Indiscretions - Elizabeth Adler [1]
Her long legs covered the ground rapidly as she turned into Cadogan Square. There wasn’t time to dwell on the question of her future now. They’d be lucky, she thought, glancing at her watch, if Lydia had remembered to pick up some food for their guests.
Lydia had insisted on black tie for tonight’s dinner, for two reasons, she’d said laughing. First, the ladies would look so much prettier all dressed up and the ones she’d invited tonight could use all the help they could get; and secondly, the dinner was being given for an important business acquaintance of her husband, an American in London on a quick visit, and she thought she’d let him see that England still upheld its traditions and standards. “I’m ‘flying the flag,’” she’d said to Venetia, “and Fitzgerald McBain can thank God he’s not here for longer or he’d have to endure the full country-house weekend!” Venetia grinned at the thought. Dinner at the eccentric Lancasters’ was hazardous enough; a weekend at their country house had been known to throw new guests into a complete panic.
Zigzagging across the square into the cobbled mews, Venetia turned the key in the door of the rambling white house where she had spent most of her school holidays with her friend Kate Lancaster, becoming through the Lancasters’ generosity and all-encompassing kindness a part of their big family. After her final year at Hesketh’s Venetia, their “lodger,” had stayed on. She was, as Lydia laughingly put it, because Jenny had insisted on paying for Venetia’s room and board.
The hall, with its green and white geometric David Hicks carpet and drooping flowers, was ominously silent.
“Oh, my God!” The groan escaped her as she surveyed the drawing room. The Labrador wagged a lazy tail from his uncomfortable position on the brocade sofa in front of the fireless grate. The two Jack Russell’s dashed to her side, bouncing on their little terrier legs, glad to see her because they knew she could be relied on to feed them. Last night’s coffee tray still sat on the low table by the sofa and dust rested untouched on the surfaces of Chippendale library tables and Georgian mirrors.
Venetia strode across the hall, the dogs at her heels, and peered around the door into the dining room. Nothing! The long mahogany table she had expected to find glittering with the Lancasters’ old Waterford, Spode, and silver was naked. The small Art-Deco Cartier clock on the sideboard said six-thirty; guests had been invited for eight-thirty. Nothing had been done and there was no sign of Lydia. Venetia thought of the American coming unsuspectingly for dinner in an English home, fresh from the land of ease and efficiency. A mischievous grin lit her small triangular face and wide gray-blue eyes as she imagined him courteously clutching a drink and trying not to look astonished as the hours ticked by and still no dinner appeared. He’d probably be about fifty, married, with three children whose photographs he would display proudly, and his wife would certainly have dinner ready promptly on the dot of seven every evening. In that case, thought Venetia, turning from the empty room and heading for the kitchen, I’d better help keep Lydia’s end up. A girl with a cordon bleu diploma was supposed to be able to throw together a banquet at short notice, wasn’t she?
The front door slammed and Kate’s light voice called cheerfully, “It’s me. Anybody home?”
Venetia shot from the kitchen after the dogs, who yapped joyfully now, jumping at Kate’s knees.
“Hello, you darlings.” Kate hugged each one in turn. “Hi, Vennie.” A quick glance at Venetia’s face boded disaster. “What’s up? Has Henry ditched you?” Kate’s merry, dark eyes met her friend’s teasingly. “No, don’t tell me,” she added, realizing what had happened. “Mummy’s not back yet, there are hordes of people coming for dinner, there’s no food, and the place is a wreck.” She grinned at Venetia. “A typical situation in the Lancaster household! She’ll probably show up at eight o’clock and expect to be able to throw it all together in five minutes.”
“Not this time. I