A Night of Gaiety

by Barbara Cartland

  “You were not the only one,” Lord Mundesley said. “Rosie is a silly little fool, but one day I will see that Vange gets his just deserts. Then we will see who has the last laugh!”

  Davita knew by the expression on Violet’s face that she was about to make some mischievous reply, when there was a knock on the door and the call-boy’s voice chanting:

  “Ten minutes, lidies! Ten minutes!”

  There were cries from all the women, and the men moved towards the door.

  Before they had even reached it, the dressers were undoing the elaborate gowns at the back and a change of clothing had begun.

  Davita gave Violet a smile before she hurriedly followed Lord Mundesley out of the dressing-room and into the corridor, and only as they reached the Box again did she say to him:

  “Please ... Lord Mundesley ... let me go back to my lodgings afterwards ... I do not want to be a ... nuisance.”

  “You are certainly not that,” Lord Mundesley said, bending towards her, “and quite frankly, Davita—and I hope I may call you that—I find it entrancing to watch you experience for the first time the delights of London.”

  He paused before he added softly:

  “And there are many more delights I want to show you!”

  There was something in the way he spoke which made Davita feel shy.

  She was not quite certain why, but she thought perhaps it was because he seemed so old, experienced, and worldly-wise, while she was exactly the opposite.

  He was obviously Violet’s “young man,” if that was the right term, and because she had no wish to talk about herself, she asked:

  “Who is the gentleman who has made you so cross?”

  “The Marquis of Vange!” Lord Mundesley answered. “A most unpleasant character, and a man you must studiously avoid.”

  “In what way is he so wicked?” Davita asked.

  Lord Mundesley smiled.

  “That is the right adjective to describe him, and make no mistake, Davita, he is the villain in a plot which is unfolding before your young, innocent eyes! There is, of course, also a hero, and I hope you will realise, my pretty little Scot, that that is the part I wish to play.” Davita stared at Lord Mundesley incredulously, feeling she must have misunderstood what he said.

  Then as once again the expression in his eyes made her feel extremely embarrassed, it was a relief when the lights went down and the curtain rose.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Davita looked about her with a feeling of excitement.

  ‘So this,’ she thought, ‘is Romano’s!’

  It was not very far from the Theatre, and, as she had expected from all her father and Katie had told her, the moment they were bowed into the Restaurant by a dark, suave little man who was Romano himself, the atmosphere seemed to be filled with laughter.

  It was an oblong room with dark red draped curtains and plush sofas, and most of the tables were already filled with women who, like Violet, appeared overwhelmingly beautiful.

  The décolletages of their gowns were extremely low, their waists so small that a man’s two hands could easily meet round them, and they were as colourful as the flowers that decked their tables.

  Suspended over some tables were blossoms fashioned like bells which bore the names of famous actresses.

  Lord Mundesley was shown to a table for four, and Davita and Violet sat on the comfortable sofa while the two men sat opposite them.

  Davita realised that Violet was not important enough to have her name on a flower-bell, but she could see one on which was emblazoned “Lottie Collins,” and two others with “Linda Verner” and “Ethel Blenheim,” who were also stars in Cinder-Ellen Up-Too-Late.

  Everything was so glamorous that Davita told herself she looked a positive country mouse beside the other women, and a Scottish one at that.

  At the same time, she was thrilled at the chance of seeing Romano’s and was glad that after so much anticipation she was not disappointed.

  People were arriving all the time, and while Lord Mundesley ordered supper, a bottle of champagne in an ice-bucket was brought to their table immediately.

  Davita looked round wide-eyed, hoping that if she never had the chance of coming here again, she would always remember what it looked like.

  The fourth member of the party was a fair-haired young man who, she thought as they were driving there in Lord Mundesley’s very comfortable carriage, seemed rather stupid.

  However, she learnt he was the son of a Duke and his name was Lord William Tetherington.

  He was obviously very enamoured of Violet and never took his eyes from her as she sat opposite him.

  The next table was empty and it remained so until they had almost finished their meal.

  Then as Lord Mundesley lit a cigar and sipped a glass of brandy, Romano escorted a tall, dark man to the empty table.

  He was alone and therefore sat down on the sofa to look round him in what Davita thought was a somewhat contemptuous way, as if he thought the place was not good enough for him.

  At the same time, he was extremely good-looking, and he had an air of authority which Davita somehow expected an important English gentleman would show, even though she had seen very few of them.

  Then she realised that while she was staring at the newcomer, Lord Mundesley had stiffened and there was a frown between his eye-brows.

  He had been very genial until then, making them laugh and paying Violet extravagant compliments, though at the same time Davita realised he was continually looking at her in a manner which made her feel shy.

  Then she heard Lord William say:

  “Congratulations, Vange! I thought your horse would win, so I backed it heavily!”

  Davita gave a little start.

  Now she realised that the newcomer was the Marquis of Vange, whom Lord Mundesley hated so violently and had disparaged several times during supper.

  As if the Marquis was suddenly aware of who was at the next table, he replied to Lord William:

  “I am afraid you cannot have got a very good price, as it was favourite.” Then, turning to Violet, he said: “Good-evening! I was thinking tonight when I watched you on the stage that I have seldom seen you look lovelier!”

  “Thank you,” Violet replied.

  Davita was surprised to see that after all she had said about him, she showed no animosity towards the Marquis, and in fact she gave him her hand and looked at him coquettishly from under her mascaraed eye-lashes.

  The Marquis turned towards Lord Mundesley, and, seeing the scowl on his face, he said with a mocking smile:

  “I suppose, Mundesley, you expect me to apologise for beating you by a head?”

  “I have my own opinions as to how that was possible,” Lord Mundesley replied disagreeably.

  “Are you suggesting that either I or my jockey was breaking the rules?” the Marquis enquired.

  Now there was a hard note in this voice that was unmistakably a challenge.

  As if he realised he had gone too far, Lord Mundesley said quickly:

  “No, of course not! I was naturally disappointed.”

  “Naturally!”

  There was no doubt, from the expression on the Marquis’s face, that he was well aware of Lord Mundesley’s feelings.

  Then he saw Davita, and she sensed that in some strange way his eyes took in every detail of her appearance and he was surprised that she was so badly dressed.

  A waiter was at his side, waiting for his order, and he turned to take the menu in his hand.

  “Damn! He would be sitting next to us!” Lord Mundesley said in a low voice to Violet.

  Then, as if he thought he had been indiscreet, he deliberately addressed Lord William in honeyed tones, as if to bridge over the uncomfortable moment.

  To Davita it was all rather fascinating and like seeing a play at the Theatre.

  As the Marquis sat alone eating his supper and making no effort to speak to them again, it was as if his very presence brought a feeling of constraint
to their party.

  Violet had just begun to point out some celebrities in the room when an extremely beautiful young woman, whom Davita realised she had seen in the same dressing-room as Violet, crossed the Restaurant to stand beside the Marquis.

  For a moment she did not speak. Then as he looked up at her she said:

  “I want to talk to you. I must talk to you!”

  He did not rise to his feet but merely looked up and said quietly but distinctly:

  “There is nothing for us to talk about, as you well know.”

  “I have a lot to say.”

  She spoke with an hysterical tone in her voice, and Violet bent forward to say to her quietly:

  “Please, Rosie, don’t be stupid.”

  Davita realised that this was the Rosie whom Violet had been talking about to Lord Mundesley.

  She looked so beautiful that Davita wondered how the Marquis could resist her. But Rosie ignored Violet and said:

  “If you won’t listen to me, I’m going to kill myself! Do you hear? I’m going to kill myself now—at once! Then perhaps you’ll be—sorry!”

  As she finished speaking she burst into tears, and as they ran down her pink-and-white cheeks she repeated brokenly:

  “I—I’ll kill myself—I’ll kill—myself!” Violet jumped up from her seat and put her arms round Rosie, and as she did so she gave Lord Mundesley a frantic glance, imploring him to help.

  “You can’t make a scene here!” Violet said. “Come on, Rosie dear, it’ll be best if you go home.”

  “I don’t—want to go—home,” Rosie tried to protest through her sobs.

  But with Violet on one side of her and Lord Mundesley on the other there was nothing she could do but let them draw her away from the table towards the door.

  Only as they moved away did Lord Mundesley say over his shoulder:

  “Order my carriage, will you, Willie?”

  Lord William hurried to obey, and Davita was left alone at the table, wondering if she should follow them but feeling that she would only be in the way.

  She was staring at their backs as they moved rather slowly towards the door of the Restaurant, since Rosie was obviously resisting being taken away, when the Marquis remarked:

  “I suppose I should apologise.”

  Davita realised he was speaking to her and turned her head to look at him, her eyes very wide and astonished at what had just taken place.

  As if he understood her surprise, he said:

  “I can assure you, this is not a usual occurrence at Romano’s. I have the idea this is your first visit.”

  “Yes ... I only ... arrived in London ... tonight.”

  She thought it would be correct and would show good breeding to speak quite calmly and not to appear upset by what had happened. But her voice sounded very young and breathless.

  “Where have you come from?” the Marquis enquired.

  “From ... Scotland.”

  “Then I can understand that for the moment everything seems strange, but you will get used to it.”

  He did not sound as though he thought that was a particularly enviable prospect, and Davita, again trying to behave normally, replied:

  “I have always heard about ... Romano’s ... and the ... Gaiety ... but they are very much more ... exciting than I ... ever imagined they would ... be.”

  “That, of course, is a matter of opinion,” the Marquis said cynically. “They are certainly the best that London can provide.”

  He spoke as if other countries could do better, and Davita felt that if he disparaged both the Theatre and the Restaurant, it would somehow spoil it for her. So she asked:

  “Have you had a great deal of ... success with your horses this ... season?”

  “I have been lucky,” the Marquis replied. “You sound as if you are interested in racing.”

  Davita smiled.

  “I am afraid I have never seen an important race, only those that take place in Edinburgh, and the Steeple-Chases which my father sometimes ... arranged when he had a good horse.”

  As she spoke, she thought that the Marquis would certainly think this was not particularly interesting, and she added quickly:

  “But I think a Thoroughbred is the most beautiful animal in the world!”

  “I agree with you there,” the Marquis said, “and from the way you speak, I presume you enjoy riding.”

  “Whenever I have the chance,” Davita answered. “My father considered me a good rider, although of course he may have been prejudiced.”

  “One could hardly blame him for that.”

  As the Marquis spoke, Davita thought that he looked her over in the way a man might take in the good points of a horse. His eyes seemed to linger for a moment on her hair. Then he said:

  “I see your escorts are returning, in which case I will bid you good-night, and hope that you will be sensible enough to return to Scotland as quickly as you can!” He rose to his feet as he spoke, and Davita was so surprised by what he had said that she could find no words with which to reply.

  The Marquis moved away to speak to somebody on the other side of the Restaurant as Violet sat down beside her and Lord Mundesley took the seat opposite.

  Davita realised that Lord William was not with them, and, as if she had asked the question aloud, Violet said: “Willie’s taking Rosie home.”

  “I could have done that,” Davita said quickly. “Why did you not send for me?”

  “She’ll be all right with Willie,” Violet replied, and Lord Mundesley added:

  “We have no wish to lose you, my pretty little red-haired Scot!”

  There was a note in his voice and a look in his eyes which now made Davita feel not only uncomfortable but that in some way she was being disloyal to Violet.

  AAs we are now three,” Lord Mundesley said, “there is room for me to sit between you, which will be much more comfortable, and I shall also be extremely proud to be a thorn between two such exquisite roses!”

  Once again Davita felt as if she were taking part in a Theatrical performance and that Lord Mundesley was over-acting.

  When he sat between her and Violet she felt as if he encroached on her, and although she tried to squeeze herself away from him, she was very conscious of his closeness.

  Once or twice, as if to emphasize what he was saying, he put his hand on her knee and she could feel his fingers through the thin silk of her gown.

  It was a relief when Lord William returned.

  When he did, he sat down in a chair opposite them and said before anyone could speak:

  “I want a drink—and a strong one! I must say, Violet, you make me do some damned uncomfortable things!”

  “Is she all right?” Violet asked.

  “I left her with Gladys, who lodges in the same building, and she said she would look after her.”

  “I thought Gladys was away,” Violet said, “or I’d have suggested it myself.”

  “She has just returned,” Lord William replied, “but I gather she will not be staying for long. I think Sheffield intends to marry her.”

  Violet gave a cry of delight.

  “Do you mean that? Oh, I am glad! It’ll be wonderful for Gladys if she pulls that off!”

  “Do not count your chickens,” Lord Mundesley interrupted. “Sheffield’s father will cut him off with the proverbial shilling if he marries an actress.”

  “If that’s true, it’s extremely unfair!” Violet said hotly. “After all, Belle married the Earl of Clancarty and they’re happy enough.”

  “After some ups and downs!” Lord Mundesley said.

  “Every marriage has them!” Violet snapped. “What we’ve got to do is to find Rosie a nice husband.”

  “I can assure you it will not be Vange,” Lord William said.

  “He’s behaved abominably,” Violet exclaimed, “but then, he always does!”

  “I know what you feel about Vange,” Lord William replied, “but if you ask me, he should not have got involved with her in the f
irst place. I know Rosie is beautiful, but the way she went on in the carriage when I was taking her home made me think she is a little unhinged.”

  “She is a bit hysterical,” Violet agreed.

  “Well, I cannot see Vange putting up with that sort of thing, and what is more, women, however beautiful, never look their best when they are crying.”

  “You are quite right,” Lord Mundesley agreed. “I like a woman to laugh.”

  As he spoke, he turned his head to look at Davita and said:

  “I expect a great many people have told you that you have a laugh like the chime of silver bells, or perhaps like a little song-bird.”

  “Nobody has told me that before,” Davita replied with a smile, “but I am glad you do not think my laugh is like the sound of a grouse flying down the hill, or like the noise the gulls make when they come in from the sea in bad weather.”

  “I assure you that everything about you is entrancing!” Lord Mundesley said in a low voice.

  Davita felt his knee pressing against hers.

  On the drive home, which was very late—in fact it was the early hours of the morning—she found it hard to stay awake.

  They did not have a long way to go, but Lord Mundesley insisted on sitting between her and Violet on the back-seat, and to her consternation he put his arms round both of them and said:

  “Now, my sweet girls, tell me if you enjoyed this evening and how soon we can repeat it.”

  “I reckon we ought to take Rosie out with us next time,” Violet replied.

  Davita had the idea that it was not something she really wanted but was an excuse to exclude herself.

  Then she thought that perhaps she was being oversensitive, but she had noticed a cold note in Violet’s voice when they had gone to the cloak-room so that she could collect her wrap before they had left the Restaurant.

  “It has been a wonderful, wonderful evening!” Davita had exclaimed.

  “I’m glad you’ve enjoyed yourself,” Violet had replied, “but you don’t want to believe everything His Lordship tells you.”

  “No, of course not,” Davita had answered, “but it was kind of him to be so polite.”

  Violet had given her a rather sharp glance and asked: “Is that what you call it?”