‘Our little duck, she will love this! She knows, doesn’t she, that something is going on? She senses it. See her face, all alight – oh, what a beautiful evening for her, and those beautiful lights across the lawn! She will feel it even if she cannot see it, how she will love it!’ Helena did not lack for gorgeous clothes and brilliant jewellery, once her mother’s, and the two women knew how to make the most of her golden colouring, bringing out her best long dress of turquoise silk and a shawl of white silk shot with gold and silver threads. Her hair was loose and fell in shining curls over her shoulders and a diamond necklace glittered at her throat. At the age of twenty-two, she had a sweet childish face untouched by sadness or worry, which gave her natural beauty an extra dimension, a purity that seemed to shine from her strange, sightless blue eyes. Lily, used to her, was stunned when she saw her emerge from the house. Some thirty or forty young people had congregated to greet her, now all in their party clothes and on their best behaviour.
