“I hope you will accompany us sometimes,” Helen said.
“I’m not out yet,” Phyllis demurred with a shy look.
“No; and I don’t suppose your mama will permit you to attend any balls, but I’m sure you will be able to come on some outings to see historic sites and suchlike.”
“Oh, I would like that; could we have a picnic, do you think?”
Endymion overhearing this exchange as he gravitated towards Helen again, said, “I shouldn’t think there would be any picnics in winter. Why, it will soon be all over snow.”
“For a little while, I suppose,” Helen conceded, seeing Phyllis’s face fall and wanting to rescue her pride. “But I understand there are some sort of lodges up in the mountains where one can have a walk and then take some refreshment. It will be quite like a picnic. We could take something with us.”
“Oh, yes. Will you come too, Dym?”
“I rather think I will be working,” he said.
The next day’s drive was far more relaxed in the Earl’s carriage because Helen and Phyllis seemed to have formed a strong friendship. Cecilia, watching it, was touched and began to revise her first opinion of Helen as inclined to acidity. Indeed, seeing how she mellowed and warmed beneath Phyllis’s admiration, she suspected that Helen had not enjoyed a particularly agreeable childhood. She had believed herself unlovable and subsequently done her best to realise that belief; now, basking in Phyllis’s hero-worship, she began to expand.
The Earl looked on so benignly that Cecilia began to wonder if, seeing his cousin so softened, he was beginning to think that she would not make such a bad wife after all.
That evening, their first in Switzerland, she raised the matter with his lordship when he commented on the growing closeness between the two.
“I don’t think Phyllis has ever met with such a kind, understanding person as your cousin, my lord.”
“Nor my cousin with anyone who admires her so much,” he replied, smiling.
“Are you beginning to see a side of her which has previously been concealed?”
“I own I am. I had not realised she could be so amiable nor that she would find it possible to put another before herself.”
“I wonder if it is something about Phyllis which prompts such feelings,” she said thoughtfully.
“It is quite likely, I should imagine. Your sister is so guileless that one finds one’s cynicism melting.”
“Is that what you feel? Sadly, I do not think it is the way most men react to her.”
“I think you do my sex an injustice,” he said quietly. “I do not doubt that you have met many who would take wicked advantage of her simplicity, but I cannot believe that it is the majority.”
“Do you truly think that?” she asked, surprised.
“Yes.”
“Perhaps we have triggered that reaction by being so nervously on the watch for such conduct,” she said, frowning.
“No, I think you have seen it and reacted accordingly. I only say that I do not believe that all men, even perhaps the majority, would wish to grasp and ultimately crush such a fragile little flower. I promise she is safe with me.”
“I know.”
“I think even your mama is becoming more convinced of my good intentions.”
“Mama? I should not criticise her, but she was all for throwing the little flower under your feet, my lord. My mother comes from a background of struggle and suffering which have, I believe, had an effect upon her attitudes. I have been fortunate to have had a safe and comfortable childhood, which has given me a sort of instinctive trust in my fellow humans.”
“Mmn – but not, I think, male humans altogether. I assume you have had your fair share of disagreeable ones trying to grasp you but, armed as you are with a steady character and strong intellect, you have been able to resist. I think you fear that Phyllis is not so well prepared.”
“She is not – and our poverty makes matters worse.”
“It will not now – or not while you are under my protection. Oh!” he exclaimed, seeing her reaction. “I do not mean what is generally inferred by that, I promise. Pray do not look so vexed!”
“I am sorry. I have borne most of the burden of looking after my family for some years now and find, to my horror and shame, that, although I have longed for someone to take some of the responsibility off my shoulders, now that you have I feel uncomfortable, bereft even. It is absurd – but I daresay I will become accustomed.”
“Yes, but that is not the truth of it, is it? The truth is that you are mortally afraid that you have given yourself – and your family – into my keeping and are not by any means certain that I will not turn out to be a hard task-master who will take his piece of flesh when – and how – he pleases.”
“Yes; forgive me, my lord, for doubting you.”
“You would have to be a good deal more naïve than you are not to doubt me. All I ask is that you pretend to trust me and – eventually – I hope I will earn your confidence.”
The occupants of the other carriage proceeded as before, in silence for the most part, although Mrs Moss, feeling restored after a proper night’s sleep and a moderate amount of wine at dinner, began to talk to her son. The presence of the servants prevented her from becoming too loquacious or embarking upon her usual speculation about the future and the best way to ensure their fortunes.
Endymion made a few attempts to engage Miss Godmanton in harmless conversation about the scenery and what she hoped to find in Switzerland only to be cut off with a curt, “I do not intend to remain there. I have asked Waldron to send me home.”
“Are you certain that is what you wish?”
“Yes,” she replied and turned her face resolutely to the window.
By the time the carriages began to descend from the mountains and make their way towards the Earl’s house, Endymion was heartily sick of Miss Godmanton and her resentment, which hung about the carriage like a heavy fog. He wondered how Helen had endured the time she had spent with her before they met with Lord Waldron for, although the pair had not then quarrelled, he did not suppose that the chaperone had ever been precisely forthcoming or shown either affection or approval towards her charge.
Helen, when he saw her in the evenings, seemed much happier than when he had first met her. It was clear that she had conceived a very real affection for his younger sister and enjoyed being the older, better-informed person. Phyllis, finding herself for the first time in her life in the company of a person who was unrelated to her, had no knowledge of what she had been before the accident and felt neither pity nor excessive concern for her, seemed to have grown up enormously during the course of the journey. She had acquired a friend.
He could see that his elder sister and the Earl had also grown closer although what he had at first supposed to be clear indications that Lord Waldron was falling in love with her, seemed to have dissipated into friendship and respect – unless, of course, his lordship was playing a long game. Cecilia herself was becoming a little more relaxed, a little less afraid of both herself and the Earl and was beginning to treat him almost like another brother. Endymion, no longer required to support or protect either of his sisters, felt the gulf between them had widened. He began to think that the time had come for him to make a bid for independence.
They arrived at the Earl’s house late in the afternoon and were conducted into a comfortable saloon through whose windows Lake Geneva could be seen, its ripples soft as a silk scarf. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across its gleaming surface.
Cecilia, mesmerised, gazed out into the distance. It was a large stretch or water and, although she could see mountains and trees on the other – French – side, it gave a general impression almost of infinity.
“Do you like it?” the Earl asked, appearing at her side.
“Oh yes, although I don’t think ‘like’ does it justice precisely, does it? What an extraordinary sense of peace one feels standing here.”
“Indeed. When I first arrived, I rented
a house in the centre of Geneva but, after driving out this way one day, I decided to move. Vienna is the more handsome city and in many ways the centre of the world but this – it is close to paradise, I think. Every day – or almost every day for sometimes there is a wind and sometimes there is rain – is both enchantingly the same and entirely different. The trees change colour so gradually that it is almost imperceptible and yet, every week one cannot help but notice that they are altered.”
Chapter 32
The Mosses settled into his lordship’s house with no difficulty. There were plenty of rooms so that everyone was comfortably accommodated.
The only remaining fly in the ointment was Miss Godmanton, who, upon arrival, took to her chamber and refused to join everyone else for dinner not only that first night but every subsequent night as well. She insisted upon being served every meal on a tray in her room and, it was reported to the Earl by his housekeeper, sent most of it back untouched.
This went on for a few days before Helen, convinced that it was her fault that her erstwhile chaperone had withdrawn so absolutely, went to speak to her.
“Dear Miss Godmanton,” she began. “I hope you are not still too disgusted with me to be able to sit in the same room.”
“Pray do not speak in such an exaggerated and untruthful style, Helen,” the chaperone said icily. “I know that I am not dear to you; I would prefer it if you did not address me thus.”
Helen, rendered speechless by this accusation, which she knew to be perfectly just but, until that moment, had considered unsayable on grounds of civility, replied, “I have apologised for what I said that night and can do no more. I wish you would come down for dinner this evening. Poor Horatio does not know what to do for the best.”
“If he does not, he is more stupid than I had supposed,” Miss Godmanton snapped. “I wish to go home – back to England – as I told him some days ago. I am waiting until he has arranged it.”
“Do you truly wish to leave this beautiful place without seeing any of it?”
“It is not beautiful to me.”
“Is it not? I can see that you are sorely troubled, but it’s my belief that, if you would join us later for a walk along the lakeside, you would be soothed by the tranquillity and decide to remain, at least for a short time.”
“I do not wish to walk in the company of that vulgar family,” Miss Godmanton said. “I can see that both you and your cousin have fallen under what I can only describe as their evil spell and cannot state strongly enough that I have no wish to succumb to it myself.”
“I thought you had formed some degree of attachment to Mr Moss at least,” Helen suggested tentatively. “He has been enquiring after you ever since we got here but has not liked to force himself into your presence in case it might upset you.”
“Huh!” Miss Godmanton exclaimed, becoming alarmingly red in the face. “Boot’s on the other leg, isn’t it, Miss? It is you who has quite shamelessly thrown yourself at him and now, so besotted have you become, you have convinced yourself I must feel the same way. I do not – and I have no wish to see that young man’s face again!”
“Very well. Would you like me to ask Horatio to arrange for you to return to England?”
“I have already told him that is my wish, but he is too much occupied following that Moss hussy around to spare a moment’s thought for me.”
“It was my understanding that he hoped that you would change your mind after you had been here a few days and decide to stay for a little. I will tell him you are still of the same mind as when you spoke to him earlier.”
“Please do.”
Thus it was that, a couple of days later, Miss Godmanton and her effects were packed into one of the Earl’s carriages – the smaller one – along with a disappointed Hannah, and despatched on the long journey back to England.
At the moment of departure, the Moss family tactfully absented themselves so that it was only Helen and Waldron who waved her off.
“I am afraid her coming to Europe with me was a terrible mistake,” Helen said sadly as they turned back to the house.
“Yes, it was, but it was my aunt’s fault for sending her. She is too old and too set in her ways to take kindly to new things – or new people. I have given her a full purse and promised to arrange for money to be transferred to her every month by way of a pension so that she can be more comfortable henceforth. I will write to my aunt to inform her of the arrangements and also to apprise her of the name of your new chaperone, who, I shall say, is someone for whom I can myself vouch.”
“Really?” Helen asked, raising her eyebrows.
“Definitely.”
“As a chaperone?”
“Certainly.”
After Miss Godmanton’s departure there was a general feeling that the weather had improved although in fact autumn was rapidly advancing and there was often a chill wind coming off the lake.
Mrs Moss was provided with the names of several fashionable ladies who might want some sewing done and sent out in the carriage to visit them. Since none of these women expected a seamstress to be a lady, born and bred, there was no difficulty in their confiding their needs to her and she soon had a pile of dresses to alter.
That, as Cecilia pointed out, was probably only the beginning. Once they had seen her work, they would be bound to commission her to make them any number of gowns from scratch, particularly if she was careful to pitch her prices high enough for them to believe her first-rate.
Endymion was taken to the Embassy and succeeded in impressing the Ambassador with his charm and intelligence. Lord Waldron had described the young man fairly exactly, although he slid over his protégé’s lack of education largely by means of concentrating on his prowess with a number of European languages. Mr Moss was offered a position, junior it was true, but it was the first proper job – and one, moreover, which was usually undertaken by a highly educated gentleman – that Endymion had secured.
It was not long before the Earl suggested that he squire his cousin and her chaperone to an evening party to which he had been invited. He promised to obtain an invitation for Endymion as well.
The exciting prospect of this engagement not unnaturally caused the young ladies to examine their wardrobes. Cecilia thought she could wear the dress which Helen had given her, but Helen pointed out that, although that was an evening gown, it was not a ball gown.
“But we are not going to a ball, are we?”
This led to Helen having to ask her cousin to describe more exactly what sort of a party it was; he confirmed that, although it was not a formal ball, it was a reception of the kind where the ladies would indeed be wearing ball gowns and where there would be dancing.
The upshot was that his lordship was prevailed upon by his cousin to buy the right sort of gowns for both women as, there being only a few days before the event, there would be insufficient time for Mrs Moss to make them, particularly since she was already inundated with repairs – many of them lettings-out for, year by year, a great many ladies were unfortunately subject to a little expansion.
“But where should we go?” Helen asked.
His lordship, not previously having had much experience of ladies’ dressmakers, asked a friend of his, who immediately offered to take both young women under her wing and accompany them to a suitable establishment.
The lady, who was the wife of one of the Embassy staff, was English and delighted to meet Lord Waldron’s cousin, whom she pronounced ‘unusual’ and indeed ‘épatante’- borrowing this latter description from her host country.
Although decrying Geneva fashions as being excessively poor in comparison to what one could find in London or Paris, Lady Turnbull took her two protégées to a very expensive shop where she helped Helen choose a cream silk gown, embellished with tiny embroidered flowers on the little puff sleeves and around the lower of the double flounced hems. Although she favoured a deep pink for Cecilia, she was unable to persuade that young lady to appear in public in such a colour; no, Ce
cilia insisted, whatever she wore must be plain and preferably dark.
“Such a pity,” Lady Turnbull mourned, turning down the corners of her mouth, “when a strong pink so becomes you. Fair girls cannot wear that colour, you know, for it immediately robs them of every vestige of warmth in their cheeks, but you – so vivid and dazzling – would look marvellous. Must you, do you think, at your age really drown yourself in dark colours, which become Miss Lenham so well, but which will fail to draw you out, if I may put it so?”
“I believe I must, my lady,” Cecilia replied with a smile. “I do not wish, after all, to draw attention to myself.”
“My dear young woman,” her ladyship retorted, “you cannot fail to draw attention with looks like yours. Why, if you were to don a cap and apron and pretend to be a maid, I’ll wager every gentleman in the room would be ogling you.”
“Oh, then, I daresay they would!” Cecilia agreed, laughing.
In the end, she consented to wear a dress which the owner of the shop proclaimed to be grey but which, in fact, hovered somewhere surprisingly close to pink. Helen and Lady Turnbull insisted that such a colour was perfectly suited to a chaperone, especially one who was still so very young and beautiful.
“You will quite cast me into the shade,” Helen said without rancour.
“Nonsense! And, if anyone does notice me, I daresay it will be only to whisper how very bold I am to wear such a frivolous colour when I should by rights to be garbed in black from head to foot.”
On the evening of the party, Mrs Moss pronounced her daughter ‘dazzling’, Phyllis was open-mouthed with admiration at the sight of both the young ladies, and the two men were generous with their compliments.
“I think I look positively dull when I stand next to Cecilia,” Helen complained.
“I daresay you don’t like wearing white,” Endymion said. “But you are by no means dull. You’re like a fairy.”
“But nobody will want to talk to a fairy,” Helen said. “Cecilia is a beautiful woman.”
“Yes, she is,” her brother agreed cordially. “But you are quite something else, you know. I believe I shall call you the enchanted snow princess.”
Cecilia Or Flight From A Shadow Page 28
