As the Crow Flies Read online

At two fifty-five, ten men and two women, all of whom were dressed in what looked to Daphne like long black dressing gowns with purple scarves hanging from their necks, proceeded across the stage in a gentle crocodile before taking their allocated places. Only the two thrones remained unoccupied. On the stroke of three Daphne’s attention was drawn to the minstrels’ gallery, where a fanfare of trumpets struck up to announce the arrival of the visitors, and all those present rose as the King and Queen entered to take their places in the center of the Senate. Everyone except the royal couple remained standing until after the National Anthem had been played.

  “Bertie looks very well, considering,” said Percy, resuming his seat.

  “Do be quiet,” said Daphne. “No one else knows him.”

  An elderly man in a long black gown, the only person who remained standing, waited for everyone to settle before he took a pace forward, bowed to the royal couple and then proceeded to address the audience.

  After the vice-chancellor, Sir Russell Russell-Wells, had been speaking for some considerable time Percy inquired of his fiancée, “How is a fellow expected to follow all this piffle when he gave up Latin as an option in his fourth half?”

  “I only survived a year of the subject myself.”

  “Then you won’t be much help either, old gel,” admitted Percy in a whisper.

  Someone seated in the row in front turned round to glare at them ferociously.

  Throughout the remainder of the ceremony Daphne and Percy tried to remain silent, although Daphne did find it necessary from time to time to place a firm hand on Percy’s knee as he continued to shift uncomfortably from side to side on the flat wooden chair.

  “It’s all right for the King,” whispered Percy. “He’s got a damned great cushion to sit on.”

  At last the moment came for which they had both been bidden.

  The vice-chancellor, who continued to call out a list of names from the roll of honor, had at last come to the Ts. He then declared, “Bachelor of arts, Mrs. Charles Trumper of Bedford College.” The applause almost doubled, as it had done so every time a woman had walked up the steps to receive her degree from the visitor. Becky curtsied before the King as he placed what the program described as a “hood of purple” over her gown and handed her a parchment scroll. She curtsied again and took two paces backwards before returning to her seat.

  “Couldn’t have done it better myself,” said Percy as he joined in the applause. “And no prizes for guessing who tutored her through that little performance,” he added. Daphne blushed as they remained in their places for some time to allow all the Us, Vs, Ws and Ys to receive their degrees, before being allowed to escape into the garden for tea.

  “Can’t see them anywhere,” said Percy, as he turned a slow circle in the middle of the lawn.

  “Nor I,” said Daphne. “But keep looking. They’re bound to be here somewhere.”

  “Good afternoon, Miss Harcourt-Browne.”

  Daphne spun round. “Oh, hello, Mrs. Salmon, how super to see you. And what a simply charming hat; and dear Miss Roach. Percy, this is Becky’s mother, Mrs. Salmon, and her aunt, Miss Roach. My fiancé—”

  “Delighted to meet you, your lordship,” said Mrs. Salmon, wondering if anyone from the Ladies’ Circle at Romford would believe her when she told them.

  “You must be so proud of your daughter,” said Percy.

  “Yes, I am, your lordship,” said Mrs. Salmon.

  Miss Roach stood like a statue and didn’t offer an opinion.

  “And where is our little scholar,” demanded Daphne.

  “I’m here,” said Becky. “But where have you been?” she asked, emerging from a group of new graduates.

  “Looking for you.”

  The two girls threw their arms around each other.

  “Have you seen my mother?”

  “She was with us a moment ago,” said Daphne, looking around.

  “She’s gone to find some sandwiches, I think,” said Miss Roach.

  “Typical of Mum,” said Becky, laughing.

  “Hello, Percy,” said Charlie. “How are things?”

  “Things are spiffing,” said Percy, coughing. “And well done, Becky, I say,” he added as Mrs. Salmon returned carrying a large plate of sandwiches.

  “If Becky has inherited her mother’s common sense, Mrs. Salmon,” said Daphne as she selected a cucumber sandwich for Percy, “she ought to do well in the real world, because I suspect there won’t be many of these left in fifteen minutes’ time.” She picked out one of the smoked salmon variety for herself. “Were you very nervous when you marched up onto that stage?” Daphne asked, turning her attention back to Becky.

  “I certainly was, replied Becky. “And when the King placed the hood over my head, my legs almost gave way. Then, to make matters worse, the moment I returned to my place I discovered Charlie was crying.”

  “I was not,” protested her husband.

  Becky said nothing more as she linked her arm through his.

  “I’ve rather taken to that purple hood thing,” said Percy. “I think I’d look quite a swell were I to sport one of those at next year’s hunt ball. What do you think, old gel?”

  “You’re expected to do rather a lot of hard work before you’re allowed to adorn yourself with one of those, Percy.”

  They all turned to see who it was who had offered this opinion.

  Percy lowered his head. “Your Majesty is, as always, quite correct. I might add, sir, that I fear, given my present record, I am unlikely ever to be considered for such a distinction.”

  The King smiled, then added, “In fact I’m bound to say, Percy, that you seem to have strayed somewhat from your usual habitat.”

  “A friend of Daphne’s,” explained Percy.

  “Daphne, my dear, how lovely to see you,” said the King. “And I haven’t yet had the opportunity to congratulate you on your engagement.”

  “I received a kind note from the Queen only yesterday, Your Majesty. We are honored that you are both able to attend the wedding.”

  “Yes, simply delighted,” said Percy. “And may I present Mrs. Trumper, who was the recipient of the degree?” Becky shook hands with the King for a second time. “Her husband, Mr. Charles Trumper, and Mrs. Trumper’s mother, Mrs. Salmon; her aunt, Miss Roach.”

  The King shook hands with all four before saying, “Well done, Mrs. Trumper. I do hope you’re going to put your degree to some useful purpose.”

  “I shall be joining the staff of Sotheby’s, Your Majesty. As an apprentice in their fine art department.”

  “Capital. Then I can only wish you continued success, Mrs. Trumper. I look forward to seeing you at the wedding, if not before, Percy.” With a nod the King moved on to another group.

  “Decent fellow,” said Percy. “Good of him to come over like that.”

  “I had no idea you knew—” began Becky.

  “Well,” explained Percy, “to be honest, my great-great-great-great-grandfather tried to murder his great-great-great-great-grandfather, and had he succeeded our roles might well have been reversed. Despite that he’s always been jolly understanding about the whole affair.”

  “So what happened to your great-great-great-great-grandfather?” asked Charlie.

  “Exiled,” said Percy. “And I’m bound to add, quite rightly. Otherwise the blighter would only have tried again.”

  “Good heavens,” said Becky, laughing.

  “What is it?” said Charlie.

  “I’ve just worked out who Percy’s great-great-great-great-grandfather was.”

  Daphne didn’t get a chance to see Becky again before the marriage ceremony, as the last few weeks of preparation for her wedding seemed to be totally occupied. However, she did manage to keep abreast of the goings-on in Chelsea Terrace, after bumping into the colonel and his wife at Lady Denham’s reception in Onslow Square. The colonel was able to inform her, sotto voce, that Charlie was beginning to run up a rather large overdraft with the bank—“even if h