A Perfect Way to Heaven

by Barbara Cartland

  “If he doesn’t like what he sees or hears of your cousin, he’ll smoke Lord Baseheart’s cigars, dine on his trout, guzzle his brandy, then pack up his bags and go. Back to his French estates, where he might find himself a pretty little French wife.”

  Beth bit off a length of thread with satisfaction.

  “I hope, for my cousin’s sake,” frowned Elvira, “that you are wrong. I should not like to see Delphine so disappointed.”

  Beth glanced at her Mistress slyly.

  “What would you say, Miss Elvira, if it was you who took the Prince’s fancy?”

  Elvira regarded Beth sternly.

  “It would be wrong of me to even entertain such a notion, Beth, and you must not entertain it on my behalf, even in jest!”

  Beth gave a shrug and folded up her sewing.

  “If you ask me, you’re more fit for a Prince than Miss Delphine,” she muttered to herself, but so quietly that Elvira did not hear.

  *

  Delphine returned from her shopping trip and insisted that Elvira come and inspect her purchases, which lay amid tissue and upturned boxes on her bed.

  Elvira circled the bed in wonder. She had never seen such an array of finery. Satin gowns, embroidered silk blouses, silk shifts, fur stoles, delicate Chinese slippers, not to mention trays of glittering jewellery.

  She picked up a rose-coloured evening gown and examined it. Tiny pearls were sewn on pale net over the skirt.

  “Try it on,” Delphine urged her.

  Elvira hesitated.

  “I want you to,” ordered Delphine as she clicked her fingers at her maid. “Cassie, help Miss Elvira out of her dress.”

  Cassie cast a disapproving look, but obviously did not dare countermand her.

  “I do not – think this is right,” protested Elvira, uncomfortably aware of Cassie’s expression.

  “Oh, shush!” said Delphine with a light tap on her cousin’s arm. “You’re not to vex me. You are to be my mannequin and there’s an end of it!”

  Elvira submitted to her cousin’s humour, allowing Cassie to help her on with the evening gown.

  She raised her eyes to Delphine’s mirror and stared.

  The rose colour of the gown emphasised the rose of her complexion. What would Serge have said had he seen her dressed like this?

  Delphine grunted approvingly. Searching among the items of clothing she finally picked up an ermine cape and draped it over Elvira’s shoulders. The effect of the pure white fur against her delicate skin and auburn hair was startling.

  She surveyed her, head on one side, chewing her lower lip.

  Elvira meanwhile was overcome with the sensation of the soft fur against her cheek. It was so deliciously soft! She could have worn it forever!

  “It needs – something else,” Delphine mused.

  She stretched out and took an emerald necklace from a tray. Lifting Elvira’s hair at the nape, she placed the piece of jewellery around her neck.

  “How very interesting!” came Lady Cruddock’s voice at the door.

  Delphine turned.

  “Interesting? What do you mean, aunt?”

  Elvira, watching Lady Cruddock closely in the mirror, thought she detected an expression of pure mischief in her eyes.

  “I mean,” sighed Lady Cruddock, “that here is a perfect illustration of the maxim that clothes maketh the man, or in this case, the woman. Elvira looks quite the little Princess.”

  Delphine looked worriedly at Elvira.

  “Princess?”

  “Yes. It’s probably a good thing she is not to attend any of the events taking place during the Prince’s visit. You might find you have a rival.”

  Delphine’s jaw trembled. She snatched at the fur cape around Elvira’s shoulders.

  “Take it off! Take everything off!”

  A flicker at the edge of Lady Cruddock’s lips betrayed satisfaction at the emotions she had aroused.

  “Now, now, niece,” she purred consolingly. “I only jest. The clothes look well on Elvira, but they will look immeasurably better on you. You are a pure blood, after all – she is not.”

  Delphine visibly relaxed.

  “You are right, aunt. I am a pure blood and I look it, don’t I? I look it even without the gown and the cape and the necklace. Even without all that, I’m enchanting and aristocratic, aren’t I?”

  “Indeed you are,” agreed Lady Cruddock. “And furthermore, you must remember that the Prince is interested in marrying the daughter of a Baseheart, not the daughter of an obscure Carrisford.”

  Elvira quite forgot her resolution not to cross a Baseheart in any way.

  “I am proud to be my father’s daughter,” she burst out. “He – may not have been born noble, but he had a noble heart.”

  “Your sentiments do you credit,” responded Lady Cruddock with a tight smile. “But they do not elevate your position in this household or any other.”

  “That’s right,” endorsed Delphine. “And now I’m getting bored with seeing you in those clothes. So take them off and we’ll go and play a game of whist!”

  Biting back her anger and sense of humiliation, Elvira complied. She stepped out of the dress and as it dropped to the floor stoically refrained from kicking it aside.

  ‘Aunt Willis’s training is standing me in good stead,’ she thought with a degree of bitterness. ‘No one can argue that I do not know my place now.’

  It was not just the Calvinistic principles of her aunt that were now guiding Elvira’s behaviour. It was also an innate pride that refused to allow her to reveal how hurt or affected she was by the treatment meted out to her.

  One day she might find a way to be free of this household, but for now she was as good as prisoner here.

  *

  The great day at last arrived.

  The whole household assembled in the Great Hall to greet the illustrious visitor. The housemaids were all in freshly starched aprons and the footmen smelt of pomade. Even Elvira was expected to attend and indeed Lady Cruddock sent her a yellow ribbon to wear with her mustard-coloured dress.

  All morning Delphine fluttered and fussed before her mirror.

  “How do I look, Elvira? Do I look ravishing? I think I look ravishing.”

  Delphine was in turquoise. The net of her gown was voluminous and seemed to froth about her body.

  “You look – quite singular, Delphine,” answered Elvira with great circumspection.

  Delphine, eminently pleased with herself, was in an expansive mood.

  “And you look splendid, cousin,” she announced.

  Elvira thanked her politely. She was sure she knew exactly how she looked in her mustard-coloured dress, her hair tied with a small yellow ribbon

  Plain as a pikestaff!

  Cassie appeared at the door.

  “The carriage has just been seen at the head of the drive.”

  Delphine trembled with excitement.

  “Elvira – just fluff up my train, will you? Oh, I think I’ve never looked so – so – comme il faut!”

  The two cousins descended just in time.

  The carriage had drawn up outside and Delphine hastened to her father, who took her hand and kissed it.

  Elvira placed herself behind the line of servants and was beginning to thrill with anticipation herself. After all she had never set eyes on a real Prince before!

  A murmur ran through the gathering as a footman stepped up to the front door. He opened it wide and Prince Charles de Courel entered with his valet.

  The footman standing in front of Elvira was tall, so she edged sideways, but still she could not see the Prince.

  Raising herself on tiptoe, her eyes settled instead on the valet and immediately widened in shock.

  It was the stranger! The very stranger she had encountered at the White Doe Inn. The stranger who had rescued her from the storm. The stranger whose name she had finally learned was Serge.

  In that case, the ‘Master’ she had never seen – the ‘Master’ who had gone
to fetch the doctor and who had helped to repair the carriage – was the very same Prince who now stood in the hall.

  Elvira felt faint as she thought of the time she had spent with Serge at the cottage.

  Why, oh, why had she confessed to him her reservations about the character of the cousin she had not seen for so long? The cousin who was the fiancée of his Master? Supposing – and now Elvira began to blush guiltily – supposing Serge had repeated those reservations to the Prince? Supposing the Prince had returned to meet Delphine with her indiscretions planted in his mind?

  Elvira could not bear to think that she might prove the instrument that blighted her cousin’s romantic dreams.

  She must see the Prince’s face as he was introduced to Delphine.

  Elvira moved to the left of the footman and her eyes found the Prince.

  In an instant Serge and the time she had spent with him was forgotten!

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Prince Charles de Courel was lavishly dressed from top to toe in a red jacket and epaulettes. A black cape was thrown aside over one shoulder and he had removed his white gloves and tucked them under his arm.

  Diamond rings winked on his fingers and even the buttons of his cuffs seemed to flash showing that they too were of precious stones.

  His hair was gold and his eyes were grey.

  ‘Grey as goose-down,’ thought Elvira dreamily.

  He was her every idea of a real Prince and for the first time in her life she longed to possess what was not in her power to possess. How she would love to be courted by just such a lofty personage.

  ‘If he would only look my way once,’ she prayed fervently, quite forgetting her sombre dress and appearance.

  Indeed so lost was she that she did not realise her hands were at her cheeks and her eyes shining.

  Lord Baseheart stepped forward with a bow and welcomed the Prince to Baseheart Castle. The Prince inclined his head regally. Lady Cruddock then sank to a curtsy and the Prince graciously extended his hand to raise her up.

  “Madame,” he intoned, and his deep French tones seemed to send a thrill round the assembled company.

  Now Lord Baseheart ushered forward his daughter. Elvira watched enviously as the Prince took Delphine’s hand and kissed it with effortless gallantry.

  Delphine seemed to have lost all her bravado. She flushed deeply and was clearly nervous.

  The Prince did not release her hand, but gazed deeply into her eyes. Though it sent a pang through Elvira’s heart, she was at the same time greatly relieved.

  Serge had said nothing!

  Her gratitude that Serge had not betrayed her confidences was followed a second later by indignation that he had allowed her to divulge them in the first place.

  Surely once he knew where she was bound he should have revealed the identity of his Master! She would not then have been so indiscreet.

  She glanced round to see where the valet was. To her consternation she immediately caught his eye, for he had been watching her as intently as she had been watching the Prince. Her brows creased with displeasure.

  “Elvira?” came Delphine’s voice loudly. “Where are you, Elvira?”

  Elvira looked quickly round.

  “Elvira,” Delphine called again. “Come. You must be presented to the Prince.”

  Forgetting Serge once again, Elvira shrank back behind the tall footman.

  A moment ago she had longed for the Prince to look her way and now that she had been summoned, she was suddenly acutely aware of her plainness. Why had she not worn the tortoiseshell clasp instead of the dull yellow ribbon.

  “Elvira!”

  Delphine was insistent.

  Slowly Elvira emerged from behind the footman and, head bent, legs seeming hardly able to bear her weight, she crossed the hallway to curtsy before the Prince.

  Only at the last moment did she raise her eyes.

  “This is my cousin and esteemed companion,” Delphine was saying breathlessly. “We are most awfully good friends.”

  The Prince gave Elvira a glance and a cursory nod. Then his eyes were once more riveted on Delphine.

  Elvira stood as if struck. She had not expected effusion on the part of the Prince, but to barely register with His Highness! She felt like an insect casually brushed from someone’s shoulder.

  She did not know whether she should retreat backwards or remain until dismissed. The only virtue in her present predicament was that it afforded her the opportunity to gaze on the object of her desire at close quarters.

  He was so tall, so upright, so Royal. A curl of hair over his ear was the colour of corn. His eyelids were heavy and veined with blue. His expression as he gazed on Delphine was so – so ardent.

  ‘Oh, if he would only look at me that way for one second, it would be the happiest second of my life!’ thought Elvira.

  “Elvira – you may go.”

  Lady Cruddock, who had been watching Elvira narrowly now waved her away.

  Elvira turned and stumbled back the way she had come. She had never known herself to be in such a daze.

  Someone stepped into her path as if to address her.

  It was Serge.

  She stared up at him and moved on without a word, leaving him gazing after her with a frown.

  She found a chair at the back of the hall and sank gratefully down.

  There were a few more formal greetings before the Prince and his valet were conducted to his suite. The assembled company began to disperse, some casting glances of curiosity towards Elvira where she sat brooding.

  Elvira was soon left alone. It was only when she heard the chimes of midday that she roused herself and made her way to her room, only to be intercepted by Cassie.

  “I’ve been looking all over for you, Miss Elvira. Miss Delphine wants you to attend her in her boudoir.”

  Delphine wants you.

  It was like a dash of cold water in Elvira’s face. What had she been doing, allowing herself to dwell on the Prince in this way? He was Delphine’s suitor – practically fiancé.

  Without a word she followed Cassie to Delphine’s room.

  Delphine bounded towards her, bracelets madly jangling. Elvira’s hands almost flew to her ears to block out the sound.

  “Elvira, did you see the way he simply ate me up with his eyes? He’s in love with me already. I know it! His lips lingered far longer on my hand than was necessary. When he said my name in such low tones – ‘Mademoiselle Delfeeeeen’ – it made my heart flutter so! And he’s brought me gifts. And this beautiful ruby brooch. And French perfume. Isn’t it all just wonderful?”

  “Wonderful,” echoed Elvira dutifully, though her heart felt as lead. “Wonderful,” she said again and went over to the window, where she blinked back her tears against the dull sheen of the midday sun.

  She wanted the Prince so much. The Prince who was destined for her cousin. She wanted his lips on her hand, his low voice in her ear.

  Aunt Willis had accused her of envy in her letter and she had indignantly refuted the idea. But now – here it was. She felt sick with it, sick with envy of Delphine.

  She was utterly downcast that her cousin had cast such an instant spell over the Prince while she, Elvira, had merited only a glance and a slight nod.

  ‘What else could I have expected, dressed as I was like an impoverished governess,’ she rebuked herself bitterly.

  “I can’t wait for supper,” Delphine rattled on. “Aunt Cruddock has promised I shall be seated next to the Prince. I wish you could be there to see what passes between us. I’m sure at this rate I shall soon be as madly in love as he.”

  Elvira tapped a finger with seeming idleness on the glass.

  “Didn’t Aunt Cruddock advise you not to fall in love?” she reminded her cousin.

  Delphine’s face fell.

  “She did and she said it was the only way to keep a man in your power. But – but I want to be in love with the Prince. In fact, I think I already am. Oh, dear.”

  Elvira cam
e away from the window.

  “Would you object, cousin, if I go to my room now? I have a letter to write.”

  “What? Oh. Oh, yes. Of course. But just before you go, take these stockings with you. They need sewing at the heel and you’ve such delicate fingers.”

  Numbly Elvira took the stockings and departed.

  In her room she sat by the fire and examined the stockings, which were silk, of course. She laid one of the stockings against her cheek and rocked gently to and fro. It was so soft.

  She imagined the Prince kneeling to kiss Delphine’s foot and his lips encountering this soft fabric just above her Chinese slipper –

  With a sigh she fetched her sewing basket and set to work.

  She was thus preoccupied when Lady Cruddock entered.

  Elvira was so surprised to find that august figure in her room that she sprang up, upsetting her basket. Spools of thread went spinning across the floor and she knelt to retrieve them, but Lady Cruddock motioned her up irritably.

  “Leave it for the moment. I haven’t made my way up here to address your recumbent form.”

  Elvira rose from the floor.

  “No, Lady Cruddock.”

  She waited as she perused the room, looked at Elvira’s book with a scowl of disapproval and folded her arms.

  “You took a great deal of interest in the Prince this morning.”

  “I-I did? Well – it is not often one encounters a Royal personage.”

  Lady Cruddock regarded her from under lowered lids.

  “Come now. Nothing ever escapes my notice. You wanted to be in my niece’s shoes. I saw it quite clearly if no one else did.”

  “I assure you,” said Elvira after a pause, “ that I am fully reconciled to wearing only the shoes that you and Lord Baseheart provide.”

  Lady Cruddock’s eyelids fluttered.

  “A very clever answer. Too clever, I fear. Delphine is rather a noodle beside you, but she’s a wealthy noodle, so what does it matter?” She toyed a moment with her lorgnette. “Our coach driver, the one who conveyed you from the White Doe Inn, has told me a rather surprising story. Do you want to hear it?”

  Fearing the worst, Elvira gave a barely perceptible nod.