The Edwardians by Vita Sackville-West

Author:Vita Sackville-West [Sackville-West, Vita]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781443421249
Publisher: HarperCollins Canada
Published: 2012-02-14T16:00:00+00:00

Elle fait de la grâce avec rien, elle fait

T’enir tout le divin dans un geste quelconque,

Et tu ne saurais pas, Vénus, monter en conque,

Ni toi, Diane, marcher dans les grands bois fleuris,

Comme elle monte en chaise et marche dans Paris!

but even as he identified the quotation, he scored an additional mark against her, that she should suggest the sugared voluptuousness of Cyrano after the rich and passionate fire of Tristan. He presented himself before her with perfect decorum, a young man preparing to see a lady to her carriage, most correct. “Let me get your carriage for you,” he said, and helped her with her cloak, which was slipping from her shoulders. “Lady Roehampton’s carriage,” he said to the functionary at the door.

“Just one minute, your Grace,” and the name was taken up and bawled by the linkmen out into the street: “Lady Roe’ampton’s kerridge! Lady Roe’ampton’s kerridge!” and there was a flutter among the little crowd of footmen, as Lady Roehampton’s James detached himself from the group and ran away in his top hat and hollow-sounding top-boots to look for the carriage round the corner.

Other people were waiting for their carriages under the portico; amongst them, though Sylvia and Sebastian were unaware of it, Lord and Lady O. and their Alice. Lady O. drew her train aside and made signs to Alice, which Alice did not in the least understand. For the first time in her life she paid the minimum of attention to her mother and her signs. Lady Roehampton and the duke were so much more worth looking at! They epitomised for her all the life of the great and brilliant world; they had nothing upon earth to do except to enjoy themselves and be ornamental. How beautiful Lady Roehampton looked in the swirls of that cherry velvet! She envied them both from the bottom of her heart.

Then James ran up and touched his hat and said her ladyship’s carriage was the next but one. Sylvia, gathering up her skirts, stepped delicately out as the horses drew up, tossing their heads against the bearing-reins, and James sprang forward, the rug over his arm, to open the door. It was a warm night and the window of the brougham was lowered. Sebastian leant in at it. He was bare-headed and extremely pale.

“Sylvia, I must see you.”

“Come to luncheon tomorrow.”

“No, tonight.”

“Really, Sebastian! George . . .”

“Nonsense, George is at Newmarket. I shall follow you, in a quarter of an hour.”

“Lady Roe’ampton’s kerridge stops the way!” shouted the linkman.

“You won’t get in,” said Sylvia; “I shall send the servants to bed.”

“You forget; I’ve got the key.”

“I shall put up the chain.”

“Then I shall ring the bell.”

“Lady Roe’ampton’s kerridge stops the way!”

“Well, if you must—but for heaven’s sake don’t let anyone see you.”

“That’s all you think of.—All right, James,” he said, stepping back.

It was a sight to see how James could twist himself up on to the box when the carriage was already in motion.

Half an hour later Sebastian let himself into the hall of Roehampton House.

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