can’t wait to meet her.”
“Well, she’s been looking forward to your coming,” Janet said. “We all have. Maggie, though, is off today. She’s the cook. Then there’s Bridget. She helps me out.” She gestured toward a closed door. “Our rooms are back through there, behind the butler’s pantry. We have a nice little sitting room and telly.” She paused to pour more tea into Valerie’s cup. “Bernard lives in the mews house out in back, at the end of the garden. You know how chauffeurs are. They’re always with the motor cars.”
Four servants, Valerie thought, impressed. At home, she and Vicki did the housework, and even Max’s cleaning woman came in only a couple of days a week.
After Valerie finished breakfast, Janet took her on a tour of the house. Above the kitchen was the dining room, with tall windows and a gleaming mahogany table and chairs. Across the hall was the library, where a grand piano stood in front of a curving window. Valerie ran her fingers over its keys. The tone was pure. Wonderful, really. On the next level was the entry hall, and next to it the drawing room, running the length of the house, a blur of pinks and roses, fine antiques, handsome screens, and paintings of haughty aristocrats. There was a round mahogany table surrounded by four chairs. A crystal chandelier and bowls of flowers accented the room. Logs had been laid for a fire in the marble fireplace.
“It’s here you’ll be having your tea,” Janet said, flicking a bit of imaginary dust off one of the tables. “Sometimes Her Ladyship has her breakfast here too, at that little round table.”
The room that Valerie had been given was just above Lady Anne’s suite. She peeped in to see a fire burning brightly in the fireplace, and a double bed with a white spread, a pile of lacy white pillows, and a white canopy. Nightstands with pretty lamps stood on either side of the bed, and an oriental rug in white and blue covered most of the dark wood floor. A matching chaise longue was bathed in sunlight that filtered through the sheer curtains covering the tall window behind it. On a table sat a tall crystal vase filled with white and yellow chrysanthemums. Valerie’s clothes had been hung in the walk-in closet in her dressing room. Her bathroom was all in blue and white, with fluffy white towels on the towel racks.
“It’s so beautiful,” Valerie whispered.
“Well, it’s comfortable, I will say that,” said Janet. “I think Her Ladyship enjoyed fixing it up for you. She kept asking, ‘Will a young girl like this?’ ‘Will a young girl like that?’” Janet bustled around the room, plumping up the pillows on the bed. “I expect you’ll want a hot bath, Miss Valerie. And you can have your lie-down. There’s a little clock there on your nightstand, but don’t you bother about setting the alarm. I’ll come and wake you around four o’clock. Is that all right?”
“Yes, thank you,” said Valerie, hardly able to believe that this lovely room was to be hers for a year.
After Janet had closed the door behind her, Valerie ran a bath as hot as she could stand. When she had dried her body, still tanned from the hours she had spent at Max’s swimming pool, she put on the new white terrycloth robe hanging in her closet.
She crept into the bed and looked around the graceful room. Sunlight streamed through the curtains. The fire crackled cheerfully in the fireplace. All of this for me, Valerie thought. Suddenly she felt more tired than she ever had before as she drifted off to sleep.
When she awoke, the room was dark, and pale moonlight filtered through the airy curtains. Somebody had covered her with a down comforter. Valerie changed to a nightgown, and crawled in between the soft white sheets. The next time she awoke, it was to Janet’s voice.
“Time to get up,” Janet called. “It’s a fine morning, and Her Ladyship is waiting to have breakfast with you.”
When Valerie walked into the drawing room fifteen minutes later, Lady Anne Hallowell was sitting at the round mahogany table reading a newspaper. In front of her was a silver tea service, china cups, and saucers patterned with pale flowers. She was in her late forties, Valerie saw, with shining brown hair in a loose pageboy. Her face was long, with high cheekbones and a generous mouth. She was dressed simply in a pale blue sweater set, a tweed skirt, and pearls. Reading glasses perched on her aristocratic nose. She glanced up from her newspaper as Valerie stepped tentatively into the room.
“Well, my dear,” Lady Anne smiled, rising and taking Valerie’s hands in her own. “I’m so glad you’re finally here. Come and sit down.” She led Valerie to the table and tinkled a little bell. “Now, you must tell me all about yourself. First, what would you like for breakfast? Eggs? Bacon? I know how it is to be a growing girl. It was a long time ago, but I remember. Let’s start with some tea,” she said briskly, pouring the tea as Janet appeared. “Bring this young lady some bacon and eggs. And maybe several patties of sausage. Toast, of course, and that wonderful strawberry jam.”
“Yes, Your Ladyship,” Janet murmured.
“You’ll love the London Conservatory of Music,” she continued when Janet was gone. “I’m sure you know its reputation. They’ve turned out some of the finest musicians. And you know about the pianists. Simply the most brilliant. Maria Obolensko, for one. I jumped at the chance when I was asked to be a patron there,” she said. “I always wished for talent, but I’m afraid it was just the usual piano lessons. But, my dear, all those competitions you’ve won. The concert tour. And your reviews. My heavens! Fire and passion, they say. And you’re such a delicate little thing.”
“Perhaps I could …,” Valerie began.
“Give me lessons? Oh, no,” Lady Anne said, waving a finger. “It’s enough for me that the house will be filled with beautiful music. You’re here to work, young lady, and I’m here to make it as easy as possible for you. Why, we’re a little family, the two of us. I want you to think of me as your aunt. And I’ll think of you as my niece. In fact, I already do. That’s just what I’m going to tell my friends. ‘This is Valerie Hemion, my American-born niece.’”
“Thank you,” Valerie said.
“Isn’t it nice that your classes don’t start for another week?” Lady Anne asked brightly. “I’ll have plenty of time to show you around London. I think we’ll have a dinner party so that everybody can meet you.”
Valerie gave a silent prayer of thanks as she managed to sip her tea without spilling it all over the damask flowered tablecloth. She didn’t know what she would do when breakfast came. Just watch Lady Anne, she decided, to make sure she was using the right fork. The right knife. The right everything.
In front of the vast expanse of Buckingham Palace, a throng of tourists watched the soldiers in their red tunics, black pants, and towering bearskins, marching past them in the ceremonial changing of the queen’s guard.
“Look, dear,” Lady Anne said, sitting next to Valerie in the back seat of the limousine. “Do you see the flag? That means the queen is in residence.”
Obediently, Valerie directed her attention to the roof of the palace, where the queen’s own standard fluttered in the breeze. With its row after row of windows, its great stone pillars, and its balconies, the palace almost took her breath away.
Lady Anne took Valerie to tea at Brown’s Hotel, where they ate cucumber and watercress sandwiches in its frumpy paneled dining room. “This is my little American niece,” Lady Anne would say when she ran into a friend. “Valerie Hemion. She’s studying here for a year at the London Conservatory of Music.”
“How lovely,” they would murmur in their well-bred voices, as Valerie smiled shyly.
Lady Anne’s conversation was a bewildering litany of helpful hints. “Well-brought-up young ladies cross their legs at the ankles, dear,” she pointed out. “Put your napkin in your lap as soon as you sit down, dear.” And, looking at her critically, “You know, Valerie, you’re such a pretty girl. You’re going to be quite the raving beauty.