It Began in Vauxhall Gardens - Plaidy Jean - Страница 63

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"But it won't be long," promised Genevra, "before you have others to choose from."

The salon in which Fenella entertained her guests was brilliant that night. The girls—as they so often did—were to join the company after dinner. There they would mingle with the guests, wearing the most spectacular dresses of Fenella's designers. Fenella's beautiful girls ranked with the food and wine as one of the attractions of her evenings.

There was nothing to warn Melisande that this evening was to be any different from others. It was true that she was wearing a wonderful dress—the most beautiful and daring she had yet worn. It had been chosen for her on account of its colour which was emerald green; it was of silk-faille with a pointed bodice, and even her small waist had to be more tightly laced than usual that she might fit it;

the skirt was composed of masses of very fine black net through which ran a gold pattern, and this net covered the emerald green silk-faille; the bodice was very low-cut and her back, down to her waist, was bare apart from the flimsiest covering of black and gold net. The dress had been cut to accentuate every curve of the feminine form.

Genevra wore a similar dress in blue which matched her eyes. Lucie was demure in grey and Clotilde seductive in red. Daisy, Kate and Mary Jane would come down later if required.

As they went into the salon most of the guests turned to look at them. Fenella watched them from her throne-like chair. She could not make up her mind which dress she preferred—the green or the blue. It was strange that the green seemed simpler than the blue; or was it that each dress took something from the character of its wearer? Genevra was a girl in a thousand, pondered Fenella. It was just possible that she might marry her lord. But was she clever enough for that? It was a pity that Melisande had to be married to a barrister or someone of that stratum. She must select him soon and let him begin his courtship. Melisande must not know that it was arranged. There was a tilt to her chin which suggested that she might refuse to enter into such a relationship. No, the girl was simple and charming; she was a little bruised at the moment, and that would necessitate a careful approach. Genevra could safely look after herself. The slums of London produced hardier plants than did convents.

A young man was coming towards her. She did not recognize him; and she was certain that he had received no invitation from her to attend. Such intruders hardly ever annoyed her (although sometimes she feigned irritation, for boldness was a characteristic which she greatly admired) especially when they were as good-looking as this young man.

He was well over six feet in height. And what arrogance! What haughtiness! Yet there was a twinkle in the blue eyes. It was an impudent face but the arrogance was offset by the humour she saw in it. She warmed at once to the young man.

She held out her hand to him; he took it and put it to his lips. "Your humble servant !" he said.

She raised her strongly marked eyebrows. "I have not the pleasure, sir, I am very much afraid."

"You do not know me? But I know you. Who could be of London and fail to know its priestess of fashion and beauty?"

"Have done!" she said lightly. "And tell me on whose invitation you came here."

He put on an air of mock penitence. "Am I then unmasked so soon?"

"What have you to say for yourself?"

"What can the uninvited guest say except that he so longed for paradise that he determined to dash through any flaming swords that might attempt to keep him out."

"I can see," she said, "that you are a young man who knows how to make out a good case for himself. What is your name?"

"Holland," he said. "Is it too presumptuous for a man to visit his father's friends? My father has been a frequent visitor to your wonderful house."

"Bruce Holland," she said with a smile.

He bowed. "I am his son ... his only surviving son, Fermor Holland, at your service."

Fenella was beginning to enjoy herself. There was nothing she liked better than audacity, and she thought she was understanding why he was here, and longed to know if her surmise was correct. Her eyes went to a charming figure in a green dress.

"Fermor Holland," she repeated slowly. "Now I believe you recently became a husband."

He bowed to acknowledge that this was so.

"Have you brought your wife with you to-night?"

"Alas, she was unable to accompany me."

"Her good manners doubdess prevented her, since she was not invited."

"Doubtless," he agreed.

"Let me see ... she was the daughter of Sir Charles Trevenning... another of my friends, a dear Cornish squire."

"We are flattered that you are so interested in us, Ma'am."

"Ma'am!" she exclaimed. "That is for the Queen."

"You are a Queen," he said. "All-powerful, all-beautiful, Queen Fenella!"

"What a flatterer you are! You are not going to tell me that you came here to see me!"

"But I am."

"And whom else?"

"Whom else could the eyes perceive when they are dazzled by such surpassing beauty?"

"So you wish to renew your acquaintance with Mademoiselle St. Martin?"

He opened his eyes wide but he was speechless.

"I don't blame you," she went on. "She is charming. But she is not for you, my dear young man. You may stay this evening, but you must not come here again until I have consulted with your father-in-law. Now, go along, and remember ... I did not invite you here. You are here because you have committed the unpardonable sin of the uninvited guest. I do not see you. And you may not

214 IT BEGAN IN VAUXHALL GARDENS

stay long. I believe I should forbid you to speak to Mademoiselle St. Martin. But I know that would be useless."

"Then I have your permission to seek her?"

Fenella turned her head away. "I'll be no party to this. You are not here at my invitation. You are a graceless young man. I can see that. Your father was the same. And it is solely on his account that I am not having you turned out. Now, go along and remember . . . you must not stay long."

He bowed over her hand.

She watched him go, her eyes sparkling.

She thought: A charming young man! Amusing . . . exciting. There are not many like him nowadays ... for men are not what they used to be.

He was standing before Melisande, and she was thankful that she was not alone. She was with a young man who had partnered her during the evening, as well as with Genevra and her lord and Lucie and her barrister.

"You look as if youVe seen a ghost, Mademoiselle St. Martin," said Fermor.

"I... I had not expected to see you here," stammered Melisande. "I had no idea you knew Madam Cardingly."

"My father is an old friend of hers."

"Introductions needed," said Genevra in a whisper which could be heard by all.

Melisande tried to steady her emotions. She was excited, joyful and afraid. She knew in that moment why she had not seen Leon and asked for his explanation. It was because she was in love with Fermor.

She made the introductions. Genevra's eyes shone; Lucie lowered her lids over hers.

"I feel as though I know you well," said Genevra. "Melly has talked of you."

"I am doubly enchanted," he said. "It is so gratifying to be talked of."

"But how do you know what we have heard of you?" demanded Genevra.

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