The Duc laughed.
“I doubt if today that would be the height of her ambition. She would wish to be Queen Victoria or at the very least one of her numerous and distinguished family.”
Celita realised that he was paying her a compliment and said,
“I think Queen Victoria was delighted to own the French furniture that came from Versailles. It was, as I am sure you know, bid for at an auction by the then Prince Regent’s chef, who was the only person he could think of at the time who spoke French.”
The Duc laughed.
“I have heard that story, but I don’t believe it’s true.”
“I expect it is,” Celita insisted. “After all the English never bother to learn other people’s languages. They just shout loudly at the natives and are furious when they still don’t understand.”
“I suppose that you, Lady Celita, are an exception,” the Duc commented.
“I can speak French,” Celita admitted. “I am also quite fluent in Italian. It is only German that I find a rather ugly language.”
“I agree with you.”
“And of course,” Celita went on, “I must congratulate you, Your Grace, on speaking extremely good English.”
“That is hardly surprising,” the Duc said, “considering I went to school in England.”
Celita looked surprised.
“I was not aware of that.”
“My father insisted I did so for two years. I must admit I enjoyed it, even though I might say that I literally had your language kicked into me.”
“In other words you were bullied,” Celita said.
“Of course,” the Duc replied. “The English are terrible bullies when they wish to have their own way.”
Celita thought that he was being now deliberately provocative and she answered,
“I have always understood that diplomatically we English are brilliant at using persuasion rather than force.”
“That I will concede,” he said. “But at school I was only a rather tiresome little foreigner who was expected to ask if he wanted anything in a language that the other boys understood.”
Celita felt that he was making rather a good story out of it.
At the same time she thought it an excellent idea that anyone of such standing should have been educated partly in England.
He could therefore understand the English rather better than if he had never crossed the Channel
“I will tell you one thing about your country that I found irresistible,” the Duc added, “and that was your horses.”
“Judy and I have already been told how fine yours are,” Celita said. “And I very much hope that while we are here we will be allowed to ride.”
The Duc looked surprised.
“Is that what you would like to do?”
“Of course!” Celita replied. “You cannot believe that we leave Lord Waterforde’s horses in the stables and walk on our flat feet.”
The Duc laughed.
“I remember that he told me that your family lives on his estate. So, of course, you were able to exercise his horses with your friend Judy?”
“We rode every morning,” Celita admitted, “and that is something I have missed greatly in France.”
“You did not think of riding in the Bois de Boulogne?” the Duc asked.
“I certainly thought of it,” Celita replied. “My Headmistress, however, considered any competition with the other riders would not be at all comme il faut for a schoolgirl.”
The Duc understood exactly what she meant and laughed, so did the Vicomte.
“I promise you it will be entirely comme il faut for you to ride here tomorrow morning,” he said. “And, if you do not find my horses as good as Lord Waterforde’s, I shall be very piqued.”
Judy was still saying very little and it was a relief when the English tea was brought in by three footmen.
It was not arranged exactly in the way it was in England but the petits fours were certainly delicious.
The Duc asked Judy if she would like to pour out the tea and Celita felt that it was an indication of what he expected her to do in the future.
“I think Celita had better do it,” Judy said. “She is much better at that sort of thing than I am.”
“Now you are being modest,” Celita responded quickly.
Turning to the Duc, Celita explained,
“What Judy really means is that I am the dog’s body and do all the jobs that no one else wants to do.”
“Then there is plenty of scope here for you at the château,” the Duc exclaimed. “At the moment there are thousands of jobs undone and crying out to be done.”
“They will keep you busy as well,” Celita said without thinking. “It should prevent you from going to Paris and being caught up in all its expensive amusements.”
She had not meant to say anything that quite obviously referred to the Duc’s reputation.
She realised that she had made a mistake when he looked at her sharply, but he did not say anything, however, and walked towards the tea table.
Celita poured out the tea.
She was conscious that the cups were of Sèvres porcelain and the silver was very elegant.
It was, however, she noticed, all present century work.
She assumed that all the earlier silver, which had been made by the finest silversmiths in France, had been lost in the French Revolution.
It was as if the Duc could read her thoughts when he said,
“When I read all the items in the catalogues and see some of the pictures that were painted of the château at that time, I wonder if I shall be fortunate enough to find any of them again.”
“It must be for you like the search for the Golden Fleece,” Celita said. “But I feel sure that if you try hard enough and if you are really determined, you will succeed in your search.”
“Do you expect me to believe that?” the Duc asked.
Judy, who was listening, now piped up,
“You really can believe her! If Celita has a feeling something will happen, then it does. Even when I was quite small and something seemed impossible to me, Celita would assure me that I would attain it or it would turn out well and she was always right.”
“What a reputation!” the Vicomte said. “If you are prepared to look into the future, Lady Celita, I would like you to look into mine.”
“I am not a fortune teller,” Celita replied. “What I sometimes have is a premonition that something will happen and, if it is very necessary and very right, then it does.”
“I can ask for nothing better,” the Duc said. “But I hope that while you are here, Lady Celita, you will concentrate on me.”
Celita did not answer, she thought that she knew what the Duc wanted and that she was determined not to give it to him.
Not if it concerned Judy.
She persuaded the Duc into talking about other objects belonging to the château that had been lost in the Revolution.
“I found those tapestries,” he said, “in a lumber yard. You would hardly believe it, but they had been thrown on one side and forgotten. The man in the lumber yard was quite astonished when I paid him a good sum for them.”
“Less than they were worth to you!” the Vicomte interposed.
“I am not as stupid as that,” the Duc said. “But I assure you that he was very grateful for what he received. He told me he had often thought, as they looked rather dirty and dingy, that he would put them on a bonfire.”
Celita gave a little cry.
“It is ghastly to think that happens to many things that should be preserved for ever. I would like you to show me everything in this wonderful château, so that I can always remember it when I return to England.”
“You will see everything you want to see,” the Duc promised. “But you must not talk of leaving when you have only just arrived.”
He glanced at Judy again as he spoke, and Celita was well aware of the fear that suddenly appeared in her eyes.
To chang
e the conversation she swiftly started to talk about the pictures.
The Duc promised to show them the picture gallery.
“There are several pictures in the various other rooms from my own collection,” he said, “which I think you will enjoy. My ambition is to bring the collection up to date, so that it includes modern artists besides those that were famous in the past.”
“You cannot mean those fellows in Montmartre, who are called Impressionists,” the Vicomte objected. “They daub away in a very strange manner. I cannot make head nor tail of their pictures.”
“That may be true of some of them,” Celita admitted before the Duc could speak. “But we were allowed to visit Montmartre one day while I was at school and I was most impressed by their use of colour and the fact that they manage to portray in a few strokes what other artists would labour over for hours.”
This started a fierce argument over Impressionist paintings.
Celita was championing them and she thought that the Duc deliberately opposed her because he enjoyed what was actually a duel of words.
As Judy was rather left out of it, Celita broke the conversation and suggested,
“As we have been travelling for a long time, I think it would be a good idea if Judy and I rested before dinner.”
“Of course,” the Duc answered. “I should have thought of that before. Tonight we have no guests, but tomorrow I shall ask some of my relatives who live nearby and several friends to meet you.”
Again, as he said the last word, he glanced at Judy.
Celita knew, as if he had said it openly, that what he was doing was introducing her to his family before he announced that she was to be his wife.
The Duc escorted them to the grand staircase in the hall and, when they climbed up it, the housekeeper in rustling black silk was waiting for them on the first floor.
She curtseyed with dignity and then went ahead to show them into the two rooms they would occupy.
They were, as Celita expected, extremely impressive and really beautiful.
The ceilings were painted, the beds were draped with silk curtains and the canopies overhead were carved in gilt.
In fact each room was so lovely that Celita felt she could stand looking at them for hours.
The housekeeper left them, saying she would send Martha, Judy’s lady’s maid, to her.
As the door closed, Judy exploded,
“I don’t like him, he frightens me. I should be very very scared to be married to someone like that.”
Celita knew that this was true and said quietly,
“I thought you would feel like that, dearest, but for tonight at any rate you must be polite, answer him when he speaks to you, and join in the conversation.”
“Why should I?” Judy pouted. “I don’t want to live here in this great overwhelming château.”
She sighed and then continued,
“I want to live with Clive in a nice English house with an English garden. I have nothing in common with the French!”
Celita held out her hand.
“Stop!” she urged. “You are working yourself up unnecessarily. The Duc has not yet asked you to marry him and we are going to do what we can to stop him doing so. But if you appear antagonistic, he might appeal to your father to make you do what he wants.”
Judy gave a little scream.
“If he does that, Papa will force me up the aisle! You know he will.”
“Then you must be clever,” Celita advised. “As the Vicomte seems a very nice young man, I suggest you concentrate on him, talk to him and seem interested in what he has to say.”
She knew that this would be difficult for Judy, who was afraid of everything the Duc said and quite incapable, Celita knew, of joining in the conversation that they had just had about the Impressionists.
‘What I must do,’ Celita said to herself, ‘is keep him discussing things that are not in any way connected with marriage and perhaps for the moment he will forget about it and at least not terrify Judy.’
She had the feeling that, if she was driven too hard, Judy might lose control and tell the Duc straight out that she did not like him and did not wish to marry him.
‘That would be disastrous,’ Celita thought, ‘because it would infuriate Lord Waterforde and make everything more difficult than it is already.’
“Now listen, Judy, because Martha will be here at any moment,” she said, “just forget what your father said about the Duc and pretend that we are here to enjoy ourselves with delightful and good-looking young men.”
Judy pouted again and was just about to say that they were neither, when the door opened.
Lady Hilton came in.
She was wearing a dressing gown and her hair was elegantly done.
Her face was powdered and painted in a manner never used by the Countess.
“Dearest girls,” she exclaimed in a rather affected way, “how delightful to see you! I am so sorry I was not downstairs when you arrived, but I was absolutely exhausted after that long journey from England.”
She moved towards Judy and put her arms around her and kissed her.
“You are a very clever girl,” she said. “I am very proud of you! Are you not excited to think that this wonderful, glorious and delightful château will be yours?”
Judy stiffened and quickly, before she could say anything, Celita said,
“It’s delightful to see you, Lady Hilton. Neither Judy nor I have any idea why we are here, except to see the Duc’s horses before we return to England.”
Lady Hilton turned towards her with a look of surprise.
“You mean that my brother has not told you the good news?” she asked.
“Lord Waterforde,” Celita answered, “said we were to meet you here and he felt sure that both Judy and I would look forward to seeing this famous château.”
Lady Hilton was obviously nonplussed.
She glanced first at Judy and then at Celita, as if she thought that there must be some mistake.
Then she said,
“Of course that is what he intended. We must not rush our fences, must we?”
“I think that would be a great mistake,” Celita agreed quietly.
Lady Hilton was quick-witted enough to take the hint.
“Yes, yes, of course,” she said. “It will be a great advantage to you two, coming straight from school, to see a little of the Social life of France before you start the Season in London.”
Celita smiled.
“That is what we are both looking forward to,” she said. “First the ball that Lord Waterforde is giving in Park Lane and most of all the one at Waterforde Court.”
“And I am looking forward to that too,” Lady Hilton said. “I am having a most spectacular gown made for the occasion.”
“Oh, do tell me about it!” Celita said, simulating an interest that she was far from feeling.
When finally Lady Hilton left them to rest before they had their baths, Judy said,
“It was clever of you, Celita, to pretend that we don’t know why Papa has sent us here. Otherwise she would continue to make embarrassing remarks like the one just now.”
“I know that,” Celita said. “If I get a chance, I will say to her that you have no idea what your father is planning and it would be a great mistake to frighten you.”
“But I am frightened,” Judy said, “so frightened that I wish we could go away tonight and return to England before anyone can stop us.”
“That is something we cannot do,” Celita said, “so we must be very clever. Please, Judy, do exactly what I tell you. Talk animatedly with the Vicomte and be polite if the Duc speaks to you.”
“I will try,” Judy said, “but you know it’s not going to be easy.”
“What is going to be easy,” Celita said, “is riding tomorrow morning. Now there is a subject you can really talk about without feeling embarrassed and wondering if there is a double entendre behind everything they say to you.”
“You mean I can
talk about horses?”
“You know a great deal about them,” Celita said, “and you have ridden every kind of horse from an ordinary hack to Arab-bred racehorses since you were very small.”
She paused and then continued,
“It’s something that interests him, so keep to that subject, at least until we see what other obstacles are waiting for us.”
She spoke a little anxiously.
Then Judy said,
“But they are there, the obstacles, and the biggest one is when the Duc asks me to marry him.”
“That is what we have to prevent him doing,” Celita said. “You must help me and do exactly what I tell you.”
“I will do anything, anything,” Judy sighed, “rather than marry him and be shut up here in this enormous house when I might be with Clive.”
She took a big breathe before she added,
“I would be perfectly happy with him in a tiny cottage and if Aunt Mabel thinks I should be impressed with the Duc and what he possesses, then she should marry him herself!”
Celita laughed.
“I think even the Duc would be afraid of that!”
Suddenly the funny side of it struck Judy too and she giggled.
Celita kissed her.
“That’s better,” she said. “Now you look more like yourself. Laugh and try not to be frightened. We are going to win, I am not certain how, but I promise you, dearest, we are going to win a very difficult battle even though the odds are against us.”
Chapter Four
Riding over the level ground at the back of the château, Celita thought that she had never enjoyed anything more.
The stallion that the Duc had chosen for her was very spirited. At the same time he was easy to handle and went like the wind.
She could say the same of the horse that Judy was riding and also of the two fine stallions on which the Duc and the Vicomte were mounted.
She had no idea when she had pressed her horse ahead that the Duc was looking at her with surprise.
He was thinking that she was without exception the best woman rider he had ever seen.
Judy was good, but Celita had something about her that was exceptional.
She herself would have said that it was because her father had taught her to love horses when she was still in the cradle. He had lifted her up to pat them and had taught her how to talk to them and how to gain their confidence before she rode them.
Fascination in France Page 5
