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Robert, don’t be too livid with me — a girl really does have to get married, you know, and Uncle William and Aunt Maud were having second thoughts about giving me a season because Timothy was so passionate about me and they thought it would be rather heavenly if I married him and I suppose they didn’t like the idea of me meeting heaps of luscious gentlemen in London, and quite honestly I didn’t care for the idea much either, I decided I’d already had more than enough of luscious gentlemen who promised to love me forever and then disappeared without trace.
    Bobby and Margaret are thrilled, in fact they’re both being simply wonderful, and darling Bobby says he’s going to give a ball for me at Oxmoon on my eighteenth birthday next month, so hurry home from Harrow, my dear (what a collection of breathless aspirants!) because I simply can’t wait to see you! Undying love, yours through all eternity, GINETTE .
    I had barely recovered from this sickening effusion when my father’s letter arrived. After breaking the news of the engagement, he wrote, I myself am convinced that this is the best possible solution for Ginevra and when you come home we’ll have a talk and I’ll explain why. Meanwhile behave like a gentleman and do nothing that would make me ashamed of you — but I have every confidence that your conduct, as always, will be exemplary. Ever your affectionate and devoted father, R.G.
    This elliptical letter seemed curiously empty. I read it and reread it and felt more despairing than ever. I wanted immediate comfort; the promise of future explanations coupled with exhortations to behave like a gentleman merely increased my baffled misery. I wanted someone to say, “Yes, you must be appalled,” and suggest if not a remedy, at least a road to resignation.
    My mother’s letter arrived two days later.
    My dearest Robert, she wrote, Of course you will be appalled by the news of Ginevra’s engagement. But try to be patient. It is a difficult situation but there are arguments in favor of the engagement which I must leave to your father to explain. It is not a mother’s provenance to talk of the Ways of the World to her sons.
    No doubt you will be feeling frustrated that your father hasn’t written at length, but when considering the Ways of the World an oral discussion is more efficacious than an exchange of letters. Also your father is subject to uneasiness when he has to write long letters in English. Remember that he has not had the benefit of your first-class education, and try to understand how sensitive he feels on the subject. It was terrible for him to be sent home from school at the age of thirteen because his father would not or could not pay the bills, terrible for him later when no tutor would stay in a house so impregnated with immorality and corruption. Again, be patient. And have courage. Remember, everything passes, even the most unspeakable horrors. Believe me. I know. I send my best love, dearest Robert, and remain now and always your most affectionate and devoted MAMA .
    VIII
    I RETURNED TO OXMOON two weeks later for the Easter holidays, and on the morning after my arrival my father asked me to accompany him to the library, a long tousled room dominated by the leather-bound collection of books ordered for Oxmoon by my eighteenth-century ancestor Robert Godwin the Renovator. My father, who used the library as an estate office, read only magazines when he was at leisure; he never opened a book. My mother read Mrs. Beeton’s Book of Household Management and, occasionally, moral tracts which she felt might be suitable for the servants’ hall. My parents, in other words, were a perfect example of how to succeed in life without benefit of a worthwhile education.
    “Sit down, Robert,” said my father, motioning me to the chair by his writing table, but he himself remained standing by the fireplace.
    My father was a tall man, over six feet in height, and he looked like the hero he was. I