“You ask me whether I know of a position as a Governess in a well-connected family where she would be welcomed despite her extreme youth.
“When I received your request I searched among my many acquaintances for someone in need of such a teacher for their children. Unfortunately at the moment there is no-one in England as far as I know who would consider Larisa at the age of eighteen, preferring, not unnaturally, much older women with more stability and experience.
“It happened by chance however that my dear and valued friend, the Comtesse de Chalon, was passing through London and came to dinner. During the course of the conversation she informed me that her brother, the Comte de Valmont, requires an English governess for his grandson, to whom he is devoted.
“This means of course that Larisa would have to go to France to live at Valmont-sur-Seine. I, naturally, having the interest of your family, dear Margaret, at heart, enquired whether Larisa would be properly chaperoned, although it is not a question that would trouble one’s head about an ordinary Governess.
“The Comtesse assured me that the Comte has his widowed sister, Madame Savigny, with him in the Chateau and that they live a very quiet life on their family Estate.
“This is what I am sure you would wish for Larisa, as the temptations and extravagances of Paris, which is now called the ‘most debauched city in the world,’ would certainly not be suitable for a young girl.
“Furthermore, I learnt from the Comtesse that the Comte de Valmont is well over sixty and, although a well-preserved man, has always been known for his austerity combined with a deep sense of responsibility towards those he employs.
“I feel sure, my dear friend, that you can trust Larisa in such an environment, and on my recommendation the Comtesse has written to her brother to appraise him of Larisa’s qualifications for tutoring his grandson.
“I can only hope that Larisa will realise what a privilege this is for a young girl so inexperienced in the ways of the world and that she will behave, as might be expected of your daughter, in the best traditions of an English Lady.
“I send you, dear Margaret, my thoughts and prayers during this sad and tragic time.
“Yours affectionately, Helen.”
There was silence as Lady Stanton finished reading the letter and then Athene cried impulsively:
“France! You are going to France! Goodness, how lucky you are. I only wish it were me!”
“I am not certain I ought to accept such a suggestion,” Lady Stanton said with a troubled look on her face.
“I cannot see why not, Mama,” Cynthus exclaimed.
“It is so far away!” Lady Stanton murmured. “Besides, whatever Helen Luddington may say, Valmont-sur-Seine is very near Paris.”
“Larisa certainly will not have any money to go gadding about in the wicked city!” Nicky interposed. “But I must say I envy her.”
“As Mama said,” Larisa said slowly, speaking for the first time, “I shall doubtless lead a very quiet existence in the country, and I am no more likely to sample the excitements of Paris there than I am living here.”
“I should hope not!” Lady Stanton said quickly. “From all I have heard it is very depraved.”
“But very beautifully dressed!” Athene, said irrepressibly. “All the best gowns in The Ladies Journal are Parisian models.”
“And that certainly will not concern me as I shall not be able to afford even one of them!” Larisa smiled.
“You will need some new clothes all the same,” Cynthus said. “You cannot go to France wearing the rags you are in now!”
Larisa looked down at her gown, which had once belonged to Cynthus and had been passed on to her and would in its turn go on to Athene.
“It will soon be summer,” she answered. “I can easily make myself some muslin gowns very cheaply. No-one will expect a Governess to be smart.”
“They would certainly be suspicious if she were!” Nicky said.
“Suspicious of what?” Delos asked.
“That was she being—extravagant,” Lady Stanton said quickly.
“How could she be extravagant if she did not have any money?” Delos enquired.
“We really need not concern ourselves with such ridiculous questions,” Lady Stanton replied. “Larisa will have some gowns to go to France and we shall all have to help her make them.”
“Surely it depends, Mama, upon whether I get the position,” Larisa said. “We now have to wait until a letter arrives from the Comte.”
“Yes, of course,” Lady Stanton agreed, “perhaps there will not be one after all.”
She seemed almost pleased at the idea.
But Larisa knew that if the Comte did not want her the only alternative would be for her to write to one of the Domestic Bureaux which catered for out-of-work Governesses.
She had the feeling there would not be many employers on their books willing to engage a Governess of eighteen, however distinguished her family background.
The Governesses they had when they themselves had been small had all been women of about forty, clergymen’s or doctors’ daughters.
They had seemed resigned to their rather colourless lives and they had in fact lasted a very short time in the Stanton household simply because Sir Beaugrave found them so irritating.
“They know less than a child of ten!” he had stormed once, “and they never have a thought that is not written down in their lesson-books!”
“What can you expect, dearest, for fifty pounds a year?” Lady Stanton had asked.
“A human being, for one thing!” Sir Beaugrave had snapped.
Governesses had come and gone until he had refused to employ any more of them and taught his daughters himself.
Nicky had of course gone to School and then to Oxford, and although Larisa sometimes envied her brother because his horizons were so much broader than theirs, she was on the whole very happy.
It hurt her now to think it was not only penury that faced them but the breaking up of the family.
She had known it was inevitable when Cynthus became engaged to be married, and she had thought that one day she too would fall in love and be loved in return.
Only when that happened had she envisaged herself going off on her own into the world outside, of which she knew so little.
But while Larisa dreamt romantic dreams of the happiness she would one day find in loving and being loved, she was still the most practical of the Stanton girls.
She certainly had much more common sense than their sweet, feminine, helpless mother, who had always depended for everything upon her husband.
“How shall I ever cope, Larisa,” she asked despairingly, “in a tiny cottage without a cook or any other servants?”
“You will have Nana,” Larisa answered, “and Delos enjoys cooking. Besides, Mama, you eat so little, there will not be so many big meals to prepare as when Papa was alive.”
“I cannot imagine leaving here, where I have lived since I was first married,” Lady Stanton cried.
As she spoke she looked around the Drawing Room with its high ceiling, fine Georgian cornice, and long windows opening out to the terrace.
“I know, Mama,” Larisa said sympathetically, “but you would have had to leave it one day when Nicky married, and the Dower House—if we had not been so lucky to let it—would have been too big for just you and two girls.”
“I like big houses,” Lady Stanton said petulantly, then added quickly: “But I must try to make the cottage look pretty. We can none of us bear anything ugly, can we?”
“No, of course not,” Larisa answered. “It was Papa who taught us to appreciate beauty. Do you remember the rude things he used to say about antimacassars and too many tassels and frills?”
Lady Stanton laughed although there were tears in her eyes.
It was true that Sir Beaugrave had given them all an appreciation of the exquisite lines of Greek antiquity. He disliked and disparaged all the clutter and furbelows so beloved of Queen Victoria.
But the girls knew that it was in impeccable and ageless good taste.
The beaded cushions, the duster aspidistras, the doilies, and the hair-tidies of their contemporaries were all a fad of fashion which were enjoyed only by those who were ignorant.
The letter from the Comte de Valmont arrived four days later.
During the intervening time Lady Stanton had been beset by so many doubts and so much anxiety that Larisa had begun to think that it would be impossible even if she were offered it to accept a situation that would so greatly perturb her mother.
The Comte’s letter was however in some ways reassuring.
Brief and formal, he said merely that he had heard from his sister the Comtesse de Chalon that the services of Miss Larisa Stanton were available as a teacher of English and other elementary lessons for his grandson, Jean-Pierre de Valmont, aged eight.
He would therefore be pleased if Miss Stanton would proceed to France as soon as possible.
He was prepared to offer her a salary of three thousand seven hundred and fifty francs per year and he enclosed her Second-Class ticket from London to Paris which included accommodation on the Channel steamer.
If Lady Stanton, the Comte went on, would kindly let him know on which day her daughter would be arriving, he would arrange for her to be met at the Gare du Nord in Paris.
From there she would be conveyed by carriage to the Chateau Valmont, where he would be waiting to instruct her in her duties.
It was a cold, business-like letter, which somehow pleased Lady Stanton far more than anything effusive or flowery could have done.
“Second Class!” Athene exclaimed. “Well, that shows you right away, Larisa, what your place is now that you are a Governess!”
“I naturally did not expect the Comte to pay for me to travel First Class,” Larisa replied.
“Papa always said,” Athene retorted, “that gentlemen travel First Class, businessmen Second, and the peasants Third. You are in with the businessmen, Larisa!”
“Larisa will find a carriage marked ‘Ladies only,’” Lady Stanton said. “I am sure they have them in France as they do in this country, and there will be no question of her speaking to businessmen or to any other type of man!”
She gave a deep sigh.
“Oh, Larisa, it is such a long way for you to go alone!”
“I can look after myself, Mama,” Larisa answered.
The letter arrived when they all had assembled for lunch. Suddenly Nicky gave a shout.
“Good Heavens!” he exclaimed.
“What is it?” Larisa asked apprehensively.
“Do you realise how much the Comte is paying you?” he asked. “A hundred fifty pounds a year!”
The others gave an audible gasp of astonishment.
“Are you sure?” Lady Stanton asked. “I am afraid I have no idea what the exchange is at the moment.”
“It is about twenty-five francs to the pound,” Nicky answered.
“Can he really mean me to have as much as that?” Larisa enquired.
“He has put it in writing.” Nicky said.
“Then it is too marvellous!” Lady Stanton exclaimed. “With Athene’s money and Larisa’s you wall have two hundred fifty pounds a year! That should enable you to stay at Oxford until you have passed your examinations.”
“It will indeed,” Nicky said. “But Larisa must keep something for herself. She cannot be completely penniless in a strange land.”
“No, you are right,” Lady Stanton agreed, “but she will not need much.”
“I shall need very, very little,” Larisa interposed. “After all, they will feed and keep me, and anything else I want I shall just have to go without!”
“If you go to Paris you can always window-shop,” Athene suggested.
Lady Stanton gave a little start as if she had forgotten Paris.
“You will have to promise me, Larisa,” she said, “that you will never go to Paris alone.”
“I am quite sure no-one will expect her to do so, Mama,” Cynthus said. “You know quite well that none of us would walk about alone in London, so why should Larisa do so in Paris?”
“No, of course not,” Lady Stanton agreed, “and anyway I am sure there would be a maid who would go with you if by any chance you have to buy something for the little boy.”
“You are not to worry. Mama,” Larisa said soothingly. “Just think of it as an adventure. I promise that if it is insupportable I will come home.”
She smiled.
“I am sure you will find room for me in the cottage. Nana has already decided that you are going to keep hens, so at least I shall be able to eat eggs, if there is nothing else!”
Nicky got up from the table.
“Now listen, all of you,” he said. “I am deeply grateful for all you are doing for me, but let us get one thing clear. Mama and the girls must have enough for food, clothes, and wages.”
He paused.
“I have arranged that the money from the rents from the farms will be entirely for their use. What Larisa and Athene are kind enough to give me and the few things we can sell out of the house will give me more than enough for my needs.”
“Sell? What are you going to sell?” Lady Stanton cried.
“None of the furniture or pictures,” Nicky assured her. “They are, as you know, heirlooms and have been passed down from father to son, but I think some of Papa’s books are first editions and the silver which was bought by Grandpapa is not really important for future generations.”
Lady Stanton sighed.
“I hate to think of us selling anything.”
“It is better than that any of us should go hungry,” Nicky replied, “and Larisa has to have some new gowns. I am not having my sister go to France looking like a beggar!”
“No, of course not,” Lady Stanton agreed.
“As soon as I get my Degree,” Nicky said, “I shall be earning enough to spare something for all of you.”
His mother looked at him with adoring eyes and only Larisa knew that while it sounded extremely gallant Nicky would find it very hard indeed to live on his salary for the first years after he became a Diplomat.
She was quite sure that most young men in the same position had private incomes, but there was no use in crossing this particular bridge until they came to it.
In the meantime, thanks to Athene and herself and, as Nicky had said, to the few things they could sell, he would be able to finish his education at Oxford.
She was not as shocked as the rest of the family was at the idea of selling their possessions.
She had already discussed it with Nicky and had helped him to sort out the books that she was sure would bring in some money, if not all that their father had paid for them.
Many of them had been expensive.
There were also some archaic urns and other pieces of pottery which Sir Beaugrave had brought back from Greece on his visits that they both were sure would be bought by a Museum.
Things indeed were not quite so black as they had appeared at first when their father had died.
At the same time it was going to be a wrench to leave the house, and they were both well aware how much Lady Stanton would hate the cramped little cottage, where there would be little for her to do.
That evening when Larisa and Nicky were in the Library sorting out the books that were to go to London she had an idea.
“I think what Mama minds, although she has not said so, is the fact that we all are doing something for you except her.”
She paused and added with a smile:
“You know she loves you more than all of us put together!”
“That is not true,” Nicky protested rather halfheartedly.
“Of course it is true, and you know it!” Larisa said. “Mothe
rs always love their sons best, just as Papa preferred his daughters.”
“His four Venuses!” Nicky said with a smile. “He never could decide which of you was the most beautiful.”
“I always used to think he preferred Cynthus,” Larisa said, “but she thought he preferred Athene until Delos was born.”
“You all are jolly good-looking,” Nicky said. “And by the way. Larisa, look after yourself in France. You know that Frenchmen have a reputation where women are concerned.”
“A reputation for what?” Larisa asked.
“Sweeping women off their feet!” Nicky replied. “Romeo-and-Juliet stuff! All that kissing the hand and looking at them with dark, eloquent eyes. You will have to keep your feet firmly on the ground or you will find yourself in trouble!”
“What sort of trouble?”
Nicky looked embarrassed.
“If you ask me, I think Mama ought to have a talk with you before you go,” he said.
“I cannot think what you are fussing about,” Larisa answered.
When she went to bed that night she found herself thinking of what Nicky had said. How did Frenchmen make love? she wondered.
Sometimes she had thought how wonderful it would be to fall in love and know a man loved her in return.
“I love you!”
She could almost hear a man’s deep voice say the words. He would put his arms round her and draw her close and then his lips would seek hers.
What would she feel? Would it be frightening? What was a kiss like?
She could find no answers to her questions. Nevertheless it was obvious that Nicky had spoken to his mother because a day or so later Lady Stanton called Larisa into her bed-room.
The Devil in Love (Bantam Series No. 24) Page 2
