The Forget-Me-Not Sonata(22)

‘Good evening, Rose,’ he said, bowing slightly. Then he turned to the Crocodiles and greeted them both by name. ‘What a beautiful evening,’ he commented by way of complimenting the hostess on the magnificence of the room. Rose, who understood such reserve, thanked him gratefully.

‘Now, this is a decent young man,’ said Cynthia, who had by no means finished with Rose Garnet. ‘Cecil, there’s one young woman in this room worthy of you and I suggest you snap her up before somebody else does.’ Rose blushed again.

‘You’re putting me on a pedestal, Mrs Klein, I fear I do not deserve,’ he replied with delicacy.

‘Absolutely you do,’ Phyllida insisted.

‘I hope you have booked a dance with the birthday girl,’ said Cynthia, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

‘I have,’ he asserted then turned to Rose. ‘It will be a great honour.’

‘I’m so glad,’ she replied, a little flustered. ‘Don’t listen to Cynthia, she’s being far too kind.’

‘Come, come, Rose, you know me better than that. Phyllida, tell Cecil how I never say things I don’t mean.’

‘If you’re referring to Audrey, Mrs Bates, you don’t need to convince me of her qualities,’ said Cecil, raising his eyes above the crowd in search of her.

‘Come, Cecil, I know my husband would like to see you,’ said Rose, seizing a good moment to extricate themselves. ‘Please excuse us,’ she added to the Crocodiles, who, the moment she had gone, scanned the room for their next prey.

When Audrey saw Louis through the vibrant froth of silk and bow ties she was filled once again with the familiar sense of buoyancy that she had felt earlier, after their duet on the piano. Unable to control her features, a broad smile illuminated her face and her cheeks flushed with excitement. Then he saw her too and he smiled back, a smile disarming in its honesty and tenderness, as if he had come only for her. In that brief and fleeting moment, when the candour in their gaze revealed feelings they could no longer suppress, they both felt that they knew the other more intimately than they knew anyone else in the world. As the party bubbled about them Louis and Audrey declared their love, silently but undeniably, and neither wanted to be the first to pull away.

When the music played the first waltz, Audrey was obliged to dance with her father. But she didn’t mind, for as she glided about the floor she could feel Louis’ eyes watching her and carrying her through her steps, giving her more energy and grace so that her father had to focus on her face to reassure himself that he wasn’t dancing with his wife, eighteen years before. But Audrey didn’t feel Cecil’s eyes following her from the other side of the room. Greatly encouraged by his conversation with her mother he felt that in time, when they knew each other better, it would be appropriate to invite her out for dinner. Of course, he would ask her father first, out of respect, but his intentions were honourable; they were for life.

When the dinner began, Audrey was seated between Cecil and James Pearson, the twins’ elder brother. She still hadn’t spoken to Louis. She hadn’t had a moment as she was swung from the arms of her father into those of her Uncle Herbert, who had insisted on holding her in a lecherous clinch for two dances and then into the awkward embrace of Cecil who had patiently awaited his turn with the discipline of an army officer, shoulders square, back straight and chin high. Audrey hadn’t needed to look past him to check that Louis was still watching, for she knew; his gaze rested on her like the heat of the sun and she smiled because of it, a deep smile that affected the whole of her face. Cecil was certain she was smiling at him, for her eyes didn’t waver once from his, but stared into his soul as if she understood him completely.

Dutifully Cecil filled Audrey’s plate from the buffet and then talked to her with animation until dessert. Audrey was anxious to find Louis and scanned the room for him while Cecil did his best to entertain her. Alarmed that he was nowhere to be seen she excused herself and rushed off to the Ladies Powder Room where she bumped straight into Isla, giggling wickedly. ‘Audrey,’ she screeched, ‘I danced with Uncle Herbert and I swear to you he had a nut in his pocket.’

‘A nut in his pocket?’ Audrey asked in confusion, pacing with agitation up the floor.

‘Yes, you know, a nut!’ she repeated, her green eyes wide with mischief. She then collapsed into laughter again. Audrey suddenly understood and shook her head.

‘How disgusting,’ she exclaimed. ‘He’s your uncle.’

‘It was a pathetic little nut, no wonder Hilda’s bitter all the time.’ Isla smirked.