The Last True Gentleman On The Planet Earth

Chapter Three

He got up with a “hep” sound and chuffed across the room to the drinks’ tray. Grasping the ice-cold silver shaker, he shook it heartily to ‘awaken the gin’ then poured the liquid into his glass. Adding another olive he then returned to the chair. Robert was stretching and scrunching into a Halloween cat pose. Mr. R scratched the cat’s chin and said, “Old thing,” then sat down and crossed his long legs, feeling absolutely delicious. He sipped. “Ah,” he said, “now Robert, with so much in motion we must keep our wits.” Robert yawned. “With the enterprise you and I are planning, we must keep our wits.” To emphasize, Mr. R tapped the arm of the chair three times. Robert, in response, fell asleep.

The girls looked in the mirror, Alice pulling the fabric with her fingers. “These are practically transparent.”

“Well, you are pixie-fairy-dust-darlings; if you're going to fly you must be as light as air,” said Lady H, stepping back and pushing a strand of hair behind her ears. “Now come away from the screen and let’s have a look at you.”

The girls hesitantly stepped out from behind the dressing screen. Lady H clapped her hands delightedly, “Exactly so, exactly so.” She walked over to Elizabeth and taking her shoulder turned to have a look at her. “They fit as if they were made for you. Now, one last thing...” she went over to the trunk. “Wings, you must have wings. They must be … somewhere. Ah ha!” she shouted and pulled out three sets of gorgeous white wings made with real feathers pricked with tiny drops of silver beads. “Of course they're just show, stage props, we would not expect you to use these flimsy things to fly.”

“You speak as if we’re actually going to fly,” said Sarah.

“But you are dears, you are! Anything to please our guests during soirée weekends.”

“Thing is,” Sarah said later. “I mean everyone is just so nice and Lord Higgins-Higgins is so friendly and clever and everything is just so... you know, but I can't help feeling something is afoot.”

“I feel it too,” said Elizabeth.

Fresh from their baths and smelling of soap the girls were sipping tea and playing Snap, lost in a sea of whiteness -- of white cotton nightgowns and white blankets on a huge feather bed, floating beneath a large white canopy that had draped red velvet curtains tied back with black sashes.

“Well, here we are,” said Alice, “and our parents did say yes and Mr. Rutherford is, well, I trust him. Yes, I trust him.”

Although there was that edge that Sarah spoke of, they felt so spoiled that they decided to lose themselves in the luxury of the moment and this magical house they were buried in beneath the snow.

“Ha!” exclaimed Sarah “Snap!”

The girls were late coming down for breakfast the next morning. They had pulled the curtains of the bed closed, pretending they were in a private cabin on the night train to Paris, and had slept so deeply they'd lost all sense of time. They found the breakfast room full of late morning light and the heady scent of coffee and toast and sugar. The decor was pale wood and green wallpaper and the room had enormous French windows at one end with a huge table in the centre covered in white linen, orange flowers and cutlery. There were many places set but except for Lord Bintintinton, an elderly bespectacled gentleman with fuzzy ears, they were alone. Along the sideboard sat steaming silver urns of coffee and tea with small paraffin lamps underneath, as well as covered trays containing asparagus and what looked like scrambled eggs, toasted bread of every kind, jam, honey, peanut butter and fruit. The girls loaded their plates.

Lord Bintintinton was reading the paper. “Last week's news,” he said from behind the paper to the girls as they sat down. “Can't get anything new … snow you know … so I'm re-reading. Gives you a fresh perspective really, makes the world seem even more ridiculous...” he stopped and looked over his paper. “Seen you before, haven't I? Have you dealings with perhaps the granddaughter?” His glasses slid down his nose.