Good or Bad

by Barbara Cartland

  So Amalita had not needed to take a look at Yvette’s over-exaggerated bustles to know what was smart in the fashionable world.

  Her mother had always taken The Ladies Journal and because Amalita had not bothered to cancel the magazine, it had continued to arrive. It contained many sketches and photographs of famous people that told her exactly what was correct and what was incorrect.

  Her mother had bought several gowns from the best shop in Worcester and the village seamstress was quite an expert with her needle.

  Lady Maulpin had asked her to make several dresses for Amalita and Carolyn.

  As she grew older, Amalita had had some gowns from the same shop that her mother patronised.

  “They are not what you should have as a debutante.” her mother said, “and it is so very depressing, dearest, that instead of going to London, we have to be in mourning for Grandmama. But we will certainly go later.”

  That was what had been intended until her mother fell ill.

  Amalita had disliked the black gowns she had been forced to wear for the first two or three months after her grandmother’s death.

  She had therefore not bothered as to whether they had a bustle or not.

  When she was then in half-mourning, her gowns were mostly white but with a black sash.

  Her mother, however, had bought some pretty black gowns for herself, which were trimmed with white.

  As Amalita took them from the wardrobe, she thought that they would certainly suit her as a widow, even though she had no intention of being dressed only in black.

  Her mother’s gowns fitted her while for Carolyn they would have been too long.

  ‘I will spend everything that we can afford in making Carolyn look beautiful,’ Amalita decided.

  In the closet there was a nice evening cloak lined with ermine and several other capes and wraps that were most definitely designed for an older woman.

  Amalita took them to her bedroom and packed them herself.

  She had no wish for the servants to think it odd that she was taking her mother’s clothes with her to London.

  She next collected all her mother’s jewellery from the safe where it was kept.

  There was not a great deal of it. What there was had been given to Elizabeth Maulpin by her mother, who had exceedingly good taste.

  As Amalita packed these, she remembered that there was another safe in her father’s bedroom.

  There she found a tiara and a necklace of diamonds and pearls that Elizabeth Maulpin had never worn.

  They belonged to Sir Frederick’s grandmother and her mother had said that they were too heavy for her.

  Amalita packed them all safely into her trunk.

  She then wondered if by chance the Marquis would not have them, where could they possibly go.

  She thought it could be dangerous to take things that were so valuable to a hotel.

  ‘I will have to wait and see what he says,’ she mused. ‘It is no use being impatient when he may not even be in London.’

  It was difficult for the next two days not to run into the hall every time she heard the postman’s knock.

  She invariably felt depressed when there was no letter for her.

  Carolyn had now become enthusiastic about the idea of going to London and could talk of nothing else.

  “How many balls do you think I might be invited to, Amalita?” she asked.

  And then less optimistically,

  “Supposing when I go to a ball and then nobody asks me to dance? That would be terribly embarrassing.”

  Amalita looked at her sister with her golden hair and blue eyes.

  She reflected that it would be impossible for any man who saw her not to wish to make her acquaintance.

  “You will be a great success in London, Carolyn,” she said aloud. “But you will have to remember to call me ‘Stepmama’ and not ‘Amalita’.”

  “I am sure I shall ‒ forget,” Carolyn confessed.

  “Well, as I am a young stepmother, I don’t suppose it would matter if you did use my Christian name,” Amalita said. “But it is very important that people should not have any idea that I am not a widow or your stepmother and therefore the right person to chaperone you.”

  “It is like playing Charades,” Carolyn laughed, “and what we really have to do is not to forget our lines.”

  “That certainly is very important,” Amalita replied.

  *

  It was three days later when the postman brought the letter that Amalita had been waiting for.

  She thought that three days had never taken so long to pass.

  She had lain awake at night trying to plan what to do for Carolyn if the Marquis did refuse to have them as his guests.

  The letter had finally arrived and a footman brought it into the drawing room where Amalita was sitting.

  She had been looking for the thousandth time at her father’s address book.

  “Here be a letter that’s addressed to Lady Maulpin, Miss Amalita,” the maid said.

  Amalita jumped up from the sofa.

  “A letter?” she exclaimed as though she had not been expecting one.

  She picked it up and even before she saw the most impressive crest on the back of the envelope, she knew that it was from the Marquis.

  She went to the window and told herself that it was ridiculous, but her hands were trembling.

  Forcing herself to do it neatly, she opened the letter.

  The handwriting was very easy to read, she thought, but somewhat unsteady, as if written by an elderly man.

  She read,

  “Dear Lady Maulpin,

  It was a great surprise to me and also a shock to learn that my dear friend Frederick had died without my being aware of it. I certainly missed the announcement of it in the newspapers, otherwise I would have written a letter of condolence immediately.

  I also had no idea that his wife had died and that he had remarried.

  In view of our long friendship, it would give me great pleasure to entertain you here at my house in Park Lane, where I shall be staying during the summer months. If you will let me know when you and your stepdaughter will be arriving, I will send a carriage to meet you at the Station.

  Your husband was certainly one of my oldest and dearest friends and I find it hard to believe that I shall never see him again,

  Yours sincerely,

  Garlestone.”

  Amalita read the letter slowly to the end and then she gave a whoop of joy.

  “I have won! I have won!”

  The Marquis would have them and all she had to do now was to reply to the letter and take Carolyn to London as quickly as possible.

  When her sister then came in from her riding, Carolyn knew before Amalita said anything what had happened.

  One glance at her sister’s face was enough.

  “He will have us! I know the Marquis will have us,” she exclaimed.

  “You are very right,” Amalita replied. “He has written me a charming letter inviting us both to stay at his house in Park Lane.”

  Carolyn next put her arms round her sister’s waist and twirled her round the room.

  “We are going to London,” she cried out. “I will go to balls, to the theatre and will meet dashing exciting young men!”

  “You will,” Amalita answered her a little breathlessly. “But remember, we will have to buy some clothes – and that means Bond Street.”

  “Of course we will,” Carolyn agreed. “I shall be the belle of the ball, fall in love with a handsome Duke and have the most marvellous Wedding anyone has ever had!”

  Because it was so like the Fairytale that Amalita had been telling herself, she laughed.

  “Keep your fingers crossed,” she warned, “and bow to the moon – when there is one.”

  “Our luck has undoubtedly changed,” Carolyn said, “and everything you have planned with your clever brain, Amalita, is coming true.”

  Amalita held a few misgivings about that, but she did not
wish to spoil Carolyn’s excitement.

  *

  Five days later they set out for London.

  When they did so, Amalita felt as if they were now climbing a mountain or swimming an Ocean, rather than just prosaically taking the train to Paddington Station.

  They climbed into a reserved carriage into which they were locked by the guard. This was to prevent them from being disturbed by other travellers.

  Amalita listened to all her sister’s excited chatter and Carolyn put a large number of questions to her that she could not answer.

  “How do we get to Buckingham Palace?”

  “Do you think if you just ask the Lord Chamberlain he will give you permission to present me?”

  “Which do you think will be the first ball that I will be invited?”

  The questions came one after the other.

  Amalita was suddenly afraid that she was now living in a ‘Fool’s Paradise’.

  Perhaps, when they did finally reach London, Carolyn would not receive any invitations.

  To save time she had written to a good number of her father’s friends very much the same letter she had written to the Marquis.

  All she needed now, before posting them, was to find out whether they were still in existence and had not died.

  As the train puffed into the Station at Paddington, she wondered if she had in fact invented the whole story.

  Perhaps there was no Marquis and no one in London to welcome them.

  Her fears, however, were quickly swept aside.

  A footman in Livery stepped up to them, took off his hat and asked if she was Lady Maulpin.

  When she said that she was, he explained,

  “’Is Lordship has sent me to find you, my Lady, and the carriage be outside. I’ve also brought another one for you luggage.”

  Amalita had labelled all their luggage very carefully even though it was not necessary for her to identify it.

  She saw that there was a most efficient-looking man waiting to see it brought from the guard’s van.

  She and Carolyn followed the footman.

  At the entrance to the Station there was an extremely smart carriage drawn by two fine horses.

  They were helped into it by the footman and, as they drove off, Carolyn put her hand into Amalita’s and said,

  “This is thrilling! Oh, dearest Amalita, how could you have been so clever as to make it all work so well for us?”

  “Don’t speak too soon,” Amalita warned her, “and do remember, dearest, that I am your stepmother.”

  Carolyn looked at her sister as if for the first time.

  “You do look different,” she said, “I am sure that no one would guess for a single moment that you are only just twenty.”

  She paused before she added,

  “I wish in a way that we were ‘coming out’ together. It would have been such fun to be ourselves as we have always been and not have to pretend.”

  “In which case we would have to have a chaperone,” Amalita reminded her sister, “and she would doubtless be a bore, or else very critical, finding fault with everything we did.”

  Carolyn gave a little cry of horror.

  “I would much rather have you, dearest Amalita,” she said. “And now we are to meet the Marquis. Do I look all right?”

  Her sister looked lovely, Amalita thought.

  She had chosen for Carolyn a blue gown, which was the colour of her eyes. She was wearing a small hat that haloed her head and was trimmed with forget-me-nots.

  If the Marquis was not overwhelmed by her, Amalita thought, he would have to be blind.

  She herself was wearing one of her mother’s black and white gowns and the pretty hat that went with it was trimmed with white quill feathers.

  She had swept up her dark hair behind her ears and she was wearing a pair of her mother’s pearl and diamond earrings.

  She was so intent on having to look older that she did not realise that she also looked lovely and attractive.

  Being rather agitated when they arrived at Paddington, she was not aware that, as she and Carolyn walked to the carriage, every man they passed stared at them.

  And they had turned to look after them until they were out of sight.

  It took only a short time for the horses to reach Park Lane and halfway down there was a large attractive house standing by itself.

  It had a small in-and-out driveway at the front and a large garden at the back.

  The carriage came to a standstill outside the heavily porticoed front door and Amalita was aware that her heart was beating much faster than usual.

  This was the test.

  If the Marquis thought for one moment that she was not her father’s second wife, he might send them away.

  Then she told herself that she was being very foolish.

  Why should the Marquis doubt that she was who she said she was?

  A most impressive-looking butler bowed them into the hall where there were four footmen on duty.

  He led them up the stairs and opened the door to what Amalita guessed was the main reception room.

  It was all very opulent with huge crystal chandeliers and several large windows opened out over the garden.

  Seated before the fireplace were two gentlemen, who rose to their feet as the butler announced in a loud voice,

  “Lady Maulpin and Miss Carolyn Maulpin, my Lord.”

  Trying to walk with dignity and with the same grace that her mother had always had, Amalita moved towards the two men.

  Because she was nervous, she found it difficult to look directly at either of them.

  Then she saw that a gentleman with white hair was holding out his hand.

  “It is delightful to see you, Lady Maulpin,” he began, “and, of course, to meet the daughter of my old friend.”

  He shook hands with both of them.

  Then he said,

  “This is my son, David.”

  Vaguely Amalita remembered that the Marquis had a son who was the Earl of Garle, a Courtesy title reserved for the eldest son of a Marquis.

  Then she looked at him and gasped.

  He was without any exception the best-looking young man she had ever seen.

  Taller than his father, he had dark hair and very broad shoulders. Yet, while he was extremely good-looking, she thought that there was a cynical air about him.

  It was almost as if he suspected, although, of course, it was impossible, that they were making use of his father.

  “It is so very kind of you to have us to stay, my Lord,” Amalita said. “I have been living quietly in the country, first with my dear husband when he was alive, then for the past year we have been in – mourning.”

  She paused and her voice sounded sad as she added,

  “I know no one in London and I could not think what to do except to write to you.”

  “I can assure you, my Lady, I am so delighted to have you here,” the Marquis said, “and my son will know better than I do which balls will be the most enjoyable for your stepdaughter.”

  “I have never been to a ball,” Carolyn said. “It will be so exciting to be able to dance at one.”

  She spoke eagerly and looked very pretty as she did.

  Amalita knew that both men were looking at her as if they felt that she could not be real.

  She began to feel the fluttering of her heart subside.

  They all sat down as the footmen brought in the tea.

  As they did so, Amalita was thinking that it was her father who had guided her to exactly the right place.

  As they then had tea, which the Marquis asked her to pour out, he talked away, questioning her as to whom she knew.

  He then asked her what arrangements she had made for presenting Carolyn to the Queen.

  “I have not known what to do,” Amalita said frankly, “except, my Lord, that I have a list of dear Frederick’s old friends. I will write to them but, of course, they may not be in London after all these years or even alive.”

&
nbsp; “I will be able to answer that question,” the Marquis said, “and what about your stepdaughter being presented?”

  Amalita clasped her hands together.

  “Please, please, help me,” she begged. “I have no idea whom I should approach, although I suppose it is the Lord Chamberlain and he may not consider me of sufficient importance to make the presentation.”

  The Marquis laughed.

  “If you are Frederick’s wife, there is no one in The Palace who does not remember him and would not wish to help you, Lady Maulpin. Everybody in the Social world missed him when he went off to the country. I have often wondered if he missed the City lights he left behind.”

  “He was very very happy,” Amalita replied before she could prevent herself, “or so I have always been – told, and I too was very happy with him.”

  “Of course you were,” the Marquis agreed.

  Then, unexpectedly from the far side of the fireplace, the Earl enquired,

  “Where does your family come from, Lady Maulpin? And how is it possible that you yourself have not been seen in London before you married Sir Frederick?”

  As he spoke, Amalita met his eyes.

  Instinctively she was aware that he was dangerous.

  She had the distinct feeling that he was looking at her penetratingly.

  It was as if he was probing beneath the surface.

  She thought it was impossible, but she was afraid that he was suspicious that she was not what she appeared to be.

  ‘I am imagining it,’ she told herself.

  There was a distinct pause before she said,

  “I am indeed immensely proud of my ancient family that hardly exists today. We come from the very far North of England – Northumberland, to be precise. That is why they could not help me when Carolyn wished to come to London for the Season.”

  “And you lived in Northumberland until you married Sir Frederick?”

  ‘He is too inquisitive and I don’t like him,’ Amalita thought to herself.

  She smiled before she said disarmingly,

  “Carolyn and I admit that we are ‘country bumpkins’ and we are only afraid that when we do meet sophisticated gentlemen like you, we will make mistakes.”

  “I am sure that is impossible,” the Marquis said before his son could reply. “And do allow me to tell you, Lady Maulpin, that neither you nor Carolyn look in the least like ‘country bumpkins’.”