As Yet Untitled - Part One, Chapter Two.

Chapter Two. 
 
 Just under a year had flown by and Ida and Henry Crawford adorned the sprawling lawn that lay in the relentless heat of late Summer, they had only moments before the guests would arrive and they would be found by someone under the orders of their mother. Henry lay on his back with his arms behind his head while Ida sat with her legs under her, her white dress surrounded her, dangerously close to crumpling. They sat in companionable silence knowing that soon they would have to make meaningless conversation with elderly dowagers and their dull relatives. Ida was one of the few people, perhaps the only one, with which Henry could sit in silence. A drowsiness hung over the grounds where they sat but the lawn in front of the house was awash with hurried, harried figures under the direction of Lady Beechwood and Mary, their blond hair caught the sun from under their hats. A white tent had been erected and stood still in the hum of pollen-heavy bees. Sure enough, only moments later, a maid hurried towards them from around the side of the house. As the girl neared them the bright gleam of her ginger hair from under her starched cap told them it was Alice. 
 “Her Ladyships wants you round the front”
She said with a bob and a slight smile at Henry from under her pale lashes. 
 “Thank you Alice”
Henry said this while sweeping his curls from his forehead absentmindedly with languorous ease causing Alice to blush the same colour as her bright red hair. 
 “That will be all. Thank you.”
Said Ida with a kind smile, she watched as Alice almost ran from them so great was her want to tell the other girls who watched Henry from under their caps when they thought no one was looking that he had smiled at her. 
 “You really must stop torturing them Henry, and I suppose we should stop torturing our mother, come on!”
Ida stood and together they meandered to the front of the house just as the first carriage could be heard on the sweeping drive that sauntered past the lake before arriving at the house. 
 “Where have you two been? Mama was beside herself with worry, you both know how much things like this mean to her! Oh good afternoon Lord Rotherham, Lady Rotherham, how lovely to see you both, some refreshments perhaps?”
Mary smoothly changed her hisses at her troublesome siblings into welcoming chatter to the elderly couple who were, without fail, the first to arrive at such gatherings to assure themselves that they were the most prompt and polite of guests. 
 It seemed to Ida that an age must have passed since she and Henry had enjoyed the sun but in fact it had only been a mere two hours. Her mother did not believe in young people appearing to be larking about, as she described it, and therefore Ida had hardly had a chance to speak to the Ainsworths nor any of her other friends. She sat at a table with her mother who wore a beautiful dress who’s high collar made her mother look quite regal. Ida could feel her eyes glazing over as she felt the polite conversation wash over her, in a bid to seem alert she looked at those around her. Henry was speaking to a young woman, a Lady Susan Baleford whom he would later describe as plain and a bore, but he had been introduced to her by his mother so she must have been terribly rich. Henry had her captivated and blushing as he leaned in close to talk to her. “How on earth does he do it?” thought Ida to herself. Mary also seemed to be enjoying herself under the flattery of a man Ida noticed. Earlier a young man had been introduced to Mary by Lady Beechwood. He was a certain Barnaby Harrington of the Harrington Estate in Dorset. Mary seemed unable to stop smiling, her dimples never disappeared. Ida wondered whether this was due to Mary imagining herself as the wife of a Duke or simply the man himself. Ida looked over at her father and was surprised to find him in hushed conversation with a couple of the more mature local gentlemen. They seemed more somber than a tea party with sandwiches desired of them and Ida longed to know of what they spoke. She supposed it must be something to do with the politics of the world, she had heard her father and the other gentlemen discussing it over their whiskey. Ida let her wandering eye fall on Walter Ainsworth. She watched him as he spoke with Lady Rose Francis with whom Ida had been presented not so long ago. Rose was a slightly silly girl who was hugely likable and Ida shared many fond memories with her. Ida had always known throughout her childhood that it would be either Mary or herself that would marry Walter, she had allowed this childhood acceptance to carry her but now she found herself questioning it. Should she feel jealous of petit Rose with her shrill little laugh  at whom Walter now looked. With his eyes blanched to a grey by the sun and the soft skin around their edges crinkled as he looked into the light to listen to Rose’s tinkling laugh, Ida supposed he was rather handsome. She quickly looked away as this kind of thought made her future seem blurred and vague, the sort of uncertainty that made her uncomfortable. Instead she watched the gentlemen who acted as the master of the hounds, his position allowed her father to invite him to such events much to the annoyance of Lady Beechwood. Ida could not help but wonder if he knew how similar he looked to the foxes that he spent his life trying to outwit, Lord Beechwood had always told her that he was an extremely clever man, Ida did not doubt this. With a start she realised that everyone at the table at which she sat was looking at her, her mother held her mouth in a tight, thin line of disapproval, her blue eyes glinted at her youngest child. Ida stammered her apologies and once more she was a member of the party rather than an observer of those around her. Unbeknownst to Ida as she once more joined in conversation she was watched. A pair of pale grey eyes traced the passionate lines of her face. 
 That evening as the family sat around the table eating a fine dessert, another triumph of Mrs B as Henry called her, Lord Beechwood settled his spoon by his plate. This alone was unusual as he was not a man to miss out on any dish, let alone those that arrived at the latter stages of a meal. By the light of the flickering candles his ruddy face looked unusually pale under his still dark curls. Ida knew instinctively that this was in some way related to the hushed conversation that she had witnessed earlier on in the day. Henry and Mary were discussing the Lady Baleford, Mary disagreed with Henry describing her as a “complete dear” to which Henry simply shook his head and laughed, saying that Mary could only see the good in people not how truly dull they really were. 
 “Will you please be quiet, both of you.”
Lord Beechwood said this in a weary voice, it was strange for him to become involved in such frivolous conversations between his children, this was enough to even halt Lady Beechwood in her picking at the carved meringue in front of her. Not even its deliciousness could give her conviction and she could think only of the weight she felt increased with every year she aged. 
 “I do not know if you have read the papers lately?”
Lady Beechwood would have taken this as a slight but her husband had ensured that the family were alone, having finished serving Lord Beechwood had asked the Butler to leave along with the footmen. He was indeed right to question them, Henry often went for days without reading the newspapers that were placed on the breakfast table, ironed and waiting to be read, it simply slipped his mind. Lady Beechwood did not think it was right for young ladies to take too much interest in politics so neither of the girls were in the habit of reading newspapers. Lord Beechwood continued in his deep bass tones that rolled with a life of liquor and after dinner cigars. 
 “Events are developing rapidly, not to alarm you darling”. He added to sooth his wife and her delicate nerves. “Today in Sarajevo the Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated”.
This did not have the effect he expected on his family. Henry, who lent his chair back on it’s two legs, looked so content it was almost offensive to his father. Lord Beechwood felt the alien sensation of fury begin to boil in his middle, he almost shouted. 
 “Sit up Henry! Have some decorum, that chair has sat at this table for generations have some respect for your history. I fought against the Boers, I remember what this kind of news brings with it!”
Ida was so unused to her father’s anger that it seemed absurd to hear him telling Henry off, she had the urge to laugh as though she was once more a child in a church. When this feeling passed she realised that this was the first she had ever heard of her father ever fighting in any kind of war, she knew that the war had been too recent for the governesses she had shared with Mary to teach them about it. She imagined that her father would have looked very handsome and imposing in uniform, his stature was after all tall as well as broad. 
 “Read this”
Lord Beechwood returned from the Library with the most recent newspaper and a telegram that had been sent from one of his friends from the club. Ida supposed it must be very grave for even Henry sat up as he read both. 
 “Oh that does sound like a bother waiting to happen father”
Said Henry. Lord Beechwood felt this reaction was a little late and a little feeble, waiting for his wife to rise and signal the end of the meal, his expressive brows met in a furrow of worries.