Page 49 of Mirrors of the Past

Chapter Eighteen

1911

One day at Pencradoc, as everyone was sitting at the dining table after breakfast, the butler brought in a whole raft of letters, one of which was to be shared by Zennor and Teague, one of which was to be shared between Isolde and Medora, one for Laurie on his own. And one to be shared between Clem, Enyon and Arthur.

‘Lady Elsie’s handwriting, sir,’ the butler said in a low voice to Teague — but as Laurie was sitting beside his father, he looked up to see what was happening. His parents passed a look between one another and he was fairly sure he saw a fleeting smile on his mother’s face.

‘Shall we open them all at the same time?’ she asked.

‘Might be good to do that,’ said his father. ‘Take one and pass it along, son,’ he said to Laurie, as he held on to their own particular letter.

‘Of course.’ Laurie found his letter and passed the remaining two to Isolde. She and Medora looked at one another, then passed the final letter to the boys at the end.

‘Poor Clem will miss out,’ said Enyon, greedily looking at the letter. ‘Ah, well. We can’t wait until he’s home. We’ll just have to open it and pass the news on.’

‘On the count of three, then,’ said their father, and there was a sound of ripping envelopes.

A moment of silence was soon replaced by the sound of delighted screaming, as Isolde and Medora read the news. Enyon and Arthur were more restrained and looked at each other with frowns on their faces. Laurie read the news and raised his eyebrows. The smile on his mother’s face grew and his father looked flustered.

‘What’s so exciting about a stupid wedding?’ asked Arthur, turning the frown towards his sisters. ‘Will there be cake?’

‘Bound to be cake,’ said Enyon with a nod. ‘Worth going for cake.’

‘We’re going to be bridesmaids!’ cried Medora.

‘I’m maid of honour,’ said Isolde, barely keeping the pride out of her voice. ‘As I’m the next eldest girl.’

‘We’re meant to be groomsmen,’ said Arthur. ‘Whatever they do.’

‘Laurie?’ His mother looked at him. ‘What about you?’

‘Yes. I’m to be a groomsman too,’ he said. ‘Apparently Drew, Louis’ brother, is to be his best man. But my role is to escort Marigold and . . .’ He almost choked on the name. ‘Viola down the aisle. Good God.’

‘Why does Viola get to escort Marigold?’ asked Medora.

‘Because you’re in charge of Biscuit,’ said Isolde. ‘Look — it says so right there.’ Biscuit, hearing his name, apparently sat up from his prone position beneath the table and nudged Medora, who, Laurie saw, dropped a crust of buttered toast right next to his nose.

Their father pretended not to notice. ‘Well, I am to give her away,’ he said. There was a little note of pride in his voice as he said it.

‘And I am to simply, and I quote, “look beautiful with Aunt Alys and Lily in the front row”,’ said their mother. ‘What glorious news to start the day with!’

‘Lily’s children are to be in attendance too,’ said Enyon. ‘And so are our cousins.’ He looked at Arthur. ‘This means there will be a lot of cake, for the bridal party alone.’

Arthur and Enyon looked satisfied at that, and then, their interest piqued then dispersed, moved on to squabble over the last piece of toast on the table.

Nobody seemed to wonder at the fact that it was November, and the wedding was set for 22 December, less than six weeks away. Except Laurie, who, having seen the state of Elsie at the Halloween party, and, worse than that, the state of her in the morning after the party — where she’d looked as dreadful as she normally did after too much champagne, but without drinking the stuff, or eating much at all — had wondered then if she was coming down with something.

It seemed that whatever she’d come down with would possibly not be cured until next summer, perhaps.

He hid a smile and went back to his coffee. Typical Elsie. But he couldn’t understand why she’d mentioned he’d be escorting Viola. And worse than that, why she’d mentioned she would “be in touch” about her gown.

Her wedding dress was the last thing on his mind and he really didn’t know why she had mentioned it to him, rather than one of the girls. Perhaps it was because he was in London more than they were and she just wanted a second opinion.

But second opinions didn’t really matter that much to Elsie. She usually did what she wanted to anyway. “Curiouser and curiouser”, as Alice in Wonderland would say. Which reminded him — next time he went up to visit, he would take Marigold a copy of that book. It was never too soon to start appreciating literature, even the nonsense poems in the book. Because if Marigold turned out not to be an artist like her mother, she could always be a poet like her uncle — hopefully she’d not have to hide her poems from a whole raft of siblings like he did.

* * *

November crept into December and the weather began to turn more wintery. There was even some snowfall, which delighted Viola. She was desperately hoping that the Thames would freeze and she could skate on it, or attend one of the famous frost fairs, but, as her brother pointed out, the last frost fair had been held almost a century earlier in 1814, so it was highly unlikely they would have one in 1911, just because she happened to be in London.