“I want to talk to you, Larisa…” she began.
“I want to talk to you, Mama,” she answered. “I have had the most stupendous idea! T thought about it the other day when I was with Nicky in the Library, but I did not want to say anything about it until I had discovered if it was practical.”
“If what is practical?” Lady Stanton asked.
“When I went into Gloucester yesterday,” Larisa answered, “to buy the material for my gowns, I went with Nana to the toy-shop in the High Street.”
Lady Stanton looked bewildered.
“What did you go there for?”
“I remembered the lovely dolls you used to buy there when we were children.” Larisa said. “Some of them were dressed, but you always made them extra clothes. I remember what fun it used to be dressing and undressing my doll who was called ‘Masera’!”
She laughed.
“Of course Papa chose her name! She did not look a bit Greek but was very fashionable and elegant in her small crinoline and carrying the little sun-shade which you copied from one in The Ladies Journal.”
“I remember how much I used to enjoy dressing your dolls,” Lady Stanton said with a smile.
“Well, Mama,” Larisa continued breathlessly, “you can make quite a lot of money dressing dolls for other children.”
“What do you mean?” Lady Stanton asked.
“I inquired at the toy-shop whether they had any demand for elegantly-dressed dolls and they told me that at Christmastime they could sell as many as they had in stock. I talked to the manager and he told me how we could buy the dolls very cheap. I think he called it ‘wholesale.’ And when you have dressed one he will tell you how much he will give you for it.”
“Larisa!” Lady Stanton exclaimed. “What would your father say?”
“I think even Papa would consider this legitimate trading.” Larisa answered, “especially if the money goes towards Nicky’s fees at Oxford.”
“It certainly is an idea.” Lady Stanton said slowly. “I do hope I can do it well enough.”
“Of course you can. Mama,” Larisa answered. “You know how badly most dolls are dressed. Yours would be exquisite! And you could do all sorts of different costumes, Spanish … Dutch … Eastern. It would be fun!”
“I will certainly try,” Lady Stanton said, “and Nana could take them to the shop. I could not go myself. It would be really too embarrassing to sell where I have always bought in the past.”
“Oh no, of course not, Mama,” Larisa said. “Athene can go with Nana. She is much sharper than the rest of us and I am sure she would not allow the manager to do you down.”
“It sounds … distressingly … commercial,” Lady Stanton hesitated, “at the … same time, it is … for Nicky …”
“Do not think of anyone else. Mama,” Larisa begged. “Just remember Nicky and I will tell Athene what to do.”
Lady Stanton was silent for a moment and then she said:
“You have side-tracked me, Larisa. I wanted to talk to you about yourself.”
“What did you want to say, Mama?”
“If you are going to France, dearest, I feel, and so does Nicky, that I should give you a few words of advice before you set off on this rather frightening journey.”
“I do not find it frightening, Mama … well, not very!”
She paused for a moment and then added:
“I suppose really I am frightened of doing the wrong things; of being sent home as being inadequate for the situation.”
“It is not that of which I am frightened,” Lady Stanton said.
“Then what is worrying you, Mama?”
Lady Stanton seemed to be choosing her words with care.
“You see, dearest,” she began, “Frenchmen are different from Englishmen.”
Larisa smiled.
“They speak a different language, for one thing.”
“This is not a joke,” Lady Stanton admonished.
“I am sorry, Mama, go on.”
“They have the reputation,” Lady Stanton continued, “of being very dashing and—irresistible to women.”
“Are you warning me, Mama, against falling in love with a Frenchman?” Larisa asked.
“Yes, I am,” Lady Stanton said, “and listen to me very carefully, Larisa, because it is important.”
“I am listening.”
Larisa was surprised at the note of seriousness in her mother’s voice.
“You see, Larisa,” Lady Stanton said, “an Englishman, if he is a gentleman, does not pursue a young girl unless his intentions are honourable, and he means to offer her marriage.”
She sighed.
“At the same time, I understand Governesses are in a class of their own. They are ladies and yet they are not considered eligible.”
“Then what do you mean by ‘pursue,’ Mama?” Larisa asked.
There was a long silence. Then Lady Stanton said: “A man would try to make love to such a woman, Larisa.”
“Like kissing her?”
“Yes…”
“But the Governess could always refuse.”
“Which I am sure you would do,” Lady Stanton said quickly. “Yet had you been going to an English household I would have warned you to be very circumspect and keep yourself apart from the gentlemen of the household.”
She paused and added more brightly:
“Even so I cannot believe that the ordinary Englishman in the sort of house in which you will be employed would behave anything but decently towards a young woman who is unprotected and in a position where she is most vulnerable.”
Larisa did not answer but her eyes were on her mother’s face as Lady Stanton went on:
“I will not disguise the fact from you, Larisa, that I hoped, perhaps rather foolishly, that if you did go into a house of one of your God-mother’s friends you might meet someone who would fall in love with you and wish to marry you.”
She gave one of her deep sighs.
“It is so isolated here. We see so few young men. But T would like above all things, my dearest, for you to have a happy marriage, as I had with your father.” Larisa wanted to say that this was what she too would like, but she knew her mother had more to say and did not wish to be interrupted.
“But in France it is very different,” Lady Stanton went on.
“In what way?” Larisa enquired.
“French marriages are arranged, as I am sure you already know,” Lady Stanton said. “A Frenchman considers it his duty to take as his wife someone who has been chosen for him, usually by his father, because the girl will bring into the family land and a dowry. These of course vary according to the position he can offer her.”
“You mean. Mama, that if a French girl married a Marquis her dowry must be higher than if she married a Comte?” Larisa asked.
“Again it depends on how important the family may be. It is not only the title. In France breeding and blood mean more than anything else.”
“What you are saying, Mama, is that if a Frenchman of good social standing did fall in love with me, he would not dream of asking me to become his wife.”
“It is inconceivable that he should do so.” Lady Stanton answered. “The head of the family is all-powerful. He holds all the money and doles it out as he thinks fit to his relations.”
She smiled.
“That is why you will find that in many cases a family house is packed not only with the father, mother, and the children, but also with grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. It is so much cheaper to keep them all together under one roof than to give them enough money for separate establishments.”
Larisa laughed.
“I always heard that the French are practical!”
“They are,” Lady Stanton said, “so do remember that, Larisa! At the same time, Frenchmen appreciate beautiful women, and you are very—lovely.”
Larisa looked at her mother in surprise.
It was seldom that Lady Stanton paid any of her daughters such a c
ompliment.
“I am not making you conceited,” she said, “because you are well aware already that your father thought you all looked like Greek goddesses.”
“Four Venuses!” Larisa smiled. “And Nicky could be Apollo!”
“Yes, he could, could he not?” Lady Stanton replied with a softness in her voice. “I do not believe that any young man could be more handsome.”
With an effort she brought her thoughts away from her beloved son and back to her daughter.
“You must go to France, Larisa,” she said, “with your pretty head screwed firmly onto your body. Do not listen if a Frenchman pays court to you. Do not believe a word he says about having fallen in love with you.”
She spoke most impressively as she added:
“You have no dowry and although we can be proud of our ancestry, it will not count in France beside the fact that you are in the position of what is really a superior servant.”
“I will keep my ears firmly closed, Mama, and I will not fall in love!” Larisa promised.
“Remember that to do so would be disastrous as far as you are concerned,” Lady Stanton said. “It will only break your heart, and the man you love will marry someone else, someone who can bring him money or land and who will gain the approval of his all-powerful family.”
Larisa laughed.
“You make Frenchmen sound odious!” she said. “But I promise you, Mama, I will be on my guard against even the smallest compliment.”
“I am speaking very seriously, Larisa.”
“I know you are, Mama!”
She bent down to kiss her mother’s cheek.
“Do not look so anxious,” she begged. “I assure you that if none of your other chickens know how to look after themselves, I do!”
CHAPTER TWO
Larisa watched the white cliffs of Dover receding into the distance, and then as the wind was strong went below.
There was a seat reserved for her in the saloon and she looked around with interest at her fellow-passengers.
They did not seem to be very exciting and her thoughts drifted away into speculation on what lay ahead.
This was an adventure: something which a month ago she had never envisaged might happen.
Just for a moment as she said good-bye to Nicky, who had accompanied her to Dover, she felt a little panic-stricken.
It was with an effort that she stopped herself from pleading with him to take her home again; to say that she could not face going off alone into the unknown.
Then the courage she had never lacked, and the buoyancy which made her always believe that everything would turn out for the best, made her bid her brother a tearless farewell.
Everything had happened so quickly and there had been so much to do before she left home that she had hardly had time to think of anything except getting her clothes together and preparing for the journey.
There had also been innumerable things to be packed and moved to the cottage where Lady Stanton was to live with Athene and Delos and also Cynthus until she married.
As her mother was inevitably helpless in such circumstances, Cynthus and Larisa found that they had to do everything for her.
Larisa’s clothes had entailed a council of war and as usual she had the most sensible suggestions to make.
“As I am going abroad,” she said, “Where no-one will know me, there is no reason for me to wear mourning. Mama must obviously be in black for a year and in half-mourning for another. The rest of you will be expected to be sombrely garbed for nearly twelve months.”
The others looked at her in surprise.
“And so where I am concerned,” Larisa said, “I can wear any colour that is available.”
“What are you suggesting, dearest?” Lady Stanton asked in a bewildered voice.
“I am saying, Mama, that as we all are more or less the same size I will wear your clothes, especially your travelling-gown and cloak, which will save a lot of money and time in making me one.”
Before her mother could speak Larisa added quickly:
“I will be very careful of it and when you can wear colours again you can have it back.”
“It is certainly an idea,” Lady Stanton said slowly, “but at the same time my travelling-gown and cloak are blue. What would people think?”
“People will think nothing,” Larisa answered firmly, “first of all because they will not be interested in a Governess, and secondly, the Comtesse may not even have mentioned to her brother that Papa has only just died.”
She looked at their surprised expressions and added:
“Anyway if it makes you any happier I will wear a black band round my arm.”
“No, that looks horrible!” Cynthus said quickly. “I think Larisa has a good idea, Mama, and she can have my pink dress. It is my best but it will be out of fashion long before I can wear it again.”
She paused to add:
“Besides, I shall need new gowns for my trousseau.”
“Of course you will, dearest,” Lady Stanton agreed, “and somehow we will contrive some very pretty ones. You will look very attractive in mauves and lilacs, both of which are considered to be half-mourning.”
Larisa found quite a number of her mother’s coloured clothes that could easily be altered to fit her and could be made to look a little younger in shape and design by her skillful fingers.
At the same time the evening-gowns did look too old for her. Then Lady Stanton gave a little exclamation.
“I have an idea!”
“What is it, Mama?” Larisa asked.
“Ask Nicky to help you down with the trunk that is in the attic. The big brown leather one with the rounded top.”
Lady Stanton sounded rather mysterious, and when the trunk was brought downstairs and opened they all were intrigued by what it contained.
Lady Stanton, who had enjoyed a social success when she made her debut, had been the only child of a rich father.
He wanted the best for his daughter and was prepared to pay for it.
He had therefore taken her to London for the Season, where she had been invited to all the grand Balls and she said reminiscently that she had been “the belle” of most of them!
Unfortunately her father had decided that the financial future of the world lay in Australia.
He invested most of his money in gold shares, and Lady Stanton’s dowry, which on her marriage to Sir Beaugrave had been quite a considerable sum, was invested in a gold mine.
Five years later the mine dropped out of production and when her father died a few years later it was found that his very large fortune had vanished in Australian companies whose optimistic conjectures had never materialised.
“I kept some of my prettier gowns,” Lady Stanton explained now, “simply as mementoes of my happy girlhood.”
As she spoke she drew from the trunk a whaleboned crinoline which made her daughters collapse with laughter.
“Did you really wear that, Mama?” Athene asked. “It must have been very uncomfortable.”
“It was very inconvenient,” Lady Stanton admitted. “and made it very difficult to get in and out of a carriage!”
She too laughed as she added:
“It was also very indecent if one sat down without thinking because it would shoot up in front, revealing everything that was underneath!”
The gowns that went over the crinolines might, the girls thought, have been pretty when they were fashionable.
“This was my ‘coming out’ gown,” Lady Stanton explained.
She held up a creation of white satin trimmed round the off-the-shoulder bodice with shadow lace which also decorated the full skirt.
“It is nice material,” Athene said.
“It was very expensive,” Lady Stanton answered.
“I suppose we could alter it?” Larisa suggested doubtfully.
“Put it on,” Lady Stanton said.
Larisa did as her mother suggested. The bodice, which revealed the perfect curves of her sma
ll breasts, was certainly becoming.
But she looked down in dismay at the limp satin skirt drooping over the floor as there was no crinoline to make it stand out.
Then Lady Stanton swept it backwards.
“If we moulded it in the front to your figure,” she said, “the rest would drape at the back into a pretty train.”
Larisa gave a cry of delight.
“Of course it would! How clever of you, Mama!” There was another gown in the trunk. It was sky-blue crepe trimmed with tulle, which they felt would respond to the same treatment.
There were also several pairs of white kid gloves fitting at the wrist, little flower-wreaths which Athene appropriated because they were so pretty, and a fan from which Delos refused to be parted.
“I thought I had more things,” Lady Stanton said regretfully, “but I remember now I made one gown into a cloak for Athene’s christening and several more into your party-dresses as children, when I did not like to ask your Papa for money to buy new ones.”
“These two gowns will do me beautifully,” Larisa said, “except that I suspect they will be far too smart for a Governess!”
She was quite certain that that was true when they were finished.
They all helped with the sewing, stitching, pressing, and arranging, and when finally the gowns were finished and Larisa tried them on, Cynthus was quite jealous.
“I am sure they ought to be in my trousseau,” she said. “I will never be able to afford anything half so beautiful!”
“I have the feeling,” Larisa said, looking at herself in the mirror, “that I shall never wear these gowns. So I will wrap them in paper and keep them very carefully and when you get married you shall have them!”
“That is sweet of you, Larisa!” Cynthus said and kissed her.
The Devil in Love (Bantam Series No. 24) Page 3