The Dorset House Affair by Norman Russell Read Free Book Online

consulted an old silver dress watch which he hauled from his waistcoat pocket.
    ‘Nearly seven…. It’ll be dark, soon. I had high hopes – very high hopes – of his attraction to Elizabeth de Bellefort, the daughter of the man who saved my life in the Crimea, but no, that was not to be. Of course, I’m glad that he’s marrying Julia, but at every stage of his life he’s been a disappointment to me.’
    ‘I know, John,’ said Lady Claygate, ‘but I feel quite certain that Maurice is about to turn over a new leaf. Look! There’s Lord Newport’s carriage turning into the drive! It’s time we went down and showed ourselves. Maurice did quite creditable work out in Jamaica, and seemed to take well to plantation life, though I think that he and Julia will settle in England once they return from their honeymoon in Nice. Now, do cheer up, John, and come downstairs . People will expect you to mix. I can hear the orchestra tuning up, the buffet will be served in five minutes’ time, and the fireworks will commence at ten. Mr Brock’s people from the Crystal Palace are on the rear terrace, arranging things. Come, Field Marshal: lend me your arm!’

    ‘Do hurry up, Sarah,’ said Major Edwin Claygate to his wife. ‘You don’t need a shawl, or wrap, or whatever you call it. It’s nearly half past seven, and there’ll be nothing left to eat if we don’t get down there soon.’
    Major Claygate was a very handsome man, but unlike his father, he was not given to looking into mirrors. He stood at the window of the sitting-room of the suite where he and his wifewere accommodated whenever they came to stay at Dorset House, fretting mildly at the delay. They hadn’t eaten since lunchtime, and he was famished.
    ‘Oh, very well, Eddie,’ said Sarah. ‘But if I catch pneumonia, it’ll be your fault. Your pa’s house was always draughty.’
    Sarah Claygate was a strikingly handsome, dark-haired young woman of twenty-eight, clad in a deceptively simple gown of white silk, complemented by a necklace and ear-drops of rubies set in silver.
    ‘Incidentally, where did your brother meet this girl Julia?’ asked Sarah. ‘I don’t recall her having done the season. Why isn’t she here at Maurice’s party? Don’t tell me she’s one of these shrinking violets.’
    ‘No, she’s not. She’s an accomplished sportswoman, and jolly good company, as a matter of fact. But I think she wants to save herself up for the wedding on the fifteenth. Absence will make Maurice’s heart grow fonder, I suppose.’
    ‘Tosh!’ Sarah laughed. ‘She’s superstitious, that’s all. She’ll be sitting at her dressing-table at this very moment, sighing into the mirror, and looking at her wedding dress set out on a lay-figure in the corner of the room. She’ll be making wishes, remembering old magical charms taught to her by her nurse—’
    Major Claygate laughed.
    ‘You are the limit, Sarah! You know nothing whatever about the girl. She comes from Northumberland, and Maurice met her when Father dragged him unwillingly up to Uncle Hereward’s grouse moor in Yorkshire for the shooting last year. That’s where they met, and that’s where it all started.’
    They left the suite, and walked along the private balcony on the first floor, from which they could look down at the throng of guests assembled in the grand saloon below. A phalanx of liveried footmen had been weaving its way among the company, carrying gleaming silver trays laden with generous supplies of newly chilled champagne. The hundred guests, the invited and the uninvited,their tongues loosened by the vintage Krug, were busy exchanging gossip, and pumping each other for news of old friends and enemies. The noise of their chatter ascended to the balcony like the hum of a great hive of busily malicious bees, rising above the muted strains of the string orchestra.
    ‘Look,’ said Sarah, ‘there’s Elizabeth de Bellefort talking to Lady Newport, and over there, her ghastly