She realised for the first time how sensational both of them could look in black and, when Yvette had hooked up Selene’s gown at the back, her waist was so tiny that Pandia was sure it could easily be spanned by a man’s two hands.
“You look wonderful!” she exclaimed.
“George does not like me in black,” Selene replied. “I think really he is jealous because I look too spectacular, but Ivor will adore it!”
Pandia felt a little embarrassed because she was speaking so intimately in front of her maid, but it was obviously an ordinary occurrence because Selene went on,
“Ivor adores me whatever I wear or do not wear. He says there is nobody in his eyes as beautiful as I am.”
“If Monsieur le Prince saw you both,” Yvette joined in, “he think he drink too much wine!”
“He is not going to see my sister,” Selene said firmly, “and do hurry, Yvette! I want to leave!”
There was a necklace of emeralds for Selene to wear round her throat and she also clasped an emerald bracelet round her wrist.
“I put earrings in handbag, madame, with ring,” Yvette said. “You put on when you arrive.”
“Yes, of course,” Selene agreed. “Did you order a carriage?”
“Oui, madame, I ordered closed brougham. Also say how kind of my Lady send poor friend home with trunks so not have to hire Hackney carriage.”
“You think of everything,” Selene approved. “Now give me the widow’s bonnet.”
She put it on her head very carefully so as not to crush her hair, then Yvette covered her shoulders with a long black chiffon scarf before she put Pandia’s heavy dark cloak over the top of it.
Selene made a face.
“What a shabby old cloak!” she exclaimed. “Have you nothing better than this to wear?”
“It is my best,” Pandia replied, “but I have had it for some time because I bought it when Mama died.”
“You had better find Mademoiselle one of those cloaks I told you to throw away,” Selene suggested. “They are certainly better than this!”
“I find, madame,” Yvette replied.
As she spoke, she put the emerald earrings into an elegant satin handbag and handed it to Selene saying as she did so,
“Hide, madame, but stupid footmen notice nothing!” “One never knows!” Selene answered. “And we must take no chances.”
“Non, non, madame.”
Selene kissed Pandia perfunctorily and added,
“Now don’t forget – you drive from here to the funeral. When it is over, they will expect you to go back to The Castle for something to eat, then you return quickly.”
“You – you did not say I had to – go to a castle!” Pandia exclaimed.
“Of course you will have to! You must realise that the relatives will be expected to meet and commiserate with each other!”
“But – I shall not – know them!”
“Neither do I!” Selene answered. “You don’t think I waste my time with a lot of old people who should have been in their graves long ago? The Duke was ninety!”
Pandia wanted to say that he was still a relative, but Selene went on,
“You don’t have to say much. Just smile, look gracious, and leave as soon as possible. Yvette will be waiting for you here and on Thursday it might be a good idea to say you are tired and stay in bed.
Pandia wanted to expostulate that that would be very dull when she had never been to London before, but she was aware that Selene would not listen to anything she had to say.
Her sister pulled the black veil over her face, then, as Yvette opened the door, she turned back to say audibly,
“Goodbye, my Lady, and I can never thank you enough for all your kindness. You have been so generous!”
Then she was gone and Yvette stood watching her until she reached the top of the stairs and came back into the bedroom and shut the door.
“Now, m’mselle,” she said cheerfully. “Je fais attention à vous.”
She stared at Pandia and exclaimed again,
“C’est extraordinaire! I never see twins look so alike! And never two so very very, beautiful!”
“You are very kind,” Pandia murmured, “but you do realise I am afraid of doing something wrong?”
“Not worry, m’mselle. Milord away and nobody in house – enjoy yourself!”
“I-I will try,” Pandia answered humbly.
Yvette helped her to undress. Then she found that Selene had her own private bathroom which was on the other side of her bedroom to the boudoir.
“A bathroom!” Pandia exclaimed. “That is something new! Mama always told me that ladies bathed in their bedrooms and the water was carried upstairs in brass cans.”
“Madame say idea come from America,” Yvette explained. “She see bath in house of Duke of Marlborough and persuade Milord she have same.”
Pandia smiled.
She could imagine how Selene would have disliked anybody having something better than she had and would be determined not to be outdone.
It was certainly a very pretty bathroom. The walls were decorated in pink and hung with mirrors in which she was sure her sister admired herself.
It was delightful to soak in the warm scented water and, when she had dried herself with a soft towel embroidered with the Earl’s monogram, Yvette brought her the most exquisite nightgown she had ever seen.
It was almost transparent and inset with lace.
When she climbed into the large comfortable bed and found there was lace on the sheets and round the pillowcases, Pandia felt as if she was a Princess in a Fairy tale.
The dinner that was sent up was so delicious that she found herself wishing she could have shared it with her father.
Being Hungarian he had appreciated good food and her mother and Nanny had struggled to produce all sorts of different dishes to please him.
They experimented not only with rabbit and chicken, which were cheaper than meat, but also vegetables which the farmers were usually only too pleased to give them from their surplus crops.
“Papa would have enjoyed this,” Pandia kept thinking as she ate a mousse which seemed to melt in the mouth, followed by pheasant cooked with wine which was a game bird she very rarely tasted.
There were several other unusual dishes before the meal was finished.
“I am sure if I ate like this every day,” she said to Yvette, “I should grow very fat!”
The maid laughed.
“You’re too thin, m’mselle, and Ladyship’s always afraid of adding even one centimètre round waist. Then she eat nothing and is très désagréable.”
The way Yvette spoke made Pandia laugh, but she thought that with all they could afford at home she was very unlikely to put on any weight.
After her dinner was finished, Yvette brought her all the newspapers and magazines that she had noticed were laid out on a stool in the boudoir.
She lay back against the pillows to look at the fashions in The Ladies Journal and the pictures of Society beauties.
Not one of them was as lovely as Selene, but she found a photograph of her on one page and thought that tomorrow she would ask Yvette if she could take it home with her.
‘Perhaps there have been references to Selene in the Court circulars I have missed,’ Pandia thought.
Then she remembered that if there had been she would not have recognised her sister’s name because she had not known that she was married.
It still hurt her to think how her twin could have cut her so completely out of her life that she had not even written to tell her about that.
Then, because she was very tired after all the emotional strain of her father’s funeral yesterday and from the conflicting feelings she had about Selene, she blew out the light and was ready to go to sleep.
Before she finally slipped away into a dream world of her own, she could not help thinking of the funeral tomorrow and being apprehensive about the part she must play.
Supposing somebody realised that she was not Sele
ne? Supposing she was exposed?
Knowing what trouble it would cause and how furious Selene would be with her, she sent up a little prayer to her mother.
‘Please, Mama, you know how to behave so much better than I do. Help me – help me to deceive everybody! Don’t let anybody be – suspicious.’
Then she found herself remembering Selene saying it was a challenge, which no Hungarian would refuse and she could almost see her father’s eyes twinkling.
“I only wish you were coming with me, Papa,” she said to him. “You snapped your fingers at all the pomposity of the English aristocrats and persuaded Mama to run away with you. If you can do that, why should I worry about a simple funeral?”
As she fell asleep, she felt she could hear her father laughing.
*
Yvette woke Pandia early because she said she had to work on her hair.
It was quite a job, because it was far longer and thicker than Selene’s, to arrange it in exactly the same way, but, when Yvette had finished, Pandia agreed that it made her look exactly like her sister.
“I not finished, m’mselle,” Yvette said. “When Milord absent, Madame use a little powder on her face and touch of dye on eyelashes.”
“Mama would have considered it very fast for a Society lady to make up her face in such a way,” Pandia said. “I know that actresses do so, but not ladies!”
“Many ladies do so in secrecy in bedroom,” Yvette said. “They cannot allow Gaiety Girls to be more attractive than they!”
Pandia laughed.
“I can understand that would be a disaster!”
She was speaking lightly and Yvette said,
“Men are men, m’mselle, and pretty face irresistible!” The way she spoke made Pandia wonder if Selene’s husband had ever looked at anybody but her.
Then she told herself that, as Selene was so lovely, it would be impossible for any Gaiety Girl to be her rival.
In a way, although it still shocked her, she could understand how the Prince and, from what Selene had said, a number of other gentlemen had been bowled over completely by her.
Yvette was just touching the tips of her eyelashes with a little brush and it certainly made her eyes look even more fantastic than they did normally.
Then there was a touch of red salve for her lips and a dusting of powder which made her skin look whiter than ever.
She stared at herself in the mirror, realising that she actually looked as sensational as Selene had done before she left last night.
Although Selene had said she should wear her clothes, Pandia had not expected to be dressed in them from top to toe.
Never had she worn anything so delectable as the silk chemise that was trimmed with real lace and the black silk stockings that made her legs look so elegant she could not believe that they were her own.
She put on a petticoat with row upon row of insertion that ended with a wide frill at the hem.
*
“Let me show you to your seat,” the usher suggested.
She entered the Church to find it nearly full and was aware as she walked up the aisle that everybody turned their heads to look at her.
She was not surprised after what Selene had said to find herself in the front pew and was aware that the pew on the other side of the aisle was being kept for the late Duke’s nearest relatives.
There was nobody else in her pew and, finding a card with the Earl’s name on it, she realised that she was sitting one place away from the aisle on her left.
On her right the name on the card was ‘The Marquis d’Orlestone’.
She knelt down to pray, making a very fervent prayer that she would not make any mistake and perhaps if Selene was pleased with her, she would wish sometimes, even if secretly, to see her again.
Then, as she sat back, she was aware that on her left nearest to the aisle there was now sitting an elderly man wearing the uniform of a Lord Lieutenant and on the other side a much younger man.
She turned her face to look at him and was aware that he was staring at her with an expression of undisguised admiration.
He was extremely good-looking in a somewhat unusual manner, tall and broad-shouldered, and Pandia thought that in some way she could not describe he looked somewhat like her father.
As they looked at each other, the man smiled and said,
“Shall we introduce ourselves? I see you are representing your husband. I am Silvester Stone, representing my father.”
He spoke in a very low voice that was almost a whisper and, because she felt that there was no need for her to say anything, Pandia merely smiled at him
“I hate funerals!” Lord Silvester Stone said, “as I am sure you do. I hope when I die, I am thrown into the sea or perhaps down a volcano! A far better way of disposing of a dead body!” The way he spoke made Pandia want to laugh, but because she was afraid somebody would notice and think it very out of place, she said,
“Please – don’t make me laugh. I am sure everybody would be very – shocked!”
“They are not worrying about you,” Lord Silvester Stone said, “but wondering what the deceased has left them. Nobody thinks of anything else at a funeral!”
Because of the laughter in his voice and the twinkle in his eyes, Pandia had great difficulty in preventing herself from giggling.
Thinking it would be more proper, she turned her face away from him and, picking up the printed Service sheet which had been handed to her at the entrance to the Church, she opened it to see the usual familiar hymns, Abide with Me and Onward Christian Soldiers.
She was, however, aware as she did so that Lord Silvester’s eyes were on her face.
Then, although she told herself it was ridiculous, she felt herself blushing.
It was a relief when the choir came in followed by the coffin which was set down in the Chancel.
As the Service started and Pandia knelt to pray, Lord Silvester said in a voice only she could hear,
“You are beautiful! When I first looked at you, I thought I must be dreaming and you had stepped down out of one of the stained glass windows.”
Pandia pretended she was not listening and he went on,
“No, that is wrong! You are not a Christian Saint. I am sure they never looked like you. You have come down from Olympus and I am just wondering which Goddess you are when you are at home.”
Because what he said was so apt, Pandia’s lips twitched and, as if she could not help herself, she turned for one swift moment to look at him, then away again.
“Your eyes are fantastic!” Lord Silvester said as the Clergyman droned on pontifically in prayer.
Then, as they rose, Pandia managed to say,
“Please – I am sure that the people behind us are horrified at the way you are – behaving.”
“You are coming back to The Castle after this is over?” She gave a little nod of her head.
“Then I will talk to you there.”
He did not speak for the rest of the Service, but she was vividly conscious of him standing beside her.
There was something about him, she thought, that would make it impossible for anybody not to be conscious of his presence.
She knew it was the vibrations that came from his personality, which was something she had often discussed with her father.
“Do you think,” she had asked him once, “that if you and I had suddenly met in a field or on a mountainside Buddha or Mohammed or perhaps even Jesus, we would have been aware that they were different from anybody else?”
“Of course,” her father had replied. “The vibrations that came from them must have been unmistakable.” “Vibrations?” Pandia questioned.
“The magnetic rays or what the Greeks expressed in ‘shafts of light’, coming from the solar plexus of their heroes and their Gods.”
Pandia remembered she had seen drawings of these and her father went on,
“Then the Christians transferred them to the heads of their Saints, calling them halos. They are what w
e all give out to a greater or lesser degree from what we call our souls and it is the way our spirit speaks to the world.”
Pandia felt now that she could feel these rays or vibrations coming from Lord Silvester towards her.
She could not help wondering if he felt the same from her and then thought she was being ridiculous.
It was only because she was so inexperienced and had met so few people that she should think of such things.
At the same time she always remembered what her father had told her, and she was sure it was not only her love for him which had made her think that he gave out very strong vibrations, but they also made everybody who came in contact with him think of him as an unusual and interesting person.
“Your father, Miss Pandia, may not ’ave been an Englishman,” one of the farmers had said at his funeral, “but to us ’e was always a real gentleman, and I can’t say fairer than that.”
Pandia had known it was the highest acclaim they could pay her father.
The women in the village had expressed their feelings differently,
“There’s never been, dearie, a man as charmin’ as your dad,” they said. “’E ’ad a way with ’im, that ’e ’ad, and you takes after ’im – no doubt about that!”
Because she had known so few men of their own class with whom to compare her father, Pandia had sometimes wondered if he really was as unusual as she felt he was.
But her mother, who had loved him with her whole heart, had said,
“How could I have resisted your father? Whenever he looked at me, I could feel as if he drew me to him like a magnet. When finally he confessed that he loved me and asked me to run away with him, I did not even hesitate.”
“It was very brave of you, Mama.”
“No, darling, it was selfish because I hurt my father and mother and my brothers, but it was my one chance of happiness – I knew that without your father I would never know the most precious and perfect thing in the world, which is love!”
‘Papa certainly was magnetic,’ Pandia told herself as the coffin was carried by six men down from the Chancel towards the West door, ‘but why should I feel that the man sitting next to me is the same?’
She told herself that she must be mistaken as, following the relatives from the pew on the other side of the aisle, they walked out side by side.
Fire in the Blood Page 5
