Love Over Scotland - Alexander Hanchett Smith [66]
Angus Lordie felt disgruntled. He had woken early that morning
– rather earlier than he had wanted to – and had found it difficult to get back to sleep. Now it was six o’clock, and still dark. In the summer, when the mornings were so bright and optimistic, he would sometimes make his way into his studio and paint for several hours. He loved those summer mornings, when the city was quiet and the air so fresh. Life seemed somehow richer in possibilities at that hour; it was like being young again; yes, that was what it was like, he thought. When you are young, the world is in better definition, clearer; it is a feeling not dissimilar to that which one had after the first sip of champagne, before the dulling effect of excess. But now, in the autumn, with the drawing in of days, the morning hours lacked all that, and painting could only begin much later on, after breakfast. What produced this sense of disgruntlement on that particular day was the fact that Angus was due to entertain that night. He enjoyed dinner parties – in fact, he relished them – but in general, he preferred to be a guest rather than a host. It was such a bother, he thought, to have to cook everything and then to serve it. He found it difficult to relax and enjoy the conversation if he had to keep an eye on the needs of his guests. And at the end of it all, of course, there was the mess which had to be cleared up. Angus kept his flat tidy – it was rather like the galley of a well-run ship, in fact; somewhat Spartan, with everything neatly stacked and stored. Of course, this preference for being entertained rather than entertaining had not escaped the notice of others. If records 138 Angus Lordie Prepares to Entertain
were kept of these things, in the same way in which certain denizens of London society kept lists of the season’s parties –
and that was never done in Edinburgh – then Angus Lordie’s debit columns would heavily outweigh anything in his credit columns. In fact, his credit columns would be completely blank, unless one counted buying lunch for one or two friends in the Scottish Arts Club as a credit. And the friends for whom he had bought lunch were themselves noted more for the eating of meals than for paying for them. And as for those who had invited him to their large parties in places such as East Lothian, they did so in the sure and certain knowledge that their hospitality would never be repaid. Not that they minded, of course; Angus was witty and entertaining company, and nobody expected a bachelor to be much good at reciprocation.
“He’s such a charming man,” remarked one hostess to a friend.
“Men like that are such fun.”
“But he’s absolutely no good,” said the friend. “A convinced bachelor. No use at all.”
“Such a waste,” said the first woman.
“Criminal.”
They were both silent. Then: “Remember when” – and here she mentioned the name of a prominent lawyer who, some years back, had become a widower – “Remember when he came on the market and there was that mad dash, and she got there first?”
The other thought for a moment. She shook her head. There were other cases too, though none as egregiously tragic for a number of hopefuls as that one.
“Of course, Angus is very friendly with that woman who lives in Scotland Street. That frightful blue-stocking . . .”
“Domenica Macdonald.”
“Exactly. The one who went off somewhere on some madcap project.”
“But there’s nothing between them, surely?”
“No. They gossip together. That’s all.”
“So sad.”
“Criminal.”
But now Angus was cornered and found himself committed Angus Lordie Prepares to Entertain 139
to the holding of a dinner party in Drummond Place. This situation had come about as a result of an undertaking he had rashly given to Domenica shortly before her departure for the Malacca Straits. She had asked him to give her an assurance that he would invite to his flat Antonia Collie, her friend who was occupying her flat in her absence.
“She knows very few people in Edinburgh, Angus,” Domenica had said. “And