At the bookshelves, Pippa opened a small box on one of the lower shelves, took out an old envelope containing three scraps of paper, and displayed them to the assembled company.
‘Do you collect autographs, Pippa?’ Sir Rowland asked her.
‘Not really,’ replied Pippa. ‘Only as a side-line.’ She handed one of the pieces of paper to Hugo, who glanced at it and passed it on to Sir Rowland.
‘A girl at school collects stamps, and her brother’s got a smashing collection himself,’ Pippa told them. ‘Last autumn he thought he’d got one like the one he saw in the paper—a Swedish something or other which was worth hundreds of pounds.’ As she spoke, she handed the two remaining autographs and the envelope to Hugo, who passed them on to Sir Rowland.
‘My friend’s brother was awfully excited,’ Pippa continued, ‘and he took the stamp to a dealer. But the dealer said it wasn’t what he thought it was, though it was quite a good stamp. Anyway, he gave him five pounds for it.’
Sir Rowland handed two of the autographs back to Hugo, who passed them on to Pippa. ‘Five pounds is pretty good, isn’t it?’ Pippa asked him, and Hugo grunted his agreement.
Pippa looked down at the autographs. ‘How much do you think Queen Victoria’s autograph would be worth?’ she wondered aloud.
‘About five to ten shillings, I should think,’ Sir Rowland told her, as he looked at the envelope he was still holding.
‘There’s John Ruskin’s here too, and Robert Browning’s,’ Pippa told them.
‘They’re not worth much either, I’m afraid,’ said Sir Rowland, handing the remaining autograph and the envelope to Hugo, who passed them on to Pippa, murmuring sympathetically as he did so, ‘Sorry, my dear. You’re not doing very well, are you?’
‘I wish I had Neville Duke’s and Roger Bannister’s,’ Pippa murmured wistfully. ‘These historical ones are rather mouldy, I think.’ She replaced the envelope and autographs in the box, placed the box back on the shelf, and then began to back towards the hall door. ‘Can I see if there are any more chocolate biscuits in the larder, Clarissa?’ she asked, hopefully.
‘Yes, if you like,’ Clarissa told her, smiling.
‘We must be off,’ said Hugo, following Pippa towards the door and calling up the staircase, ‘Jeremy! Hi! Jeremy!’
‘Coming,’ Jeremy shouted back as he hurried down the stairs carrying a golf club.
‘Henry ought to be home soon,’ Clarissa murmured, to herself as much as to the others.
Hugo went across to the French windows, calling to Jeremy, ‘Better go out this way. It’s nearer.’ He turned back to Clarissa. ‘Goodnight, Clarissa dear,’ he said. ‘Thank you for putting up with us. I’ll probably go straight home from the club, but I promise to send your weekend guests back to you in one piece.’
‘Goodnight, Clarissa,’ Jeremy joined in, as he followed Hugo out into the garden.
Clarissa waved them goodbye, as Sir Rowland came across and put his arm around her. ‘Goodnight, my dear,’ he said. ‘Warrender and I will probably not be in until about midnight.’
Clarissa accompanied him to the French windows. ‘It’s really a lovely evening,’ she observed. ‘I’ll come with you as far as the gate onto the golf course.’
They strolled across the garden together, making no attempt to catch up with Hugo and Jeremy. ‘What time do you expect Henry home?’ Sir Rowland asked.
‘Oh, I’m not sure. It varies. Quite soon, I imagine. Anyway, we’ll have a quiet evening together and some cold food, and we’ll probably have retired to bed by the time you and Jeremy get back.’
‘Yes, don’t wait up for us, for heaven’s sake,’ Sir Rowland told her.
They walked on in companionable silence until they reached the garden gate. Then, ‘All right, my dear, I’ll see you later, or probably at breakfast tomorrow,’ said Clarissa.
Sir Rowland gave her an affectionate peck on the cheek, and walked on briskly to catch up with his companions, while Clarissa made her way back to the house. It was a pleasant evening, and she walked slowly, stopping to enjoy the sights and smells of the garden, and allowing her thoughts to wander. She laughed to herself as the image of Miss Peake with her broccoli came into her mind, then found herself smiling when she thought of Jeremy and his clumsy attempt to make love to her. She wondered idly whether he had really been serious about it. As she approached the house, she began to contemplate with pleasure the prospect of a quiet evening at home with her husband.
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