As the Crow Flies

“Not by that much,” said Becky. “So when’s yours due?”

“Dr. Gould is predicting some time in January. Clarence if it’s a boy, Clarissa if it’s a girl.”

Her guests both laughed.

“Don’t you two dare snigger. Those are the names of Percy’s most distinguished ancestors,” she told them, just as her husband entered the room.

“True, by Jove,” said Percy, “though I’m damned if I can remember what they actually did.”

“Welcome home,” said Charlie, shaking him by the hand.

“Thank you, Charlie,” said Percy, who then kissed Becky on both cheeks. “I don’t mind telling you I’m damned pleased to see you again.” A servant handed him a whisky and soda. “Now, Becky, tell me everything you’ve been up to and don’t spare me any details.”

They sat down together on the sofa as Daphne joined Charlie, who was slowly circling the room studying the large portraits that hung on every wall.

“Percy’s ancestors,” said Daphne. “All painted by second-rate artists. I’d swap the lot of them for that picture of the Virgin Mary you have in your drawing room.”

“Not this one, you wouldn’t,” said Charlie, as he stopped in front of the second Marquess of Wiltshire.

“Ah, yes, the Holbein,” said Daphne. “You’re right. But since then I’m afraid it’s been downhill all the way.”

“I wouldn’t begin to know, m’lady,” said Charlie with a grin. “You see, my ancestors didn’t go a bundle on portraits. Come to think of it, I don’t suppose Holbein was commissioned by that many costermongers from the East End.”

Daphne laughed. “That reminds me, Charlie, what’s happened to your cockney accent?”

“What was you ’oping for, Marchioness, a pound of tomatoes and ’alf a grapefruit, or just a night on the razzle?”

“That’s more like it. Mustn’t let a few night classes go to our head.”

“Shhh,” said Charlie, looking over to his wife, who was seated on the sofa. “Becky still doesn’t know and I’m not saying anything until—”

“I understand,” said Daphne. “And I promise you that she won’t hear a thing from me. I haven’t even told Percy.” She glanced towards Becky, who was still deep in conversation with her husband. “By the way, how long before—?”

“Ten years would be my guess,” said Charlie, delivering his prepared answer.

“Oh, I thought that these things usually took about nine months,” said Daphne. “Unless of course you’re an elephant.”

Charlie smiled, realizing his mistake. “Another two months would be my guess. Tommy if it’s a boy and Debbie if it’s a girl. So with a bit of luck whatever Becky delivers let’s hope turns out to be the ideal partner for Clarence or Clarissa.”

“A nice idea but the way the world is going at the moment,” said Daphne, “I wouldn’t be surprised if mine ended up as your sales assistant.”

Despite Daphne bombarding him with questions Charlie still couldn’t take his eyes off the Holbein. Eventually Daphne bribed him away by saying, “Come on, Charlie, let’s go and have something to eat. I always seem to be famished nowadays.”

Percy and Becky stood up and followed Daphne and Charlie towards the dining room.

Daphne led her guests down a long corridor and through into another room that was exactly the same size and proportion as the one they had just left. The six full-length canvases that hung from the walls were all by Reynolds. “And this time only the ugly one is a relation,” Percy assured them as he took his place at one end of the table and gestured to a long gray figure of a lady that hung on the wall behind him. “And she would have found it exceedingly difficult to land a Wiltshire had she not been accompanied by an extremely handsome dowry.”

They took their places at a table that had been laid for four but would have comfortably seated eight, and proceeded to eat a four-course dinner that could have happily fed sixteen. Liveried footmen stood behind each chair to ensure the slightest need was administered to. “Every good home should have one,” whispered Charlie across the table to his wife.

The conversation over dinner gave the four of them a chance to catch up with everything that had taken place during the past year. By the time a second coffee had been poured Daphne and Becky left the two men to enjoy a cigar and Charlie couldn’t help thinking that it was as if the Wiltshires had never been away in the first place.

“Glad the girls have left us alone,” said Percy, “as I feel there is something less pleasant we ought perhaps to touch on.”

Charlie puffed away at his first cigar, wondering what it must be like to suffer in this way every day.

“When Daphne and I were in India,” Percy continued, “we came across that bounder Trentham.” Charlie coughed as some smoke went down the wrong way and began to pay closer attention as his host revealed the conversation that had taken place between Trentham and himself. “His threat that he would ‘get you,’ come what may, could have been no more than an idle boast, of course,” said Percy, “but Daphne felt it best that you were put fully in the picture.”

“But what can I possibly do about it?” Charlie knocked an extended column of ash into a silver saucer that had been placed in front of him just in time.