Dancing on a Rainbow

by Barbara Cartland

  “I can answer that question,” Ingrid said. “The Duc is, I am sure, worried because Fabian has become involved with an extremely attractive and exotic type of woman whom it would be just possible for him to marry.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Loretta asked.

  “If she was a demi-mondaine, then there would be no question of marriage, but the woman in question, while by no means the equal of the Sauerduns by birth or blood, is what one can call a Lady. She was also married for a short time to a man who was undoubtedly a gentleman.”

  Ingrid gave a little laugh before she said,

  “I am putting it into English words, but in French it would sound very different.”

  “What is a ‘demi-mondaine’? ” Loretta asked, puzzled by the unfamiliar phrase.

  For a moment Ingrid stared at her, then she said after a pause,

  “It is a name for a woman of a different social standing.”

  “So that is the reason why the Duc is determined his son shall make a good marriage.”

  “Of course,” Ingrid said, “and who better than yourself?”

  Loretta rose to her feet.

  “I will not do it! I have to convince Papa that it’s impossible! But first I must convince myself. Please, Ingrid, let me meet him! Let me see exactly what he is like. Then perhaps I shall be eloquent enough on the subject to make Papa see that there are other men in the world besides the Duc de Sauerdun’s son.”

  Ingrid gave a deep sigh.

  “It is going to be difficult, very very difficult, Loretta! But to save you from making a mess of your life, as I originally made of mine, I will do anything, anything, dearest, that you ask of me!”

  Chapter Three

  “One thing you must realise,” Ingrid said, “is that Fabian will take no notice of you if he thinks you are a jeune fille.”

  Loretta looked surprised and her cousin explained,

  “It is the policy of all sophisticated men to ignore young girls, largely because they are afraid of being pressured into marriage if they so much as talk to one.”

  She laughed before she went on,

  “You can therefore imagine that the more sophisticated beauties, whichever side of the Channel they belong to, encourage this idea and I am sure that Fabian has never talked to a jeune fille unless she was a relation,”

  “Then, if I am to talk to him as I want to, what am I to do?” Loretta asked a little helplessly.

  She was lying back against the pillows of an exceedingly comfortable bed, which was draped with curtains and the room in which she was sleeping was very palatial with fine Louis XIV furniture, which she much appreciated.

  Marie, who chattered away like a parakeet because she was so thrilled to be back in her beloved France had brought in her breakfast at her usual time of eight o’clock, but with instructions that she was to stay in bed until the Countess came to see her.

  “Very nice house, my Lady,” Marie said appreciatively, “everyone very happy, c’est toujours la même chose en France! ”

  She spoke almost defiantly and Loretta had to prevent herself from laughing, knowing that Marie would point out in no uncertain terms how difficult the English were compared to her own countrymen.

  When she had drunk the fragrant coffee that seemed much more delicious than that provided at home and eaten the croissants , hot from the oven and so light she thought they might float away, Ingrid came into her bedroom.

  She was wearing a negligee and was, Loretta thought, so lovely and attractive that she could easily understand why the Earl looked at her with such adoration in his eyes.

  “Did you sleep well, dearest,” Ingrid asked, as she sat down on the side of the bed.

  “Like a top!” Loretta answered. “I was not only tired, I was so thankful and relieved to have reached you, no longer to be as worried as I have been every night since Papa told me whom I was to marry.”

  “I am afraid there is still a great deal to worry about,” Ingrid said, “and I have been awake in the night because, my dearest little cousin, you have brought me one of the most difficult problems I have ever faced in my whole life.”

  She paused and then with an impish smile she added,

  “Except, of course, when I was trying to make up my mind whether or not to run away with Hugh!”

  “Was that very difficult?”

  “It was difficult because I loved him so much that I did not want to hurt him and I am still always afraid that he will regret having to abandon his ancestral home with its great estate and so many of his friends.”

  “I thought the moment I saw him how happy he looked,” Loretta remarked.

  Ingrid clasped her hands together.

  “That is what I try to make him and I pray that one day, if God is merciful, we will be able to be married and have the children both of us want so desperately.”

  Loretta knew that what Ingrid was saying was that, if the Earl’s wife died, then all would be plain sailing as far as they were concerned.

  At the same time she could not help asking,

  “When you are married, will you be able to come back to England?”

  “I often ask myself that question,” Ingrid replied in a low voice, “and I think the answer is a rather uncomfortable one, because although I will marry Hugh the moment his wife dies, I think it would still be difficult for us to return to England for perhaps many years.”

  There was a painful note in her voice that Loretta did not miss.

  She understood that as long as the Earl of Wick was alive, it would be embarrassing for him if his divorced wife was in the same country.

  Perhaps, too, it would make people more unkind to Ingrid than they would be otherwise.

  She knew it was unlikely that most of the Court family would ever forgive her. But, as her Nanny used to say, ‘time heals everything!’

  While the older generation might continue to disapprove and be determined to punish Ingrid for her sins, the younger members of the family would accept her as the Countess of Galston if only because her husband was both rich and important.

  Impulsively Loretta bent forward and put her hands over Ingrid’s as she said,

  “I shall pray very very hard, Ingrid dearest, that one day you will be as happy as you deserve to be.”

  “I am happy now!” Ingrid said defiantly. “Equally, I don’t want you to make a mistake. The greatest one I ever made was to be married when I was seventeen to a man who was thirty years older than I was.”

  “I cannot accuse Papa of making me do that,” Loretta smiled.

  “That is true, but your position would be very much the same as mine. Most Frenchmen, and Fabian would be no exception, leave their wives in the country producing babies while they enjoy themselves in Paris with the glamorous women who have earned for the Capital of France the envy or the disapproval, whichever way you look at it, of all Europe.”

  Loretta laughed.

  “I know what our relations think of Paris, especially as you are living here.”

  “You need not tell me,” Ingrid said. “I can guess exactly what they say! But where Fabian is concerned, it’s not only the attractions of Paris that will worry me, it’s that you, my dearest, will break your heart over him as so many other women have done.”

  “I understand exactly what you have been saying to me,” Loretta answered. “That is why I am determined that, if as you say he is a modern Casanova, Papa shall not make me marry him. It would be bound to make me desperately unhappy until I found somebody like your charming Hugh.”

  Ingrid gave a little cry of horror.

  “How can you possibly envisage doing that before you are even married?” she asked. “I have been lucky, very lucky, because Hugh is different from most Englishmen. Because miraculously he loves me with his whole heart and soul and he really does not hanker after everything that was familiar and important to him before he met me.”

  Her voice softened as she went on,

  “I know only too well that
any other English gentleman would be longing to shoot in the autumn, to hunt in the winter and would perhaps miss more than anything else his Clubs at which he could always find men with whom he had been at school or university.”

  She paused for a moment before she added,

  “If Hugh has ever been homesick for any of those things, he has never let me be aware of it. But you can understand that I am always on edge, always waiting for the moment when he first regrets that he has done anything so socially outrageous as to run away with – another man’s wife.”

  Because the way in which Ingrid was speaking was so moving, Loretta could only put out her arms and kiss her before she said,

  “I love you for being so frank with me and I understand what you are saying. So, unless I am to find myself in the position you were in, you have to help me.”

  Ingrid put her hands up to her forehead,

  “I have been thinking and thinking how to do that, and although it seems outrageous, Hugh and I have decided that the best thing we can do is to let you meet Fabian in a somewhat reprehensible manner.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Loretta asked a little nervously.

  “He is, in fact, coming here today for luncheon!”

  “Today?” Loretta cried.

  “Yes,” Ingrid said. “Hugh wanted to put him off, but I thought that there was no point in trying to hide you away while we talked about it. Gossip flies on the wind in Paris and unless we are careful, everybody will know we have a young and very beautiful girl staying here.”

  “Then what can I do?” Loretta asked anxiously.

  As she spoke, she had visions of Ingrid sending her away to a hotel or somewhere else where she would be alone and the idea was frightening.

  “What we have to do,” Ingrid said slowly, “is to transform you from a jeune fille into a woman of about the same age as myself and who is married.”

  Loretta looked at her wide eyed as she added,

  “You look very young, but if you are dressed in a more sophisticated manner and if your face is slightly made up, as is acceptable in Paris, I doubt if Fabian will suspect that you are not what we tell him you are.”

  Ingrid gave a little laugh as she said,

  “One thing is absolutely certain – he will not expect to find a pure and innocent English debutante staying in the same house as the notorious Countess of Wick!”

  “If I am supposed to be married,” Loretta said, “what shall I say about my husband?”

  “As little as possible!” Ingrid replied. “Obviously being an Englishman, he is inattentive and stupid, preferring sport to being with his wife. Otherwise, of course, he would not have allowed you to come to Paris. In fact, we might insinuate, although not too obviously, that your husband has other interests besides yourself.”

  “What do you mean – other interests?” Loretta enquired.

  Ingrid realised that in her innocence she had no idea what this implied and she therefore said quickly,

  “Sport being one, horses another and he could be somewhat – enamoured of an attractive actress – ”

  “Oh – I see what you mean!” Loretta said, flushing slightly. “Yes, of course, that is an excellent idea and it explains why I am on my own.”

  “Exactly! And now, dearest, you must get up and we will start the transformation for the part you have to play.”

  She stood up as she spoke and Loretta jumped out of bed and walked across the room to look out of the window.

  “I am so excited at being in Paris,” she said, “and Marquis or no Marquis , I must see a little of what I know is the most thrilling Capital in the whole world.”

  “It is very beautiful at this time of the year, when the chestnut trees are in bloom,” Ingrid replied, “and of course you must see Paris, dearest. I want you to remember your first visit as enjoyable, in spite of your worries over the naughty Marquis .”

  Then, as if she thought that they had talked enough, Ingrid became extremely efficient and directed Loretta as if she thought that she was on the stage.

  ‘This is appropriate,’ she told herself, ‘because, after all, if I am to be convincing, I have to be a good actress.’

  While Loretta bathed, Ingrid went back to her own room and dressed.

  When she came back, she brought her lady’s maid, who carried a pile of gowns over her arm.

  “To begin with,” she said, “because we have no time to shop, I am going to lend you my clothes. But if you are to see Fabian again, you must buy some new and exciting models, which, as Paris is always so advanced in fashion, you can wear when you return home, if not this year, then definitely next.”

  It flashed through Loretta’s mind that what she was buying might have to be, in fact, part of her trousseau.

  Then she thrust the thought away and concentrated on doing exactly what her cousin told her.

  First, Ingrid insisted on her wearing a small black lace corset of a kind she had never seen before.

  “Your figure is perfect,” she said, “but we have to make it fashionable with the smallest possible waist and that means, whether you like it or not, tight lacing!”

  Actually, Loretta found it not uncomfortable, but merely a little restricting and the tightness of her corset made her feel that she must hold herself very upright.

  Then Ingrid made her try on gown after gown until she found one that she thought more suitable than any of the others.

  It was the blue of Loretta’s eyes and not only was it sensational, as only the French could design a gown without making it too flamboyant, but it had little touches of darker blue on it which gave it a chic and made it different from anything Loretta had ever worn before.

  It certainly made her appear very much more sophisticated than her own gowns did.

  When they had decided what she should wear, Ingrid’s lady’s maid started to arrange her hair in a typically French style.

  She piled it high on the top of her head and so skilfully that Marie, who was watching, kept exclaiming,

  “C’est marveilleux! My Lady look very different from les jeunes filles Anglaises.”

  Loretta knew that Marie was referring to the pictures she had seen in The Ladies’ Journal she bought so that she could try to copy the gowns they illustrated.

  She knew that Marie was right.

  Both her hair and her gown were now essentially French and they made her not only look different but also feel different.

  Ingrid had still not finished.

  She herself applied a small amount of powder to Loretta’s flawless skin, a touch of mascara on her eyelashes and a faint darkness on the lids which seemed to double the size they were ordinarily.

  There was also what Marie called just a soupçon of rouge on her cheeks and, when Ingrid had finished using a salve on her lips, Loretta knew that her father would have sent her upstairs immediately to wash her face.

  However, Ingrid had been very clever and it would have been difficult for anyone who did not know Loretta to realise how different she looked when she was herself.

  She finally rose from the dressing table to look in a full-length mirror and she thought that even Christopher would barely recognise her.

  At the same time he would immediately want to change her back into her real self.

  “Now, Loretta, I want to talk to you alone,” Ingrid suggested.

  They left the two maids exclaiming at how beautiful she looked and went into Ingrid’s boudoir , which opened out of her bedroom.

  It was a delightfully sunny room, exquisitely furnished, and it struck Loretta that everything in it seemed somehow the right background for love.

  As she sat down in an armchair covered with petit point , she knew without being told that Ingrid had created for the Earl an atmosphere of love from which it was impossible for him to escape.

  ‘They are so happy!’ Loretta told herself enviously. ‘How could I be married without love, knowing that my future life would be lonely, desolate and eventually disastrou
s?’

  She therefore forced herself to concentrate very carefully on what Ingrid was saying to her.

  “Now dearest, let’s go over it, step by step. You are an English woman married to a dull and very selfish husband. Because you are unhappy, although you are too proud to admit it, you have come to Paris knowing that I am the only one of your friends who would understand how much you are suffering.”

  Ingrid paused and then with a twinkle in her eyes she asked,

  “Does that sound logical to you?”

  “I think it would make anyone, unless they had a heart of stone, weep over my plight!” Loretta laughed.

  “Good!” Ingrid said. “Now we go on from there and this is important.”

  Loretta was listening intently as Ingrid continued,

  “Because of what you have suffered, you have a dislike of all men. You are suspicious of anything they say to you and have no intention of becoming involved in any way with any men who try to flirt with you.”

  She thought Loretta looked puzzled and she explained,

  “You do see, dearest, unless you are to appear fast and frivolous, you have to make it very clear that you don’t want an affaire de coeur , unlike the majority of women who come to Paris for just that sort of amusement.”

  “No, of course not!”

  “That is why you hold yourself proudly and make yourself out to be a cold woman, disillusioned by life and with no intention of having your affections engaged by a man who, like your husband, will become quickly bored with you.”

  Loretta laughed.

  “I understand exactly what you are saying. You think that the Marquis may attempt to flirt with me and I must make it very clear that he does not interest me.”

  “That is very important,” Ingrid insisted. “I want you to see him, I want you to talk to him, but on no account must you become embroiled with him in any way. I am sure that, although he will obviously think you beautiful, he will find that any woman who is not interested in him personally is not worth his attention.”