October 3
I start my new job with Mr Jaggers. I will describe his office where I spent most of the day copying his notes of one of the cases into a ledger book. In spite of the fact that we are in the heart of the City, there is nothing of the décor and elegance of pre-war. It is all decidedly grim. We are in one of these modern offices, all concrete. Why doesn’t Jaggers have an office in the Inns of Court? The walls are thin and the windows rattle when the buses and lorries pass. There is only a gas fire. But Jaggers, according to Welleham, does not allow it till the end of November. The case incidentally was a yawn. (Insurance, ouch! HMS Gov. V. Colthrup B. Reparations from a V2 rocket). At the end of the day, after he had returned with Welleham from the courts, he inspected my hand writing. I have no idea if he liked what I was doing. After all, all I am doing is copying his spidery notes. At times it is impossible to read his writing or ascertain the correct interpretation of his words (Collapsed roof, government issued sandbags, see Bentham. How was I supposed to know Bentham was a precedent as in HMS Gov. v. Bentham.) Mr Sitwell, he said, I will see you in the morning at eight o’clock. Tomorrow I hope we are going to the courts. By the way, I am still waiting for the letter from Jemmy. You will come up soon? – I cannot imagine what it would like to be stuck down in Devon with no petrol and just a tin of Crosse and Blackwell? PPS Can you believe it? Jaggers wears sand shoes with a suit!
October 14
Darling, I did not write. So I am putting this down in my diary, which I will later transcribe to you. Let me explain my absence last weekend. Around a week ago, I approached Jaggers. I was talking to Welleham. How can I describe Welleham? He is like one of those brash Australians who have just come off the boat. Jaggers trusts him with everything. Not just with his case, but all his cases. Sometimes he even substitutes in court. The other day Jaggers had a meeting with a City banker (Cratchett!). I believe they are putting up money to buy a bombed-out site in the East End. They have even got the architect involved, Messrs Napier and Tucket. It’s going to be very modern I think. Tower blocks in Bow! He ignores all efforts by me at social intercourse. Once he even had the affront to tell me to my face. (We had met at the café down the road during my lunch break). Listen, Mr. Sitwell, he said, as far as I’m concerned, you are on probation till the end of December. It’s better if we keep things simple, and don’t get too friendly on the intercourse front. Mr. Jaggers may not appreciate it. Can you believe his Christian name is Dirk?
October 25
Again I am putting this down in my diary, so as to remember better when I tell you to your face next weekend. This is the conversation verbatim. Jaggers: Well, Welleham, what have we got today? Welleham: The usual, sir. Jaggers: The usual eh. Welleham: There’s that probate, and that indemnity. Jaggers: Oh, Lord, not the indemnity! – What about muggings here? Welleham: Muggins, sir. Jaggers: Well, is he still copying out my notes? Welleham: Looks like it, sir… There is one thing, sir. Jaggers: what? Welleham: Why don’t we give him the Gresham case? Jaggers: The Gresham case? Welleham: Remember, sir. That old lady who lives up in Halifax. Jaggers: Well, what are we waiting for, Mr Sitwell. It looks like you have your first case. The Gresham Case. Darling, imagine my delight (in spite of their facetiousness). Now I really am a practising lawyer. Soon they will be calling me QC J G Sitwell! Not simply Sitwell, or Muggins here!
November 5
How much I loved your visit. – To see my darling in her pretty new dress. I am glad you liked the gloves. I thought they showed off well your new dress… Our walk in the park, the night sky on the bridge… If you find me presumptuous, I want you to know I am not like other men. I will not force myself on you. I value too much what we have. I am prepared to wait till we are married. Now I return to the frustrations of the office. Mrs Gresham had still not written with the authorising documents. I did not know what I was supposed to do. The appointment with the bank was on the first. I was beside myself. Finally, I went to Jaggers. Jaggers told me he was busy and not to bother with trifles (It is that tower block I think in Bow). I went to Welleham, who regarded me with disdain. Can you believe his Christian name is Dirk? Imagine therefore my relief, when yesterday afternoon, the day before I was due at Sassoons, the documents arrived from Lady Gresham. It all went off smoothly. I arrived at Sassoons and they presented me with the little safety deposit box. I almost wanted to open it. Of course, I do not have the key. Lady Gresham has the key. I am intrigued and wonder whether she will open the box in my presence.
Yours,
Still intrigued,
And contrite,
My Darling.
November 7
So to Halifax. And Lady Gresham’s. I ordered a taxi from the station – a Beadmore not a horse drawn cart! – Needless to say I arrived clutching my box. I was shown into the drawing room. What faded grandeur met my gaze! A very worn Persian carpet, upholstery and several ancestors and country scenes that have probably seen better days. Lady Gresham is a frail, old lady. As she entered the drawing room, she sat down with difficulty. Though infirm and I imagine in reduced circumstances, her manner is somewhat grand. She asked my Christian my Christian my name and my background but continued to address me as Mr. Clovis. I brought the safety deposit box over to where she was sitting. Lady Gresham produced a key from a little drawer at a side table. When she took out the necklace, I almost gasped. It was an enchanting piece. As I understood it at least a hundred years old, set with little pearls and diamonds. Lady Gresham told me its history. It had been purchased in Moscow at the time of the Revolution where her father had been on business and met some hard-up white Russians…
As it was late, and I was dependent on the single Beadmore in the area, Lady Gresham suggested I stay the night. I was shown to my room by the maid. It was a room with Chinese lacquer furniture. At dinner Lady Gresham informed me that it was nothing special, but a rather an imitation by a well-known London furniture maker of the inter war years. But I am getting ahead myself. You will be surprised by the transformation brought by Lady Gresham. At dinner she had dressed up; there she was in a magnificent old dress. Around her neck was the necklace. We sat at the long dining room table, Lady Gresham at one end and myself at the other. We were served by the maid, who was the only servant I saw in all the time I was at the house. Though I assume there were others, because later I would hear them talking among themselves.
At the beginning of the meal the conversation was stilted. I imagine that was due to some shyness on my part, and on the other, Lady Gresham’s infirmity, and what I took to be a certain deafness. However, we were drinking a very nice bottle of wine: as the meal progressed, it seemed I began to open up. A strange thing happened; the lady who I saw before me no longer appeared as she had earlier, frail and infirm. It was as if I saw a younger woman, not in the bloom of youth but one of mature beauty. I imagine it was the effect of the wine; but I became quite bold. I complimented Lady Gresham on her appearance; I told her how much I admired the décolletage adorned as it was by the necklace. I thought how charming that necklace was, and indeed how charming was my host. In fact, I was seized by an extraordinary desire to take the necklace and hold it up to the light. Imagine my surprise when the Lady Gresham turned on me with what I interpreted as the most malevolent expression. I was quite taken aback, though I imagine it was merely a trick of the light. As we sat down again at the dinner table, Lady Gresham returned to the frail and kindly faced old lady that beseeched me to tuck into my soup so appetising in the blue tureen.
Darling, I do not wish to give you the wrong impression; however, I did not sleep so well. The mattress was rather uncomfortable. Perhaps because of the discomfort of the mattress, I began to dream, and in dreaming I dreamt of Lady Gresham dancing in a ball with me… Then in the way that dreams have of making everything topsy-turvy, I dreamed we were pursued by a man wearing riding boots and wielding a riding crop. I was quite convinced he was a white Russian! Nevertheless, all is well, and I shall be returning to London very shortly with or without the safety deposit box. Yours by the first post. PS I forgot to mention that I have booked the tickets for the dinner dance at the Dorchester at New Year.
Darling, Strange things are happening here at night. I cannot explain it, but in my dreams I often see Lady Gresham – you may remember the possessor of a most brilliant necklace. I have never had nightmares. But now they seem to disturb me sleep with unfailing regularity. What is more, Dirk or perhaps I should call him Burk Welleham continues to torture me with his sarcasm in the office. Everything it seems I do wrong. He pours over my work with a fastidiousness of an over-eager wally or perhaps I should say wallaby. No doubt you will say this all part of my training, but I do not see why we should have to go through these absurd rituals of initiation. – I mean, it is not as if I have joined the Royal Berkshires, or a battleship of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy, or the Justice Department of the Her Majesty’s Government for that matter. P.S I do so look forward to our dinner dance at New Year.
Darling, I hope this letter finds you well on this fine but frosty morning. Bow looks decidedly crisp! In fact, it soothes me from the strangest nocturnal haunting. It must have been a quarter to five when I woke from the most vivid apparition. Yes, once again, I found myself in that strange world of Lady Gresham… Imagine how much I laughed when I saw her face and her fine décolletage framed by that necklace. Would you like me to will it to you? – I think not, she teased. And then her face turned quite malevolent. My husband is a jealous man. – Darling, lest you not forget, I am anxious to see you after Christmas. It will be such fun to go to the ball!
Dear Miss Wellings
I regret to inform you that James Gordon Sitwell Esquire, formerly articled clerk to this company of Jaggers and Jardine (deceased) will no longer be able to attend the Dinner dance at the Dorchester. No doubt you are now aware of the circumstances surrounding your fiancé’s arrest (for which I have to thank the perspicacity of my assistant, Mr. D. Welleham). I understand the necklace was to be a present to you, since he claimed that he had inherited it from Lady Gresham. How this most extraordinary notion got into his head I have no idea. He was given a simple task. To transport the safety deposit box from the bank here in London to Lady Gresham in Halifax in order that she might wear it on the occasion of her birthday and in fond memory of better times and then to return it from whence it came. I am at a loss to know – as no doubt you are – what possessed the young man to concoct this scheme. You will understand Lady Gresham is still very much alive; if not in the vigour of health, she had no intention of parting with her necklace, which now, fortunately, has been returned to its unmovable deposit in the bank. It was and remains a present of her husband, sadly passed away so many regrettable moons ago.