The Devil in Love (Bantam Series No. 24)

by Barbara Cartland

  They stared at her with curiosity. One man made a remark in a coarse voice that she did not understand but which evoked a roar of laughter from those standing near him.

  Inside an entresol separated from the Theatre by glass doors was a high desk at which two men were seated.

  Larisa went up to one of them.

  “Pardon, Monsieur,” she said, “but I have to speak with Comte Raoul de Valmont, and I understand he is here. I have a message for him of the utmost importance.”

  “A message, Madame?” one of the men replied.

  Larisa thought there was a rather cheeky expression on his face as he raised one eye-brow as if questioning her reasons for seeking Comte Raoul.

  “It is a matter of life and death!” Larisa said.

  She spoke so firmly that the man was obviously impressed.

  He called a flunkey wearing a silver-buttoned uniform.

  “Escort this lady to Comte Raoul de Valmont,” he ordered. “Monsieur is in his usual box.”

  “Come this way, Madame.” the flunkey said, and Larisa followed him into what, although she did not realise it, was the famous promenade of the Folies-Bergere.

  Very large, open, and with a long bar on one side of it, there was also a profusion of small tables at which sat flamboyantly and fantastically dressed women.

  They all wore huge hats mostly trimmed with coloured feathers. There were feather boas round their shoulders and jewels glittering on their naked chests.

  There were many men in evening-dress and wearing their top hats, and a great number unchanged but all wearing hats.

  Larisa followed the flunkey through the crowd where there seemed to be a great number of women alone.

  Their eye-lashes were heavy with mascara, their lips vividly red, and they were looking boldly at the men with an invitation in their eyes.

  Larisa saw as she advanced that at the far end of the promenade there was a Theatre and on the stage a performance was taking place.

  The music which seemed to rise with difficulty above the sound of chattering and laughing voices in the promenade was very gay.

  Just like the posters outside, the women on the stage were kicking their legs high in the air, showing their lacey white petticoats as they did so.

  There was little time however for her to take everything in.

  She had to move swiftly to keep tip with the lackey in front of her as he pushed his way through the hordes of men who were leaning over a rail to watch the performance on the stage.

  They went up several steps and now moved behind what appeared to be private boxes built round and slightly higher than the stalls.

  They were divided from each other with low partitions, very unlike the enclosed curtain-draped boxes of conventional Theatres.

  The lackey stopped at the box nearest the stage and now with a leap of her heart Larisa saw the man she had come to seek.

  He was alive! He was there!

  He was sitting at the front of the box, watching the performance, and beside him were two of the most attractive women she had ever seen in her life.

  Both were dark and one was wearing a red gown and a hat trimmed with red ostrich feathers to match. The other was in yellow with two great birds-of-Paradise sweeping back from her hat to nestle against her naked shoulders.

  “Wait here, Madame,” the flunkey said to Larisa.

  He moved forward, pushing past the other people who filled the box, to stand at the Comte’s shoulder.

  He bent and whispered in his ear.

  Comte Raoul looked up and Larisa thought for a moment that there was an expression of annoyance on his face, as if he resented being disturbed.

  Reluctantly he rose to his feet and apologised to his companions.

  The lady in red put her hand on his arm and Larisa could see her face as she raised it towards Comte Raoul.

  She was lovely, but her lips, pouting provocatively, were crimson and her eye-lashes very artificially darkened.

  Comte Raoul said something to make her laugh, then followed the lackey, speaking to two of his friends as he passed them in the box.

  It was only as he stepped outside the low door that he saw Larisa.

  He stared at her for a moment incredulously. Then as she found it hard to speak he asked:

  “What are you doing here? What has happened?” Before she could reply Comte Raoul realised that the lackey who had escorted her to the box was waiting.

  He drew a coin from his pocket and put it in the man’s hand.

  Then he took Larisa by the arm and drew her away from the box and against a wall.

  “How have you got here?” he asked.

  “I … rode,”

  “Alone?”

  “I had to … see you! I had to … tell you … something!”

  He looked down at her riding-habit, then back at her pale, anxious face.

  “I can hardly believe that you are here,” he said. “Tell me what has brought you?”

  “The … wine you brought from … Valmont this … morning,” Larisa said, “it is … poisoned!”

  For a moment the Comte stared at her as if she had taken leave of her senses. Then he said quietly:

  “You rode here alone from Valmont to warn me?”

  “I was so … afraid you might … drink it and … die!” Larisa said.

  “So you came to save me?”

  “Yes.”

  She looked into his eyes as she spoke and for a moment she felt as if the crowded Theatre, the noise, and the music, everything disappeared.

  They were alone, two people reaching out to each other across time and eternity.

  Then the Comte said:

  “Wait here.”

  He went back to the box.

  A gentleman sitting on the back seat stood up to speak to him.

  They spoke for some seconds and watching him Larisa saw the man nod his head as if he understood.

  Then Comte Raoul came back to her and taking her by the arm said quietly:

  “You must tell me all about it, then I will take you home.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Comte Raoul led Larisa back from the Theatre into the promenade.

  He walked her quickly past the women with their fantastic hats and the men standing against the bar with drinks in their hands who were flirting with the attractive, fair-haired bar-maid who had been immortalised some years earlier in a picture by Manet.

  In the doorway he gave an order to one of the flunkeys, who hurried out into the street and in a few minutes reappeared to say:

  “The carriage is waiting, Monsieur.”

  Comte Raoul tipped him and led Larisa onto the pavement as there drew up a very smart closed carriage with the coachman and footman wearing the Valmont livery.

  The door was opened and Comte Raoul helped her in.

  He then gave some long instructions to the footman which she could not overhear, after which he sat down beside her and the door was closed.

  For the first time Larisa felt shy at what she had done.

  When she had heard at Valmont that he might die from the poisoned wine it had seemed right as well as imperative that she should ride to Paris to save his life.

  Now that he was no longer in danger she was suddenly conscious of her own audacity in taking such a step and she also felt embarrassed at having taken him away from his party.

  Was she being a nuisance to him? she wondered. How could she efface herself so that he need not concern himself with her any further?

  “Did you have any dinner before you left?” the Comte asked.

  He spoke in a quiet, matter-of-fact tone, as if he sensed her rising agitation.

  “No,” she replied, “I was just changing when Nurse came to my bed-room.”

  “That is what I thought,” he said, “and so before I take you back we will have supper together.”

  “There is no … need for … you to come with … me,” Larisa said quietly. “My horse is in your stables in the Champs Elysees and
I can easily find my … own way.”

  By the light of the street-lamps she could see a smile on his lips as he answered:

  “Do you really think I would let you go alone? It was very brave and very wonderful of you to undertake such a journey unattended. Incidentally, how did you find my house?”

  “It was more difficult than I thought it would be,” Larisa answered. “Paris is so big and there are so many small streets on the outskirts that I got lost at least half a dozen times.”

  “I am going to thank you for being so courageous,” Comte Raoul said quietly, “but first you must have something to eat and drink. I suspect you are tired.”

  There was a caressing note in his voice which made her feel protected in a way that she had never been before.

  She had the feeling that it would be very easy to put her head on his shoulder and tell him how frightened she had been that she would not be in time.

  Now that the tension had passed she felt not only a little tired but also both limp and helpless.

  The two horses which drew the carriage were moving quickly and before there was time to say more they drew up in a pretty square where there were shrubs and trees in blossom and Larisa saw that they had stopped outside a small Restaurant.

  There was a striped awning over the door and the light from the windows was streaming out over the pavement.

  “It is not … smart, is it?” Larisa asked nervously, in a low voice as the footman opened the door. “I shall look very strange wearing a riding-habit and I would not… wish you to be … ashamed of me.”

  “I should not be ashamed of you wherever we went,” Comte Raoul said firmly, “but this is a very quiet place because I wish you to be able to talk to me freely.”

  Larisa stepped out onto the pavement, still feeling apprehensive until Comte Raoul led her into the Restaurant. Then she saw that he had spoken the truth when he said it was quiet.

  It was also very small and divided into what amounted to two rooms where the diners sat on sofas against the walls and there was only just enough space for the waiters to move between the tables.

  There were flowers everywhere and on the walls were strange, unusual-looking pictures which Larisa guessed had been painted by the much criticised and controversial Impressionists.

  An elderly woman came forward, beaming at the sight of Comte Raoul.

  “This is an honour, Monsieur!” she exclaimed. “You have not visited us for some time.”

  “No, Madame, and tonight I want one of your most delicious dinners for someone who is very hungry.”

  “It will be a great pleasure, Monsieur.”

  She led Comte Raoul and Larisa to a sofa-table situated in a corner, separated from the tables on each side of them by small banks of flowers.

  As Larisa was about to sit down Comte Raoul said to her:

  “Why do you not take off your hat and be comfortable?”

  “Can I do that?” she asked.

  “Why not?” he enquired.

  “If you’ll come this way, M’mselle ,” the elderly woman said.

  She took Larisa to a cloak-room where she pulled off her riding-hat.

  She could not help wishing as she looked in the mirror that as she was dining with Comte Raoul she could be wearing the white evening-gown on which she and her mother had expended so much time and ingenuity.

  She knew that the tight bodice and the soft lace round her shoulders had been very becoming. Instead there was only the severity of her riding-habit.

  ‘I would like him to think me beautiful,’ she told herself.

  Then she remembered the women in his box at the Folies-Bergere and thought that the comparison between them was laughable.

  How he must resent being taken away from such alluring and exciting companions to feed a dull little Governess who had never dined in a Restaurant before!

  How could she entertain him? What should she say?

  She felt very ignorant!

  When Larisa returned to the Restaurant she had no idea how entrancingly her black habit accentuated the translucent clarity of her skin and threw into prominence the gold of her hair.

  Her blue eyes were shy and there was a pleading look of apology in them as she seated herself beside the Comte.

  He was, she thought, magnificent in his evening-clothes. But because he was wearing them they seemed smarter and more elegant than they would have looked on any other man.

  Then as his dark eyes met Larisa’s she felt herself quiver as she had done the night before and the breathlessness was back in her throat.

  “I will eat very quickly,” she said, “and then you can go … back to your … party.”

  “I have no intention of joining them again,” he answered. ‘I am going to take you back to Valmont, and I shall stay the night there.”

  “But your father…” she began hesitatingly.

  “I want you to tell me exactly what has happened,” the Comte said, “but before you do so I wish you to have something to eat, and especially some wine to drink.”

  As he spoke a sommelier brought a bottle of champagne to the table.

  “It is, Monsieur, your usual Dom Perignon,” he said, “and Madame thought tonight you would like a bottle of the seventy-four. We have only a very little left.”

  At the mention of the date Larisa started.

  “Seventy-four was a great year for wine, especially champagne!” Comte Raoul explained.

  The wine-waiter poured a little of the golden liquid into a glass.

  Comte Raoul tasted it.

  “Excellent!” he said, “and just the right temperature!”

  Larisa’s glass was half filled and the Comte waited with a smile on his face for her to take a sip.

  “Is it delicious!” she exclaimed.

  “The King of champagnes!” he answered. “Now drink a little more!”

  Larisa did as she was told and felt the weakness that she suspected was mainly the result of shock disappearing.

  She knew now that the fear she had felt as she rode towards Paris had been in itself an insidious poison running through; only now, when it had gone, did she realise how intensely it had affected her.

  “I suppose you know,” Comte Raoul said as he set down her glass, “that it is an unheard of thing for a lady to visit the Folies-Bergere alone?”

  “There was nothing else I could do,” Larisa answered simply. “I went first to your house and your servant said he was not certain where you were having supper, but he was almost sure that you would be at the Folies-Bergere.”

  She paused and added in a low voice:

  “I was so afraid of … missing you and that I would be… too late.”

  “You thought the wine would be drunk at my party which I told you I was giving?” Comte Raoul asked.

  “Your servant said he heard you talking about wine when you were discussing the menu with someone, but he was rather vague about it.”

  “I would not have given the best Valmont wine to my guests tonight,” Comte Raoul said.

  He saw the expression on Larisa’s face as she thought for a moment that her ride had been unnecessary, and he added:

  “But I might easily have had a glass of it by myself when I returned home before going to bed.”

  Larisa gave a little sigh and he went on:

  “I very nearly opened a bottle when I was dressing for dinner. I do not know why, but I decided not to do so.”

  He smiled.

  “It must have been just about the time you learnt that my life was in danger. Perhaps your thoughts or your prayers saved me!”

  “I hope that was the reason,” Larisa answered. “I was praying for you and so was Nurse.”

  “I am fortunate in having two such people to care for me.”

  The first dish Comte Raoul had ordered arrived, and while Larisa was eating and the waiters were serving them he began to talk in a different tone, in an effort, she knew, to amuse her.

  “Have you ever wondered,” he
asked, “why the famous Theatre is called ‘le Folies-Bergere’?”

  “How did it get its name?” Larisa enquired.

  “The Theatre was named after the Rue Bergere, which in its turn was called after a master dyer who had his business there.”

  “It sounds rather prosaic!”

  He smiled and went on:

  “The term ‘Folie’ was used for many years to describe a piece of land where the soft grass and flowering bushes were much favoured by romantic couples!” He saw that Larisa was interested and continued: “Later the word came to denote a public place where Parisians in the Eighteenth Century would dance, drink, and watch entertainments in the open air.”

  “People talk about the Folies-Bergere in England,” Larisa said.

  “And all over the world,” Comte Raoul added. “It was the first Music-Hall to be opened in Paris. I believe amongst its attractions was a woman with two heads and a magician who swallowed live snakes, ripped open his stomach, and pulled out a rosary and pearls which he presented to ladies in the audience!”

  Larisa laughed before she said:

  “Many people tonight were not watching the stage, and there appeared to be lots of women unaccompanied.”

  The Comte did not answer for a moment and then he said:

  “As I have already said, the Folies-Bergere is not a place that a lady would visit alone or with anyone else!”

  Larisa turned to look at him, her eyes wide.

  “But you took your party there!”

  “My guests were not like you.”

  She thought again of the beautiful ladies that he had beside him before the lackey who had taken her to the box had interrupted him.

  The lady in red particularly, who had put her hand on his arm, had been so lovely and so exquisitely dressed that Larisa felt she could understand Comte Raoul’s annoyance at being taken away from her company.

  As if he guessed the questions which were puzzling her he said quietly:

  “I have many friends whom you must realise I would not invite to Valmont, nor would my Aunt Emilie receive them!”

  Larisa hesitate for a moment and then she said: “Madame Madeleine … spoke of the … demimonde. Is that … what they … are?”

  Comte Raoul smiled.

  “It is a good word for them!”