Page 90 of The Gathering Storm

‘She looks tense,’ he went on, unrepentant. ‘And I think David’s going to cry.’

Emma pinched him and he subsided. The Duke did cry when they were pronounced man and wife. Wally remained rigid throughout, evincing no emotion of any kind, as though she had braced herself to go through with it at any cost. When it was over, the Duke turned to her and took her hands, as though he expected some gesture, a smile, perhaps, or a kiss, but she merely rearranged him, folding his arm across his stomach so that she could put her hand through the crook, and turning him to face the company for their congratulations. No-one seemed to know quite what to do next, until Fern, always the thoughtful hostess, said in a quiet but carrying voice, ‘Shall we retire to the Drawing-room for champagne? Luncheon will be served shortly.’

The newly-weds walked out, and the guests formed a little procession behind them as they moved to the Drawing-room, where two footmen stood with trays of glasses. The flower arrangements were magnificent in every room, almost more than the rooms could stand. ‘There can’t be a paeony left standing anywhere in France,’ Kit said. ‘I wonder if Mrs Spry will get paid. I don’t think Main Bocher has ever had a penny for any of his efforts.’

‘He gets the publicity,’ Emma said automatically.

Kit left her to go and talk to Herman Rogers.

‘What a sad little wedding,’ Baba said, appearing at Emma’s side as she took a glass from a tray. ‘The final act in a tragicomedy that nearly toppled an empire. Why was Wally so granite-faced?’

‘The poor thing broke out in spots this morning,’ Emma said, ‘so I imagine her stomach’s been playing up these last few days. It’s usually a sign.’

‘She’s got her man,’ Baba pointed out. ‘She should be happy.’

‘She never wanted this,’ Emma said. ‘Any of it.’

‘Well, she’s got it now, so she might as well make the best of it. You can see the love is all one-sided,’ she said, gesturing towards the couple, standing at the other end of the room. The ex-King was looking at her adoringly; her face was taut and turned away from him. ‘I’d feel warmer towards her if I’d seen one loving gesture from her today – if she’d just touched his arm, or once looked at him kindly.’ She emptied her glass and met Emma’s eyes. ‘She’s like a woman unmoved by the infatuation of a much younger man.’ She took another glass from a passing attendant. ‘Talking of younger men, who is that Adonis, whom you seem to know? Bedaux’s assistant?’

‘James Morland – a distant cousin of mine. I used to go and stay at his father’s house, Morland Place, when I was a girl. I loved it there – the house was always full of people and servants and dogs, and Uncle Teddy made it such fun, with riding and picnics and games and dancing.’

‘You sound positively nostalgic!’

‘I was always happy at Morland Place. Uncle Teddy taught me to shoot and my cousin Jessie taught me to drive. And Aunt Hen – she was Uncle Teddy’s widowed sister, she lived there and ran the place – she was a mother to me, when my own died.’

‘And is he married?’ Baba asked.

‘Uncle Teddy? He’s dead now.’

‘No, the divine young man – James Morland, you said?’

Emma frowned. Baba was famed for having affairs – Emma knew of at least six lovers, including, a little awkwardly in the circumstances, Walter Monckton. ‘No, he’s not married – I really don’t know why. You’re not thinking of—’

‘Oh, no, I don’t get involved with unmarried men. But he’s rather delicious. Why on earth hasn’t he been snapped up? Perhaps he’s an invert – the pretty ones often are.’

Luncheon was lobster and champagne followed by strawberries. Neither bride nor groom ate much – the Duke never did eat luncheon, and the new Duchess looked unwell. Immediately afterwards they left for their honeymoon at the Schloss Wasserleonburg in Austria, lent to them by a cousin of their friend Lord Dudley.

‘Another mistake,’ Baba said to Emma. ‘The last thing those two need is to be alone together. They should have gone to Vienna.’

At the very last, when Emma said goodbye to her, Wally’s iron control wavered. Her lips trembled as Emma leaned in to kiss her cheek, and her hands gripped Emma’s tightly for an instant. But she said nothing, turned away and got into the car.

Fruity, who really loved the Duke, wept a little as he said goodbye to him; and the Duke’s eyes were wet.

Then they were gone. The guests turned away to walk back into the house. ‘Are you crying?’ Emma said in amazement, seeing Kit run a knuckle under his eye.

‘No!’ Kit said immediately. Then, ‘A little, perhaps. That really is the end of it.’

‘What will they do from now on?’ Emma wondered.

‘We’ve seen enough exiled royalty since the war to know how it goes. They’ll wander from place to place, fêted by excitable second-raters, staying wherever anyone will give them a lavish enough welcome. Until their hosts discover they’re too expensive and hint them away. Everything gradually getting smaller and shabbier as their glamour fades and they’re forgotten.’

‘No, that’s too sad!’ Emma protested.

‘They should go to Hollywood,’ Kit said, ‘and attach themselves to the movie-celebrity circuit.’

‘You’re not serious?’

‘Why not? They’d fit in perfectly there. Hollywood loves royalty. He still has a certain cachet, and she’s very smart and fashionable, and knows how to work a room. They’d do very well, going to parties, opening nights, galas, being photographed with movie stars. He could play golf with celebrities. She might write fashion notes for a newspaper. And living is quite cheap in California, I understand. You can make a splash without huge expense.’