sister, Penelope—lounging at the Cafe Royal, living together for a time in Bloomsbury, posing for a sculptor who was in love with them both— well, they were beyond Dolly’s wildest imaginings, and that really was saying something.
As Dolly read now about today’s best and brightest, Lady Gwendolyn, propped fulsomely against her satin pillows, feigned disinterest while listening intently to every word. It was always the same; her curiosity was such that she never could hold out for long.
‘Oh dear. It seems things aren’t at all well for Lord and Lady Hors- quith.’
‘Divorce, is it?’ The old woman sniffed.
‘Reading between the lines. She’s out with that other fellow again, the painter.’
‘No surprises there. No discretion at all that woman, ruled only by her ghastly—’ Lady Gwendolyn’s top lip curled as she spat out the culprit—‘passions.’ (Only she said ‘pessions’, a lovely, posh pronunciation Dolly liked to practise when she knew herself alone.) ‘Just like her mother before her.’
‘Which one was she again?’
Lady Gwendolyn raised her eyes to the Bordeaux ceiling medallion. ‘Really, I’m quite sure Lionel Rufus never said that you were slow. I might not approve entirely of smart women, but I certainly won’t abide a fool. Are you a fool, Miss Smitham?’
‘I do hope not, Lady Gwendolyn.’
‘Harrumph’ she said, with a tone that suggested she had yet to make her final ruling. ‘Lady Horsquith’s mother, Lady Prudence Dyer, was an outspoken bore who used to tire us all silly with her agitations for the female vote. Henny-Penny used to do the most amusing imitation of the woman—she could be terribly amusing when the mood took her. As tends to happen, Lady Prudence wore people to the brink of their patience until no one in Society could tolerate a minute more of her company—be selfish, be churlish, be bold or wicked, but never, Dorothy, never be tedious. After a time, she upped and disappeared.’ ‘Disappeared?’
Lady Gwendolyn gave a lazy flourish of the wrist, dropping ash like magic dust. ‘Boarded a boat for India, Tanzania, New Zealand … God only knows.’ Her mouth collapsed into a trout-like pout and she appeared to be chewing something over. Whether a small piece of lunch she’d found between her teeth, or a juicy morsel of secret intelligence, it was hard to guess. Until, finally, with a sly smile, she added: ‘God, that is, and the little birdie who told me she was holed up with a native fellow in a horror of a place called Zanzibar.’
‘Really.’
‘Quite.’ Lady Gwendolyn drew so emphatically on her cigarette that her eyes became two penny-sized slots. For a woman who hadn’t ventured from her boudoir in the thirty years since her sister left, she really was tremendously well-informed. There were very few people in the pages of the Lady she didn’t know, and she was remarkably adept at getting them to do precisely as she wished. Why, even Caitlin Rufus had married her husband at the decree of Lady Gwendolyn—an elderly chap, dull it had to be said, but stupendously wealthy. Caitlin in turn had become the worst sort of bore, spending hours complaining about how beastly it was finally to marry (‘Oh, so very well, Doll’) and acquire her own home, just as all the best wallpapers were being withdrawn from shops. Dolly had met The Husband once or twice and swiftly come to the conclusion that there had to be a better way of acquiring the finer things than marrying a man who thought a game of whist and a grope with the maid behind the dining-room curtains was jolly good sport.
Lady Gwendolyn flapped her hand impatiently for Dolly to continue, and Dolly promptly obliged. ‘Oh, now look—here’s a cheerier one. Lord Dumphee has become engaged to the Honourable Eva Hastings.’ ‘Nothing cheery about an engagement.’
‘Of course not, Lady Gwendolyn.’ It was always a subject round which to tread lightly.
‘All very well for a dull sort of girl to hitch her wheel to a man’s wagon, but consider yourself warned, Dorothy—men enjoy a bit of sport, and they all like to catch the brightest prize; but once they do? That’s when the fun and games end. His games, her fun.’ She rolled her wrist. ‘Go on then, read the rest. What does it say?’
‘There’s a party to celebrate the engagement this Saturday evening.’ That news brought a mildly interested grumble. ‘Dumphee House? Tremendous place—Henny-Penny and I went there for a grand ball once—People had taken off their shoes by the end and were dancing in the fountain