Signpost To Love

by Barbara Cartland

  “Please – I would like – if possible, to be near to – my u-uncle,” Baptista said hesitatingly.

  She stumbled over the word ‘uncle’, but the Earl thought that his friend would not attach any particular significance to it.

  “But of course,” the Vicomte agreed, “I had already thought of that myself, as I know it is always frightening to be in a strange place.”

  “Thank you,” Baptista said.

  He smiled at her and went from the room and Baptista added in a low voice to the Earl,

  “He is so exactly what I expected a French aristocrat to look like, but I feel as if I was taking part in a play.”

  The Earl understood why his friend’s compliments had not embarrassed her.

  “I should hardly have thought that you were ever allowed to go to the theatre,” he said.

  “No, of course not! Papa thought they were the haunts of Satan! But Miss Cunningham, my Governess and I used to act Shakespeare’s plays together each taking different parts and she showed me pictures of Playhouses so I know what they look like and even how the scenery works.”

  The Earl laughed.

  “And now you think that ‘all the world’s a stage and all the men and women merely players’,” he quoted.

  “At the moment I am the heroine,” Baptista said, “and naturally you are the hero.”

  “I rather thought you were allotting that role to the Vicomte.”

  Baptista shook her head, but before she could answer their host returned.

  A little while later they went upstairs to change for dinner.

  Baptista was delighted with her bedroom, which had a painted ceiling rioting with Goddesses and cupids, an Aubusson carpet with pink roses and blue ribbons woven into it and the bed draped with blue silk curtains suspended from a golden corolla.

  “It is more beautiful than I could possibly imagine!” she cried excitedly.

  “I am delighted it pleases you,” the Vicomte answered, “and I can only say somewhat inadequately that it is the perfect background for someone who looks as if she had just stepped down from Mount Olympus to dazzle mere humans like myself!”

  The Earl saw that Baptista glanced at him swiftly as if they shared a secret and he saw once again her dimples.

  As he reached his own bedroom where everything had already been unpacked, the Vicomte said,

  “She is entrancing, Irvin! I had no idea that you had such a lovely niece, but then everything you possess is superlative!”

  “Baptista is very young,” the Earl said repressively, “and I am only hoping that Paris will not spoil her.”

  “Every man she meets will fall at her feet,” the Vicomte replied, “and although she is obviously very young, she has to grow up sometime.”

  “But not too quickly!” the Earl corrected him sharply.

  “Now you are sounding exactly like the type of relation who always wishes to prevent the young from enjoying themselves,” the Vicomte teased. “I would not have expected that of you, Irvin.”

  “As I have just said, Baptista is very young and while she is with me I intend to be very careful who she meets.”

  “Nonsense! Let the child have a good time! And now I think of it, my cousin is giving a small dance this evening for her daughter who is about the same age. I intended when you arrived that we should look for our amusement in a very different direction, but I think that your niece would enjoy the party so we must take her to it.”

  The Earl hesitated, but because he thought it would seem strange if he refused what would obviously be the sort of party that Baptista would enjoy, he said grudgingly,

  “Very well, but because she has been travelling for some time, she must not stay up too late.”

  The Vicomte looked at him in surprise.

  Then he said,

  “I understand what you are saying, Irvin, therefore we will bring your niece home soon after midnight, which will leave us free to enjoy ourselves, as we have always done, with les grandes cocottes.”

  He waited for the Earl to agree and when he did not do so, he went on,

  “La Païva will undoubtedly be pleased to see you and I believe that La Castiglione has a party this evening. She still holds the Emperor’s interest by the way and, although he has found several other diversions, he always seems to return to her.”

  “I wonder why?” the Earl remarked laconically. “I always thought her beautiful but extremely dull.”

  “Maybe she has hidden qualities we have not sampled,” the Vicomte answered with a laugh.

  He was just about to leave the room when the Earl said,

  “By the way, Pierre, do you happen to know where I can find the Comte de Saucorne?”

  “Jacques?” the Vicomte questioned. “If you wish to see him, you have come at the right time to congratulate him. His wife has just presented him with an heir!”

  “His wife?” the Earl repeated.

  “Yes, Jacques was married a year ago.”

  “To whom?”

  “It was an excellent match. The Saucornes as you know, are a very old and respected family, but none too wealthy, while the daughter of the late Comte de Vence is a great heiress.”

  “And they were married a year ago?” the Earl asked.

  “That is right,” the Vicomte agreed. “Why are you so interested? I did not know you knew the Saucornes.”

  “I do not,” the Earl answered, “but I understood he was living with an Englishwoman and I have a message for her from a friend of hers.”

  “As I understand it, you are talking of Marie-Louise.”

  The Earl looked puzzled and the Vicomte explained,

  “Jacques returned to Paris some years ago, with a fascinating creature whom I think he would have married if she had been free to do so. Her Christian name was Mary and, when she and Jacques parted, she changed it to Marie-Louise.”

  “Why did she do that?”

  “I am curious as to why it interests you so much, Irvin.”

  “I have told you,” the Earl answered, “I have a message for her from a friend. I promised to give it to her and, as you know, I always keep my promises.”

  “Is that all? I thought perhaps she might have been an old flame of yours.”

  “I have never met her,” the Earl said crisply.

  “What a pity! It would amuse me to see your reaction to how she looks now.”

  The Earl frowned.

  “I wish you would not go on talking in riddles and tell me what I want to know. Where can I find this lady who you tell me is now called Marie-Louise?”

  “She is at the moment the mistress of the Foreign Secretary, the Duc de Gramont!”

  The Earl stiffened.

  He thought as he spoke it was extraordinary that, while he had come to Paris to see and find out information about the Duc, he should be intimately connected with Baptista’s mother whom he was also seeking.

  “Why did Marie-Louise, as she is called now, leave de Saucorne?” he asked.

  “They were inseparable when they first arrived in Paris,” the Vicomte replied, “and naturally Jacques’ relatives were not pleased. They wanted him to marry and before he went to England they already had the de Vence girl in mind.”

  Knowing the aristocratic French families always married their sons and daughters off in an advantageous manner, the Earl could understand without further explanation what had happened.

  Then because he was curious, he could not prevent himself from asking,

  “But why did Marie-Louise choose de Gramont?”

  “You will have to ask her!” the Vicomte replied, “but I have an idea that she was fond enough of Jacques to let him go. I found her charming and she was not at all the sort of woman who would squeeze a man dry because he loved her.”

  “Tomorrow I would like to have a chance of meeting Marie-Louise if you will tell me where I can find her.”

  “Nothing could be easier,” the Vicomte smiled, “but tonight because of your niece we are startin
g the evening by being very respectable and I assure you that my cousin would not allow Marie-Louise or any of the enchantresses like her to put a foot across her threshold.”

  It was what the Earl had expected of the more conventional French families.

  At the same time as he bathed and changed, he found himself worrying about Baptista.

  How was he going to tell her of her mother’s position in Paris and what was he to do about her future?

  Once again he told himself severely that it was not his business.

  Lady Dunsford must be made to realise that Baptista was her responsibility and the best thing she could do would be to give up her immoral life and look after her own child.

  It struck the Earl that he was being very censorious and that he was in fact thinking almost like Lord Dunsford.

  Then once again he tried to convince himself that Baptista’s father was not his concern.

  Because he lay in his bath for so long, he was late in dressing and, when he was ready to go down to dinner, he found that Baptista had not waited for him to collect her from her bedroom.

  Instead he found her in the salon talking to her host and because they were sitting close together on the sofa and talking in what seemed to the Earl to be an intimate manner, he felt a sudden impulse of rage that surprised him.

  ‘She is acclimatising herself very quickly,’ he thought.

  Then, as he walked towards them and saw the expression in Baptista’s eyes as she looked at him, he had a different type of fear that she was after all falling in love with him.

  Baptista jumped up from the sofa.

  “I waited and waited,” she said, “and I thought that you must have come downstairs without me.”

  “I am afraid I am late,” the Earl replied, “and another time you could always send your maid to ask my valet what is happening.”

  “I never thought of that,” Baptista said simply, “but you are here and we are going to dance, which is the most thrilling thing that ever happened!”

  She looked up at the Earl oblivious that there was anyone else in the room.

  “Will you dance with me? Please – say you will!”

  “Certainly not!” the Earl said firmly. “I am your chaperone and I shall sit with the Dowagers watching the very young enjoy themselves and saying that parties were better when I was a boy!”

  Baptista laughed and the Vicomte said,

  “The party will not be as bad as you think, Irvin. You will find quite a lot of your old friends there and my cousin is hoping that during the evening the Empress may look in for a few moments.”

  “The Empress?”

  Baptista was wide-eyed at the idea.

  “I am sure that you have been taught how to make a Royal curtsey,” the Vicomte said, “and, because Her Majesty is not really Royal, it has to be lower than if she were!”

  His voice was sarcastic, but he smiled as he spoke.

  “You are not to disillusion Baptista,” the Earl admonished him. “She has already told me that she feels as if we are all acting on a stage and it will spoil things if she sees beneath the tinsel and the glitter.”

  “Then we must certainly help her to keep her illusions,” the Vicomte agreed.

  To Baptista the dinner was a delight that she had not expected.

  She thought she would be disappointed that she was not alone with the Earl, but instead she listened to the two men teasing each other, capping each other’s stories and found it all entrancing.

  The Vicomte paid her extravagant compliments, but like everything else they did not seem real and she could not help giving the Earl a little sidelong glance, which told him that she thought the Vicomte merely amusing and that they meant nothing personal to her.

  Only when they reached the Countess’s house and found that the Vicomte’s idea of a small party was a definite understatement, did Baptista feel a little nervous.

  The Earl was aware of it because she kept very close to him. At the same time he realised that her good manners and her grace pleased the older women she was introduced to.

  He knew there was a chance that somebody might be aware that none of his nieces were as old as Baptista, but neither of his sisters had ever been to France and he thought it unlikely that they would be intimate with the French who came to England at the invitation of the French Ambassador or to attend some special ball or function.

  He felt a little uneasy, but when he looked around the ballroom he was relieved to see that he and Baptista were the only English people present.

  There was no doubt that Baptista was a success from the moment she appeared.

  The Comtesse introduced her to various young men and the Earl had an apprehensive moment wondering if she was able to dance only to be reassured when he saw her waltzing very elegantly.

  He was sure this was another accomplishment that had been kept hidden from her father and he thought it amusing that they had at least circumvented Lord Dunsford’s diabolical plan of putting her in a House of Penitence before she had committed any of the sins that he considered wicked.

  ‘Now he might have something to rave about,’ the Earl thought wryly.

  Then he remembered that tomorrow he would see Lady Dunsford, who had now become ‘Marie-Louise’ and was the chere amie of the Duc de Gramont.

  This, however, was no time for introspection for there were quite a number of old acquaintances at the party who were delighted to see him and the Comtesse introduced him to several Statesmen who were on his list of those he needed to meet.

  It would make it easier now that he had made been introduced to them and he told himself that in consequence the task set him by the Prime Minister might not be as arduous as he had feared.

  He was, in fact, talking to one of the more important members of the Chamber of Deputies when he was aware that Baptista was standing beside him.

  He broke off his conversation to ask her,

  “What is it?”

  She glanced at his companion and then said in a voice that only he could hear,

  “Please – will you dance with me? It would – spoil everything if you refuse.”

  The Earl smiled.

  “Very well,” he said, “but I assure you that you will find me very old after your other partners.”

  She gave him a look that told him without words that he was talking nonsense.

  Then, as he put his arm around her and swung her onto the dance floor to the tune of one of Offenbach’s romantic waltzes, he found that she was as light as thistledown and had the natural ability to follow him whatever steps he took.

  “I am surprised that your father had you taught to dance,” he said teasingly.

  “Papa thought dancing, drinking and gambling all were major sins.”

  “Then how can you dance so well?”

  “Mama and I used to dance together when Papa was out riding,” Baptista confessed, “and, when she left, I used to dance every night by myself in my bedroom and sometimes I would persuade Miss Cunningham to dance with me.”

  “I am glad that you have not been forced to be a wallflower,” the Earl said.

  “It was not the same as dancing with a man,” Baptista answered, “and I knew that dancing with you would be very exciting, even more than riding.”

  There was a rapt little note in her voice that the Earl did not miss.

  “I can see that you have been a great success,” he said, “but, as you have had a tiring dramatic journey since you left England, I suggest you do not stay up too long.”

  Even as he spoke he realised that he had no desire to go to one of the parties that the Vicomte was planning for him.

  He knew exactly what he would find at La Païva’s and also at La Castiglione’s and he thought that dancing with Baptista held an enchantment that he had not expected.

  The music came to an end and she said quickly,

  “Please let me – stay with you. You dance far better than anybody else I have – danced with.”

 
“If I did that,” the Earl said in a low voice, “it would seem very strange behaviour that you should prefer to dance with your uncle than with the young men who are at the moment laying their hearts at your feet.”

  “They all said a lot of silly things they do not mean,” Baptista said scornfully. “I have an idea!”

  “What is it?” the Earl asked.

  “Could we not – just you and I – go somewhere where we can dance – together? One of my partners was telling me about the Dancehalls that he said were very amusing and are in the open air.”

  “For Heaven’s sake – ” the Earl began.

  Then the pleading expression in Baptista’s eyes made him suddenly change his mind.

  After all tomorrow he would see her mother and after that she would pass out of his life.

  What did it matter if he allowed her to enjoy herself in her own way?

  “You will – take me? Please say – you will,” Baptista whispered.

  “Very well, but I am sure I am making a mistake,” the Earl said to save his face. “Leave everything to me and wait in the hall. I will meet you there in five minutes.”

  He thought Baptista’s face looked as if it had been lit by a thousand gaslights.

  The Comtesse came to her side to say,

  “I have a gentleman longing to make your acquaintance, mademoiselle. May I present – ”

  The Earl did not wait to hear any more, but went to the ballroom in search of the Vicomte.

  He found him drinking champagne with two men.

  “We have just been saying, Irvin,” he remarked as the Earl joined them, “that your niece is a sensation! And I know that invitations will be pouring in tomorrow morning for her as well as for you.”

  “ You are very kind, but I came to tell you I am taking Baptista back to bed. Then I will join you.”

  “Shall I come with you?” the Vicomte suggested.

  “No, of course not!” the Earl replied. “Go from here to the party given by La Castiglione. I will meet you there.”

  “Very well,” the Vicomte agreed. “After that we will go on to La Païva’s and there is a new Maison de Plaisance which I want to show you, if not tonight, perhaps tomorrow.”

  The Earl did not reply, but merely smiled and walked away, finding Baptista as he had expected, waiting for him in the hall.