Dancing on a Rainbow

by Barbara Cartland

  “Will you tell Mr. Miller when he comes in that His Grace gave me some money for my visit out of his special drawer and I shall repay it when I return.”

  “Very good, my Lady,” the butler replied.

  ‘I only hope I have thought of everything,’ Loretta had wondered as she drove down the drive.

  When the steamer that was waiting for them at Dover began to leave the harbour, she told herself with an irrepressible excitement that she had won!

  She had got away without any fuss and now she should be able to see the Marquis and form some opinion about him and to return home without anyone being aware that she had been to France.

  Being well able to afford it, she had taken a cabin on the steamer and to keep Marie happy had ordered the Steward to bring them coffee and biscuits immediately.

  “I thought we had better wait to eat on the train,” Loretta said. “I am rather afraid if the sea is rough that I will be seasick.”

  “I not afraid of mal de mer, my Lady . When I come here from France many years ago, ship not big and passengers very sick. But I all right. I very good sailor. Everyone say so.”

  “I hope I am as good as you,” Loretta replied, “but I have never been to sea before.”

  She thought as she spoke, that if she married the Marquis , it would be something she would do continually if she wished to visit England as often as his father did.

  It seemed strange that he had always stayed in France, while his father the Duc seldom missed an important race meeting in England, just as her father constantly attended meetings at Chantilly and Longchamps.

  They reached Calais in two hours because the wind was with them and the train to Paris was waiting at the quayside.

  Loretta left it to Marie to find them the best accommodation available.

  She managed to book a reserved carriage, and as the Calais-Paris was a corridor train that had been introduced nine years earlier, there were Stewards only too eager to wait on them and bring them everything they required.

  After they had enjoyed an excellent meal, which was really a kind of light and early dinner, Loretta, who had hardly slept the night before, going over her plans and worrying in case something would prevent her from leaving at the last minute, fell asleep.

  When she awoke, it was to find that it was dark outside and they were due to arrive in Paris in half-an-hour.

  “You not tell me, my Lady ,” Marie said, “where we go when in Paris, to house of Earl of Galston or first to hotel.”

  It was something Loretta had not really considered until now, but finally after a little thought she said,

  “I think we will try first the Earl’s house. If everybody has gone to bed, we will go away until the morning.”

  Marie laughed.

  “In Paris no one go bed early!”

  That was what Marie thought, Loretta smiled to herself, but she had not been in France for many years and perhaps things had changed since then.

  Or perhaps the Earl of Galston and Ingrid, being social outcasts, were living very quietly and unable to entertain in the ordinary way.

  When they reached the Gare du Nord, it was nearly midnight.

  A porter found them a fiacre and they set off towards the Champs-Élysées.

  “If the house looks dark and there are no lights in the windows,” Loretta said, speaking more to herself than to Marie, “we will turn around and go to the Hotel Meurice. I know that is where Papa stays when he comes to Paris.”

  Marie said nothing, but Loretta knew she was thinking it was very improper for an unmarried girl, even with a lady’s maid, to stay in a hotel.

  When the fiacre reached the Avenue des Champs-Élysées and drew up outside a house with its front enclosed by iron railings tipped with gold, Loretta saw that there was a large number of private carriages with liveried attendants waiting outside.

  There were linkmen with torches shining for those who were wanted by their employers and she was certain that the coachman had brought them to the wrong house by mistake.

  “You are sure this is the house we require?” she asked in her excellent Parisian French. “The mansion of the Earl of Galston?”

  “Oui, oui, madame, c’est vrai ,” the coachman insisted.

  “You wait, my Lady ,” Marie said. “I find out.”

  She got out of the fiacre as she spoke and, walking up to the front door, spoke to a servant wearing an impressive gold-braided livery.

  The man and Marie gesticulated briefly to each other and then Marie returned all smiles.

  “This right, my Lady , the home of the Earl of Galston and he has party.”

  Loretta suddenly felt shy.

  “Perhaps – ?” she began.

  Then the servant, who had followed Marie, opened the door and somehow she felt compelled to step out.

  “Perhaps we had better ask the coachman to wait, Marie,” she began again in French, “in case we are not welcome.”

  But it was too late.

  Marie had already given orders for the luggage to be taken down and was paying with the francs they had obtained aboard the steamer at what Loretta guessed was a very poor rate of exchange.

  There was nothing she could do therefore but follow the servant into the house, aware that the hall looked very grand, decorated with huge vases of exotic flowers.

  Several guests were coming down the stairs from what was obviously a reception room on the first floor, all men, and they were laughing and talking as they did so.

  Then, as Loretta reached the top of the stairs, a servant asked,

  “What name shall I say, madame?”

  As he spoke, over his shoulder Loretta saw Ingrid standing near the doorway, looking exceedingly lovely and glittering with jewels in her hair, around her neck and in her ears.

  For a moment Loretta just stood looking at her, while the servant waited for her name.

  Then Ingrid turned and saw her and there was no doubt of the astonishment in her eyes as Loretta ran towards hers.

  “Ingrid, you remember me?” she asked a little breathlessly.

  “Loretta! Whatever are you doing here?”

  “I have come to see you. I had to see you!”

  Ingrid looked bewildered and Loretta added,

  “Papa does not know I have left England, but I had to come because there is no one else to help me!”

  As if she were too bemused to think clearly, Ingrid kissed Loretta and said,

  “But, of course, dearest, I will do anything I can. Where are you staying?”

  “With you if you will have me.”

  Again Ingrid stared at Loretta as if she could not have heard properly what she had just said.

  Then she said quickly,

  “We must talk about it. My guests are just leaving, let me say goodbye to them first.”

  “Of course,” Loretta agreed. “I do apologize for bursting in on you like this.”

  As she spoke, Ingrid stepped in front of her to shake hands with a man who was obviously waiting for her to attend to him.

  “Au revoir , monsieur! ” she said.

  “Au revoir , lovely lady,” the gentleman replied in French. “Needless to say, I have never enjoyed an evening more or been more stimulated by the conversation. I hope you will invite me again soon.”

  “But of course,” Ingrid replied. “How can we have a party without you?”

  The Frenchman kissed her hand, then, as he moved away, another gentleman took his place and almost the same conversation was repeated.

  It was only as the last guest left the room and the Earl escorted him to the top of the stairs that Loretta realised that there were no ladies present at the party.

  The guests were exclusively men, some of whom seemed elderly, but all of them had a distinguished appearance.

  Ingrid turned to where she was standing behind her and said,

  “Now, Loretta dearest, do tell me what all this is about. I cannot imagine what you are doing here, and, as you say, alone.”
>
  “I have Marie with me. You remember Marie, who used to sew for us at The Castle?”

  “Yes, of course I remember Marie. Does nobody else know that you have come to me?”

  “No one,” Loretta replied with a smile. “Papa has gone away to the Newmarket races for a week and has not the slightest idea that I intended coming to France.”

  As she finished speaking, the Earl came towards them and Ingrid said,

  “Hugh, darling, what am I to do? This is my cousin, Loretta Court, who has just arrived in Paris to see me, because she says she needs my help.”

  “Then, of course, you must try to help her,” he replied.

  He was an exceedingly attractive man and Loretta could understand immediately why Ingrid had fallen in love with him.

  The Earl put out his hand and said,

  “How do you do, Lady Loretta! And welcome, even though your visit was not anticipated!”

  Loretta looked up at him and pleaded,

  “Please, let me stay with you for a few days. I am in trouble, terrible trouble and the only person I know who would understand and help me is Ingrid!”

  “Then of course you must be my guest,” the Earl said.

  He looked at Ingrid as he spoke and she said in a low voice,

  “Are we wise to let her stay? After all – ”

  “No one need know that I am here,” Loretta said quickly, “and it would be best for reasons I will explain to you, Ingrid, if I could stay under another name. I have warned Marie not to say who I am until I have explained to you why I have come.”

  “That certainly would make things easier,” Ingrid said in a low voice, “at the same time, I am sure – ”

  “Stop worrying,” the Earl said. “I know exactly what you are thinking, my darling, but all that matters is that it is very late, your cousin has been travelling all day and I think we should offer her something to eat and drink before we trouble ourselves about anything else.”

  “Of course, Hugh, you are always so sensible,” Ingrid said, “and I will do as you say.”

  She spoke in a caressing voice and the look in her eyes told Loretta that she was still very much in love with the man with whom she had run away.

  Then Ingrid slipped her arm through Loretta’s and said,

  “Let’s go to sit somewhere more cosy and Hugh will bring you a glass of champagne.”

  “First I will arrange for your cousin’s luggage to be brought in and taken up to her room,” the Earl said, “then make sure her maid is looked after.”

  “I am certain Marie is making herself at home,” Loretta said to Ingrid. “She was very excited at the idea of coming to France and I knew that there was no one else I could trust not to run to tell Papa.”

  “I can still hardly believe that you are here,” Ingrid said. “But you know, dearest, much as I love you, it is wrong for you to associate with me.”

  “Nonsense!” Loretta said. “As long as you are happy, I am sure you did the right thing. But because you did run away, that is why I have come to you for advice.”

  “You are not saying – you are much too young to be – ” Ingrid began, a little incoherently and Loretta said quickly,

  “No, I am not running away with anyone! I am only running from the man whom Papa has chosen for me as a husband.”

  By this time Ingrid had opened the door of a very attractive and comfortable-looking sitting room which, because it looked so cosy and so lived in, Loretta was certain it was where she and the Earl sat when they were alone.

  As soon as they were inside, Ingrid, without saying any more, helped Loretta to take off the cloak she had worn for travelling and the small bonnet from her fair hair.

  “Sit down, dearest,” she said. “I can still hardly believe, first, that you really are here, and secondly, that you are old enough to be married.”

  “Of course I am!” Loretta said. “I am over eighteen and it is only because I was in mourning for Mama that I was not presented last year.”

  “But you are to be presented this year?”

  “I am to be deprived of all the excitements of the Season I was promised simply because Papa wishes to announce my engagement in Ascot week and has already arranged for my marriage to take place almost immediately afterwards.”

  “But why? Why the hurry?” Ingrid enquired.

  “That is what I am determined to find out! And that is why I have come to you.”

  “I am very flattered you have done so, although from your point of view, it could do you harm. But I do not at all understand how I can help you.”

  Loretta paused for a moment.

  Then she said,

  “The husband whom Papa has chosen for me is the son of a man he meets racing and with whom he is very impressed.”

  She looked at her cousin as she said slowly,

  “He is a Frenchman, the Duc de Sauerdun!”

  There was a silence, which to Loretta seemed very significant.

  Then Ingrid said with an incredulous note in her voice,

  “Are you saying that your father wants you to marry Fabian, the Marquis de Sauerdun?”

  “That is right,” Loretta said, “and he is determined that I shall do so.”

  “But, no! That is impossible!” Ingrid exclaimed. “Completely and utterly impossible! Anyone, almost anyone but not Fabian!”

  Her voice seemed to ring out.

  Then, as Loretta stared at her, she said in a different tone,

  “I know I should not speak to you like that, but you are so strong and so beautiful! Because I have always loved you, Loretta, I would never wish you to make an unhappy marriage, as I did.”

  “That is why I came to you,” Loretta said simply, “for I knew you would understand. Papa simply would not listen to me when I said I must get to know him before he comes to England. Otherwise as soon as he arrives, whatever I may feel, I know we shall be formally engaged.”

  “It is intolerable,” Ingrid exclaimed. “Quite intolerable that Cousin Arthur, a man I have always admired, should treat you like this!”

  “You know what Papa is like when he makes up his mind,” Loretta said, “and he has always had a great admiration for the Duc de Sauerdun because he owns such fine racehorses.”

  “Racehorses are one thing – marriage is quite another!”

  “You tell that to Papa! He will not listen to me!”

  “He is certainly not likely to listen to me,” Ingrid said with a little grimace.

  Because there was a note of bitterness in Ingrid’s voice, Loretta suddenly remembered her situation and she enquired,

  “I have longed and longed to know if you were happy and if it was worthwhile running away as you did.”

  “It was the most sensible thing I have ever done in my whole life!” Ingrid replied. “I thank God every day of my life for the happiness I have with Hugh. At the same time my lovely little cousin, this is not the life for you at your age.”

  Loretta looked puzzled and Ingrid explained,

  “You would be married to Fabian de Sauerdun, which of course is different. But he would be impossible as a husband, completely and absolutely impossible! So sooner or later, I would always be sure that you would have to do what I did, run away with someone who would understand you and would be as kind, gentle and marvellous as Hugh has been to me.”

  Loretta gave a little sigh.

  “That is the sort of – love I – want.”

  “Of course you do. It is what we all want,” Ingrid agreed.

  “And you are convinced that I should not find it with the Marquis?”

  “I should say it was impossible for any woman to be happy with him for long,” Ingrid answered.

  “But why?”

  “It is difficult to put into words, but you would understand if you saw him.”

  “That is exactly what I have come here to do!”

  Ingrid looked at Loretta in surprise and she explained,

  “I want you to arrange for me to meet the Ma
rquis without his knowing who I am. I want to see him simply as a man, not as a husband already arranged for me. I want to be able to explain to Papa exactly why I will not marry him, however much he may rage at me and even punish me for refusing to do so!”

  “Now I understand why you have come,” Ingrid said, “but it will be difficult, very difficult, for you to meet the Marquis and have him pay any attention to you, so that you can get to know exactly what he is like.”

  “I don’t understand,” Loretta sighed.

  Ingrid smiled and it made her look very lovely.

  “Fabian de Sauerdun is the most sought after, the most toasted and acclaimed man in the whole of Paris!

  Every woman runs after him! They fall into his arms before he even has time to ask their names!”

  Loretta looked astonished and Ingrid went on,

  “When he leaves them, as is inevitable because he is quickly bored, he breaks their hearts and they threaten suicide. It has become an accepted joke in Paris that he is a modern ‘Casanova,’ a breaker of hearts who is never faithful to any woman for more than a few months.”

  As Ingrid finished speaking, she gave what was almost a little sob as she added,

  “Poor little Loretta! How can you possibly cope with a man like that?”

  “Of course I couldn’t,” Loretta replied, “and that is exactly what I have come to find out. Unfortunately the person I have to convince is Papa and I doubt if he will listen to me.”

  She thought as she spoke that her only alternative was to run away with Christopher.

  But she knew, although she had seen Ingrid and the Earl together for only a few minutes, that what they felt for each other was something she would never in a million years feel for Christopher Willoughby.

  “I don’t know what I can do about you,” Ingrid said in a low voice.

  “I have to see the Marquis for myself – that is essential!” Loretta said. “What I am asking you to do, Ingrid, is to dress me up, give me a new name and let me meet him as a friend of yours, but certainly not as the daughter of the Duke of Madrescourt.”

  Ingrid looked at her before she responded,

  “I suppose your father and Fabian’s are behind all this.”

  “Yes, of course,” Loretta agreed. “I am sure that the Marquis has no more wish to marry me than I have to marry him, but our respective fathers have concocted it between them on the racecourse. The only thing I don’t understand is why the Duc should be in such a hurry about it.”