somethingâs got to be done about that girl, Frederick?â
âI say. Has Angel got a beau?â Louise forgot her troubles for a second and stared at the flowers.
Stanley was a darling, but he usually forgot the little niceties of life, leaving things like birthdays and anniversaries for his secretary to remind him, and often to make the necessary purchases. Louiseâs envy of Angel soared.
âThatâs just what Iâd like to know.â Clemence told Louise rapidly what little they knew of Angelâs movements of the previous night, while Louiseâs eyes grew round as she listened. There was nothing of the rebel in Louise, but all the same, she could suddenly identify with the excitement Angel must have felt, unexpectedly having the freedom to do as she wished for one night in her life, and being daring enough to act on it.
âIs she in her room? Shall I take the flowers up to her?â Louise said eagerly, dying to find out more.
âCertainly not. I want to see her face when she reads the card,â Clemence said. âYou may call her down, Louise, but please donât mention the flowers.â
Dutifully, Louise left the room. Fred hid a little sigh. If Clemence told Louise to throw herself off Tower Bridge, she would probably do it without question. There must be a happy medium somewhere between the cloying obedience of one daughter, and the out-and-out contrariness ofanother. And Ellen, his middle girl, was certainly not it.
Angel and Ellen were talking together when Louise went upstairs, and the three girls came into the drawing room together. They were not often here en masse, and as if for the first time since they had grown up, Fred was struck by the differences and yet the similarities in them.
Louise stood above the other two by a few inches, though none of them could be called tall. They were all fair, with Angel having the softest honey-coloured hair of all. They all had Clemenceâs green eyes. In shape, they were very different.
Louise was going to be matronly very soon if she didnât watch her diet. Ellen was almost tubular in shape, while Angel had curves in all the right places. Fred cleared his throat. He had no doubt at all that many young men would find Angel irresistible before too long.
Without saying a word, Clemence handed Angel the sheaf of flowers, and Angel took them automatically, her eyes puzzled. She read the note, and felt her face flood with colour.
And suddenly nothing else mattered in the world but that Jacques had cared enough to send her flowers. He hadnât quite abandoned her as she had thought. She knew that heâd had to report back to his squadron early. Perhaps after all, he simply couldnât bear to say good-byeâ¦
âDoes that answer all your questions, Frederick?â
Angel heard her motherâs accusing voice as though through a mist of joy.
âUntil we see the lights of London togetherâ¦â it spoke of continuity, of finding one another again no matter how war and circumstances parted them ⦠or time, or spaceâ¦
Fred took a quick glance around. Ellen sat sullenly after her initial interest in Angelâs gift, still smarting over her motherâs refusal to let Rose Morton go to Meadowcroft with her. Louise was still hot-faced over her husbandâs apparentdetermination to prove that he wasnât as spineless as he looked. Clemence was stiff with righteous indignation, and Angel looked as though she had just glimpsed heaven.
Fred asserted himself, knowing that it was time to act like the master in his own house.
âI have my own answer. We shall all go down to Meadowcroft for the duration.â
He ignored his wifeâs gasp of annoyance, and Angelâs startled exclamation. He went on doggedly in a voice they all knew. When Fred had made up his mind, nothing would change it. He held up his hand for silence, though he didnât really need to.
âWe have already
âI say. Has Angel got a beau?â Louise forgot her troubles for a second and stared at the flowers.
Stanley was a darling, but he usually forgot the little niceties of life, leaving things like birthdays and anniversaries for his secretary to remind him, and often to make the necessary purchases. Louiseâs envy of Angel soared.
âThatâs just what Iâd like to know.â Clemence told Louise rapidly what little they knew of Angelâs movements of the previous night, while Louiseâs eyes grew round as she listened. There was nothing of the rebel in Louise, but all the same, she could suddenly identify with the excitement Angel must have felt, unexpectedly having the freedom to do as she wished for one night in her life, and being daring enough to act on it.
âIs she in her room? Shall I take the flowers up to her?â Louise said eagerly, dying to find out more.
âCertainly not. I want to see her face when she reads the card,â Clemence said. âYou may call her down, Louise, but please donât mention the flowers.â
Dutifully, Louise left the room. Fred hid a little sigh. If Clemence told Louise to throw herself off Tower Bridge, she would probably do it without question. There must be a happy medium somewhere between the cloying obedience of one daughter, and the out-and-out contrariness ofanother. And Ellen, his middle girl, was certainly not it.
Angel and Ellen were talking together when Louise went upstairs, and the three girls came into the drawing room together. They were not often here en masse, and as if for the first time since they had grown up, Fred was struck by the differences and yet the similarities in them.
Louise stood above the other two by a few inches, though none of them could be called tall. They were all fair, with Angel having the softest honey-coloured hair of all. They all had Clemenceâs green eyes. In shape, they were very different.
Louise was going to be matronly very soon if she didnât watch her diet. Ellen was almost tubular in shape, while Angel had curves in all the right places. Fred cleared his throat. He had no doubt at all that many young men would find Angel irresistible before too long.
Without saying a word, Clemence handed Angel the sheaf of flowers, and Angel took them automatically, her eyes puzzled. She read the note, and felt her face flood with colour.
And suddenly nothing else mattered in the world but that Jacques had cared enough to send her flowers. He hadnât quite abandoned her as she had thought. She knew that heâd had to report back to his squadron early. Perhaps after all, he simply couldnât bear to say good-byeâ¦
âDoes that answer all your questions, Frederick?â
Angel heard her motherâs accusing voice as though through a mist of joy.
âUntil we see the lights of London togetherâ¦â it spoke of continuity, of finding one another again no matter how war and circumstances parted them ⦠or time, or spaceâ¦
Fred took a quick glance around. Ellen sat sullenly after her initial interest in Angelâs gift, still smarting over her motherâs refusal to let Rose Morton go to Meadowcroft with her. Louise was still hot-faced over her husbandâs apparentdetermination to prove that he wasnât as spineless as he looked. Clemence was stiff with righteous indignation, and Angel looked as though she had just glimpsed heaven.
Fred asserted himself, knowing that it was time to act like the master in his own house.
âI have my own answer. We shall all go down to Meadowcroft for the duration.â
He ignored his wifeâs gasp of annoyance, and Angelâs startled exclamation. He went on doggedly in a voice they all knew. When Fred had made up his mind, nothing would change it. He held up his hand for silence, though he didnât really need to.
âWe have already
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