Montford, who disliked her so much and who had been so horrid to her at school.
From the past she could hear Louise’s words echoing inside her head.
‘Vrontsky? What kind of name is that?’ Louise had taunted her on her first day at school.
‘It’s my father’s name. A Russian name,’ Amber had replied proudly.
Louise had loved to mock her at school by referring to her as ‘the Macclesfield mill girl’, drawing attention to her lack of ‘family’ and ‘breeding’, whilst continually boasting of her own.
Amber couldn’t believe that Louise’s mother was going to bring her out. From what Beth had said, Louise’s mother was even more of