Alisa looked at her in a startled fashion.
“You mean we must go – back to – Mrs. Lulworth and sell her – more face-creams?”
“But of course!” Penelope said. “If, as you say, the mere fact that Madame Vestris is using them will make everybody demand the same creams then the sooner we get to work, the better!”
Alisa wanted to cry out that she could not do it and never again would she go to Mrs. Lulworth’s shop or anywhere else where she might meet the Earl.
Before she could speak, Penelope pointed out,
“Dearest, do you not see how wonderful this is? We can have the gowns we wanted and then we can write to the Marchioness of Conyngham. I know in my very bones that we are going to be just as successful as Maria and Elizabeth Gunning.”
It flashed through Alisa’s mind that Maria had married an Earl, but she told herself that marriage was the very last thing the Earl of Keswick was likely to offer her.
‘I must forget him,’ she thought to herself, and tried to listen to Penelope as she went on excitedly,
“I am sure that you were right when you said that Mrs. Lulworth might give us credit to have the four essential gowns we need before we can pay for them completely. How much did the Earl give you?”
“Three pounds, I suppose.”
“Where is it?” Penelope asked, as if she wished to look at it and make sure there was no mistake.
“He wrote a cheque,” Alisa replied. “It is in my silk bag I took the pots to London in. I left it in the hall.”
“I will fetch it.”
Penelope left the sitting room and came back a moment later with the bag in her hand.
“We must start work first thing tomorrow,” she was saying. “I noticed there were three cucumbers ready for picking in the garden this morning and I will send one of the village boys to collect some watercress down by the mill.”
As she was speaking, she had taken the envelope out of Alisa’s bag and now as she opened it she gave a shrill scream.
“What is it? What’s the matter?” Alisa asked.
Her sister was staring at the cheque she held in her hand as if she could not believe her eyes.
“What is wrong, Penelope?”
“Nothing is wrong,” Penelope answered, and her voice suddenly sounded hoarse. “Do you know how much this cheque is for?”
“I thought it would be for three pounds.”
“It is for fifty!”
“I don’t believe it!”
Alisa walked to her sister’s side and took the cheque from her hands.
Penelope was right. The cheque, made out to “Miss Alisa Winter” in a strong upright hand, was for fifty pounds.
“There must be some – mistake,” she said in a whisper. “I will tear it up.”
Penelope snatched the cheque from her.
“You will do nothing of the sort!”
“But we cannot keep it.”
“Why not?”
“Because it would be stealing.”
“He gave it to you.”
Alisa thought for a moment.
Then she said in a halting tone,
“I suppose – because he thought I would – agree to what he – suggested – ”
“Well, he will be disappointed, but I for one am grateful to him.”
“But we – cannot take the – money!”
“I don’t see why not.”
“Because it is – something nobody with any – breeding or – decency would do.”
“He was not giving it to you because he thought you were well-bred or decent, but because he thought you were lovely, which you are, Alisa.”
“I have no intention of – behaving like the woman he – thought me to be,” Alisa said proudly.
“Well, I have no such qualms,” Penelope replied. “Think, Alisa! This is the answer to our prayers. We can have the gowns we want, the bonnets to go with them and there will be no difficulty now about obtaining everything else on credit.”
“I will not – let you – keep it,” Alisa persisted fiercely.
“Then you must write to the Earl, explain who you are and ask him to apologise.”
“You – know I – cannot do that.”
“Then why make such a fuss?”
Penelope, looking at her sister’s face, realised that she was really upset and she then said in a very different tone of voice,
“Please, Alisa dearest, be sensible for my sake. This is a gift from the Gods and it is Fate that we should receive it at this particular moment when we need it so badly. How can you be so ungrateful?”
“It is not a question of – gratitude,” Alisa retorted, “but of – conscience.”
Penelope paused for a moment, then in her most persuasive voice she said,
“You went to London to help me. How can you be so unkind and so cruel as to make me go and stay with Aunt Harriet looking like I am now? Nobody will be interested in me, unless, of course, I am so fortunate, as you were, to find unexpectedly a stranger who is prepared to spend a great deal of money on me.”
Alisa looked at her sister in a startled fashion.
“You are not to – think of such – things!”
“It happened to you. Why should it not happen to me?” Penelope asked “And I should certainly have no scruples about taking everything I could get.”
She saw that she had horrified Alisa, but she went on,
“To the Earl, the loss of fifty pounds is like hacking a horse which does not win. It is bad luck, but he will merely shrug his shoulders and not think of it again.”
Alisa walked to the window, but outside she did not see the daffodils and the almond blossoms.
Instead, she saw Penelope growing more hitter and frustrated and perhaps in consequence getting into trouble. She did not try to explain to herself what that trouble might be.
But it was difficult not to remember the strength of the Earl’s arms and how his lips had taken possession of her so that it was impossible to move and she could no longer think.
As if she knew that Alisa was weakening, Penelope stood up and joined her at the window and put her arms round her.
“Please, please, Alisa,” she begged, “don’t spoil it all for me. If we can have just a month or even two weeks in London wearing beautiful gowns, I am sure that everything in our lives will somehow be changed.”
“I don’t – know what to – say,” Alisa stammered unhappily.
“Then leave everything to me,” Penelope said, “and, if it worries you so very much, why do you not send the Earl a present?”
“A – present?”
“Well, there must be something in the house that he would like and therefore you need not feel so guilty about taking his money.”
Alisa thought of the Earl’s paintings, his books, the silver on the table and the gold ice bucket he had poured her out a glass of champagne from.
It was almost laughable to think that anything they possessed would have the slightest interest for him.
Then, almost as if something outside herself made her think of it, she remembered the painting that hung in her father s bedroom.
She had painted it after he had called Penelope and herself ‘The Rose and the Violet’.
It had been spring and she had gone out into the garden to pick a bunch of the first white violets peeping from between their green leaves.
It had taken a great deal of patience to paint them, but, when she had finished the picture, both her mother and her father had said that it was the best painting she had ever done.
“You must think of me whenever you look at it,” Alisa had told her father.
“I would rather look at you, my darling,” he had replied.
Nevertheless her mother had found a pretty carved and gilded wooden frame for Alisa to put her painting in and they had hung it on the wall in her father’s bedroom.
She was sure that her father would not miss it, but she told herself that she would paint him another exac
tly the same in case he should ask where the original had gone.
“If I send the Earl a – present,” she said aloud, “he might know where it had come from.”
“You can give it to Fred, the carrier,” Penelope replied. “He goes to London every week, and he is so stupid he is not likely to ask any questions.”
There was a light in her eyes and a smile on her lips because she knew that she had won and Alisa would now agree to keep the fifty pounds.
“We will put the money in the Bank when we get to London,” she said aloud, “because we would not want Mrs. Lulworth to know that the Earl had given you the money to pay her.”
“No, of course not,” Alisa said quickly.
Then she added,
“Supposing – because I would not do what he – suggested that he stops the – cheque?”
She remembered how once her father had stopped a cheque because he found that he had paid the same bill twice.
“That would leave three pots of cream unpaid for,” Penelope said quickly, “and I cannot believe that any gentleman would behave so meanly.”
“No. I am – sure you are – right,” Alisa agreed.
She was thinking that whatever she felt about his behaviour at least the Earl was a gentleman of honour.
She did not know why she was so sure, but she was, and she thought too that Penelope was right when she said that losing fifty pounds would be to him no more than backing a horse that lost a race.
Penelope kissed her cheek.
“Cheer up, dearest, you have been very very clever. Now everything is going to be exciting and wonderful and I am quite, quite sure that the Marchioness of Conyngham will help us.”
She was so thrilled that she could talk of nothing else the whole evening and she did not appear to notice that Alisa was very quiet.
When finally Alisa turned out the light and was alone in the darkness, she found it impossible to sleep.
All she could think of was the Earl, what they had said to each other at luncheon and being held captive in a way that was more exciting and more marvellous than any dream she had ever had before.
‘How could a kiss from a man I did not even know be so wonderful?’ she asked herself not once but a dozen times before she finally fell asleep.
*
“Now that you are here,” Lady Ledbury said, “I hope you are prepared to work. There is a great deal to be done.”
“I am sorry, Aunt Harriet,” Penelope replied, “but we will not be able to help you on this visit as much as we have been able to do in the past.”
Lady Ledbury looked at her niece in astonishment.
Unlike her brother, even when she was young, she had never been particularly good-looking and with age she had grown gaunt and bony. With her greying hair dragged back from her forehead and wearing an extremely ugly black gown, she looked rather like an aged raven.
“I don’t know what you mean, Penelope!” she said sharply.
“Papa has given us instructions, now that we are grown up, as to how we are to employ our time in London,” Penelope said airily. “And, although we are very grateful to you for having us to stay, Aunt Harriet, Alisa and I will have to spend quite a lot of time on our own interests.”
To say that Lady Ledbury was taken aback was to express it mildly.
She had, in fact, although she would never have admitted it, looked forward to having her two nieces to stay so that they could help her with her charities and at the same time she would have somebody to order about and bully.
The servants in the house, who had been with her for a long time, had learnt that, when she told them to do anything they thought was unnecessary, it was best to agree and then to forget it or find that there was no time to carry out her commands.
Because she paid them little and they were as it happened well-trained, Lady Ledbury was aware that it would be a great mistake to push them so far that they would leave.
In the past, the help that Alisa and Penelope had given her had received the approval of her pet beneficiaries, which had been like music in her ears.
Only this morning she had said to the Vicar of St. Mary’s, Islington,
“I know you have had difficulty recently, Vicar, in finding somebody to repair your hymn books, but my nieces are coming to stay and they are quite skilful with their fingers, so that if you bring me the books that need repairing tomorrow, I will make that one of their tasks while they are with me.”
“How very kind of you, Lady Ledbury,” the Vicar had answered. “It will be a great help and I must make a point of bringing it to the attention of the Church Wardens at the next Vestry meeting.”
Now Lady Ledbury saw that her authority was being undermined and she declared quickly,
“I must make it clear from the beginning, Penelope, that I expect both you and Alisa to repay my hospitality by making yourselves useful.”
“Perhaps that will be possible a little later, Aunt,” Penelope answered in what her aunt thought was a rather impertinent manner.
Lady Ledbury decided that somehow she would prevent this independent nonsense from going too far.
“Do be careful!” Alisa warned Penelope when they went upstairs to the small and comfortable but dull bedroom they always occupied.
“I am not afraid of Aunt Harriet!” Penelope replied. “And I am only praying that Mrs. Lulworth can fit us out very quickly with our new gowns and we can then call on the Marchioness.”
Alisa made a sound, but she did not argue and Penelope had once again won a battle when it came to carrying out her plan of writing to her mother’s old friend and saying that they had a memento for her.
“How can we possibly find anything that will be good enough?” Alisa asked.
“There must be something,” Penelope said confidently.
Only after a great deal of searching and argument did they find amongst her mother’s things a pretty handkerchief sachet that Lady Wynton had embroidered with her own monogram and trimmed with a piece of real lace from one of her gowns when she had been a girl.
“Do you not see?” Penelope exclaimed excitedly. “We can say that Mama told us that when she wore that particular gown she was staying with the Denisons and we felt sure that was why the Marchioness would like to have it.”
“How do you know that is true?” Alisa asked.
“I feel instinctively that it is,” Penelope replied loftily.
Penelope was so excited at the idea of the new gowns that she found it difficult to sleep the night after they arrived at her aunt’s house, while Alisa lay awake worrying.
‘Suppose,’ she asked herself, ‘the Marchioness does ask us to her house or even to a party and I meet the Earl. What will I say to him? How could I ever explain that I spent his money when really I should have returned it with a polite note saying that he made a mistake and the price of the creams was exactly three pounds?’
But, to do that, she would have to give him her name and address and, although she was quite certain that he had forgotten her by now, there was just a chance, a very slim one, that he might have wanted to see her again.
‘I shall just have to pray,’ she thought finally ‘that he is too busy with Madame Vestris to wish to go to respectable parties such as the Marchioness would give.’
*
The following morning, having breakfasted with their aunt, Penelope managed to evade her questions as to where they were going before they set off for Bond Street.
“I do not know that I really approve of you walking about London alone!” Lady Ledbury had said in a last effort to extract from them their destination once they left her house.
“I always understood,” Penelope replied, “that it was correct for two ladies to walk about together and only if a lady is alone should she be accompanied by a maid. But of course, Aunt Harriet, if you want us to take one of the housemaids, then we will do so.”
Penelope knew as she spoke that not only were the housemaids too old to walk far, but also it
would be difficult for her aunt to spare them from their usual duties.
“I suppose you will be all right,” Lady Ledbury admitted grudgingly and did not notice the glance of amusement Penelope gave to Alisa.
It was a sunny spring day and the two girls, walking in what was actually a very countrified manner, reached Bond Street even more quickly than Alisa had done when she had come to London the previous week.
Because Penelope had for the moment no wish to stare at other shops, being intent on only one thing – for them to be elegantly dressed as swiftly as possible – she walked straight towards the Piccadilly end of Bond Street.
“Once we are well dressed,” she said to Alisa, “we can start being debutantes.”
Alisa felt that her sister was being over-optimistic, but, because she loved Penelope and wanted her to be happy, she had no wish to damp down her enthusiasm.
They reached Mrs. Lulworth’s shop and Penelope’s eyes were shining as, just before they entered, she pointed out a very elegant bonnet in the window that bore no resemblance whatsoever to those they had on their heads.
The high crown was encircled with a wreath of crimson roses and the pointed brim was edged with a row of delicate lace.
“That is what we want,” Penelope said firmly, and walked into the shop.
She asked for Mrs. Lulworth in an authoritative manner and a moment later they were facing the large rather frightening woman whom Alisa had met before.
“How can I help you, young ladies?” Mrs. Lulworth began and then she looked at Alisa and gave a cry.
“Where have you been?” she enquired. “Why did you not come back to me as I expected you to do? It was only when you left that I realised I had not asked your name and had no idea how I could get in touch with you.”
“Why did you wish to do so?” Penelope enquired, realising that Alisa had lost her voice.
“Madame Vestris was absolutely delighted with the face-creams. A number of other actresses have asked for them and already the rumour has spread round those in Society that I have something new!”
“I see – ” Penelope said slowly, “and so you need some more creams!”
Gift Of the Gods Page 6
