“That is all very well, Lily,” Freddie said. “But if you think that I can stand seeing you while unable to touch you, you are very much mistaken! If I don’t have you to myself I shall go mad!”
There was a note of passion in his voice that seemed to vibrate on the air.
There was a pause and then he added,
“Let me come to your room tonight. No one will know.”
“You are crazy!” the Marchioness retorted quickly. “It would spoil everything! I am quite certain that hobgoblin Boris sleeps with one eye open and, if he found out and told Vladimer, our plans would collapse with a bang, my dear Freddie! You know that is the truth!”
“I have a feeling that the Princess is the danger,” Freddie said tentatively. “She is like a witch! She puts a spell on any woman her son fancies. So you had better be careful.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Look what happened to the girl he was engaged to.”
“What did happen to her?” the Marchioness enquired curiously.
“She was found drowned. Not here, but in another villa they owned nearer to Monte Carlo.”
“I don’t suppose that Vladimer really cared,” the Marchioness said. “It was sure to have been an arranged marriage.”
“I expect it was,” Freddie said. “At the same time there was also a nasty accident to that dancer he was keeping. What was her name? Olga something.”
“Olga Konveroski,” the Marchioness said.
“Yes, that is right. I remember seeing her dance once. She really seemed to float across the stage.”
“What happened to her? ”
“She had an accident. She fell out of a window in St. Petersburg and broke her neck. The papers were full of it because she had just been such a success in Paris. You must have read the reports.”
“I don’t think they interested me,” the Marchioness replied. “I did not know Vladimer in those days.”
“Well, it’s all in the past,” Freddie said. “I don’t mind saying I would have wagered my last sixpence that he would have proposed to you by now.”
“I would have thought so too,” the Marchioness agreed. “Oh, Freddie, if we don’t bring this off, what shall we do?”
“Quite frankly I don’t know!” Freddie replied. “Things are getting pretty awkward. If I go back to England, the bailiffs will be waiting for me.”
“That reminds me,” the Marchioness exclaimed. “I have something for you. Vladimer gave me a thousand francs to gamble with last night. I told him I had lost it, but I have eight hundred for you. Take it out of my bag.”
“Thank you, darling. It’s jolly welcome, I can tell you. I am not spending a penny more than I can help while I am in the company of a Prince, but sometimes it’s unavoidable. I have to pay for a drink sometimes or tip a servant in the Casino.”
“Yes, of course you do! I know how difficult it is for you, but everything will be so different if Vladimer will only ask me to marry him. You could have polo ponies, a decent flat, anything you wanted, if I only had his money.”
“Bless you!” there was a warmth in Freddie’s voice that died away as he continued,
“It said in the papers that he gave that ballet dancer emeralds the size of postage stamps! It seems to me he is doing you on the cheap!”
“That is because at the moment I am neither fish, fowl nor good red herring! He has not asked me to be his wife or his mistress. Most men, my dear Freddie, even if they are Russians, do not pay up until the goods are delivered!”
“I hate your talking like that, Lily,” Freddie said reprovingly. “I love you! You know damned well that I love you! I cannot bear to think of you belonging to another man.”
“We have no alternative, do we? How long is it now since we fell in love with each other?”
“Ever since I first saw you when you were married to that boring old fossil,” Freddie replied. “There should be a law against girls being married off to men old enough to be their grandfathers just because they are important!”
“He was a Marquis,” the Marchioness said, “and after all, if I had been able to have a child, things would have been very different.”
“I know! I know!” Freddie said irritably. “The estate was entailed, provision being made for any child of the marriage, but nothing for the widow. The whole thing was damned unfair!”
“I still have a thousand a year!”
Freddie laughed and it was not a pleasant sound.
“It just keeps you in hairpins, my sweet, and anyhow you have mortgaged that about five years ahead!”
“Yes, I know,” the Marchioness said helplessly, “but I do love you, Freddie! There has never been another man who makes me feel as you do! I suppose naturally I am a cold woman!”
“You are a one-man woman!” Freddie said sharply. “But when the one man has not a bean to bless himself with and his only qualification is an undistinguished Army career which he could not afford to continue, there is not much chance of our being happy together.”
“But we will be!” the Marchioness corrected softly. “Once I have a rich husband!”
“That is what I am counting on,” Freddie sighed.
There was a pause and then he added with a deep note in his voice,
“Let me come to you tonight, my darling.”
“We dare not! Vladimer is busy tomorrow with his yacht or something. We could take a drive into the woods at St. Hospice or up the hill.”
“What use would that be with a coachman driving us?” Freddie asked crossly, “and doubtless a footman on the box?”
“We could go for a walk by ourselves and they would not dare to follow.”
“Do you really mean that?”
“Of course I mean it! You know I want to be with you as much as you want to be with me – and Freddie – ”
“Yes, my precious?”
“If I think it is safe, I will come to your room tonight, but we shall have to be careful – very, very careful!”
“I shall be waiting for you. You know that. If only we could put ‘knock-out drops’ in Boris’s drink!”
The Marchioness laughed.
“You must go back now. We have been here too long. I am quite certain we are being watched. We can only be thankful that no one can overhear us here!”
“Yes, we must be thankful for small mercies!” Freddie said dryly. “Goodbye my darling and thank you for the francs!”
“I will get you some more tonight if it is possible, but you will not gamble, will you, Freddie?”
“I cannot afford that sort of extravagance,” he replied almost savagely.
Ancella heard his footsteps as he walked away, but she dared not move, knowing that the Marchioness was standing just above her, leaning against the balustrade.
She must have stayed there for nearly five minutes before there was the sound of footsteps approaching and then a very different voice, deep and attractive, and with a charm that was entirely lacking in Freddie’s, said,
“Why are you out here, Lily? I thought you would be lying down.”
“It is so beautiful!” the Marchioness replied softly. “I am having such a lovely time, Vladimer, and I am so grateful to you!”
“I want you to be happy.”
“Do you mean that?”
“Of course I mean it. Women who are as beautiful as you should never be anything else!”
“You say that too easily for it to be the personal compliment I hoped for!”
“You know you are beautiful! When you enter the Casino, everyone turns to look at you. I thought last night you looked like one of the Goddesses painted on the ceilings!”
“Dear Vladimer! You always make me feel as if I want to purr like a cat!” the Marchioness said. “May I return the compliment and say that you are by far the most handsome and attractive man I have ever met?”
“Do you mean that?”
“You know I mean it!”
“Lily – ”
Ther
e was something urgent in the way the Prince spoke her name.
“Pardon, Your Highness!”
It was a guttural voice that interrupted them.
“What is it, Boris?” the Prince asked in a slightly irritated manner.
“Her Highness asked me to tell you that she is awake and would like to speak to Your Highness before she starts to change for dinner.”
“Tell Her Highness that I will be with her immediately!” the Prince replied.
The servant must have bowed in acknowledgement for Ancella heard him moving away.
“I must go to Mama.”
“Must you leave me? Our conversation was just beginning to be interesting!” the Marchioness said softly.
“We will continue it later,” the Prince promised. “Will you stay here or will you walk back with me? I have a feeling that you should be resting, so that you will dazzle them tonight even more effectively than you have done on previous evenings!”
“The majority of the men in the Casino would not raise their eyes from the tables to look at Venus de Milo!” the Marchioness laughed.
“They will look at you, just as I shall do,” the Prince replied.
They must have walked away because Ancella heard their voices very faintly in the distance and then there was silence.
She realised that she had been very tense as she stood listening, concealed beneath the balustrade.
Now she relaxed and moved tentatively over the slippery rocks towards the ladder.
She was intrigued and indeed fascinated by all she had heard.
Who could believe, she thought, that the Marchioness of Chiswick would behave in such a manner?
There was something positively unpleasant in the way she was trying to capture the Prince while at the same time being in love with Captain Sudley.
Ancella told herself it was ridiculous to be shocked. This after all was how she had always expected the fashionable world to behave.
There had been enough gossip and talk about the ‘Marlborough House Set’ and their love affairs.
Even living quietly with her father she had known that the Prince of Wales had been enamoured first with the exquisite Mrs. Langtry, then with Lady Brooke and now with Mrs. Keppel.
There had been beautiful women who were talked about by others who were either envious, curious or shocked.
Sometimes the newspapers even hinted about liaisons that were well known to all Londoners and which percolated slowly back to the country to be related to the Earl by his visitors when they wished to keep him amused.
Ancella had listened, but the scandals had not seemed to her to be particularly interesting because she did not know the people concerned.
Also the Social world had seemed very far away and utterly remote from her or her life.
But now, within a few hours of arriving in the South of France, she had stumbled inadvertently upon a social intrigue that not only surprised but also disgusted her.
‘How could a lady behave in such a manner?’ she asked herself.
She was also outraged at the idea of a man, who should be a gentleman, accepting money from a woman which she had obtained from another man.
Ancella climbed up the ladder and peeped over the balustrade to see if there was anyone in the garden. Then quickly, hoping she would not be seen from the villa, she climbed back onto the terrace.
Carrying the piece of red seaweed and her brooch she hurried back under the shade of the trees.
The water from the fountain was iridescent in the crimson and orange rays of the sun and she hoped that this would distract anyone from noticing her movements before she reached the villa.
She had no intention of entering it by climbing the white marble stairs. Instead she walked up a path at the side of the building and found, as she had expected, a door that was open.
Inside Ancella moved along various passages until she found a staircase and climbed it to find herself in the corridor where her bedroom was situated.
She went inside, closed the door and locked it. She wanted to think over what had happened and she wanted to feel that for the moment she personally was safe from the intrigues that were taking place around her.
She walked to the dressing table and opened the drawer where she had put the leather box in which she kept her brooch.
As she did so, she had a strong impression that someone had been in her room.
It was difficult to be certain and yet she had the feeling that someone had examined her personal belongings and replaced them not quite in the same way as she had left them!
Who could it be?
And why?
Chapter Three
As Ancella dressed for dinner she thought how incredible it was that she should be going to a big social dinner party and then on to the Casino in Monte Carlo.
She thought, when her father died, that her life, which had always been quiet and uneventful, would continue even more so.
The only prospect in front of her, until Sir Felix had come forward with his suggestion, was that she should live with one of her disagreeable and strait-laced aunts who thought any pleasure must be wrong simply because one enjoyed it.
She had never in her wildest dreams thought that she might travel to the South of France and that she would only have to look out of her window to see the exquisite and breathtaking beauty of it all.
‘That in itself should be enough for anyone,’ she thought.
But on top of it to know that she was about to visit the most sensational and controversial building in Europe and to see, and perhaps meet, some of the distinguished and notorious personalities of the time was incredible.
She had learnt from the Princess that, while there were a number of guests staying in the villa, almost every evening friends joined them for dinner from the hotels or from the villas nearby.
“But we shall be a small party tonight,” the Princess said, “because my son has told me that he has been invited to dine with the Grand Duke Mikhail of Russia to meet the Prince of Denmark. It is an invitation he cannot refuse and therefore I must look after his guests and we shall meet later in the Casino.”
“Does everybody go to the Casino in the evening?” Ancella asked.
“Everything that is amusing takes place in Monte Carlo,” the Princess answered, “and one night, if I spare the time from the tables, we will attend the theatre.”
“There is a theatre in the Casino? “ Ancella exclaimed in astonishment.
The Princess smiled.
“It was built by Charles Gamier who designed the Paris Opera House,” she replied. “There are just as many golden giants, golden naked boys and nubile slaves holding golden candelabra as there are in Paris!”
The Princess chuckled and added,
“They always tell the story of how François Blanc’s wife, when she saw it, said acidly,
“‘All this vulgar display of gilt will only serve to remind the customers how much gold they have lost at the tables!’”
“I would love to go to the theatre!” Ancella said.
“We shall have to see who is appearing,” the Princess replied. “Last year I watched Faust and saw Sarah Bernhardt in some play – I forget the name.”
She chuckled.
“The divine Sarah was very unfortunate at the tables.”
“Was she wonderful on the stage?” Ancella asked.
“Some people thought so.”
She changed the subject and Ancella thought that having so generously made the suggestion of taking her to the theatre she was now regretting it.
Ancella was to learn at dinner that the theatre was not the only surprise she was to have in Monte Carlo.
Before she reached the dinner table, she had been very worried as to what she should wear.
She had, on Sir Felix’s advice, bought white or lilac dresses for the daytime and two white gowns for the evening.
They had not been expensive, but they were very attractive although rather plain compared with the
elaborate beruched and befrilled confections of tulle and lace, satin and mousseline that were fashionable.
Ancella thought that her one black evening gown would seem too sombre, but, when she had put on one of her white gowns, she thought that perhaps she looked too much like a debutante.
She had a sudden fear lest the Prince should think that she was too young and inexperienced to look after his mother.
‘Supposing,’ she said to herself, ‘he insists on sending me away and asks the doctor to provide someone older?’
She looked at herself in the mirror and wondered what she could do to make herself look more responsible. Then she thought with a smile that no one would in fact notice her.
After all, downstairs, one of the most beautiful women in England would be in the party and who would notice or even wish to speak to Miss Winton, who was merely a companion-nurse to Her Highness?
However, she could not help seeing that her grey eyes looked very large in her small face and her fair hair, ‘paler than the dawn’, picked up the lights coming through the window of the last dying rays of the sinking sun.
The gown revealed Ancella’s tiny waist, there was soft chiffon draped around her white shoulders and her neck was long and held her head proudly.
Because she wanted to relieve the white of the gown, she took two pale pink rosebuds from the flowers that were arranged on a table in her bedroom.
She pinned them in the bow on her breast and thought that perhaps it made her look a little less ingénue and more sophisticated.
Once again she told herself that the important thing was that she should be as unobtrusive as possible and went from her bedroom to find the Princess.
She was to learn as the evening progressed that the Princess could walk if she wanted to.
She was not so infirm that she could not walk about her rooms and, although she was carried down the stairs in a chair by two footmen, she walked into the salon and from there into the dining room.
There were a number of people already assembled in the salon and even if she had not recognised the slightly drawling voice of the Marchioness of Chiswick, Ancella thought that she would have known who she was because she was so beautiful.
Never had she imagined that a woman could look more the living embodiment of a Roman Juno.
105. an Angel In Hell Page 5
