Lady Penelope,” Abby ventured. “And forgive my appearance. The police rescue team had to winch me up the elevator shaft, and it was pretty filthy.”
“How awfully tiresome. Still, you survived in one piece. That’s the main thing. I like a girl with gumption.”
This was tenderness of a sort, Abby decided. It came as a relief to discover that the woman wasn’t quite the dragon Toby had painted.
Her ladyship sat down and patted the seat next to her. “I need you on my right. M’ left ear’s next to damn useless these days.”
Abby sat down and Toby followed. Abby noticed that there were two empty coffee cups and an untouched plate of petits fours on the table. “You know,” Lady Penelope continued, “my mother wasn’t much older than you when she got caught up in the Siege of Mafeking. Saw all sorts out there. Didn’t do her the remotest harm. Quite the opposite, in fact. She was a tough old bird, I can tell you. So, Annie, why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself.”
“Actually, Mother,” Toby broke in tentatively, “it’s Abby.”
“Abby?” Lady Penelope barked. “But I’m sure you told me her name’s Annie.” She turned to face Abby. “So, which is it? Come on, out with it. Make up your mind.”
“I’m Abby. Always have been.”
“Surname?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Your surname. I take it you do have one.”
“Yes, it’s Crompton.”
“Crompton. Ah, that would be the Dorset Cromptons, I presume.”
Abby did some nervous throat-clearing. “No, the… er… the Croydon Cromptons, actually.”
“Croy-don?” Lady Bracknell in The Importance of Being Earnest couldn’t have uttered the name with more disdain.
At this point Toby leaped in: “Yes, but didn’t you say you thought you might be distantly related to the Dorset Cromptons?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I’m sure you did.”
Abby shot Toby a thin-lipped smile. “No, really, I didn’t.”
Toby glared back at Abby, who decided to see his glare and raise him a couple of eyebrows. Toby then turned to his mother: “I’m afraid Abby’s memory has a tendency to let her down on occasion.”
“What?” Abby came back, her voice high with indignation. “I have absolutely no problem with—”
“No engagement ring, I see,” Lady Penelope broke in.
“Er, no,” Abby said. “We haven’t quite got round to buying one. Toby’s been absolutely snowed under at work.”
Lady Penelope turned to her son. “Don’t leave it too long. The girl will think you’re not serious.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Abby said, smiling across at Toby. “I know he’s serious.”
“So, tell me, Abby, do you hunt?”
“Actually, no, I don’t.” Toby was looking at her as if to say: “Careful, now. Watch your step.”
“Why ever not? Healthy, strapping filly like you should hunt.” Several strands of gray hair had fallen from Lady Penelope’s untidy chignon and were hanging around herface. She made a couple of feeble attempts to pin them back but gave up when the hair refused to stay put.
“The problem is,” Toby broke in, “that Abby doesn’t ride. But she’s definitely thinking of learning… aren’t you, Abby?”
“I am?”
“Yes.” Toby was nodding vigorously at her, begging her to follow his lead. “Don’t you remember we talked about getting you riding lessons?”
“If you say so.”
“Excellent,” beamed her ladyship. “We’ll have you riding to hounds in no time. I’m master of m’ local hunt, you know.”
“Yes, Toby did mention it. So, you’re a bit of an enthusiast, then?”
“Careful,” Toby mouthed.
“I’ll say. It’s excellent sport, not to mention jolly good exercise. And you meet so many people from so many walks of life. I’ve met surgeons, lawyers, politicians—all sorts. Toby, I insist you bring Annie to our next hunt ball.”
“Mother, it’s Abby.”
“Oh, do shut up, Toby. This constant hairsplitting is most frightfully tedious.”
Toby made no attempt to
“How awfully tiresome. Still, you survived in one piece. That’s the main thing. I like a girl with gumption.”
This was tenderness of a sort, Abby decided. It came as a relief to discover that the woman wasn’t quite the dragon Toby had painted.
Her ladyship sat down and patted the seat next to her. “I need you on my right. M’ left ear’s next to damn useless these days.”
Abby sat down and Toby followed. Abby noticed that there were two empty coffee cups and an untouched plate of petits fours on the table. “You know,” Lady Penelope continued, “my mother wasn’t much older than you when she got caught up in the Siege of Mafeking. Saw all sorts out there. Didn’t do her the remotest harm. Quite the opposite, in fact. She was a tough old bird, I can tell you. So, Annie, why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself.”
“Actually, Mother,” Toby broke in tentatively, “it’s Abby.”
“Abby?” Lady Penelope barked. “But I’m sure you told me her name’s Annie.” She turned to face Abby. “So, which is it? Come on, out with it. Make up your mind.”
“I’m Abby. Always have been.”
“Surname?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Your surname. I take it you do have one.”
“Yes, it’s Crompton.”
“Crompton. Ah, that would be the Dorset Cromptons, I presume.”
Abby did some nervous throat-clearing. “No, the… er… the Croydon Cromptons, actually.”
“Croy-don?” Lady Bracknell in The Importance of Being Earnest couldn’t have uttered the name with more disdain.
At this point Toby leaped in: “Yes, but didn’t you say you thought you might be distantly related to the Dorset Cromptons?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I’m sure you did.”
Abby shot Toby a thin-lipped smile. “No, really, I didn’t.”
Toby glared back at Abby, who decided to see his glare and raise him a couple of eyebrows. Toby then turned to his mother: “I’m afraid Abby’s memory has a tendency to let her down on occasion.”
“What?” Abby came back, her voice high with indignation. “I have absolutely no problem with—”
“No engagement ring, I see,” Lady Penelope broke in.
“Er, no,” Abby said. “We haven’t quite got round to buying one. Toby’s been absolutely snowed under at work.”
Lady Penelope turned to her son. “Don’t leave it too long. The girl will think you’re not serious.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Abby said, smiling across at Toby. “I know he’s serious.”
“So, tell me, Abby, do you hunt?”
“Actually, no, I don’t.” Toby was looking at her as if to say: “Careful, now. Watch your step.”
“Why ever not? Healthy, strapping filly like you should hunt.” Several strands of gray hair had fallen from Lady Penelope’s untidy chignon and were hanging around herface. She made a couple of feeble attempts to pin them back but gave up when the hair refused to stay put.
“The problem is,” Toby broke in, “that Abby doesn’t ride. But she’s definitely thinking of learning… aren’t you, Abby?”
“I am?”
“Yes.” Toby was nodding vigorously at her, begging her to follow his lead. “Don’t you remember we talked about getting you riding lessons?”
“If you say so.”
“Excellent,” beamed her ladyship. “We’ll have you riding to hounds in no time. I’m master of m’ local hunt, you know.”
“Yes, Toby did mention it. So, you’re a bit of an enthusiast, then?”
“Careful,” Toby mouthed.
“I’ll say. It’s excellent sport, not to mention jolly good exercise. And you meet so many people from so many walks of life. I’ve met surgeons, lawyers, politicians—all sorts. Toby, I insist you bring Annie to our next hunt ball.”
“Mother, it’s Abby.”
“Oh, do shut up, Toby. This constant hairsplitting is most frightfully tedious.”
Toby made no attempt to
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