MAKING TRACKS – Chapter three – London

CHAPTER THREE – LONDON

 

Although Rhodes was only intermittently resident in the University over the next few years, his diamond mining investments keeping him well occupied in the Cape for most of the time, he always kept up with Percy while he, Percy, completed his mathematical studies and obtained his bachelor’s degree, with first class honours after three years residence, the minimum requirement for a degree to be awarded being nine terms. It was not until 1881 that Rhodes was able to spend his ninth and final term in residence and obtain his pass (without honours) degree. By this time Percy was working for one of the big railway companies and was already an experienced engineer. Rhodes, for his part, was about to become a member of the Cape Parliament and was wielding increasing influence in the public affairs of the Cape Colony. 

It came as no surprise to Percy when ,  three years later, a letter arrived at his lodgings in York with a triangular postage stamp indicating its origins were within the Cape Colony. Although not a fluent writer of letters, Rhodes made up for quality and length with relevance and brevity. This one was longer than usual.

“ My Dear Percival, 

Come to Cape Town.

Take the next Mail-boat from Southampton

My agent will provide a ticket. 

His address is 10, St Mary Axe

I have a railway I want you to build

Cable me with your arrival date as soon as you have settled your affairs in England.

Your Affectionate Friend, 

CJ.” 

There was no mention of emolument, or how long his commission would last and, typical of Rhodes, he expected Percy, like all his other friends, to drop everything he was doing to respond to his bidding. Percy knew better than to write a letter that would take at least three weeks to get to its destination, and would probably be ignored. Taking his hat and an overcoat, for the month was February and the crocuses had not yet emerged in flower, he walked the mile or so to his nearest post and telegraph office and wrote out the following telegram which he submitted to the postmaster to send to:

 RHODES GROOTSCHUUR CAPE TOWN. 

HOW MUCH MONEY STOP HOW LONG STOP PERCY ENDS

“By Gum”, said the postmaster, “I don’t send many telegrams to them places in Africa. Ay  ‘ope ‘e gets it a’right”.

“Oh yes”, said Percy, “There’s an undersea cable all the way from the coast of England to Table Bay. He’ll get it as soon as you send it off, as he’s got a direct telegraph link to the main Cape Town telegraph office. When a reply comes, please send it straight to my lodgings” 

By the time Percy had walked back to his rooms, he found the telegram delivery boy waiting on his doorstep with the familiar yellow envelope to hand.

Asking the boy to wait, Percy tore open the seal and read the message:

THREE YEARS STOP ONE THOUSAND POUNDS PER ANNUM STOP BOARD AND FACILITIES MY EXPENSE STOP RHODES ENDS

Percy scribbled on the back of the message: OFFER ACCEPTED STOP ESTIMATED ARRIVAL CAPE TOWN ONE MONTH STOP ENDS

It might have seemed injudicious for Percy to interrupt a burgeoning career with his employers, but he had learnt a lot about railway building in his two years on sites and in the drawing offices, and he knew he was being offered a golden chance to build his own railway from scratch. His friendship with Rhodes had expanded his horizons beyond the visible limits, and he wanted to see the veld that Rhodes had talked about so eloquently in the cloistered gardens and by the willow lined banks of the Cherwell river; the kudu and springboks, the colourful birds, the mountains and the warm ocean.

The next day Percy told the senior engineer  that he was leaving for Cape Town in one week, and could he have any money owing to him for his employment to date given to him at the end of the week, before he left. The senior engineer sent him to the office of the chairman of the company, who occupied a suite of rooms at the top of the station building. After waiting in the anteroom to the chairman’s office for a few minutes, the secretary to the chairman emerged from the inner sanctum and said, 

“The Chairman will see you now.”

“So, son”, said the chairman as soon as Percy had sat himself down, “Your Mr Cecil Rhodes wants you to go and do a job for him, does he? Ah”, he said as a look of mystification crossed Percy’s face, “Didn’t you know I control all the telegraph offices around here. Your postmaster didn’t lose any time in appraising me of your exchange with your friend. Well, I’ll not stand in your way; you’ve got as good a grounding as anyone in what it takes to be a successful railway man, an’ it’s time you were on your own feet . You’ll want to take tomorrow off to go to London to get your ticket sorted out, and taking that into account, I reckon you will be owed a nett sum of one pound, ten shillings and fourpence three-farthings.”

So saying, Mr Ashenden reached into his desk drawer and lifted out a petty cash box, from which he extracted one sovereign, five florins, four pennies, a h’penny and one farthing, which he handed over to Percy.

“Thank you, Father,” responded Percy.

“And mind you come to supper at ‘ouse on Friday to say goodbye to yer Ma and sisters properly” continued Mr Ashenden as if Percy had not spoken, “and I’ll see if ah’ve got summat for you to help you on your way”

On Saturday morning, Percy set out for York from his family home at Goathland, taking the local train to Pickering, where he connected with the line from Scarborough to York. The run from York to London was fast, and he was into St Pancras Station shortly after lunch. Stepping through those great portals that declared the importance of this lifeline to the industrial heartbeat of England, Percy found a Hansom Cab waiting in the concourse for possible fares from off the trains. 

“Saint Mary’s Axe, please?” asked Percy.

“Nivver  ‘eard of it” responded the driver of the cab, which was rather rude of him, Percy thought, and surprising, as the cab drivers were supposed to know every street, road and  alleyway in the town. 

“Oi, Jack” shouted the driver to one of his mates, “ Where’s Saint Mary’s Axe, then? This young feller wants me to take ‘im there”, which, for some reason that escaped Percy, became a great source of merriment among the other drivers. 

“ ’Op in, then, don’t keep me ‘anging abaht all day” said the driver, “Oi fink oi know where you’re wantin’ to go” and with much trepidation Percy did as he was told, and climbed into the cab. The ride was quite a short one, and to his relief, Percy was put down at the entrance to a short cul de sac where a name board announced this was, indeed, St Mary Axe.

“Surprised are you?”said the driver, as Percy handed over the modest fare, “well, see, ére we call it Simmery Axe. Saint Mary, my foot, whatever next?” he chortled as he drove off.

Number 10 was a narrow building of some three stories and a basement, and boasted a stout door set in an arched doorway up some four steps from the pavement. Bay windows provided views for the ground floor occupants of the comings and goings along the street. Percy walked up the steps and rattled the big brass knocker set in the door. The door was opened after some seconds by an elderly man dressed in traditional servants attire of tailed coat and black trousers, who invited Percy to follow him up two flights of stairs to the first floor, where he was greeted by a much more colourfully dressed man of about his own age, and who shepherded him into the room which was his office.

“You must be Percy Ashenden,” he said, “I was expecting you. Rhodes sent me a cable explaining what he wanted and said you’d be up to collect it sometime today. I’ve managed to get you a berth on the Dublin Castle, one of Mr Curries fine steamers, and I can tell you, it wasn’t easy. The line’s very busy these days with hundreds wanting to get to the diamond diggings and to a new life in the Colony. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I managed to get you a berth in First Class, and Rhodes wouldn’t have settled for anything less, for the next sailing leaving from Dartmouth on Tuesday next. The vessel actually loads cargo and passengers in Southhampton port, and calls in at Dartmouth for last minute mailbags sent down from London by rail. By boarding at Dartmouth, you will get an extra day in London which you may need. Do you have any luggage?”

“I have a trunk with my belongings in it coming down from my lodgings in York on tomorrow’s train, and I’ll collect it from at St Pancras station in the afternoon. My overnight things and a change of underclothing are in this bag” said Percy holding up his much used sports bag from his days at Oxford. 

“I shall need lodgings for the next couple of nights, if you have any suggestions”

“Oh, that’s all taken care of” said the Agent, “I’ve made a reservation for you at the Goring Hotel, which I think you’ll find very comfortable, and nicely positioned for shopping and seeing the sights. The bill will be taken care of and you may eat your lunches and dinners in their well appointed restaurant. Here is your ticket for the train to Dartmouth on Tuesday morning, where you should arrive in good time before the Dublin Castle sets off at three o’clock in the afternoon.”  So saying, the Agent handed Percy an envelope containing his tickets, and one hundred pounds advance on his salary to meet his expenses while in London.

By the time Percy had settled into his room at the hotel, the day had darkened and the street gas lights in the main thoroughfares such as Regent Street and Picadilly were being lit. Percy learnt from the concierge when he asked about theatre shows that might be worth attending that Oscar Wilde had a new play at The Haymarket called The Importance of Being Ernest which had received good reviews. Having met the author in his Oxford Days, Percy felt almost honour bound to have a shot at getting admittance despite being told that the house was full. More in hope than expectation, Percy set off for the theatre on foot, it being a mild evening. When he came to the front of the theatre he was caught up in the crowd of expectant theatre-goers milling around waving to acquaintances as they spotted them, or shouting their “halloas” across the vestibule, with silk scarves and top hats everywhere. Percy felt quite under-dressed and regretted not donning at the least his dinner jacket and black bow tie before venturing out for his evening in London. Nevertheless, the atmosphere was so jolly he quickly forgot any embarrassment and joined in the general melee, shouting the occasional “Halloa” to complete strangers who gave cheery waves in return. Gradually, as nine o’clock pm approached, the crowd moved through the foyer and into the auditorium to take up their seats. Tickets to seats in the stalls were shown by their proprietors to the ushers in the aisles, and their allotted places were found. Percy, caught up in the middle of a party of about eleven others who were together, found himself in a seat about four rows from the front, and middle-right of the house. A girl of about the older of his sister’s age was sitting in the seat next to him on his right, and on his left a young man of about his own age who turned out to be the girl’s brother. The brother leant across him and spoke to his sister and Percy at the same time saying, 

“ You must be the chap that Tom said would be taking his place, aren’t you? Poor Tom couldn’t make it as he’s got some frightful examinations up at Oxford tomorrow, and he can’t afford to plough them.”

“Er, well, actually,” mumbled Percy, “I really only came to the theatre as an afterthought, at the last minute, sort of thing”.

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” cried the girl, “Trust Tom to find someone suitable just waiting to be called upon.” She turned to face Percy, leaning slightly towards him, “Tom is so clever, he always comes up trumps. I’m sure he’ll impress the examiners. Do you know him from Oxford?” she asked. “You must know a lot of chaps”

“ Well, erm, that is, when I was up, I met the author of the play we are here to see” replied Percy, not knowing how else to reply to the question.

“Oh la la!” said the girl, “You know Oscar Wilde as well as Tom Boothroyd. “How very exciting”

The brother, who was happy to let his sister carry the conversation with this stranger, settled himself back in his seat and closed his eyes. The house lights  dimmed and the curtain went up. 

“My name is Cecily” the girl whispered to Percy, as the hubbub of the audience’s conversations abated. “Percy” whispered he back.

The first act of the play took it course, and was clearly enjoyed by the audience. There was an interval between Acts one and two, when the audience were given three quarters of an hour to stretch their legs, go to the bar, and for the ladies to attend to their faces. Being young and fresh, Cecily had no need to attend to her face, and she accompanied Percy to the salon where she and her friends had booked a table for refreshment. Percy was introduced all round as “Tom’s deputy”, it being clear that Tom was well known to all the rest of the party. Champagne appeared, and voices got louder as the play was discussed and the humorous lines were repeated. Cecily was the centre of much of the male attention, there being four other chaps in addition to Percy and Cecily’s brother, whose name was Algernon, or Algy to his friends. The other four girls were as pretty as Cecily, but were much less at ease with the gentlemen, as it turned out that they were school-friends of Cecily and had only just been introduced to the other members of the party.

“You probably wonder what all this excitement is about” confided Cecily to Percy, as they moved off to reclaim their seats in the house. This is my farewell party. Guess where I’m off to, tomorrow. 

Cape Town! To be continued.......

As Percy started to exclaim something along the lines of “Would you believe it…” Cecily shushed him as the actress declaimed,

“Cecily, Cecily, surely such a utilitarian occupation as the watering of flowers is rather Moulton’s duty than yours”

By the time the second act had reached its conclusion, Percy decided to keep his powder dry in regard to his own travel plans –“after all,” he thought, “she might be going by the Union Line”. In any case, the third act continued almost straight away, and there would have been little time for explanations. 

When the play arrived at its inevitable conclusion, much to the satisfaction of its audience (not that it had concluded, but that it was satisfactory for all concerned), there was much enthusiastic clapping, not least from Cecily and, to a lesser degree, Percy, followed by calls for “Author! Author!”

After a decent pause, the larger than life figure of Oscar Wilde appeared from the wings, and bowed to the audience. Uncharacteristically, and probably encouraged by Cecily’s proximity, Percy stood up clapping vigorously, as did several others. Oscar, his eyes sweeping over his applauding “captives” spotted Percy’s figure and his eyes lit up in recognition. Bounding from the stage, he swept up the centre aisle declaiming in his best theatrical voice, 

“Percy Ashenden, my dear fellow, how good to see you. Still playing rugby football, I trust.”

Having arrived at the seats where Percy stood, and where Algernon and Cecily were still seated, he continued, 

“Are these your friends? You must introduce me.”

He appeared oblivious of the rest of his audience, and as the final curtain had come down on the stage, and the tableau of actors dispersed, Oscar Wilde made his way to shake Percy by the hand, and the audience started to drift out of the auditorium. 

Algernon stood up, as Percy said,  

“I‘m terribly sorry but we’ve only just met, and I don’t know your full name, Algernon, but you obviously realise that this is Oscar Wilde, the poet, playwright and” he paused, “ You are still an aesthete, Oscar, I trust?”

“Ah, touche!” responded Oscar, shaking hands vigorously with Algy.

“And this young lady is Miss er um….”

“Actually, my name is Cecily, but if you must be formal, it is Lady Cecily”

“Ah, my heroine in the flesh, no less” retorted Oscar, giving a small bow. “Now look, you must come and share a bottle of champagne with me in a room the theatre management have placed at my disposal.”

“I don’t wish to appear ungracious” said Algy, “but we are a party of twelve and it would be an unwarranted imposition on your hospitality, to take advantage of your suggestion. If Percy wishes, of course…..”

“Not at all, not at all ” interjected Percy, who would far rather enjoy some more time in Lady Cecily’s company, than, for all his amusing repartee, in Oscar’s.

Oscar’s attention was already drifting away from the group, as he waved an airy hand in salutation and found another acquaintance who didn’t have rival attractions to hand.

Algernon’s party made their way to the foyer of the theatre, but here Percy suffered a disappointment when Algy said, 

“Look, Old Boy, we would usually go on for a night cap or a bit of dancing, but Cecily’s mother is anxious that she should have a couple of early nights with her departure by train for Southampton on Monday morning, and I promised I would make sure she didn’t stay out late. You go on with the rest if you want, but we can’t join you.”

“I am sorry” chimed in Cecily, giving Percy a demure smile, “I would so have liked to get to know Tom’s deputy a little better.”

“I’m sorry too” said Percy, “I would have liked to spend more time in your company. Perhaps I might see you again, sometime?”

“Well,” said Cecily gaily, “ you’ll just have to come to Cape Town, won’t you?”

“Well, I might just do that” replied Percy “Who knows?” 

“Oh la la!” exclaimed Cecily. It seemed to be her favourite expression of surprise, and so saying she clasped her brother’s arm and was lifted into the hansom that had drawn up alongside the pavement.

Percy watched as the cab disappeared from sight, and turned to make tracks for his hotel. The rest of the party had dispersed. It was clear that Cecily and her brother, Algernon, were the life blood of their troupe.

The following morning was Sunday, and Percy was out of his bed and dressed early, taking a walk in St. James Park before returning to his hotel for breakfast. As he was tucking into a plate of fried liver, bacon, devilled kidneys and two fried eggs, a waiter approached with a calling card in his hand, which he handed to Percy. It read, “The Hon. Algernon Fitzpatrick” and scrawled underneath “Please come for luncheon if you are free, C.” On the reverse side was an address in Russell Square.

Percy looked up at the waiter with an enquiring face, and the waiter told him that a footman was waiting outside for an answer. Percy asked for a pen and ink, and wrote underneath the scrawl, “I shall be delighted” and giving the card back to the waiter, told him to ask the footman at what time he should present himself, if he was joining the Lady Cecily for lunch. The waiter returned after a couple of minutes to pass on the information that the gong for drinks before lunch on a Sunday was sounded at 2 pm. “At least,” thought Percy, “I shall have time to digest my bacon and eggs”, as he set to, to finish his interrupted breakfast. 

 As promised to his mother, Percy attended one of the nearby church’s morning service, and afterwards decided to walk the distance to Russell Square. It was a fine morning for February, with a bite in the air and a watery sun giving the streets an unaccustomed shine. Promptly at 2pm he was standing at the black-painted door of number 32, four whitened steps up from the pavement, giving the brass bell-pull a firm tug.  After several seconds the door was opened by a footman, the same one, as it happened, who had earlier delivered the message to Percy while he breakfasted. Opening the door wide, he motioned Percy to follow him into the hallway and asked him to wait while he disappeared through the door at the end of the passage. The layout of the house was similar to Percy’s family home, if on a smaller scale more suited to the urbanisation of London. It came as no surprise when Algernon emerged from a doorway opening on the right of the hallway and, advancing towards him, gave him a welcoming smile. 

“ Good to see you again, old boy” he said offering his hand, “Come this way”, he continued, releasing his grip but steering Percy with a hand on his elbow through the doorway from which he had emerged and into the room beyond. “Mama” he said, speaking to a tall, elegant lady of about fifty, “I would like to introduce a friend of Tom Boothroyd to you. He kindly filled the gap when Tom couldn’t come down from Oxford and join us for the show. His name is Percy Ashenden.”

Lady Fitzpatrick looked Percy up and down through a lorgnette and Percy could not help smiling at the similarity between her and Lady Bracknell, as acted in the theatre the previous evening. Finishing her inspection, she said in an imperious voice with a distinct Irish accent, “Well, Algernon, offer the boy a drink before he dies of thirst. O’Reilly!” She motioned to a butler to come forward with his tray and Algy passed a glass of sherry to Percy. Taking a glass himself, Algy, raised it saying “The Queen” and following suit, Percy did likewise and took a sip. It was a good sherry.

Percy took stock of his surrounds. The room had a high ceiling with two tall windows set into the wall on his right which looked out onto a lawn at the back of the house. A doorway opposite the one through which he had entered the room led into what he supposed would be the dining room. A third doorway was set in the wall on his left, opposite the windows. In addition to Algernon and Lady Fitzpatrick, there was a middle aged gentleman to whom Percy was introduced as Lord Harmsworth, a friend of the family and the Hon Miss Fitzpatrick, of a similar age, whom Lady Fitzpatrick remarked was her sister-in-law. 

“Where is that gel of mine?” exclaimed Lady Fitzpatrick after five minutes spent grilling Percy in regard to his family background, “She oughtn’t keep us all waiting while she tries to make herself look pretty. O’Reilly, send a maid to chivvy her up. What do you think, Mr Ashenden, should young gels be allowed to use rouge?”

“Well, Ma’am” responded Percy, “In my, ahem, limited experience, one would be hard pressed to improve on nature in Lady Cecily’s case”

“Oh, most gallantly put. Ye must have Irish blood in you. Just watch your step where my daughter’s concerned. It’s a good thing she’s leaving the country tomorrow!”

“I understand she departs for the Cape Colony. May I ask what steamer she will be taking?” said Percy.

“Aye, you may. And I’ll tell ye. It’s the mail-ship, th’ Dublin Castle. What it is to be Irish, to be sure” she replied enigmatically.

At that moment the door opposite the windows opened and through the open doorway waltzed the Lady Cecily. She gave a gasp of apparent surprise at seeing Percy, and having kissed her mother on the cheek, she exclaimed, “Why, my goodness, fancy seeing you here. I was just saying to Algy, this-morning, wouldn’t it be fun if Tom Boothroyd’s deputy came for lunch, and, voila! Here you are! ” “Clearly Lady Cecily’s French vocab. was growing by the minute” thought Percy “Oui, j’y suis” and he received the expected response, “Oo la,la!”

“Enough of this hilarity” said Lady Fitzpatrick, “The food will be spoiling and I’ll have a furious cook to deal with, not to mention O’Reilly’s disdain.” And so saying she turned to go through the door that led, as correctly surmised by Percy, into the dining room. The table was oval in shape, and Lady Fitzpatrick took the head. On her right sat Lord Harmsworth, and on her left, Percy.  Next to Percy sat Miss Fitzpatrick, and next to Lord Harmsworth sat Cecily, with Algernon at the foot of the table. O’Reilly poured the wine, which turned out to be a very palatable Burgundy, and he served the beef, which, Percy was told, had been sent from the estate of the Fitzpatricks in Ireland, where, he was also told, Lord Fitzpatrick of Donaghue was presently residing having found London society too frivolous for his taste. “When the subject of Oscar Wilde was brought up, he practically foamed at the mouth” remarked Lady Fitzpatrick blandly. 

“May I ask why you are travelling to Cape Town?” asked Percy between mouthfuls of the most delicious and tender of steaks.

Miss Fitzpatrick answered, which was how Percy learnt that she was accompanying Lady Cecily, and would be a chaperone for her.

“We have a second cousin who has just moved to Cape Town from Grahamstown. His father, my uncle, has recently died, and James Fitzpatrick had to give up college and find work, which brought him to Cape Town. Despite his father having been a Supreme Court Judge, Percy, which is how he likes to be known, though goodness knows why,” and she had the grace to blush when she realised what she’d implied, “has taken work as a bank clerk. Lady Cecily” and here she gave a little sniff, “had maintained a letter correspondence with him since they could both read and write. James, rather recklessly if I were to be asked, suggested Lady Cecily might visit him one day, and when she learnt of his father’s demise, she insisted she be allowed to go and visit him to bring him home comforts, whatever she meant by that! In my foolishness, I offered to accompany her, and before I knew what was happening, we were booked on the Dublin Castle, outward bound for Cape Town.”

After some further discussion about the merits of the two steamer companies that enjoyed Royal Mail contracts for the South African deliveries, and the development of steam ships in general since the disastrous Great Eastern of Brunel, which brought Lord Harmsworth and Algernon almost to blows (Lord Harmsworth favouring sail over steam and Algernon favouring steam), the discussion moved onto safer topics, such as the Irish question. At least they were all, with the possible exception of Percy, who had the good sense to keep his own counsel, of the same view in that regard. 

When they rose from the table to partake of coffee in the drawing room, which was through a doorway beyond the dining room, of similar proportions with windows looking onto a walled rose garden adjacent to the lawn seen from the dining room, Percy managed to get close to Cecily and said, as quietly as he could, “I must talk to you, alone. It’s very important. It can’t wait”

Cecily was about to laugh but taking one look at Percy’s agonised expression, stifled it and said, “In there” and she pushed him through another door that led into a small sitting room, and followed him closing the door behind her. 

 “What is it?” she asked breathlessly, “What’s so important?

Percy hung his head, closed his eyes and let out a groan. 

“Oh, this is awful….I don’t know what to say….”

Cecily looked perplexed. What could the problem be?

Percy lifted his head, and looked Cecily straight in the eye, “I’ve led you on and gained your affections, I believe, on a false impression. I’m not a friend of Tom whatever-his-name-is, and he didn’t send me to the theatre in his place last evening. I just happened to be there hoping to pick up a returned ticket, and it was easier to accept your generosity than to be honest with you. Oh dear, I feel such a heel.” He shook his head slowly to and fro.

“Don’t be such an ass!” responded Cecily, taking his hand in hers, “ I knew you weren’t sent by Tom. I saw you standing there looking rather lost and sad, and I knew we had a spare ticket, so I just grabbed your hand and pulled you into our crowd, blabbering away about Tom and Oxford and so on. Algy, who’s a real brick, played along marvellously. No need to apologise. Now let’s rejoin the others, or mama will have a fit”

“But wait,” said Percy, pulling Cecily back, “There’s something else I haven’t told you.”

Cecily gave him a “What now?” look. “What is it?” she asked breathlessly, “What’s so important? 

 “I’m also going to Cape Town! Yes, it’s true, and what’s more........my passage is booked on the same steamship as yours, the Dublin Castle. The only difference is that I am boarding the ship at Dartmouth, the day after you board at Southhampton.”

Cecily stared at Percy for what seemed a lifetime; then her face gradually broke into a wide smile.

“Just don’t let on to Mama, or my aunt. They already think any man under thirty is after my fortune, and if they learn you will be on the same ship as me going to Cape Town, they’ll think you’ve arranged it that way on purpose. You haven’t, by any chance done so, have you?”

Percy laughed, “No, of course not. Why, I only met you yesterday, and today is Sunday. But I can imagine that won’t stop your mother being suspicious as to my motives. But we’d better rejoin the party or we may give her something to be suspicious about!

With that, they re-entered the drawing room, where Cecily’s mother was presiding over the pouring of the coffee, which she interrupted to give Cecily an arch look.

“And what, may I ask, were you thinking of, disappearing into the butler’s parlour with this young man and no chaperone?”

“Oh, Mama, you are so old-fashioned! And anyway, I was only showing our guest more of the house as he had expressed an interest in its architecture. Percy is far too much of a gentleman to take advantage.” 

Percy blushed furiously, which only heightened Lady Fitzpatrick’s suspicions.

“Well, it’s a good thing you’ll be out of harm’s way for the next three weeks” said Lady Fitzpatrick, with a disdainful shrug of her elegant shoulders.

Percy sipped his coffee in silence, not wishing to offend Lady Fitzpatrick further, but Cecily gaily carried the conversation until it was time for Percy to take his leave. Despite her mother’s warning glance, Cecily accompanied Percy to the door, and giving him a peck on his cheek, she pushed  him out of the doorway and down the steps to the road. 

“Until we meet again” she called, before turning back into the house. The footman closed the door, and Percy walked away.