The Champagne Girls

by Tessa Barclay

  Netta knew she was in disgrace. But she didn’t care, even when her mother remained grimly silent in the carriage all the way home to the Avenue d’Iena.

  In the drawing room Papa was still up, reading and quite clearly waiting for them. ‘Well, my dears? Did you have a nice time?’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Alys. ‘Your daughter behaved like a barbarian.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘She cut Monsieur de la Sebiq absolutely dead. I don’t understand her.’

  ‘Netta, you didn’t?’

  ‘I treated him as he deserved, Papa. He offended me.’

  ‘He what? Nonsense! He was introduced in proper form and ‒’

  ‘While still holding his cigar in his left hand, I noticed!’

  Gavin gave a half laugh which he covered with a cough. ‘Oh, Netta, now my dear … The man has been overseas among fellow-officers for two years! You must forgive him a few rough corners.’

  ‘It’s not only that. He was out on the terrace while I was there ‒’

  ‘Netta! You didn’t tell me that ‒’

  ‘I’m telling you now. I took a great dislike to him. Without troubling to find out who I was he spoke disparagingly of the girl he’d been invited to meet, and then he tried to … to …’

  ‘What?’ cried Alys in great alarm.

  ‘He tried to drag me into the light to look me over.’

  ‘Oh,’ said her father, with a sigh of relief. ‘Oh, well … that perhaps was not quite ‒’

  ‘From what he said, it was clear his father had ordered him to be there. Was this to be a match asked for by the older Monsieur de la Sebiq?’

  ‘We-ell …’

  ‘Oh, Papa, don’t shilly-shally. It sounds as if they’re pressed for money. Was I to repair the family fortunes?’

  ‘My dear child, how does it come about that you talk of such things? I’m sure I never brought you up to be so forward! Really, Papa, you must speak to her. She’s becoming quite … quite odd. Two seasons out and not even engaged ‒ and acquiring such peculiar manners …’

  ‘Now don’t be cross with her, Mama. She’s got plenty of time to get a husband.’

  ‘You think so? She’ll be twenty next year! Everyone she came out with will be married by then!’

  ‘There will always be plenty of suitors for Netta’s hand, my love.’

  ‘But will she ever make up her mind to take one?’

  ‘I certainly shan’t take anyone who talks about me as if I were a hateful duty he has to endure!’

  ‘Netta, go to bed! It’s to be hoped you’ll wake up in the morning with more sense than you have now!’

  ‘Goodnight, my dear,’ murmured Gavin, submitting his cheek to be kissed. ‘You’ve been a bad girl, but we forgive you.’

  When the door had closed on her, Alys broke out: ‘I wish you would be more severe with her, Gavin! She’s being very difficult!’

  ‘At least she doesn’t want to become a nun,’ he retorted.

  Alys shuddered. The family had had a great fright some four years ago when Philip, at fourteen, had come home on school holiday declaring that he wanted to train to be a priest.

  The family had been in uproar for almost a month. The boy was adamant that when he returned to the seminary he would put his name forward for the priesthood. His parents had told him they would refuse permission, and certainly take him away from the rather devout institution he attended.

  Neither Alys nor Gavin had anything against the church. But they had always taken it for granted that Philip would follow his father into the House of Tramont. There was, of course, Robert’s little boy David, but at seven years old he was having bronchitic troubles which seemed to foretell a possibly limited role.

  It was his sister Netta who talked Philip out of it in the end. He had always confided in her and respected her, for though only a year his senior she seemed so sure of herself in every way. ‘Phip, of course if you really have a vocation, you must follow it. But remember this. As a priest you’ll have to deal with the problems of very ordinary people, won’t you?’

  ‘I suppose so, if I’m given a parish …’

  ‘But ‒ now be honest ‒ how many ordinary people have you ever met?’

  ‘What?’ the boy said, looking up in surprise with his dark grey eyes.

  ‘You’ve been brought up on the estate, it’s true, but you don’t really mix with the wine-workers, now do you? And you’ve been to the seminary since you were eleven, and all the boys there come from families that are … well, you’d say fairly aristocratic, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘I suppose so. But we go out to visit the poor.’

  ‘Oh yes! Ten minutes with some poor old man in an almshouse, give him half an ounce of baccy, and off you go in the school cart! My dear little brother, we do that at the lycée too, only we visit poor old ladies and give them hand-knitted mittens. But if I look into myself truthfully, I have to admit that I don’t know anything about those old ladies. And …’ she hesitated. ‘I’ve never said this to anyone else but I don’t really enjoy visiting them!’

  ‘Oh, Netta …’

  ‘Be honest, Phip ‒ do you like those old men? Do you know them at all.’

  ‘We-ll … of course we have to stick to the timetable and ‒’

  ‘No excuses! Have you ever sat down with one of them and listened to his troubles? Have you ever volunteered to do more than is required by the school?’

  ‘No, but ‒’

  ‘All I’m saying, Phip, is that you may have a vocation but it doesn’t seem to have much to do with a wish to serve ordinary people. And if that’s what you were asked to do after you were ordained, how could you make a start?’

  ‘But other men learn through their parish duties ‒’

  ‘But other men perhaps come from more ordinary walks of life. They’re the sons of farmers, merchants, teachers … I don’t say you shouldn’t train for the church, Phip dear ‒ all I say is that you should delay the decision until you’ve finished your ordinary education and seen at least a bit of the world.’

  He didn’t agree at once. But two days later he told his anxious parents that he’d thought it over and though he felt he would one day enter the priesthood, he’d decided not to take that path as yet.

  Luckily, according to their view, the notion had faded. At a new school he had become more interested in the classics for their own value, and was planning to go on to university to read Greek. Since he was handsome in his own quiet, inoffensive way, they had hopes that when he finished his studies he would marry well, but whether he would ever play much part in the wine firm seemed doubtful. He was so much a dreamer … But young David, luckily, had survived all his chest complaints to become a sturdy schoolboy so that the Tramonts, looking to the future, felt that in him they had a boy to carry on the family name.

  As to Netta, the Hopetown-Tramonts had had no fears. They had known she would make a glittering entrance into society and were sure she would find a husband without any efforts on their part.

  ‘If only she would fall in love,’ mourned Alys as they sat discussing the latest disappointment.

  ‘She may well do so. After all, Alys, she is only nineteen.’

  ‘At that age I was married and a mother!’

  ‘Yes, of course ‒ but let me remind you, you were even more wayward than Netta!’

  ‘Ah, Gavin!’ She leaned against him to let him put his arm about her in consolation. She still preferred him to any man she had met in twenty years of marriage.

  ‘If she’s taken a dislike to this young man, it’s no great loss. An ex-cavalryman, after all …’

  ‘But Helene de Rime vouches for him. She says he’s charming.’

  ‘He doesn’t seem to charm Netta, which is the important point.’

  ‘Where is the man who will, my love?’ sighed Alys. ‘I can’t think what she expects.’

  ‘More than a formal arrangement, I suppose … Perhaps you could have another chat with her, dear.’

/>   ‘I’ve chatted with her until I am at a loss for words. I had great hopes of Monsieur de la Sebiq ‒ Helene spoke so well of him, and the family of such good standing … And having just come back from a war … I thought it would lend him some extra fascination.’

  Gavin laughed, dropped a kiss on her head, and said as he released her: ‘Netta is not easily fascinated, dearest. It may be my Scottish blood breaking out. But try another talk with her. It’s the beginning of the season ‒ try at least to get her to look more seriously at the young men. Last year it was all “hither and thither” with one fellow after another but nothing came of any of it.’

  ‘Yes, dear,’ his wife said with a sigh. She had small hopes of making any headway.

  But, as instructed, she called her into her little study after Netta came home from her usual morning walk. The study was a less formidable place than it sounded; it was where Alys carried out correspondence about various charities in which she played a leading part. She also studied sale-room catalogues there. She was beginning a quite interesting collection of Old Masters.

  ‘Now, Netta, your father asked me to speak to you seriously about your future. Don’t frown and fidget, dear. Sit down and listen to me.’

  ‘Mama, we’ve been over all this already ‒’

  ‘But that was before you almost literally turned your back on a very nice young man ‒’

  ‘He wasn’t “very nice”. I thought him quite odious.’

  ‘Oh, good gracious, how can you talk such nonsense. You couldn’t have exchanged more than ten sentences with him ‒ you weren’t out on the terrace long enough for more!’

  ‘Those ten sentences were enough!’ Netta gave an angry jerk of the head, which caused a tendril of bronze-coloured hair to escape from the carefully pinned side-curls. She put up an impatient hand to capture it and tuck it back.

  ‘Well, let’s leave Monsieur de la Sebiq aside for the moment ‒ though mind you, I’m by no means so ready to let the acquaintance go as you are. I’m thinking of inviting him to a five-o’clock.’

  ‘If you do, I shall go out!’

  ‘Netta, don’t be absurd!’

  ‘Is it absurd to want to have some … some sensitivity from the men I meet? Some respect?’

  ‘My dear, don’t tell me Monsieur de la Sebiq was really disrespectful ‒’

  ‘Oh, I suppose not. It was all very playful and complimentary in its silly way …’

  ‘Then what are you complaining of?’

  ‘I don’t want to be “played with”! I’m sick of being treated like a pretty doll! At first it was fun, I enjoyed seeing the men fluttering around me ‒ but when you come to listen to them, they all sound the same. “How charming you are, how pretty you look, what a pleasure to be with you” ‒ it’s all quite meaningless.’

  ‘It means they like you.’

  ‘No it doesn’t! It means they’re looking for a decent-looking girl with money who will do their social standing a lot of good when they get married.’

  Alys stared at her daughter. Stated nakedly, this was indeed what the social season was all about.

  ‘You see?’ challenged Netta, making fists out of her hands and shaking them in the air. ‘You can’t deny it!’

  ‘Well, I … I want to see you well married, my love …’

  ‘It’s so unfair!’ Netta cried, strange tears springing to her eyes.

  ‘Unfair?’

  ‘You married for love, so did Grandmama! Why am I expected to marry for family aggrandisement?’

  There was a long silence. At last Alys said, ‘Come here, dear.’ She patted the cushions of the chaise longue on which she was sitting. Unwillingly Netta came to her. Her mother took her hand and went on: ‘Your father and I want you to fall in love, we really do. But you show not the least signs of it ‒ you have a million friendships and no sweethearts. Most girls of your age have been in and out of love half a dozen times, Netta. The problem is usually how to keep a daughter from making the wrong alliance, not how to get her to make one at all …’

  ‘Is there something different about me?’ Netta asked, almost in a piteous tone. ‘Am I incapable of falling in love ‒ is that it?’

  ‘Oh, child!’ Alys put the palm of her hand to her daughter’s cheek, looked into the grey-green eyes. ‘You’re a sweet, good, affectionate girl! Of course you can fall in love like all the rest of us. Only …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I wonder if your head isn’t full of other things?’

  Netta lowered her lashes. She didn’t want to meet her mother’s anxious gaze. She knew that after the first excitement of her ‘white ball’ and her launch into society she’d become less and less amused by the activities of her social set. She hadn’t exactly dropped out, but she’d certainly made far fewer engagements for the season ahead than for last year, and only half of what she’d had for the first one.

  ‘One thing I notice, Netta. Last night you almost dropped out of our engagement with Madame de Rime ‒ you said you’d rather go to some music party at the Greffulhes’. You always make time to go to your singing lessons. You’re always ready to cancel another arrangement to go to a concert. You always insist on being on time at the opera ‒’

  ‘Mama ‒’

  ‘Let me finish. I’ve no objections to your making music your chief interest. There’s a lot that can be done for charity through musical gatherings and subscription concerts ‒’

  ‘Mama, one doesn’t take an interest in music to help the charities ‒’

  ‘There’s where we differ. There’s where my anxiety rises. Netta, you mustn’t let yourself become odd about music. It’s good to be a patron of the arts, but ‒’

  ‘I can’t bear to hear you talk like this!’ cried her daughter, jumping up. ‘A patron! Who dares to talk of being a patron to Gabriel Fauré? To Vincent d’Indy? Music is far more important than ‒’

  ‘Netta, Netta! Don’t make such an outcry! Goodness, I’m not attacking these people, whoever they are ‒’

  ‘They’re two of the most important composers in France, that’s all!’

  ‘Well, well, I have nothing against them, nothing at all. Netta!’

  Her daughter ceased her angry pacing about the room and turned to face her.

  ‘This behaviour is exactly what I mean when I say I’m worried about you. I want you to have accomplishments, and if you have chosen singing, well and good. I love to hear you sing. You give great pleasure to your friends ‒’

  ‘But Mama, you don’t understand! Singing in a drawing room, usually to the accompaniment of a friend who isn’t sure of the fingering …’ Netta sighed. ‘What must it be like to sing with an orchestra? To hear one’s voice rising above the violins and woodwind?’

  ‘Netta!’ Now Alys had risen too, and took her daughter by the shoulders. She gave her a little shake. ‘I never heard such nonsense! Sing with an orchestra? You’re not speaking of … public performance?’

  ‘Why not? Monsieur Leroux tells me I have a voice. Why shouldn’t I use it?’

  ‘Not in that way.’ Alys stood back. ‘Listen to me, Netta. I had no idea that things had got to this state. Now I understand why you’ve been so difficult about everything. Your head’s full of nonsense about being a professional singer ‒’

  ‘It’s not nonsense! I could ‒’

  ‘No you could not! Monsieur Leroux may tell you you sing like an angel, but that’s mere flattery ‒ of course he flatters you, he’s made good money from his fees. But that’s all over now. No more music lessons.’

  ‘Mama!’

  ‘No, Netta. I see now that I should have put my foot down months ago. No more lessons. I forbid you to go to Monsieur Leroux’s studio any more. I will write him a note telling him his services are no longer required.’

  ‘Mama, you can’t treat him like that! He’s not a servant! He was one of the greatest baritones of the French Opera!’

  ‘He’s clearly a silly old fool if he’s been filling your head with drea
ms of that kind,’ Alys said, with more anger than she’d ever shown in a conversation with her daughter. ‘Now understand me, Netta. You will not go to Monsieur Leroux’s studio again.’

  Netta said nothing.

  ‘Netta? Did you hear me?’

  ‘Yes, Mama.’

  She had heard. But she intended to disobey.

  Chapter 3

  That afternoon Alys had an engagement to go with Philip to the University, to meet some of the scholars who would be his instructors in the autumn. The family’s engagement diary showed that Netta was to go with a party of young ladies to see a fashion show by a new young designer.

  ‘Enjoy yourself, my dear,’ Alys said to her in token of forgiveness, ‘but don’t buy anything.’

  Cosette Brissiac and her cousin picked Netta up in their carriage. At the show, Netta watched two or three costumes on display then whispered to her friend, ‘I’m going to slip out now, Cosette. Don’t say anything.’

  ‘Slip out?’ gasped Cosette. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Don’t look frightened. I’m only going to my singing teacher.’

  ‘Oh.’ Cosette was not quite convinced. ‘And how are you going to get back?’

  ‘I’ll take a cab.’

  ‘A cab!’

  ‘Oh, Cosette, people do it all the time!’

  At the door of Monsieur Leroux’s studio, the maid received her with a smile. But when the old singer came into the studio he looked puzzled. ‘I didn’t expect you, mademoiselle.’

  ‘No, it’s not one of my days for a lesson ‒’

  ‘I didn’t mean that.’ He picked up a small sheet of stiff paper from the top of the piano and waved it at her. ‘This came by hand after lunch. Your mother has discontinued your instruction.’

  ‘Oh!’ Netta was taken aback. She hadn’t thought her mother would move so fast. ‘Oh, Monsieur Leroux, I’m sorry … I wanted to tell you about it myself …’

  ‘What is the reason? It’s not explained in the note. I thought perhaps you had got engaged and therefore ‒’

  ‘No, no, it’s nothing like that. We had a … a disagreement this morning. Mama feels I’m taking my singing too seriously.’